June 8, 2014

The hotel's rooftop pool lounge had remained open all night, thanks to a heft bribe courtesy of the devastatingly handsome Alex Houser. Nessa had alternated between aquatic calisthenics and swimming laps to climbing the lifeguard chair and doing backflips into the deep end— now she was completely exhausted and the sun was creeping up over the horizon. Going back to the water was simply a way of reminding herself that she'd managed to waltz into Sin City Wrestling (not the good one) and capture the coveted Bombshell Roulette Title in a similar match.

She could do this in her sleep.

If she could sleep, that is.

Once they'd arrived in Washington, she'd allowed Mika a little more space for fear that she was smothering the poor girl by hovering like a mother hen. The truth was she worried far more than she should— Mike was a big girl and could look out for herself— Nessa just felt obligated to be her soft landing after the horrible fallout with Matt Ford.

The soft sound of the pool's filtration system would have been comforting if not for the faint pounding in her head. Once again she had a migraine brewing; she'd been crunching aspirins dry for days. It was most likely stress, she knew, but the less rational part of her mind was fixated on compressed discs and cracked bones— she'd become a hypochondriac, it seemed. The fact that she was going to be going into a HUGE title shot had quite a bit to do with it, especially when Leona Vega was there as well.

At the thought of the luchadora, she wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. That bitch would get her comeuppance soon enough.

Will she really? A voice in the back of her head whispered, just like you took care of Fujiko Mine?

"I did," she said softly, shaking her head. "We won the first round of the Chase."

Which you had very little to do with…

The internal debate was always there— it was how she managed to root out the truth in every story and expose it. That inner part of her never gave up or backed down.

"Shut up," she muttered, leaping off the chaise lounge. She turned around and promptly collided with something solid that let out a soft grunt. Looking up, Nessa met the bloodshot eyes of Larry Gowan— quite literally the LAST person she expected to see. Taking a step back, she glared at him, "have you been standing there the whole time?"

"I… uh…" Gowan looked sheepish, "long enough to hear you arguing with yourself— if that's what you're asking."

Nessa huffed, turning back towards the lounger. On the screen of her laptop, the cursor blinked at the end of a few paragraphs of a blog she would probably never post.

Once upon a time I thought it would be cool to have friends in this business. Friends and family. I wanted to have an entourage, a group of people that I could hang out with, go shopping with— people I could call if I needed to chat. And then I hooked up with Matt Ford, my debut with CWF happened and it all fell apart. CWF was a joke and a half. They all but crucified me when I decided to part ways.

I went to BWF and the only highlight there was meeting Matt Stone.

I became a joke and it drove me insane. All I ever wanted was to be taken SERIOUSLY for once. I wanted people to look at me and know that Nessa Wall is a girl who lives and breathes wrestling, far deeper and more intimately than any other competitor out there. Instead I was passed off as a bubble-headed bimbo— Joe Levinsky tried to use me to put out propaganda about how his promotion is fair to women, even though his divisions are segregated and he booked not one, but several 'naked aggression' matches. Playboy is fair, isn't it? It's not about women as eye candy— heavens no.

I wanted to find a company where I could thrive, never really realizing that I'd already been in one. You never really see the forest for the trees until someone has come and clear-cut it to make a parking lot. And then you're too stunned to even form words.

There are things most of you don't know about me. And then there are things that everyone knows and recites like gospel: Nessa hates to lose. Take it one step further. She will do anything to win. It's true. I will do anything to secure a victory. I will break my bones. I will put my body on the line. I will double and even triple-cross friends, family members— doesn't matter. There are no friends between the ropes.

I'm not sure I even know myself anymore, let alone anyone else. I've become some deleted scene of overblown proportions. Some psycho bitch that makes everyone cringe. One thing is certain: if I fail spectacularly in this second chance at the Pride Championship, they'll be nodding and laughing because it was expected.

I can only hold titles in terrible companies filled with porn stars.

I can't let that happen. I can't fail. I can't stand the thought of looking that ridiculous—

The laptop's screen went black as the green symbols of the Matrix code began to trickle down from the top. Gowan's eyes were fixed on the screen and then he looked back up to Nessa. "Why didn't you post that?"

She stared at him. "Because it's stupid, Larry. It says nothing about Chris Kane or SVW or Leona…"

"It's all tied together." Gowan shrugged, cocking his head, "you look terrible," he said, "how you holding up?"

"Not so good," she muttered. "I have to ask you this, not because I'm trying to... get a handle on this whole champion business, or because I want to use it to cut a promo..." her eyes slid in the direction of the deserted pool, almost as if she was paranoid that they were being watched.

"Then ask."

"I…" she couldn't bring herself to say it, "why are you here?"

"Because," Gowan replied, "normally I would have gone to Kitty for this but…"

"Oh."

"Yeah." He sighed, shaking his head. "Not that I feel like you're here substitute. It's just…"

"I know, Larry."

"Chauncy left me."

"He what?" She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? You two… you were the poster for…"

"True love— yeah. I got that from Nova too. He was supposed to be in Albuquerque last night. He didn't show. He won't return my calls and I doubt he'll be here tonight. I think it's really over."

"Don't say that," she cautioned.

"It's true, Ness. He deserves better. They all do. I'm going to tell Nick tonight to shred our contract. We're not coming back to SVW."

"Don't do that, Larry."

He stared at her for a few seconds and then walked away, leaving her alone again. If Larry Gowan couldn't make it work, what hope did anyone else have?