Post by Admin on May 1, 2019 16:57:35 GMT -5
LOCATION: Reno, NV
DATE/TIME: March 5, 2019 || 03:21 PM PST
CAMERA STATUS: ON/OFF
Seventeen years ago, to the day, she'd met Brad Jackson in a seedy bar in Yakima, Washington. Now she was standing on the doorstep of the house he shared with his current wife Alyvia – it was downright surreal. Being back in Nevada had her all up in her feels like some moody adolescent, ready to cry at the drop of a hat. She'd grown closer with Jackson's wife while the two had been separated, surprised, really, when Lyv had reached out to her. Busy schedules had kept them apart far too long and she cursed herself for letting things lapse to where she felt awkward now, walking towards the front door with butterflies in her stomach.
Upon hearing the doorbell ring, Lyv couldn't help but smile as she placed her niece Freddie into the baby swing that had been set up in the living room. Walking to the front door, she threw it open, knowing exactly who was on the other side. "You made it!" She pulled in Kitty for a hug.
Kitty couldn't keep the joyous smile off her face as she hugged her best friend back. "I did. Finally." Her dry wit was showing through as she stepped back, smirking. "I meant to come sooner, really. It's just been a crazy few months."
"You're fine," Lyv smiled as she stepped back, "I know how hard it is to get back into the swing of things after taking time off." Walking towards the living room, she beckoned for Kitty to follow, "don't mind the mess. Lex and Hannah are in town this weekend – not here right now, of course – they're out with the kids so I get to have a little baby time!"
"I hadn't realized they were pregnant," the truth came spilling out and she cursed herself for that lapse. Usually she tried a little harder to feign interest in the world around her. "I'm so out of touch lately."
"It all happened so fast." She paused in the hallway, looking back at Kitty. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
"I'd love a glass of water," Kitty smiled warmly, "if it's not too much trouble."
"None at all." The two ladies made a beeline for the kitchen. Once inside, Lyv got a pitcher of water out of the fridge and filled two glasses. "Okay, now that you're here, dish! What's new?"
"Besides returning to the ring?" She shrugged, taking a dainty sip. "Oh! I went to Chicago. Saw Hunter's band play… like old times."
Lyv smiled at her own memories of watching the band play. "I'm sure he was happy to see you." She knew Hunter had always had a soft spot for Kitty. She'd never realized that Kitty felt the same until now.
"He said he was." Kitty laughed softly. "He picked me up. Spun me around like I weighed nothing. Made me think too hard about the choices I made way back when, you know? Made me miss Robby more, too."
"Doesn't surprise me," Lyv replied, "it's that time of year, after all."
Kitty fell silent, looking around the bright kitchen before her gaze settled on the view of the swimming pool. Talking about Robby was the last thing she'd wanted to do yet here she was, thinking about all the loss in her life. She realized Lyv was still talking and made an effort to listen, "…everything happens for reasons and better things could be coming."
She tried to hold back the bitterness, shaking her head. "For you, maybe. I wish I'd had more time… with…." She swallowed hard, covering the lump in her throat with another gulp of water. She couldn't bring herself to utter his name aloud.
Even with her best friends, she hadn't talked about what had happened in those years she'd been retired. She didn't talk about why she was alone now. The wound was still too raw. She'd refused to deal with it, pushing it deep down. Everyone assumed it was the same way it had been with Jackson and Alexander Stryfe. Nobody knew that Mikhail Petrov was actually dead, his ashes scattered across the ranch in California.
Lyv's smile faded, "have you thought about taking a trip? Like somewhere to decompress? You could always stay here."
She smiled but it was sad. "Going to Florida to wrestle is a nice way to do that but I…" she trailed off at the sound of the baby fussing in the other room.
"Sorry," Lyv hustled from the room, calling over her shoulder, "just give me a minute!"
Kitty stayed where she was, listening to her friend talk softly to the infant, trying to swallow back the jealousy. When she came back into the kitchen, she started getting the baby's bottle together. Kitty reached out to take the child from her without even thinking about it, cradling her gently.
"What about just getting away for a while?"
Kitty's eyes were on the infant and for a moment she didn't answer. Her thoughts were a million miles away before she snapped out of it and finally spoke. "Alone with my thoughts? Oh no, honey. It's better to be busy. Keep the depression occupied."
"Then come stay with us. Trust me, you won't be alone with your thoughts." She gave Kitty a warm smile as she took Freddie back. "The kids'll keep you distracted. "
"I…" words failed her as she watched Lyv feeding the baby. Once upon a time, she'd dreamed of being a mother, of having a little someone that would have to love her no matter what. "I'll have to see. Someone has to look after the horses." It was a lame excuse but it was valid enough. Staying here would hurt too much, seeing Lyv and Jackson and their happy life.
"What if I came and stayed with you for a few days?" She wouldn't let it go. She could tell Kitty wasn't doing well and she'd been a pillar of support when Lyv had been a mess about her own divorce. "We could shop, rent movies, eat cookie dough. I'd even be up for making ridiculous prank calls."
Kitty nodded, reaching out to take her friend's hand. "Yes. Come back to California with me. Watch me win a championship and I'll let you name the new Appaloosas."
current mood:
current song: "Gone Away" by Five Finger Death Punch
Nary a peep from our erstwhile Paradigm Champion since Throwback but he wants your praise. He wants his reign acknowledged despite that lapse? Oh hell no. Do you think we're stupid? That's insulting. Honestly.
He was missing in action for six weeks other than crashing my moment and he wants to act like anything he's done with that belt matters? You lazy, pathetic asshole.
In wrestling, we're all part of some statistical group. My brother, he was one of the ones gone too soon, barely old enough to drink in the country we'd started working in. There was no accident. He didn't crash and burn in the ring. He didn't fall or botch a landing or anything like that. No, see, that would have been something I could handle. That would have been easy to lay the blame on someone else, on a faulty harness, on someone in management being dumb enough to let it happen in the first place. No. He wasn't even working when it happened. WCWF had released him from his probationary contract and he went home to get better. That's what he told me, what he told everyone. If only it were that easy, that simple to rationalize. He was sad and part of that was because he couldn't quite connect with the crowd no matter how hard he tried.
He said he didn't mind that WCWF wanted to keep me on, that they were going to start a women's division and wanted me as a fixture there. He'd said he was happy for me – you know, the stuff normal, completely sane people are supposed to say. I wanted to hear it. I won't deny that. I wanted my big moment, the moment we'd both worked so hard for and I was perfectly happy to use the void he'd created as a stepping stone.
I hate that song when I hear it now – Home For A Rest, because that's what he'd told me it was going to be. He'd sang the song to me over the phone, saying it would be fine. He was just burnt out from touring and I didn't need to worry because he was going to just go back to Hamilton. See some old high school friends. Chill out. Go to bingo with mom. He told me not to worry. So I didn't. Instead I went to Jacksonville. I wrestled a dark match at a house show against a man so well-loved in the industry now I don't even need to drop his name. It's not important to the narrative. I could have wrestled a broomstick – the important thing is how easily I walked away, washing my hands of that liability Robby had become to chase after the spotlight like my namesake.
It was so damned easy to turn a blind eye and every day I look in the mirror and I curse myself for playing that Judas card – my own brother and I sold him out. That was 2003 and I ignored the signs for almost a year.
In one month, it'll have been fifteen years since the morning I got that call. It wasn't even my mother delivering the bad news. It was a guy named Jeremy, a guy I barely knew on the other end of that phone, telling me I had to come home. He told me Robby had hung himself with an extension cord. Do you know what I did? I laughed. I thought it was a joke.
There's always a moment in your life you wish you could do over, isn't there? For me, it's an entire week that has very little to do with my career other than in an abstract sense. It's why I never take bookings at the end of February through mid-March and I don't expect you to care or cut me any slack. I'm just letting you know now because I believe in honesty.
I wonder what your biggest regret is.
I think I know. I think you're scrambling to make up for it.
Too little, sweetie – far too late.
There's always something, some label.
Victors.
Victims.
Collateral damage.
Catalyst.
What would you say if I told you I wanted to be nothing more than the first and the last of those four I just listed? Would you laugh? Would you scoff and roll your eyes? Would you puff up your chest and crow like Peter Pan? Somehow I think you won't. Oh, it'll be there, lurking behind the words, in the subtext, perhaps – you're THE Paradigm Champion, after all. Soon-to-be FORMER champion. On paper, this is a foregone conclusion. This is your moment to regain that footing that seems to have faltered so badly since Throwback. This is my moment to shine.
I may be arrogant, but I'm not stupid. I won't be banking on this lucky streak of mine to carry on. The luck of the Irish isn't a real thing (and besides, you've pegged me as Russian to spin your space race narrative rather than do a little research).
Someone far more talented than me once wrote that, 'luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it'. My balance is terrible, precarious even, and we're working without a net – suicidal and stupid is the nature of the beast. And it is a beast, isn't it? Vicious and violent, breathing down our backs, chasing us until we feel cornered and basic survival instincts kick in. The ides of March are coming early this year.
I know how much you want to win, to retain. The thing is, I don't care what you want. What you need. You're absolutely nothing to me. I sold out my own brother for a foothold in this business. What do you think I'm going to do to a nobody like you?
DATE/TIME: March 5, 2019 || 03:21 PM PST
CAMERA STATUS: ON/OFF
Seventeen years ago, to the day, she'd met Brad Jackson in a seedy bar in Yakima, Washington. Now she was standing on the doorstep of the house he shared with his current wife Alyvia – it was downright surreal. Being back in Nevada had her all up in her feels like some moody adolescent, ready to cry at the drop of a hat. She'd grown closer with Jackson's wife while the two had been separated, surprised, really, when Lyv had reached out to her. Busy schedules had kept them apart far too long and she cursed herself for letting things lapse to where she felt awkward now, walking towards the front door with butterflies in her stomach.
Upon hearing the doorbell ring, Lyv couldn't help but smile as she placed her niece Freddie into the baby swing that had been set up in the living room. Walking to the front door, she threw it open, knowing exactly who was on the other side. "You made it!" She pulled in Kitty for a hug.
Kitty couldn't keep the joyous smile off her face as she hugged her best friend back. "I did. Finally." Her dry wit was showing through as she stepped back, smirking. "I meant to come sooner, really. It's just been a crazy few months."
"You're fine," Lyv smiled as she stepped back, "I know how hard it is to get back into the swing of things after taking time off." Walking towards the living room, she beckoned for Kitty to follow, "don't mind the mess. Lex and Hannah are in town this weekend – not here right now, of course – they're out with the kids so I get to have a little baby time!"
"I hadn't realized they were pregnant," the truth came spilling out and she cursed herself for that lapse. Usually she tried a little harder to feign interest in the world around her. "I'm so out of touch lately."
"It all happened so fast." She paused in the hallway, looking back at Kitty. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
"I'd love a glass of water," Kitty smiled warmly, "if it's not too much trouble."
"None at all." The two ladies made a beeline for the kitchen. Once inside, Lyv got a pitcher of water out of the fridge and filled two glasses. "Okay, now that you're here, dish! What's new?"
"Besides returning to the ring?" She shrugged, taking a dainty sip. "Oh! I went to Chicago. Saw Hunter's band play… like old times."
Lyv smiled at her own memories of watching the band play. "I'm sure he was happy to see you." She knew Hunter had always had a soft spot for Kitty. She'd never realized that Kitty felt the same until now.
"He said he was." Kitty laughed softly. "He picked me up. Spun me around like I weighed nothing. Made me think too hard about the choices I made way back when, you know? Made me miss Robby more, too."
"Doesn't surprise me," Lyv replied, "it's that time of year, after all."
Kitty fell silent, looking around the bright kitchen before her gaze settled on the view of the swimming pool. Talking about Robby was the last thing she'd wanted to do yet here she was, thinking about all the loss in her life. She realized Lyv was still talking and made an effort to listen, "…everything happens for reasons and better things could be coming."
She tried to hold back the bitterness, shaking her head. "For you, maybe. I wish I'd had more time… with…." She swallowed hard, covering the lump in her throat with another gulp of water. She couldn't bring herself to utter his name aloud.
Even with her best friends, she hadn't talked about what had happened in those years she'd been retired. She didn't talk about why she was alone now. The wound was still too raw. She'd refused to deal with it, pushing it deep down. Everyone assumed it was the same way it had been with Jackson and Alexander Stryfe. Nobody knew that Mikhail Petrov was actually dead, his ashes scattered across the ranch in California.
Lyv's smile faded, "have you thought about taking a trip? Like somewhere to decompress? You could always stay here."
She smiled but it was sad. "Going to Florida to wrestle is a nice way to do that but I…" she trailed off at the sound of the baby fussing in the other room.
"Sorry," Lyv hustled from the room, calling over her shoulder, "just give me a minute!"
Kitty stayed where she was, listening to her friend talk softly to the infant, trying to swallow back the jealousy. When she came back into the kitchen, she started getting the baby's bottle together. Kitty reached out to take the child from her without even thinking about it, cradling her gently.
"What about just getting away for a while?"
Kitty's eyes were on the infant and for a moment she didn't answer. Her thoughts were a million miles away before she snapped out of it and finally spoke. "Alone with my thoughts? Oh no, honey. It's better to be busy. Keep the depression occupied."
"Then come stay with us. Trust me, you won't be alone with your thoughts." She gave Kitty a warm smile as she took Freddie back. "The kids'll keep you distracted. "
"I…" words failed her as she watched Lyv feeding the baby. Once upon a time, she'd dreamed of being a mother, of having a little someone that would have to love her no matter what. "I'll have to see. Someone has to look after the horses." It was a lame excuse but it was valid enough. Staying here would hurt too much, seeing Lyv and Jackson and their happy life.
"What if I came and stayed with you for a few days?" She wouldn't let it go. She could tell Kitty wasn't doing well and she'd been a pillar of support when Lyv had been a mess about her own divorce. "We could shop, rent movies, eat cookie dough. I'd even be up for making ridiculous prank calls."
Kitty nodded, reaching out to take her friend's hand. "Yes. Come back to California with me. Watch me win a championship and I'll let you name the new Appaloosas."
kittymacblog.wordpress.net posting
March 9, 2019 || 8:31 PM
current mood:
current song: "Gone Away" by Five Finger Death Punch
Nary a peep from our erstwhile Paradigm Champion since Throwback but he wants your praise. He wants his reign acknowledged despite that lapse? Oh hell no. Do you think we're stupid? That's insulting. Honestly.
He was missing in action for six weeks other than crashing my moment and he wants to act like anything he's done with that belt matters? You lazy, pathetic asshole.
In wrestling, we're all part of some statistical group. My brother, he was one of the ones gone too soon, barely old enough to drink in the country we'd started working in. There was no accident. He didn't crash and burn in the ring. He didn't fall or botch a landing or anything like that. No, see, that would have been something I could handle. That would have been easy to lay the blame on someone else, on a faulty harness, on someone in management being dumb enough to let it happen in the first place. No. He wasn't even working when it happened. WCWF had released him from his probationary contract and he went home to get better. That's what he told me, what he told everyone. If only it were that easy, that simple to rationalize. He was sad and part of that was because he couldn't quite connect with the crowd no matter how hard he tried.
He said he didn't mind that WCWF wanted to keep me on, that they were going to start a women's division and wanted me as a fixture there. He'd said he was happy for me – you know, the stuff normal, completely sane people are supposed to say. I wanted to hear it. I won't deny that. I wanted my big moment, the moment we'd both worked so hard for and I was perfectly happy to use the void he'd created as a stepping stone.
I hate that song when I hear it now – Home For A Rest, because that's what he'd told me it was going to be. He'd sang the song to me over the phone, saying it would be fine. He was just burnt out from touring and I didn't need to worry because he was going to just go back to Hamilton. See some old high school friends. Chill out. Go to bingo with mom. He told me not to worry. So I didn't. Instead I went to Jacksonville. I wrestled a dark match at a house show against a man so well-loved in the industry now I don't even need to drop his name. It's not important to the narrative. I could have wrestled a broomstick – the important thing is how easily I walked away, washing my hands of that liability Robby had become to chase after the spotlight like my namesake.
It was so damned easy to turn a blind eye and every day I look in the mirror and I curse myself for playing that Judas card – my own brother and I sold him out. That was 2003 and I ignored the signs for almost a year.
In one month, it'll have been fifteen years since the morning I got that call. It wasn't even my mother delivering the bad news. It was a guy named Jeremy, a guy I barely knew on the other end of that phone, telling me I had to come home. He told me Robby had hung himself with an extension cord. Do you know what I did? I laughed. I thought it was a joke.
There's always a moment in your life you wish you could do over, isn't there? For me, it's an entire week that has very little to do with my career other than in an abstract sense. It's why I never take bookings at the end of February through mid-March and I don't expect you to care or cut me any slack. I'm just letting you know now because I believe in honesty.
I wonder what your biggest regret is.
I think I know. I think you're scrambling to make up for it.
Too little, sweetie – far too late.
There's always something, some label.
Victors.
Victims.
Collateral damage.
Catalyst.
What would you say if I told you I wanted to be nothing more than the first and the last of those four I just listed? Would you laugh? Would you scoff and roll your eyes? Would you puff up your chest and crow like Peter Pan? Somehow I think you won't. Oh, it'll be there, lurking behind the words, in the subtext, perhaps – you're THE Paradigm Champion, after all. Soon-to-be FORMER champion. On paper, this is a foregone conclusion. This is your moment to regain that footing that seems to have faltered so badly since Throwback. This is my moment to shine.
I may be arrogant, but I'm not stupid. I won't be banking on this lucky streak of mine to carry on. The luck of the Irish isn't a real thing (and besides, you've pegged me as Russian to spin your space race narrative rather than do a little research).
Someone far more talented than me once wrote that, 'luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it'. My balance is terrible, precarious even, and we're working without a net – suicidal and stupid is the nature of the beast. And it is a beast, isn't it? Vicious and violent, breathing down our backs, chasing us until we feel cornered and basic survival instincts kick in. The ides of March are coming early this year.
I know how much you want to win, to retain. The thing is, I don't care what you want. What you need. You're absolutely nothing to me. I sold out my own brother for a foothold in this business. What do you think I'm going to do to a nobody like you?
=^,,^=
