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Jenny Myst · (11-24-2020)

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Do you recognize yourself? Sometimes you look at yourself notice imperfections--flaws, even--but sometimes you see yourself, inverted, and you see someone totally different.

That old phrase "look in the mirror". Whoever came up with it should win a Nobel Prize. What do you see when you look in the mirror? Can you stomach it? Do you like what stares back? If you don't, its up to you to fix it. Look in the mirror, that's your only competition.

Go ahead, look. What reflects back at you is what you really are, how the world sees you.......the question is, are you strong enough to accept the difference?

She snapped back to reality when her phone vibrated loudly on the porcelain sink.

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The place was hip, modern. This wasn't like any hibachi restaurant Jen had ever seen. All the ones she went to as a kid were more run down and gross.

Her heels made a tic tac sound on the marble floor as she walked. She was wearing a red dress made special for her on this occasion, red with clear spaghetti straps. The man next to her was wearing a suit, grey, with pinstripes, and his hair gel was gleaming in the well lit restaurant.

They are escorted to a rectangular table with 12 seats around it. Empty except for them. Many of the people in the restaurant were looking at them like they were celebrities having a night out in Vegas.

Looking around, she comments to him why they are alone. He says that this is what they were given, that it would fill up. The table was made of marble too, shiny, smooth. Screamed expensive. The design on the walls, Bamboo. Accent lighting looked like something from a movie set. It couldn't be real, she couldn't be here.

Her thoughts were broken by the server, asking her if she wanted something to drink. She nodded. She'd like to start with a soda. The lady looked at her funny, but nodded. The man with her ordered a Sapporo.

The people here were dressed casually. She blushed to herself. Was she overdressed? The attention certainly was on them. The waitress came back with their drinks as well as the small plates and chopsticks. Two more waitresses brought out soup and salad, and a small side of rice. The man ordered some Sashimi, claiming to her that it was the best on the strip, and that she deserved a good meal.

Sipping her Coke, she continued to look around. The restaurant was bustling, but their table was empty. There was a line by the door of people waiting, all of whom could have fit at their table, but were being held back. She felt bad. Who the hell was she to have this big table all to herself? She sipped her soup with one of those awkward plastic spoons. It was good. Miso.

His fish came. She tried it, he ate it, they had small talk about cars and tourism and the weather that week. When the chef rolled the big cart out that had all the items, her eyes went wide.

She didn't know what to order. She had never seen that much food before in her life. The man ordered for her. The chef nodded at her, asking her how she would like her filet cooked.

................She had never had filet before, how was it supposed to be cooked?

The man liked his medium-rare. She agreed.

When he poured the rice onto the metal cook top and the steam began, he turned towards her. The chef began to bang the spatulas together and make all kinds of noise. Never taking his eyes off the chef, he leaned in close. His demeanor had changed, his tone was flat, cold, emotionless.

"Have you given any more thought to the proposal?"

She wasn't prepared for that.

"I---uh----"

He slid an envelope over to her.

"You testify against him, you're off the hook. Scott-free and can live the life you've always wanted to . But if you make a mistake up there.......they'll roast you like these vegetables."

She opened it. Crisp 100 dollar bills, and a lot of them. She gasped, shutting it. She met his side-eye gaze with one of her own.

"I can't......this is........"

The man cut her off with a hand motion as the chef smiled a big smile, offering Saki. He obliged, taking the long squirt of Saki as people cheered. She declined. He put a bunch of rice and veggies on her plate, then his.

"Look, you're part of the biggest trial this city has seen in decades. Kidnapping, trafficking, sexual abuse.....the mob...........you're a celebrity by default. Darren is the fall guy. A lot of pockets being greased here.....a lot of people relying on your testimon---"

The chef puts the meat on both their plates. A single tear ran down her eye and she asked to be excused, hurrying to the bathroom. When she came back, the chef was gone. The man talked about how Vegas doesn't have a professional sports team but leads the world in sports gambling......while keeping his finger on the envelope........behind the bills was a picture of her father.

TO BE CONTINUED

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Jenny and her bestie Sarina Hazard, whose back from a severe bout with COVID-19, leave Jenny's lush Vegas penthouse, getting into her pink sports car. The door man from the condo shuts the trunk, and Jenny hands him a folded bill. GPS: "Tombstone, AZ".

7 hr, 29 minutes. S SE, on I-10E.

Sarina: 7 hours in the car? You better have some good tunes.

Jenny: Just keep your mask on, coughy.

Sarina: I was on a ventilator.....

Jenny: Excuses.

Sarina punches her in the arm as she puts on her seatbelt

As they hit the road, Sarina spoke up first.

"I've been gone a while....tell me, whats up with this Ash Quinn girl anyway? Like ew."

"She looks like a ventriloquist dummy used to teach kids about the side effects of incest."

They both laugh.

"She DOES though! And Geri Vayden? Have you seen her newest photos? She looks like the middle picture in one of those "progressions of meth" graphics. Those eyes, in a constant state of half-open, half-closed. She looks like she's channeling the ghost of basic white bitches past."

"Geri isn't some tough gangster bitch. She's the type of person who wanted to be a nurse growing up but had to settle for getting Hepatitis B. I mean, look at her..... Is she practicing her face for when she is eventually found OD'ed in a cheap motel room?"

They both laugh again. Sarina begins to cough-laugh-talk.

"From the Bronx? Hell, I bet she's fucked more black dudes than sickle cell."

"Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s methamphetamine..."

"At this point, she's more Narcan than human..."

They both laugh out loud, and Sarina begins a coughing fit. Jenny is crying-laughing. "We gotta stop, I'm gonna pee myself!"

But they didn't stop until they got to Tombstone.

"I am fighting an uphill battle every single day with literally nobody in my corner. Nobody wants me to win, nobody wants me to be champion, but that is what feeds the beast even more. I can't take these 3 women for granted. Are they on my level? Hell no, but are they hungry? Hell yes. Like Ethiopian hungry. Like Barney Green after a half hour goes by hungry. Hungry and desperate, that's a dangerous combo. I used to be just like them. I know how it feels. I know how wanting too badly to be noticed feels, wanting so badly to matter. Difference is, I made myself into something I wanted to be. These girls, they sit around with their hands out, waiting for fame and popularity to drop into their palms. Girls like Geri Vayden come back from a lengthy absence and just expect people to grovel at her feet like she still means anything to them. Girls like Geri disappear for months and come back with the audacity to ask me what have I done of note lately? Bitch, what have you done ever? What have you done except wither away on the Anarchy roster, winning the show's bronze medal of a championship and lose it the same night? So you beat Atara, do you want a reward? A prize? A pat on the ass and a "good job"? You treat Atara like she's been relevant, like beating her is an accomplishment of cataclysmic proportions. She's been gone almost as long as you have. The beating I put on her at Leap of Faith, she went into the ring with Madison Dyson and it looked like a bear wrestling a toddler. She hasn't been the same. If it wasn't for Mandii sticking her nose in my business AGAIN, I would have beaten Atara too. Unlike you, I take my losses in stride. I get knocked down and get right back up. You get knocked down and take months off, claiming you're injured. I've been wrestling with a bad back since 2017. You have spent more time on the sidelines watching my ascension to the top than Ash Quinn has been been trying to come up with a decent insult. You just want to be noticed, you want to be a star, you want people to stand on the rooftops and shout the name Geri Vayden to the heavens.

You’re an attention whore without the attention.

But that makes you hungry. Hungry to come back and prove yourself. Hungry to show the world that Geri Vayden wasn't flash in the pan. I know what being hungry feels like, and I know that it makes you dangerous. If there is one thing that Vegas taught me, it is never to take anything at face value, or anyone. You don't trust people from Vegas? Good, you shouldn't.

Solid Yankee analogy by the way....

*rolls eyes*

"....even though they haven't won a World Series since 2009. The Sox have won two since then, and knocked the Yankees out of the playoffs how many times since? Pretty sure they came back from 3 games down to beat the Yankees to win their first in like 80 years. The big bad Yankees, your big bad city. Don't bring up shit to sound cool, girlie, like I am just some dumb blonde whose not gonna know the context of the "insult". I have Google too ya know! I see why you relate so hard, because you really haven't mattered to anyone, either. Much like the Sox, I have had to battle my way up when everyone--literally everyone--had counted me out. Even now. Have you seen the odds? Nobody thinks I am going to retain this title, but me. I have never been given a fair shake, I have had to make my own odds. I am gambling with house money in a system set up to lose. In Vegas, you have to be quick on your feet. In the Bronx they might knock you out, but in Vegas, they will steal your very soul. A fistfight compared to your very livelihood being ripped from you with a smile on their face? I like my odds.

Betsy....are we supposed to feel for you? Is getting your ass kicked in a training gym and you crying like a dumped girl at prom supposed to make us feel sympathy? You are the reason blonde jokes are still a thing. First off, you look like you got your makeup applied in a mosh pit. Good practice seeing as you're gonna feel like you've been in a mosh pit post match. You were damn right that this is a match you don't belong in, but sometimes you need to take your licks to get better. I used to get knocked all over this ring...but in the end, its made me stronger. Made me better. I can be the bar, the standard, the measuring stick, boost women's wrestling to the upper echelon. OR.....I can ruin a division by burning it to the ground and making the lives of all of those involved a living fucking nightmare. Quite frankly, I enjoy both.

I am the epitome of perfection. I look the part, and I back it up. You just aren't on this level and that's fine, because not everyone can be. Don't beat yourself up too badly......

.....that's my job.

And Ash? I'm not saying I hate you, but I would unplug your life support to charge my phone. You walking participation trophy. You couldn't beat me before, you sure as shit won't beat me now.

My ENTIRE LIFE I have been held back. I came from nothing, was always told I have "so much potential". Words. Lies. Always told I could be something but never knew what it felt like to actually accomplish anything. I was always pretty, intelligent, caring. I was always taken advantage of. Not anymore. I'm still pretty, still intelligent, but the level of fucks I give now are zero kelvin. Do I need to explain that one to all of you, also?

I am not just the Queen because I hold one of the pinnacles of this sport, I am the Queen because I EARNED the right to be here. I took out a very game Madison Dyson, who threw her all at me. Off night? Geri, Madison Dyson doesn't have off nights. Something you'd know nothing about. I survived when the odds were not in my favor, and, most importantly, I learned. I never came in expecting to be handed the title. That's more your swag, baby girl. I don't do that.

I started off as a valet for Chris Chaos. It is well documented. I was nothing but eye candy. A shoulder piece for the best in the world at that time. I had fallen back into old ways, giving men excitement by simply allowing them to fantasize about what Chris got to experience. One day, I didn't want that anymore. I didn't want to be held down anymore. I wanted to prove that I was so much more than a sexual pawn, a spank bank deposit. I EARNED my spot on the roster by learning how to wrestle and defend myself. I went on to terrorize a roster full of small dick energy, and was successful, but never like now. When they introduced the Bombshell Title, I had the same attitude you three do. I felt entitled. I felt like that title was made for me. I felt like that title was mine to lose, before I even won it.

I made a mistake.

I slept on Abigail, and she beat me. I didn't have the chance to become the FIRST EVER Bombshell Champion because my ego got in the way. I didn't know what it felt like to be champion because I had never won at anything in my life other than being hot. Win-loss records don't mean shit if you don't hold gold. Respect is earned based on your title history. You could be 300-0 and never have held gold, and people won't respect you the same as if you are 1-299 but have that title around your waist.

Trust me, I was there. I felt it.

You should know this, you've held a "title" before, Geri. You know how it feels. The fact of the matter is you don't have it now. Stripped from you or not, you don't have it. Don't make excuses, get better.

When I finally won that title, it was the single greatest accomplishment of my life. It was my everything. It was a feeling I needed to feel again, and would stop at nothing to feel. When I won this one, I knew that I could never, would never, let it go.

You're gonna have to kill me to get it.

I RESPECT this title. I RESPECT this company, as much as they don't respect me. I RESPECT the idea of being a fighting champion and holding a belt in an ultra-competitive market. I RESPECT the idea of competition and winning the bragging rights we all seem to throw around in this place. What you ladies need is a little bit of respect. I am going to beat it into all of you on Sunday Night.

I know you're all talented, in the ring at least. Promo skills, could use a little work, I'm not gonna lie. But you're all tough competitors and I know I have my work cut out for me. I know it won't be easy and I look forward to the Ibuprofen and ice wraps. I look forward to the pain. The stakes have never been higher than they are right now. In this dog eat dog world, only the strong survive. You have no idea just how strong I truly am.

Some Princesses live their entire life hoping, wishing, praying they can become Queen but die the same way they lived........second best.

This match is mine to win. This belt is mine to lose. This company is mine to take over.

Long Live The Queen.

Bow to her.

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