Is there anything worse than a guy who doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s doing in the bedroom?
Bumbling around, weak insert game, couldn’t hit a barn door with a banjo, selfish assholes who care about themselves getting off and that’s that. You know the kind; the asshat Kyle that thinks the female orgasm is a myth, never got a girl off in his life, one pump shotgun losers?
So there I am, bent over the end of my bed, chocolate starfish on display as my legs are spread and I’m just begging for this guy to do something to make me feel, but in my head I’m running over my grocery store shopping list for the next day while this dumbass ‘hammers’ away at me like he’s getting poon for the first time on prom night and thinks he’s a stud! Seriously sweetie, you may be having the time of your life but I’m up here rolling my eyes and definitely not in a good way, because this is just so fucking bad!
I don’t even know this guy's name, I’m gonna be honest.
Picked him up at The Mirage earlier, throwing money around like it was going out of style on the craps table, fingers full of rings and a stetson with a brim so wide it’d probably cover even Kandis’ modesty if needed. Guy must have burned through twenty G’s in front of me before his pecker perked up at the fact that I wasn’t wearing a boulder holder under the Balenciaga I lifted from The Beverly Center last week.
Ace is right, the more expensive the store, the easier it is to just take shit; you walk in there like you own the place and walk right out again. Security asshole on the door didn’t bat a fucking eyelid. But you try that shit at Target or Walmart? Cops are sniffing around before you get out the god damn door… though if you’re shoplifting from Target and Walmart, fuck, I’m sorry your life hit such a low point.
Then again, I don’t need to shoplift from The Beverly Center either. I could have bought the thing if I wanted, I don’t need money or to steal from stores, I’m more than golden… I just do it to fucking feel something.
Same reason I brought this cocaine cowboy back to my place, hoping he’d prove me wrong with the assumption that men are fucking clueless and don’t know how to please a woman. Go ahead, tell me how wrong I am; let your fragile ego jump to the defence of the weaker species, tell me that I just need to find and fuck the right guy. I’ve heard it all before, all the excuses.
‘That doesn’t normally happen’, ‘I’m just under a lot of stress’, blah blah blah. You think I want excuses Chad, is that what you think Kyle? No. I don’t. I just want a man to fuck me like I want to be fucked, rather than how he thinks I want it.
I was actually fucking yawning as this guy went to town… jesus christ, when did fucking become so suburban? In out, in out, rinse repeat and sploosh… sure, he had rhythm, but so does an alarm clock. Ding ding fucking ding. Pull my hair, slap my ass, christ I’d even take a finger in the butthole right now if it made things more interesting… instead I’m there waiting for him to finish and just hoping he’s the kind of asshole blow and go, rather than linger for the spooning and awkward conversation that usually comes after two people exchange bodily fluid. I’d already decided that this guy was getting kicked out the second he was done when I wasted fifteen minutes slurping on his helmet just to get him hard enough for anything else thanks to the watered down whiskey he’d been putting away back at The Mirage earlier in the night and nothing he'd done since then had served to help change my mind.
I didn’t even care he was wearing a wedding band when I picked this asshole up; if his wife was dumb enough to stay married to the guy despite him being so clueless, she deserved getting screwed over as far if you ask me. I was probably fucking her better than her jackass husband had in years, in all honesty…
Ten minutes later, I’m in the shower, washing the douchebags genetic material off my back and he’s probably heading back to the casino if I was any judge of character, either to continue drinking like he was reliving his frat days or to pick up his next skank for round two. At least he didn’t want to blast me in the face; what the fuck is it with guys, thinking all women want after sex is baby gravy shot all over us? And they expect us to act like we enjoy it, too! Sure, shoot cum right up my nostril sweetie, I’ll just kneel here and pretend you’ve just given me the greatest gift a man can ever give a hot chick, sure, why the fuck not. Hell, I’ll ever cradle your balls while I’m at it, really make you feel like the man, how about that?
Taking the shower head from the hanger, I finished the job that the douchebag barely started, finding far more satisfaction in doing so than anything he’d done, before shutting of the faucet and climbing out; I dunno why I ever bother anymore, when I expect anything from anyone… what’s the point?
I’ve had plenty of boyfriends, plenty of guys that I let ‘talk me’ into the sack. I can probably count the amount of times I’ve enjoyed the sex on one hand with a couple fingers spare if I’m being honest. “Great work Soph.” I was standing in front of the mirrored closet doors in my bedroom, looking at the reflection of my wet body, wondering why the steaming hot water from the shower head hadn’t washed away the disappointment when it got rid of the stetson wearing douchebag’s jizz.
I used to like myself. I didn’t always like my life, sure… but I used to at least like myself as a person. Then I got clean.
Good fucking job Sophie; you cleaned yourself up and in the process, turned yourself into a textbook case self-loather… fucking wonderful sweetie, great job, A plus effort there, you love to see it.
“Fuck it.” I grabbed my clothes from the floor, slipping on my sweatpants and picking the first clean top I could find; I wasn’t going to sleep when I was on such a downer, there was no point trying. I tied my hair up so that I could wear my fitted cap and grabbed my keys and hooded jacket on the way out of the door… Vegas didn’t sleep, everyone knew that; if I couldn’t find something to distract myself in Sin City I didn’t deserve to live here.
The strip was still crawling with people despite it being almost two in the morning; Vegas wasn’t known as the twenty four hour town for no reason, and every bar and casino was still awash with lazer lights and music. Cabs filled the streets and people were walking between them. I wonder how many people get run over each night in Vegas, walking out in front of a cab or a pizza truck or something. Law of averages says it has to be a fairly considerable number, given the number of vehicles and the number of drunks every night. I wasn’t that dumb, I stuck to the sidewalk. I had the hood of my jacket up over my head; it’s not like I expect the usual clientele of Vegas to recognise me, but I didn’t want the attention in general as I came up to a crosswalk on the corner of an intersection where I know for a fact drug deals are done in the parking lot of the convenience store.
It may feel like a lifetime ago, but I’d done my fair share of shifts in that parking lot, buying and selling. My folks are so proud.
Shitty thing is, they actually are proud of me these days. They don’t know I started drinking again, they think I’m clean and sober in every facet of my life… dad would probably shit a brick if he knew I was drinking again, no doubt seeing it as a gateway to the real fun stuff. In truth, the temptation is there, I won’t deny that.
“Well hey there baby girl!” Gotta love Vegas. Some asshole had shouted down to me from the terrace of Beer Park, an overpriced sports bar located above the Hexx restaurant on southie. Did he think it was a good pickup line? Did he think he was Oscar Wildean in his repertoire? Can’t blame a guy for trying, but you have to love it when guys mistakenly think they’re a wit when in reality they’re only half of one. I didn’t bother even looking up to see which sports Jersey he’d be wearing with his slicked back hair and neck tattoo as I flipped him the bird and kept walking. I was mostly on autopilot if I’m honest. “Yeah, and the horse you rode in on, lady!” Such a gentleman.
I was doing so well, you know?
I was doing so well, I was clean of everything bad for me no matter how fucking boring life had become as a result… I threw myself into my career, into the projects I’d gotten involved in like The Phoenix project, and all that good stuff. Who the fuck was I trying to kid, huh?
Sophie James; drug addict, alcoholic, professional asshole… all before the age of thirty. Do I win a prize for how much self-destructive behaviour I’ve managed to fit in before the big three oh? I think I should, to be perfectly honest. Who else has crammed that much into such a short space of time?
Then again, I was a fucking mess before I even left my teens, so maybe I’ve been slacking in the last eight years. Maybe I peaked early and everything else has been a poor attempt at keeping up. But I was doing so fucking well, not just off the drugs but drink too… and then at the first traumatic life event, whoops, Sophie James falls on her ass at the twenty yard line and here comes the EMT with a bottle of vodka! TOUCH DOWN, ABSOLUT! Go sports. I’m weak okay, go fuck yourself… but you go through that shit and come out fine on the other end and maybe I’ll apologise for my actions. Otherwise, go play on the freeway, douchebag, I’ve got no time for your judgement or your asinine opinions…
Las Vegas, Nevada
Late May, 2020
“Sophie?” The sound of surprise in Derek’s voice wasn’t exactly unexpected, given the fact that I’d turned up at his place unannounced, but his face split into a warm smile rather quickly. I’d been working with Derek for around two years almost, or as near as damn anyway, give or take a few days… and while he gave off an aura of guidance counselor or pastor at times, appearances could be deceiving and in reality he was a sort of tragically hip older guy, if you know what I mean. The kind of guy who would offer you his last dollar if he thought you were more in need of it than he was, but with a hint of would cut you with a broken bottle if you pushed him over the edge… which was definitely buried deep, but there if you knew what to look for, and I won’t lie, for an older guy, it was kinda sexy too, even if his sweater over shirt combo’s were a total pussy drier. “What an unexpected pleasure!”
“Sorry to drop by unannounced, Derek.” I really wasn’t even sure he was home, when I decided to spontaneously divert to his place on my way to visiting my… protege I guess you could call her? Esme Cox, I’d met her a little under two years ago too, on day one of my program at The Phoenix Project, and… it was kind of scary how much of myself I saw in her, or myself at that age I guess, given how much younger than me she was. “Are you busy? I was hoping we could talk?”
“Of course, come in,” He stepped back in order to let me through the door and I lingered a couple feet away while he shut the door behind us and then gestured inside. It was an apartment, small but well furnished and tastefully decorated, and I made my way in to find an open plan lounge and kitchen. This was the first time I’d ever visited Derek at home, usually meeting with him at a local cafe when we had our weekly catch ups to discuss classes and the ‘students’. I took a seat on the couch as Derek stepped into the kitchenette. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, juice?”
“Just water is fine.” He nodded and turned to grab a bottle from the refrigerator for me before making his way back over. He handed me the bottle and I took it gratefully. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I have to say, I wasn’t expected to see you standing there when I opened the door, but it’s nice to see you.” From some people, that would have been one of those sarcastic little comments full of hidden meaning that basically meant ‘fuck you for turning up here I don’t like that you’re here but I have to be nice’, but with Derek, nothing could be further from the truth. He really was a genuinely nice guy, so nice in fact that it was almost nauseating. Or would be in some, anyway. “So what can I do for you, Ms. James? You said you wanted to talk about something?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s about Esme, actually.” The smile fell from his face at the mention of her name, and he suddenly looked worried.
“Is everything okay? I haven’t had any calls or anything?” I felt kind of bad, because evidently I’d worried him unduly, and I quickly made to shut that down.
“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry. It’s more that I wanted to run an idea by you, sweetie.” The relief in his face was clear to see. “We’ve been working together a while now and you know I value your opinion, so I wanted to get your thoughts on something I’ve been thinking about for a while now, but I’m not sure if I’m barking up the wrong tree with it.”
“Well, I’m all ears as they say, so lay it on me.” Like I said, school guidance counselor at times, but when he said he was all ears, he meant it.
I could see from the look on his face that he legitimately was interested in what I had to say, and his body language only emphasised that, when he shifted to sit forward and lean his arms across his lap as he waited. “I know I’m not exactly in a position to throw my weight around when it comes to Phoenix, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, seeing how far Esme has come.” I’d worked with a lot of people in the two years I’d been at the project, and I’d seen plenty of success, but a fair amount of failure too. People falling off the wagon, ending up back in rehab, or just proving not to be cut out for what my class involved, which was fine. Horses for courses as they say. But Esme? She’d really taken to the process involved after a bit of teething trouble to begin with and hadn’t just done good, she’d excelled and we’d privately taken things way beyond the general stuff I taught in class. “You’ve seen the hard work that she puts in, in class and out, how she turns up to the center in her own time as well as for classes… and we’ve been working together privately too, on some other things.”
“What kind of other things?” He seemed a little suspicious at that, which made me realise it probably did sound a little shady when I thought about it. Though let’s face it, if I was abusing my position of power as a project leader at The Phoenix Project and finger blasting one of the attendees, was I really going to turn up at his place at brag about it? I mean, that doesn’t seem all that logical to me, and it shouldn’t have to him either.
“Well, you know I’m a wrestler, Derek.” He nodded his head. “And you know I’ve been working again, for a relatively big company. So I’ve obviously been training my ass off in my own time when I don’t have classes at the center. When Esme found out that I was back in the business, she asked if she could train with me, and I didn’t see the harm in letting her in on the fitness side of things so I said sure.”
“She’s been training to wrestle?” It was impossible to miss the surprise in his voice when he asked that, and his eyebrows were trying to shake hands with his hairline too, which was a bit of a dead giveaway.
I nodded. “Not at first. She was coming on runs with me and hitting the gym… but she tagged along when I had an in-ring session and after I was done, my P.T asked if she wanted to learn how to tie up. It’s harmless, it’s just linking arms basically, but she jumped at the chance to get in the ring and locking up turned to hitting the ropes and I thought that would put her off because there’s a lot less give in ring ropes than people assume but she loved it!”
I thought for a moment that I was about to get a lecture, but then his face split into this big grin and he chuckled to himself, nodding. “That sounds like our girl.” His chuckle was infectious and I couldn’t help but grin too. “So she took to it huh?”
“She did.” And that's an understatement too. Fuck, I wish I’d been as much of a natural as she was when I was starting, it would have made things a lot fucking easier. “The very next week, I arrived at the gym to meet my P.T and when I get there, Esme’s already in the ring with him! That cheeky bitch had turned up before me and had talked Noah into showing her some more stuff. From that point out, she never missed a session, was in there with me every time I went, learning the stuff I was practicing, picking up tips, it was crazy.”
“She saw you coming.” He let out a deep laugh. It took a moment for me to realise he meant that I was paying for my training sessions and she was getting them for free at the same time.
I chuckled. “Yeah well, I think we both know that our girl could probably convince a horse it was a zebra if she put her mind to it.” She definitely had a silver tongue when she wanted it, and a wise ass at other times too. If she set her mind on something, she could get it, I had no doubts about that. “I dare say she could have convinced Noah to train her for free whether I was there or not.”
“You may be right Sophie, you may very well be right.” He shook his head, chuckling to himself a little before looking back at me. “So what’s this got to do with what you want to run by me? It’s a little late to ask if I think she should be able to train as a wrestler so I assume there’s something else?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking.” It wasn’t that I was already that what I was about to suggest was a good idea and just wanted affirmation, I was still in two minds about it and either needed a nudge in the right direction or someone to talk me out of it. “I put a few feelers out in the company I work for, and I think I can get her a job. Mostly just as a valet for me, to be honest, but GCW have said they’ll hire her if I want her there with me, and they said if she wants to actually learn to wrestle, once she’s on the books they can look at finding the money to pay for her to train properly, if they think she has what it takes anyway.”
“And you think she does, I take it?” I nodded my head.
“She picks things up so quickly. She’s already athletic, but we knew that from my program at the Project, but watching her learn stuff it took me months to pick up… she’s got it, in droves.” I wasn’t blowing smoke up Derek’s ass, Esme was a natural, so much so that it was kind of sickening. “And I think, with the right training and opportunity, she could go far.”
“And you want to know if I think you should suggest it?” It was kind of an obvious thing to ask really, I mean what else could I have been wanting, after explaining everything. But that was Derek. Measured, composed and always wanting to be sure he was right in his assumptions. I nodded my head. “Well Sophie, I think you should follow what your own head says. And I know that may be a bit of a copout, but I’m not a professionally trained wrestler, I’m a counselor. If you need to understand the inner workings of someone’s thought processes then I can help, but in this one, I think you’re more qualified to judge than I am.”
“I know. I know that Derek, I do. But do you think the idea in principle is sensible?” I mean, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to comment on her ability, but I didn’t want him to do that either. I needed to know if this was a sensible move. “I’m meeting her at her apartment soon, I took a pit stop to come speak to you, actually, and I was gonna bring it up with her over a burger or whatever we ended up having… but I’m having doubts.”
“Why the doubts?” Derek shifted in his chair, and it was funny, because the shift in his position was almost like a metaphorical shift too, from friend mode to counselor mode or something. I suddenly felt like I should lay down on the couch and talk about my daddy issues. And you do not want to get me started on those.
“Because I know what the wrestling business can be like.” And it can be rough. Believe me. I also know how it can feed a habit or maybe even fuel the fires of one. “Wrestling looks like it’s super cool and exciting and the money can be great once you start to reach your potential, but do you know how many people end up addicted to painkillers? And having money can make things worse, can’t it? It did for me anyway, because it meant I had more than enough to afford the drugs and I could buy more of them too. Plus you start attracting some pretty shady hangers on if you fall into the wrong circles.” I know I fucking did, anyway. I found some great people, but not all of them were as cool. Did I want to do that to Esme?
“You think it could do more harm than good?” Straight to the point. I appreciated that. And given that my doubts all sort of fell under than one umbrella it made sense to ask.
I nodded. “I do. I’ve been there, so I know what damage it can do, if she falls in with the wrong crowd. And I don’t want to ruin all her hard work, given how long she’s been clean now. She’s in her own place, her folks are off her back and she’s even taken some online classes to try and get her GED. Do I really want to fuck with that?”
Derek bristled a little at the language - in all the time I’d known him, I’d never once heard him swear, which was pretty fucking weird when I come to think about it - but he then nodded. “I see the conundrum. And it’s not an easy question to answer Sophie, but at the same time, we’re tested each and every day, aren’t we? I know I am, even if it’s a day I don’t have anything to do but sit in front of my tv and binge watch Netflix.” He had a point. Every day had its own challenges, no matter what we were doing. Didn’t really answer the question though. “And I admit, an influx of money and the sort of setting wrestling would provide could increase Esme’s temptation, but the same could be said for so many situations, couldn’t it? I heard she was considering trying to get into the accelerated education program to try and get a college scholarship, and college would definitely put her in situations where temptation was an issue… on the flip side, you may just be able to provide an amazing opportunity for a woman than many had given up on, just as you were afforded in your own life. And that could be an exciting new start for our young friend.”
“You think it’s a good idea?” If that’s what he was getting at, it was a hell of a lot of reassurance, I’ll say that much. I trusted Derek’s judgement more than most people I’d met and if he was saying it was worthwhile then it may just be a winner.
“It’s an idea.” Okay, maybe not quite so positive then, huh Derek? “And it could be good or bad, depending on a few things. How she responds to it, how she makes use of the opportunity… she could thrive, but she could also spiral back into her addiction. But life is a risk for all of us on that front, and to not at least offer her the opportunity to choose is probably worse than doing it and things going badly, because you’re taking away an opportunity from someone who has earned them.”
And I suppose that’s how I should have really looked at it from the beginning. It wasn’t about whether it was a good idea, because it could go either way depending on so many different factors. But to not give her the chance when GCW were willing to offer it, that was worse, because I was making Esme’s decisions for her. And while people could make offers, give her guidance, only she could be in control of what direction her life went. “I guess you’re right.” And that was another thing about Derek. The fuck didn’t gloat. If I’d said that to most men, they’d have given me one of those smug as fuck shit eating grins, the whole ‘you just admitted I was right’ routine that drives us mad. Not Derek though. Didn’t even occur to him to do that. “Hey, do you want to come with me so you’re there when I ask her?”
“You know, I am free until this evening. And I could go for some lunch, that’s true. Okay, I’m in, just let me grab my wallet and jacket.” It wasn’t necessarily that I wanted backup or anything, but Derek had been working with Esme longer than I had, and if anyone deserved to share in this moment should it be a happy one, it was him.
Took probably ten minutes from Derek saying he’d grab his keys to us pulling up at the curb outside of Esme’s apartment complex. It wasn’t a big unit, I think nine apartments in total across three stories, so the loud shouting and hammering of a fist on a door hit us right away as I shut off the engine. “The hells going on?” I looked at Derek and he looked back at me with a little shrug before we climbed out of my car and made for the entrance.
The shouting was even louder inside, but we couldn’t see where it was coming from as we entered the ground floor, which was little more than mailboxes, a doorway that led to the laundry and a staff only door that I assume was an office for the building manager or something similar. The shouting grew louder as we went up the stairs to the first floor where Esme’s apartment was. “I SAID TURN THE SHIT OFF ALREADY, YOU’VE HAD IT ON FOR HOURS!” I had no idea who the short fat bald asshole was that was screaming, but I rounded the stairs before Derek and realised slightly before he did that it was Esme’s door that he was hammering on and screaming at, which wasn’t a good sign. “I’M ON NIGHTS, I’M TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP YOU INCONSIDERATE BITCH!”
“Hey!” The fat little peanut turd turned to look over at me and Derek as we stepped onto the landing, face of fury and stomach of buddha as he squared up, like he was daring me to say something. Sweetie, you have no fucking clue who you’re dealing with. “The fucks your problem, huh?”
“It’s her!” He threw a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the door that was behind him now that he was facing us, a look of disgust etched on his face. “I got off work at eight this morning after a night shift at Sunrise, and she’s been playing that fucking music on repeat since I got home! Neighbour said she’s had it on most of the night too!”
“And nobody said anything last night?” Derek made a good point, surely someone had said something to her at the time instead of leaving it until lunch time to try and do something?
“You deaf?” This asshole was getting on my nerves already, and I didn’t envision it getting any better any time soon either. “I just told you I’ve been on a night shift. And our other neighbour did try. Got the same answer as I have; absolutely diddly fucking squat!”
“Squat’s fitting.” I couldn’t help myself, I really couldn’t. The guy was five two at most and kind of looked like a slightly rounder Danny DeVito without the glasses.
I was just glad I managed to say it under my breath, though I’m sure the guy heard me because his eyes narrowed a little as he looked at me again. “You know this chick?” Nah sweetie, we just accost anyone banging on random people’s doors and screaming at lunchtime on a weekday. We’re like Batman and Robin but with a niche market. “Whatever. Get her to turn that shit off, I need to sleep!”
He huffed and puffed his way back to the door of his own apartment and slammed it as hard as his pathetically small arms could; it’s kind of difficult to come across macho when you’re not much taller than a junior high school, no matter how much big dick energy you think you have and this guy didn’t have any, believe me. And my standards are notoriously low. “Some people, huh?” I could help but laugh as I shook my head at Derek’s words before the two of us both walked over to Esme’s door.
“Esme, it’s me, Soph.” I wasn’t sure whether she’d even hear me knocking over the music that was blurting out from inside. Don’t ask me what it was, it was just noise to me, but I tried to knock loud enough to be heard over whatever it was. “Es? I’m here for our lunch date?”
“You think she’s asleep?” I doubted it though. With the music that loud, I’d be shocked if she was able to. And Derek clearly had the same thought because he corrected himself pretty much right after. “No, that’s dumb. She’d never be able to sleep with the noise… but…”
“But what?” That kind of thing wasn’t doing anything to help reassure me that this wasn’t a problem. ‘But’ is never a good way of doing that. Ever.
“You don’t think she’s had some sort of accident do you? If the same album has been playing on repeat, it’s possible that she can’t get to the stereo to shut it off.” And now he had me really worried. So much so that…
“I mean, I have a key?” I hated thinking about doing that, because it felt like I was suggesting we invade her privacy. But if Derek was right and she’s had an accident or something, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that I’d left without trying. Derek looked at me and shrugged before nodding, so I went fishing in my bag, looking for the key that Esme had given me when she first moved in, which was supposed to be for a precaution in case she locked herself out or lost her copy, which only made the guilt a little worse as I found it and let us into the apartment.
The lights were off and the shades drawn as we stepped in, but some sunlight spilled into the room through caps in the shades as Derek made his way over to the stereo and shut the music off. We heard a cheer coming from the next apartment, evidently baldilocks was happy at least, as silence descended. “I’ll check the kitchen.” I nodded and as Derek headed to the kitchen, I made for the closed bedroom door. The bed wasn’t made as I stepped inside and turned on the light; the sheets were thrown across the bed a little haphazardly but it didn’t look all that out of the ordinary and I almost turned to exit again before I spotted what was off about the picture. By the foot of the bed, right by the corner, was a pool of vomit that didn’t look at all fresh. I switched attention from the door out of the room to the en-suite instead, hesitantly reaching for the door handle. “Es? Sweetie, it’s Soph. You okay?” No answer came, so I pushed the handle down and slowly opened the door. The scream that broke free of my throat had to have been louder than the music we’d just shut off. “ES!” She was slumped against the side of the tub. The rest of her last meal that hadn’t hit the bedroom carpet pooled on her chest, her head lolling to one side as I rushed to her side and tried to grab her. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I experienced. She was so cold. So void of life.
“Sophie?” I heard Derek’s footsteps as he called out. His shadow fell over us on the floor and I heard him swear for the first time in the two years I’d known him. “Oh no. Please, god. Fuck. No, please!”
He was on Esme’s other side in a heartbeat as I reached over to pull the needle from her arm and I tossed it into the tub behind us before laying her down. “Ambulance!” It was all I could manage, I can’t even say that I was thinking about what I was doing, it was an out of body autopilot holy fuck how is this happening moment. He stood up to give us some space, and I think rationally, I knew I was wasting my time. So cold. She was so cold. I knew it was pointless.
But I still cleared her throat, pulling vomit from her mouth with my bare fingers before attempting cpr. I heard Derek on the line with nine one one as I started chest compressions, telling them we needed an ambulance, giving the address. He was trying to answer their questions as best he could, her details, that she was unconscious, heroin overdose. At one point he asked me something but I couldn’t answer him. I wanted to, but I couldn’t do it. He reached down to try and find a pulse on her neck, I assume that’s what he was trying to ask me, but I pushed him out of the way as I attempted to administer the kiss of life. I could taste the sour saltiness of her vomit as I exhaled, before going back to the chest compressions.
Tears streamed from my eyes and I’m pretty sure it was the ugliest of ugly crying that I’d ever been responsible for, including when I was going through enforced cold turkey myself at Ace’s hands. “COME ON ES! PLEASE SWEETIE! BREATHE FOR ME, OKAY?” I should have known. I should have known it was fucking pointless, I know that now. She was already gone, had been for hours, it was clear to see, but I wouldn’t allow myself to stop. I was still going when the EMT’s walked in, the cops a couple steps behind them. One of the cops had to drag me off of her because I wouldn’t stop.
They tried ushering me out of the room. I remember Derek talking to one of the other cops by the bed, explaining everything as the first guy who’d dragged me from the en-suite tried to get me back into the lounge, until I threw him off and collapsed into the corner of the bedroom hugging my own knees. I felt so useless, so empty yet so emotionally charged at the same time, unable to process my emotions in that moment. I’ve had breakdowns in the past, I hold my hands up to that. I’ve lost the plot a couple times at least, or lost leave of my senses I guess. But as I huddled in the corner of Esme’s bedroom, I broke down completely, and screamed into my knees, tears streaming from my eyes and sobs leaving it hard to breathe.
Why?! Why the fuck had she slipped after more than two years clean?! I hated her. I hated her for doing it and yet I loved her so much, the sister I never had. I understood it of course, how could I not. How could I not understand the calling of the junk, it called out to me every single waking moment of every day. Enticing me, attempting to draw me back in. She wasn’t strong enough, that was what it was. She couldn’t hold out. Only it had been such a long time that she couldn’t… she didn’t have… her tolerance… it took her. Addiction took her… just like it had nearly taken me. And right there in that room, I wished that it had...
The sound of a car horn dragged me back to reality and I looked up to see some prick in a Trans-am leaning out of the window, gesturing rather impolitely at me to kindly get out of the way. I looked down to see that I was standing in the middle of a crosswalk; clearly I’d been on autopilot as I walked down Las Vegas Boulevard. Looking back at the car, I brought my middle finger up and made damn sure to look the creep in the eye before walking across the rest of the crosswalk, leaving Mr. In A Hurry to rev his engine and shout a string of obscenities at me as he sped off.
I had my first drink in two years that night. Esme had obviously died at the scene but red tape meant that she was pronounced d.o.a at around 2pm at the local hospital. Both Derek and I had to give the cops our details and statements on the scene. Derek took the lead, I was a mess.
I wanted to go straight to the hospital, but the cops had advised me against it, given that Esme’s parents would have to be notified and then formal identification had to happen. How could I argue with any of that? I remember wondering how much her parents would have given a fuck when they found out; I wanted to believe that they would, that they would be devastated, not because I wanted them to feel as I did but because I wanted them to feel like parents should. But all I could think back to was the conversation I’d had with Derek when he first explained Esme’s story, how her parents controlled her rehab process, micromanaged her recovery, not through love but through shame that their daughter was an addict.
I made my excuses with Derek about needing space and ended up just walking for hours after we got out of Esme’s apartment.
It had started raining at some point, because I ended up sheltering under the canopy outside of a liquor store, which proved to have a stronger calling than I was able to ignore at the time. I bought a fifth of vodka and brown bagged it on the bus ride back to my apartment, sinking half of it before I even made it through the door of my place, which hadn’t felt so empty in the longest time despite the fact I always came home to an empty apartment. David had drifted out of my life months earlier. No drama, we were on terms, I just couldn’t give him what he wanted or vice versa, whatever way it went. I threw up and passed out on the bathroom floor that night. My first hangover in two years hit like a thunderstorm the morning after. But at least it meant I felt something. Melodramatic or what? Approaching thirty and still a fucking emo. Go team Black Parade.
But hey, at least it was only alcohol, right? I mean, I clearly wanted to numb the pain of losing Es, and junk would have done a far better job of that, so at least I have that going for me… though from what I remember, it was a close run thing.
I’d just about reached the Tex Mex and Tequila bar when my phone started to ring in my pocket, and given the time of night I knew there was a limited pool of people that could be on the other end of the phone. Of course, it could be an emergency call or something, but I fully expected it to be a picture of one of two people on the screen as I pulled my phone out and low and behold, I was right on the money.
“What do you want, Ace?” Much as I love my best friend, I’d thoroughly depressed the fuck out of myself raking over the ashes of Esme and my spiralling back into alcohol dependency, the last thing I needed was dealing with a no doubt drunk Ace Marshall. Especially when I was planning on getting drunk myself in the lovely tequila bar I was standing outside of!
“Sophie Erica James--” And just like that, I knew that I’d hit the nail on the head when I assumed he was drunk. I cut him off early on.
“Elizabeth.” He paused. I could almost hear the cogs whirring for a second or two before he gave up.
“What?” I let out a sigh. How drunk was he, exactly?
“It’s Sophie Elizabeth James, ass.” He fell silent again. And once again I could hear the cogs working away inside of his head.
“Are you sure?” Was I sure what my own name was?! Had he really just asked me that?! “Whatever. Semantics. You’re not concentrating on what’s important here!”
“And what’s that?” I didn’t have the patience for riddles. If I didn’t get a couple more drinks in me, to keep the buzz going, I was going to end up sober. And Vegas is no place for sobriety, believe me.
He laughed, a kind of cartoonish ha-ha-ha, evidently mocking me. “Isn’t that obvious?! That was no way to begin a conversation with your favouritest person in the world, Sophie, especially when I’m using my valuable time in order to make your night a better one!”
“You drunk dialled me again, didn’t you?” I didn’t even need the answer. I could practically smell it from wherever he was. Well, I could smell tequila from the bar I was standing outside of, but whatever. It was fitting.
“Damn right I did.” Least he was honest. “What are you doing tomorrow? Tell me right now, this is extremely important.”
“Sleeping as late as possible in order to--” I didn’t get any further, because Ace cut me off.
“Forget that. I have a mission for you that’s incredibly important.” Why did I get the feeling that I was going to regret answering the phone once he’d told me what he needed? Other than experience of being friends with Ace Marshall that is. “I need a ride. From the airport. Whenever my flight is, I don’t know what time it lands but I’m sure you can work that out, you’re smart. Or I’ll forward my booking confirmation or something. That may make more sense, actually…”
And there was the other shoe, landing firmly on the ground in front of me. I sighed and decided to just not fight it; there was no arguing with Ace when he was drunk, so even if I was busy, I’d have no choice but to agree to come back pick him up, because he would argue until blue in the face that what I really needed to do was pick him up from the airport and I just didn’t have the amount of fight in me that would be necessary.
I put my phone on loudspeaker and let Ace keep talking while I pulled up the Uber app and booked myself a ride; if I was going to bow to the inevitable and agree to pick him up - and we both knew I was going to - then I had to give the tequila a miss. Talk about a waste of time heading out onto the strip; I’d basically come out just to let some random asshole catcall me and then depress myself as I reminisced about the time that someone who I saw as a sister accidentally killed herself. What an exciting life I lead. Hashtag blessed… fuck.
We click play on the video as after buffering for a moment, an opening title sequence plays, showing a mixture of clips of Sophie James, both inside of the ring and her life outside of it as “RUN!” by Nomy players over the top of it. The clips are intercut with various images of the city of Detroit, as well as shots from the strip in Las Vegas where Sophie now lives. The montage comes to an end when a logo flies at the screen which reads “Motor City Bitch.” The logo then shatters like glass and the music ends as the video cuts to show the head and shoulders of Sophie James sat in a gaming computer chair in front of the camera. “Sup bitches!” Sophie cracks a smirk as she looks away for a moment, reaching over to grab a can of Rockstar energy drink, which she opens and takes a sip of before setting the can back down on the desk in front of her. “And welcome to the seriously fucked up world of Ace Marshall, where such things as employment contracts and logic matter not when it comes to who should compete for the SCW World Championship when he is in possession of a shiny Trio’s contract… but wait!”
Sophie holds both hands up, a serious expression on her face. “Hoooooold the fuck up, bitches! Just stop what you’re fucking doing and pay attention, right this very second, because this is super important and may just save lives! Because logic be damned and to hell with the fact I’m not even supposed to be here today, we have a super important issue that has to be spoken about and if I don’t get this off of my small yet perfectly formed chest, I think I may just explode!”
“Ace? Sweetie? Darling… bubala… thank you.” The look on her face is nothing but grateful, gratitude literally radiating off of her as she continues to address the camera. “From the bottom of my heart Ace Marshall; thank you! Thank you for hyping me up. Thank you for possibly building my career, for giving me an opportunity when nobody else was rushing to do so. Thank you for the biggest match of my meager pitiful meaningless existence that was hell until you arrived in it to fix everything! Thank you for finally allowing me to maybe grab that brass ring and make something of myself in a world that was devoid of any meaning until this moment! If you were here right now, I would worship the ground you walked on. I would kiss your feet and call you my lord, my saviour… daddy Ace! I would drop to my knees and suck that magnificent cock of yours like nobody has done before because you have changed my life Ace Marshall. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!”
Sophie can hold the smirk back no longer and she laughs to herself as she takes a quick drink of her Rockstar before placing the can back down. “Was that how you imagined it, sweetie? Was it as good for you as it was me? Love you, mwah!”
She chuckles to herself again before continuing. “Okay, so maybe I was being a little sarcastic just then, but all jokes aside, Mr. Mack Daddy himself did do me a solid by including me in this match, when you think about it. Like, I’m fully aware that I’m only here because Ace Marshall is my best friend in the whole wide world, I’m not an idiot.”
“I’m not employed by SCW, I’ve not been working here and trying to get an opportunity.” Sophie shakes her head. “I’ve not actually been working anywhere for the last few months, after picking up a minor injury at the back end of last year… though truth be told, that healed up months ago. I just enjoy sitting on my ass too much to get back in the ring!”
Sophie throws her hands out and shrugs theatrically, looking a little sheepish for a second before smirking. “But here I am. Profiteering from my friends and getting something for nothing… and while that’s frowned upon in this business it seems, let’s be real for a moment. There isn’t a single person on this planet that doesn’t want maximum reward for minimal effort! And anyone who says that isn’t true is a fucking liar dude, because it’s part of the human condition!”
“People love something for nothing, it’s how we’re wired up!” Sophie shrugs, unapologetic. “You fucks at home, how many of you watch illegal streams of SCW pay per views using a VPN to avoid having to pay for the product? Something for nothing! I know a fair few of you do buy the shows but I bet there’s loads who don’t, and when you think about that, who’s the real idiot anyway?”
Sophie looks away for a moment as she grabs her drink and takes a swig. She savours the flavour for a moment before putting the can back down. “Now before I get in trouble from whoever the fuck is actually running SCW these days - I so pay attention, as you can no doubt tell - I’m not saying you should watch illegally. Obviously, if you want the company to continue, people gotta spill their hard earned on buying the shows… but that isn’t going to remove the fact that people will do anything to get them for free either. Just like I’m sitting here talking to you assholes now about a match I’m part of without doing a damn thing to earn it.”
“And I bring that up, because you just know that some ignorant fuck knuckle is going to mention it.” Sophie rolls her eyes, letting out a sigh. “There’s always one goody two shoes that likes to point out who deserves this or who shouldn’t get that, like that speccy kid that always sat at the front of class in school and would rat you out at the first sign of wrong doing as they were so desperate for brownie points from teach that they’d happily risk an ass kicking at recess in order to get them. But I know I don’t deserve to be here, and do you know what else? I don’t give a fuck either!”
Sophie shakes her head emphatically. “Nope. Couldn’t care less. Do not give a flying fuck that I don’t deserve it. Because that, bitches, is what’s known as taking advantage of a fucking situation! My best friend had a shiny Trio’s contract, he made a match and I am full on taking advantage by grabbing a space in it.” Sophie nods her head now, clearly happy with herself.
“And I’m sure there’ll be some superhero who wants to throw that at me as an insult.” She laughs. “I mean, every match like this has one, doesn’t it? That insufferable fuck nugget that wants to point out the transgressions of people or say who should and shouldn’t be part of the thing… well here’s a newsflash, douchey; the only opinion that actually matters is Ace’s, and he wanted me here so go stick your head in the oven and set it on high and do the rest of us a favour, huh?”
Sophie shakes her head, chuckling to herself as she takes a quick drink of her Rockstar before turning back to the camera. “Funny thing is, I feel like I’m basically copying myself, right now, because this isn’t the first time I’ve been pulled into a clusterfuck like this thanks to Ace Marshall. Only last time it was that random as fuck tag team turmoil gauntlet thing and I was fighting with Ace, not potentially against him.”
“And I guess I shouldn’t be bringing that up given we lost that night?” Sophie looks a little nauseous at the words that just came from her mouth. “But at the same time, while Shaun ‘Lemme do what Sophie James did years ago’ Cruze and AJ ‘look at me, ruining my adopted fathers' name’ Helms knocked us out of the thing last time, I still have experience heading into this thing that I guess could come in handy, maybe? And while it’s been a while since I was on SCW television and I may look a little skinnier now than I did back then, at least that means I basically know what I’m getting myself into?”
Sophie shrugs. “And we all know that Bree is going to be using that same tag gauntlet as some sort of bullshit evidence as to why she can win this thing, right?” A laugh escapes her lips. “Yeah sweetie, because coming out last in that last one and beating a team that were clearly exhausted made you and Billybob so awesome! I’m literally creaming my panties right now at how great you both were, like legit!” her hand disappears below the desk and Sophie lets out an obviously fake moan. “So wet sweetie, so wet.”
An exaggerated laugh escapes Sophie as she brings her hand back from under the desk she sits at. “I wonder what the rules are gonna be for this thing.” Sophie’s head tilts to one side as she appears to be deep in thought for a moment. “Like, does Bree have to run the gauntlet? Is she starting out the match at number one and the rest of us come out one by one or is that shit randomised and she could luck out again like back in two thousand sixteen? I mean, I kind of hope it’s the former, because let’s face it, Ace knew what he was doing when he booked this match and if he wasn’t trying to make it as difficult as possible for Bree to leave as champ then I’ll sniff Konrad Raab’s jock strap, which should tell you how confident I am in that one!”
“And in his infinite wisdom here I am again, at the whim of Ace Marshall.” Sophie nods her head. “I’m in a gauntlett that includes three people I’ve been in tag teams with, one person I’ve held gold with, one person I’ve made out with and at least one person I’ve mastaerbated over in the last week. I’ll leave you to figure out which is which. And I have to go through that field if I want to walk out as champ. Here’s the kicker. I don’t want to.”
Sophie laughs to herself before shrugging. “I honestly couldn’t give a fuck about the SCW world title right now, and you can say what you want about me for that, whether you’re in this match or not, but at least I’m being fucking honest with you fucks!”
“We’re gonna hear it all over the next day or two.” Sophie scoffs, rolling her eyes. “How important the title is to so many, how much it means to people personally, how important a victory would be to someone’s redemption arc. We’re gonna hear about how they deserve the attention people get as champ. How they’re going to be the top dog. How they’ve been proving they’re the best. How much of an honour it will be to win the title. How much they want to take the belt from Bree and restore honour to the title. Blah blah fucking blah. Get over yourselves.”
Sophie holds up a single finger to the camera as she speaks. “I’m here for one reason and one reason only: Ace asked me to be.” She nods as she lowers her hand again. “I don’t care about the belt. I don’t care about the laundry list of people in the match, beyond one or two individuals anyway. I don’t care about all that convoluted bullshit we’re gonna have rammed down our throats when promo’s start getting uploaded online for people to watch. I care about my best friend cashing in a Trio’s contract that he bust his ass for a year ago and wanted to use on something fun! Something he wanted me to be a part of!”
“And I may not be close to being the best in this thing.” Sophie casually shrugs. “I may not be the best wrestler. I may not be the hottest woman. The smartest entrant. I may not be the most tattooed or the most ruggedly handsome. I may not be the most moral or most caring. I’m damn sure not the most naive and I’m probably only the second most annoying. But what I am is the most loyal, and I don’t care what any of you bitches say to the contrary on that one! So friend or foe, regardless of how few fucks I have to give over the prize that’s on the line on Thursday…”
“...I’m unleashing ginger hell that even Kimberley with all her toys and stuffed animals could dream of.” Sophie smiles sweetly this time, which is a little unnerving. “And when I lose, which I’m going to do, I’ll toodle off back into the sunset again, independent contractors pay cheque in my pocket for one night’s ‘work’ and I’m sure the company will be no different. But whoever walks out as champ? Well, we know they’ll have fucking earned it at the very least! Because with the amount of tryhards we’re going to see in one night, winning this may prove more difficult than winning Taking Hold of the Flame! And let’s be honest, if a douche like Helms can win that thing, how difficult can it be anyway, right?”
Smirking, Sophie grabs her Rockstar and chugs the rest of the can down, which she crumples in her hand before tossing the empty over her shoulder as she burps enthusiastically into the camera. “Better out than in.” she winks. “Which is what we’re going to be saying on thursday night when bitches start getting eliminated from this match. Some more than others, no doubt. Though I don’t the majority of you dipshits watching will agree with me on which names that phrase would apply to.”
“Not that it matters, because let’s face it, I don’t care about your opinion anyway.” Sophie brings a hand up and starts to stick fingers out one at a time. She doesn’t even reach ten before she stops. “I can’t even think of ten people whose opinion I actually care about, which is probably a pretty telling story of how sad my own life is more than anything, but that only means that I don’t have to worry about public opinion of myself when Breakdown rolls around in two days’ time. And I doubt I’m alone with that anyway, given the field that we’re talking about here, but I honestly don’t care at this point.” She shrugs, nonchalantly. “Because I go into this with different motivation to the rest of the pack, and that’s what actually matters. Maybe I go into this and spend my effort ensuring the right person wins it, maybe? Or perhaps I just go in and say fuck it before the bell even rings and just ensure the wrong person doesn’t? Who knows. What I do know, is that this Thursday, I’m leaving a lasting impression, by hook or by crook. What that impression looks like… you’ll have to wait and see. But just remember.” Sophie pauses to lean into the camera so that it’s a close up of her face now, instead. “Love me or hate me, bitches… it’s still an obsession.” And with a wink into the camera, the scene fades out..
