If there was one thing Tommy Wasley hated in life, one thing that he hated above all others… it was moving home. Moving house and flying. If he hated two things in life, they were moving home and flying. And wasps. The three things he hates more than all others are moving home, flying and wasps. And dance music. Okay, the four things he hates... amongst the things he hates more than all others… his biggest pet peeves in life are… let’s start again. One of the things Tommy Wasley hated most in life was the idea of moving home. It was a pain in the arse that most hoped to go through as few times as possible over the course of their time above ground and until his move across the pond, Tommy Wasley had had the ‘pleasure’ of moving only twice. He moved out of his mum and dad’s home at eighteen, into a flat that he shared with his childhood friend Ryan. He lived in that same grotty two-bedroom flat for a couple of years before taking the plunge that would see him move south to the big smoke, moving to Camden in North London when he first decided to pursue his dream of becoming a pro-wrestler and given he worked more shows in the south than anywhere else in the first few years of his fledgling career, he never saw the need to move again.
Of course, that all changed when he and tag partner and heteral life mate, Johnny Taylor, made the move across the ocean to sign with EMERGE wrestling, which afforded them a huge opportunity but also necessitated move number three for the portly Yorkshireman... though a considerably easier move admittedly, given that he put most of his belongings into a storage unit and headed to Canada with only a suitcase of clothes and those personal possessions that he actually needed. Move number three, after all, was a temporary move into a local motel that made it necessary for him to be able to pack everything in a case at a moment’s notice. Never leave anything in a locked motel room, Willie Nelson had taught him that one in a song! , though that particular lesson was supposedly about Chicago rather than a suburb of Toronto…
Now though… Thomas Joseph Wasley was in a new place in his life, he had entered a new - and considerable - chapter as an adult. He was attempting to buy his first home. Not renting, not sofa surfing or living in a camper van as he had been until he found out he was the sole heir of his great Aunt’s fortune, but actually paying to buy a home for the first time in his life. He was thirty three and finally starting to feel like he was learning to adult, this was a major accomplishment! But by god, was it stressful. Tommy had no idea that it would turn out to be quite as stressful as it was, and this was without the need for a mortgage too; he could only imagine how much that would have piled onto his plate if he needed to jump through hoops with his bank too! Fortunately, his inheritance had left him with a little north of one point seven million in those funny green Yankee Doodle dollars and given that he wasn’t looking for anything lavish, he hoped he could easily find something to fit his budget... but the process alone was a huge pain in the arse and given that he didn’t really know much about the Boston area or Massachusetts in general, it made things that much more difficult.
“A really do appreciate the ‘elp love,” Wasley told Marie Jones as they clambered into his rental car following another bust of a viewing. He had asked Marie for help in viewing properties because she knew the area far better than anyone he knew and had a feeling that her opinion could prove invaluable as he tried to find a new home. His optimism was dwindling though, given that they had seen four places already with four different realtor companies and none of them had been anything like Tommy hoped they would. Which, considering the price point he was viewing at, was pretty surprising. “Am not gonna lie, I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue a’bart Boston, other than knowin’ that a’ve got a doppelganger that’s from ‘ere an’ that your family is all from the place. So havin’ someone t’ help me check places art wi’ is helpin’ me no end love. Thanks.”
“Tommy, you don’t need to thank me,” Marie told him, as she pulled the passenger side door of the Ford Mondeo closed behind her and went to buckle up. “It’s always tough, moving to a new city, knowing which areas are okay and which should be avoided, so I’m happy to help. Besides, you moving to Boston is cool. I had tried getting Tom to agree to move here, but he says he likes the sun way too much to consider it… when winter hits I may be more inclined to see his point I guess…”
Tommy grinned. “He’s no need t’ talk love, ‘e’s from Birmingham. Nowt but rain in Birmingham…” he told her with a laugh before starting the car’s engine. “Alrate, so fifth time’s a charm, eh?”
Marie gave a single nod. “Exactly! Perfect attitude. The next one is definitely going to be the one, I know it.”
“Let’s hope,” Wasley agreed as he slipped the car into drive and they pulled away. Marie, who the list of houses they’d dwindled Tommy’s google search down to, programmed the cards GPS for the next house, around seven miles away from their current location. “The second place wasn’t too bad, it’s a shame the basement wasn’t big enough for the gym you want to put together. Everything else was right.”
“Aye, but that’ns kinda important t’ be ‘onest,” Tommy told her as the GPS told him to make a right. “Wi’ the darn time we get in Emerge, a want somewhere a can get me workart on in, y’ know?”
“And you’d have hit your head on the ceiling every time you stood up straight in that place…” Marie admitted, sighing. “So how come you didn’t ask Kim for help, anyway? Not that I’m saying I’m not happy to help, but I kinda figured she’d be your go-to given she’s, you know,” Marie said, letting the rest of the sentence go unsaid, to avoid the awkwardness, but the implication was definitely there that Tommy had picked Boston solely because it was where Kim lived and he wasn’t exactly going to deny it.
“Well, a thought about it love,” Tommy admitted as he got into lane. “But when a said a were thinkin’a movin’ art ‘ere she sent me a pic’a the place she grew up an’ offered it t’ me fer free an’ straight away a thought to me self, Wasley, this ain’t someone t’ ask fer a favour right nar…”
Marie’s face was a real picture, but she chose not to comment. Tommy wasn’t exactly shocked, just from the photo of the cabin and everything he knew of Kim’s history. “She told me about your conversation,” Marie told him, tactfully changing the subject. “I know you’re just taking things as they come and everything, but I’m glad you two stopped dancing around the subject and actually talked about things… you’re a good influence on her, I can see that from how she is around you. Okay, she’s still Kim, but she’s… I don’t know, more grounded? Maybe it’s just coincidence, given her mission to make people take her seriously in SCW, but I don’t think it is…”
“Am glad a’ve ‘ad an effect a guess,” Wasley admitted, double checking the GPS to make sure they were still going on the right track. “A don’t wanna rob ‘er of ‘er essential… a dunno, Kimishness a guess? Last thing a wanna do is, a dunno, steal her identity or dim her light or summet… does that mek sense?”
“It does,” Marie said with a nod.
Tommy pulled over into the left lane to take a turn and waited on the red light. It gave him chance to actually look at Marie for a moment. “A know am nowt special t’ look at, an’ that there’s gonna be plenty’a people that’s gonna tek the piss art’a her if me an’ ‘er end up seein’ each other, but ad like t’ think am a decent bloke. If am good f’ Kim then that’s obviously a good thing like, but a just wanna mek sure she still gets t’ be ‘erself…”
“You are a good guy Tommy,” Marie told him. “And Kim is a good person too. I want her to find happiness, and I hope that’s with you. Tom speaks highly of you, even if he does so playfully. I think this could be great for everyone.”
“Y’ dunt think am punchin’ above me weight then…” Wasley asked. Aside from obvious obesity jokes that some would make under the circumstances, the one thing that played on Wasley’s mind was that he was truly out of his depth with Kim. He may appear confident to the fans, but the reality was far removed from how confident he appeared to the public. It may just be insecurity playing on his mind, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself by chasing after someone that was simply far too good for him…
Marie looked at him with pity in her eyes. “Is that what you think?” she asked, feel sorry for Tommy; the idea that he could feel so small was a sad thought indeed.
He shrugged. “Kinda, t’ be honest.”
“Tommy, I know that it’s social practice to say nice things in this sort of situation, but please listen to what I’m about to say,” Marie asked of him as Tommy finally took the left turn into a gated community, the street lined with trees on either side. “The way you have supported Kim no matter what she has been through since our worlds collided has been fantastic and I hope that everything works out for the two of you because you really are a good guy. And as for what anyone else may say, does it matter? It isn’t what others think that matters, but what you and Kim think. If things work and the two of you find happiness, that’s all that matters.”
Tommy wanted to thank Marie for her kind words, he wanted to say he appreciated her kindness but he was choked up. It wasn’t often that Tommy Wasley was lost for words but as he navigated his way through suburbia in his rented Ford, he truly didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat, trying to buy himself some time, and hopefully come up with something that wouldn’t come across as corny or just plain sad. “I, uh… cheers Marie. Means a lot,” was all he managed, all he dared really; growing up, Tommy was never one of the cool kids, never one of the popular boys that girls flooded towards, and he knew he was no oil painting too. He wasn’t fighting them off with a stick, he didn’t have milkshake that brought all the girls to the yard… so to be validated, to hear words of kindness like that, it really did mean something to him. Fortunately, they were saved from him having to say much more by the GPS announcing that their destination was coming up in a hundred yards.
“Oh, we’re nearly there,” Marie pointed out, cutting through the awkwardness.
“It said on y’ left, so it’s gonna be on my side… wait, is that it? Three oh one, that’s it, the blue’n!” Wasley said, pointing at a house that they were fast approaching. They pulled up at the curbside, and Tommy put the car into park before shutting off the engine. He unbuckled and started to climb out of the car, Marie only half a step behind him if the sound of doors shutting was anything to go by and she joined him on the curb looking up at the house. Wasley couldn’t even remember which house was which by this point, but as he looked up at the wooden structure of the home they were there to see, he had a feeling that he hadn’t had at any of the previous four, a feeling in his stomach that wasn’t just from not eating in more than five minutes. “This’s it, this is the one… a can feel it in me waters,” he said with confidence and Marie turned to look at him, her eyes wide in surprise.
“What, without seeing inside?” she asked in surprise.
He nodded. “Yep,” he told her before turning away from the house to look at Marie. “A’ve got a feelin’... it’s this’n, wi’out a shadow of a doubt. Summet’s tellin’ me it’s the one f’ me… gonna need repaintin’ like, ‘cause al be fucked if am gonna live in a house that’s painted Chelsea blue, but aye love, this is the one!”
“Brilliant!” Marie said as her surprised look was replaced with excitement. Wasley’s face mirrored hers in every way - all be it with added hair - and he turned back to look at the house.
He couldn’t remember how many bedrooms or bathrooms it had, couldn’t remember when it was built or what fuel it ran on. He didn’t remember if there was a Housing Authority or any other details and despite the fact that it needs a little tarting up here and there, he did just know. This was his home, he could see it from just looking at it… all the inside had to do was hold up to the view from the outside and he was sold. Or it would be, one of the two. And the irony wasn’t lost on him that this was the second time he had just known about a big decision in his life in recent weeks, had taken one look and known that something was right. He just hoped that everything in the equation fit together as he believed, because lord knows Math wasn’t his strong suit. But he thought he’d reached the right answer and that his method added up. Now all he needed was the realtor to show their face so he could take the next step and take a look around to see if everything fit. Another fitting analogy, as long as you don’t read too much into it.
“Mr. Wasley?” A voice asked as the door to the home opened. Perfect timing. Perfect timing indeed.
“Who’d ‘ave thought that, when a signed on that dotted line all them months ago an’ became one’a EMERGE’s latest signin’s, that ad go on t’ be more’n some tag team wrestler or a bit’a light relief, eh?
‘Cause let’s face it, f’ the longest time, that’s all many saw me as, weren’t it; a pause in the regularly scheduled bullshit for a bit of a laugh before the serious business could crack on again. Me an’ Johnny, spendin’ five or ten minutes mekin’ people laugh then on wi’ the show. But nar, ‘ere I am, on’t verge’a competin’ in a couple’a days, defendin’ me first ever singles title in SOUTH AFRICA of all places, knowin’ am not just a part’a this roster, but quickly turnin’ into summet of a locker room leader.
An’ a know that sounds like am tootin’ me own horn an’ shit, but am not. Am by no means better’n anyone else, but when it comes to this charge against The Unforgiven, who were rate up theer in’t beginnin’, eh?
I’ve ‘ad me arse handed t’ me from pilar t’ post over recent shows, in fact I ain’t had much of a brek from it t’ be honest wi’ y’, but even wi’ all that, knowin’ that all am doin’ is pokin’ a bear week in week art wi’ this stand against the bastards that’re tryin’ t’ kill this company, am still ‘ere! An’ that’s what’s important lads an’ lasses, ‘cause no matter what threats Cindy Todd or any one’a ‘er delusional groupies wants t’ say, am still ‘ere, still breathin’ an’ me heart’s still pumpin’ blood around these veins, an’ that means am still gonna be stickin’ up fo’ this company that’s gid me an’ are kid a chance on an international scale!
An’ a know that there’s a lot t’ be said for good luck, but sometimes bein’ lucky is enough in this business. An’ whilever a’ve got that good luck goin’ on, am gonna keep fightin’. Just like am gonna fight when a defend me RUSH championship against Madeline Masters… even if Drew has finally decided t’ try an’ extract his revenge against me f’ the public criticism of his choices, at least that’s what his bookin’ of this’n makes it look like anyroad…
...an’ okay, maybe that’s an exageration f’ comedic effect, but fuckin’ hell lads, a ladder match? What were it them two little buggers said on their podcast, that ad a be knackered after climbin’ a couple’s rungs? Oh an’ fo’ the record lads, not goin’ bald yet. Just sayin’.
But they’ve got a point, ain’t they? When y’ look at Madeline an’ then look at me, there’s only gonna be one winner in a ‘guess which’ns gonna struggle in a ladder match’ competition, ain’t there? Hmm… probably need a snazzier name than that. It’s a work in progress. Legit though, we ain’t gonna be compared a we, when it comes to who’s gonna fare better. Thing is… when ya look at me an’ Jenni Helms, that same comparison probably went the same, dint it? Who’s gonna be better, who’s gonna stand more’a a chance in a match. Weren’t gonna be me when all were said an’ done…
Which just goes to show that ya never can judge a book by it’s cover, dunt it?
A beat Jenni Helms for the belt am defendin’ against Madeline on Monday, much t’ the shock’a every cunt wi’ an opinion an’ an arsehole. Cause ya know, they’re the same thing, in this business. An’ am sorry Madeline, but while y’ rate a’bart respect an’ what not, but am not done yet.
Am not that fat that a can’t climb a fuckin’ ladder… a flight’a stairs maybe, but not a simple ladder! A’ve already climbed a metaphorical one just t’ get ‘ere, to be standin’ ‘ere as a champion… I ain’t lettin’ a far less difficult one get the better’a me now, regardless’a how many points you’ve got t’ prove to anyone.
It’s nice to know that i ain’t the only’n wi’ a problem wi’ Cindy Todd an’ if ya gonna fight by me side in EMERGE then fuckin’ great stuff… but Monday, before that bell an’ after it, we’re united. We’re the Resistance… but when that bell rings love, all bets’a off. Fo’get what the ragamuffins say in them podcasts, fo’get what fans, what collegues or even us gaffers say. Only thing that matters if what we say. An am gonna say this nar… on Monday neet, am gonna be like Fred bloody Dibnah climbin’ that ladder, ‘cause that belt? A worked hard to win it, an’ am not lettin’ it go wi’art a bloody fight. Just remember that, eh? See ya monday love. Enjoy the ride!”
