Post by Aurora Knight on Jul 12, 2016 0:33:43 GMT -5
Wilson Park
Torrance, CA
Friday, July 8, 2016
Charles Wilson Park was a major community hotspot in the city of Torrance. People from all over the South Bay would often come here for family picnics, birthdays, or just to roam the concrete pathways that wove through the sprawling green grounds. Today was no different. The park was crawling with visitors, some in the playgrounds, watching their children frolic in the sand, others carving paths down the concrete walkways, deliberately ignoring the “No Skating” signs that were posted every few yards.
But for Aurora, her favorite feature of the park was a treehouse-like structure built on stilts, large enough for several people to gather and wander through the various “rooms” connected by wooden-plank pathways. Beneath the largest such area, the NGW Tag Team Champions Aurora Knight and Damon Graves sat on a large black blanket. Or rather, Aurora was sitting on the blanket, clad in white shorts and a blue Sailor Moon tank top, while Damon lounged with his head in her lap, looking up at her face, his sketchbook propped up against his thighs, open to a sketch of the duck pond off in the distance. His emerald green eyes caught a shaft of light that slipped through the slats in the floor above them, giving them the look of lasers about to fire.
Aurora: Watch it with those things, Puddin’. You’re bound to burn a hole right through me if you keep looking at me like that.
She giggled as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was one of the rare times when it wasn’t a molded mound of brown concrete at the top of his head due to the amount of product he would normally use. It didn’t matter to her why he opted to go without. Perhaps because of the plain black baseball cap that lay beside him, but whatever. It was nice to be able to wrap the silken chocolate strands around her fingers. The low moan in his throat and the closed-eyed smile on his face suggested he was enjoying himself.
Damon: I’ll give you about 20 years to stop doing that…
Above them, a cluster of children scampered across the floor as they headed toward another section of the treehouse, sending shafts of light across Aurora’s face.
Damon: Right there… Harley, whatever you do… Don’t move. Not even your face! Just keep everything right where it is….
He quickly turned his sketchbook to a clean page and began to put pencil to paper. Aurora watched from the corner of her eye as line by line, her face quickly took shape on the stark white sheet.
Aurora: I swear… if you keep this up, our home is going to turn into the Damon Graves Museum of My Face.
Damon: Can I help it if you’re my favorite subject? Hell, I could draw you like a French girl from memory if I felt so inclined….
Aurora: I’d better not find any unauthorized nudes of me circulating on the internet….
Damon: Please… if I did draw you like that, I’d keep those under lock and key.
Aurora: If you say so….
There was an awkward pause when Damon suddenly looked up at her with a sly grin on his face.
Damon: Wait a minute… Is there something you're not telling me?
Aurora smiled.
Aurora: I’m not saying anything… not here, anyway. You never know who might be listening. And I don't see why you're so curious. You already get to see the real thing.
Damon: Hey, I’m not judging you. I know a certain other couple that might, but then again, since when do we care what they think?
Damon resumed his work on the sketch. After a few minutes of concentrated silence, interspersed with him looking up at Aurora with his eyebrow arched in a way that made it very difficult for her to hold her pose, Damon closed the sketchbook and set it aside. He sat up, leaning against his elbow as he looked up through the slats with a curious expression on his face.
Damon: I wonder… you think anyone’s ever gotten married in that treehouse?
Uh-oh… there he went again. Granted, he hadn’t brought up the “M word” since Vegas, but she knew it was bound to come up again in some form or another. And it was becoming more and more difficult for her to avoid the subject. Or maybe she was starting to warm up to the idea.
“Mrs. Graves.”
She couldn’t deny the fact that she had mulled those same two words over and over in her head. Nor could she deny that the more she did, the more she liked the way it felt. Nevertheless, it was WAY too early to be having any serious conversations along those lines.
She did her best to bury the thought in the back of her mind, looking for a way to answer his question without sounding the least bit… hopeful.
Aurora: Hmmm… I suppose if they kept the gathering at a decent size, it might work. It certainly wouldn’t surprise me if someone didn’t at least take their pictures up there. Though personally, I would have gone with Scherer Park…
A spark flickered in Damon’s eye as she said that, like he had just committed everything she had just said to memory.
Damon: Excuse me while I do absolutely NOTHING with that information….
He winked at her as she looked at him warily.
Aurora: Uh-huh… sure you won’t.
Damon: I know it’s crazy, but you’ll never guess what the 14th floor security guard asked me.
Aurora: I’m almost afraid to ask. But I’ll bite. What did Andrew ask you?
Damon: He asked me if I was gonna marry you.
Wonderful. Now Aurora could never look Andrew in the eye ever again. Not without blushing in embarrassment, at least.
She hung her head, trying to hide the smile that forced its way onto her face. [/color]
Aurora: And what did you tell him?
Damon: Told him I’d do it in a heartbeat. No hesitation, whatsoever.
Aurora: Damon…
Damon: And I meant every word of it.
Aurora could feel her face turning 20 different shades of red. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but words failed her.
Damon: Let me ask you something… how long had you known… I’m not even gonna say that fucking corpse’s name… before you got engaged?
She paused, thinking about Damon’s question. Truth to tell, there wasn’t any engagement. Not really. No proposal, no ring, no clue as to what the hell they were doing.
Aurora: Honestly, we got married on a whim. I told him I wanted to stick it to my dad in the biggest way possible. The rest is a total blur. Next thing I knew, he came out of a Claire’s with a cheap ring. Everything else… well, you know what happened. We hadn’t even really dated. We just hung out.
Damon: So technically, I’m already two months ahead of the game. That means there’s a chance!
Aurora stood up and dusted the grass off of her leg. She stared down at Damon, shaking her head.
Aurora: I never said there wasn’t. It’s just that…
Damon: I know… you need time.
He got up to a knee, stopping to grab the blanket they had been sitting on. At that moment, a small velvet box fell out of his pocket. With a panicked hiss, Damon scrambled to retrieve it, but it was too late. He looked up at Aurora, who stood there in mid gasp, her hands clamped over her mouth. Having been found out, he smirked.
Damon: Oh boy… I guess the jig is up, eh?
He picked up the box, turning it over in his hand. He then tossed it skyward, like someone would a tennis ball, pushing himself up to his feet and catching it. Looking at Aurora, he smiled.
Damon: You know what? Fuck it. We don’t have to get engaged right now… I mean, it’s only been a couple of months. But I still want you to have this…
Damon opened the box, pulling out a white gold ring with three princess cut rubies arranged in a Harley Quinn triple diamond formation, with several small round rubies and black diamonds running down both sides of the shank.
Damon: However you want to wear it… I’ll leave that to you. For now, you can just think of it as a sort of a “thank you for putting up with my ass” ring.
Aurora smiled as she held out her right hand. Damon slipped the ring onto her finger, kissing her hand before folding up the blanket. Aurora looked at her hand; the three main stones caught the light that poured through the slats, sending out a brilliant flash of red.
Aurora: Damon, this is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. Thank you!
Damon slung the folded blanket over his arm, carrying his sketchbook in the other. He saw the glow on Aurora’s face as she stared at the ring; it brought a smile to his own that rivaled that of a groom catching the first glimpse of his bride on their wedding day.
Damon: White diamonds have been done to death. No… anything that was going to grace your finger had better stand out from the rest. After all, why should we be like everyone else?
Aurora put a hand on Damon’s shoulder, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He walked ahead of her toward the parking lot, not noticing that she was moving the ring around on her finger. It seemed just a little bit loose.
Aurora: That’s not good… definitely don’t want this to go flying off my finger. Hmm….
She slipped the ring off of her right ring finger, taking a close look at the rest of her fingers. It was obviously too small for her middle finger, and much too big for her pinky. She looked at the ring finger of her left hand, a half smile forming on her face.
Aurora: I wonder….
She slipped the ring onto her finger. It slid into place with little effort, the metal feeling almost like a second skin.
Aurora: Like a glove….
She took a final look at her left hand before quickly moving to catch up with Damon.
Knight-Graves Residence
Long Beach, CA
Friday, July 8, 2016
A large black pilot case sat open on the edge of Aurora and Damon’s bed as Aurora walked back and forth between it and the dresser, pulling various articles of clothing from the drawers and transferring them into the case. With the addition of a pair of black Doc Martens and a pair of black Christian Louboutins – because even SHE recognized the need for a pair of killer heels – she closed it up.
She made her way into a large, walk-in closet, where an open box filled halfway with some of the items Damon had yet to unpack sat. Beside this sat the NGW Tag Team Championship belts. With a proud smile, Aurora ran her hand over the main plate, her fingers tracing lightly over every edge, every bevel. She picked up one of the belts, holding it tightly in her hands as she caught her reflection in the metal.
Aurora: There was a time when I couldn’t care less about holding a championship belt. Maybe because I never stuck around any place long enough to be considered for a title shot. Then again, back in those days, competition was severely lacking, so I got bored… fast. Sure, I faced some decent talent, but that talent was always overshadowed by self-entitlement; like the world owed them everything just for the fact that they laced up their boots.
Of course, all of that changed at City of Sin, where Damon and I stood across the ring from Avery Miles III. To see someone charge to the ring, knowing the odds were stacked against him, and still give us the fight of our careers… now THAT’S something worthy of respect. Which says a lot coming from me – I mean, let’s face it; respect is not something I hand out like candy.
She draped the championship belt across her shoulder, walking out of the closet and back toward the bed, sitting beside the pilot case as she used it as a resting place for her free arm.
Aurora: But as I stand here, holding one half of the NGW Tag Team Championships, I can’t even begin to tell you how good it feels to finally be standing at the top of the mountain. And yet, at the same time, there’s the thought that now that Damon and I are now the faces of the Tag Team division, the eyes of every other tag team are now squarely on us, including the eyes of those that think that all eyes should be on them.
A sneer twisted the features of her otherwise beautiful face.
Aurora: And no… I’m not talking about that attention whore, Persephone. But I’m almost willing to bet money that she expects me to talk about her. She just won’t like what I have to say about her.
But I digress. No, I’m talking, of course, about the pair that’s been looking down their noses at us ever since we arrived in NGW – Ashleigh and Gavin Grimes… or as I like to call them “Twice the Grime”. You know, I think it’s absolutely adorable how they let a couple of CHILDREN play at marriage like you are. I mean, just because you’re of legal age, doesn’t mean you’re mature enough to handle it. Trust me; I speak from experience.
I look at you two and while on the surface, you seem like the picture of marital bliss, I can already see the signs of another celebrity marriage that is doomed to fail. Sure, you two can crow about how much you love each other until the entire world is drowning in vomit – because let’s face it, seeing the two of you carry on on Twitter is more vomit-inducing that syrup of ipecac, but I’ve seen it before. The two of you are both too consumed by your own massive egos to understand what TRULY makes a marriage. In a REAL relationship, both sides support each other no matter what. Through good times, they celebrate each other’s successes. In bad times, they guide each other over the rough spots until they reach the other side. And then, there’s you two clowns. I swear, you make Kim Kardashian and Kanye West look like Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara. How much longer before the supermarket checkout lanes are littered with tabloids saying “’Gavleigh’ Calling it Quits in Multi-Million Dollar Divorce Scandal”?
Ashleigh, I’ll start with you, since your little outburst at City of Sin showed that you seem to possess bigger balls than your chump husband does. You know, it’s not the first time I’ve seen a wife challenge her husband to a match. But it IS the first time I’ve seen the husband act like a scared little bitch because of it. I know you don’t need me to tell you this, because you’ve already got it in your head that you’re the best thing to happen to professional wrestling since Classy Freddie Blassie, but one of the first things I noticed when I came to NGW was that you were one of the best wrestlers on the roster, and yet you were nowhere on the rankings for the Unified Championship. And why? Because you swore you’d never wrestle Gavin? I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit, and you’re selling yourself short by having that clause in your contract. I came here to wrestle the best of the best, regardless of who that puts in the ring across from me. The fact that up until recently, the idea of you going after the top strap in the company was out of the question simply because of who held it is just plain sad. And now look at you… sitting there, arguing with yourself because you think you’ve fucked up. Well, let me tell you something. If you think that challenging your husband for a belt he KNOWS he’s only holding onto because he knows that the one that SHOULD be challenging him for it doesn’t want to “hurt their relationship,” then you’ve already got bigger problems than you realize.
She walked out of the bedroom, through the living room and out onto the balcony. On the table sat a pristine-looking black ceramic vase. She sat on one of the chairs beside it, resting her hand beside the vase.
Aurora: You see this vase right here, Ashleigh? Looks pretty solid, doesn’t it? So smooth… like nothing has ever disturbed it. But take a closer look.
She turned the vase ever so slightly, leaning in with narrowed eyes as she pointed at what looked like a faint hairline crack in the ceramic.
Aurora: You can barely notice it, but there’s a HUGE crack running up the side. Sure, it’s been glued, patched up and painted over, with everything done to repair the damage. It’s even been angled so that anyone can just walk right past it and not see a damn thing. And sure, to the naked eye, it looks as good as new. But if it falls again, what’s going to happen?
Like a cat in one of those “Thug Life” vines that have gone viral over the internet, she slowly pushed the vase to the edge of table, before finally pushing it off. As it hit the floor, it broke, sending fragments both large and small all over the balcony. One by one, she picked up the larger pieces and set them back onto the table, attempting to reassemble them as if they were pieces of a 3D jigsaw puzzle.
Aurora: That seam where it had been repaired will be the first to split, followed by several others, until that first crack leads to a pile of jagged fragments. With enough time, and a fuckton of glue, you could still put it back together, but there will always be tiny fragments too small for you to pick up.
She hissed in discomfort as one such shard lodged itself into the tip of her finger. Nothing she couldn’t pull out, but as she did, a tiny droplet of blood formed, which she quickly licked off. She looked into the camera and smirked.
Aurora: What? Don’t act like you’ve never done that. But anyway, enough of me pointing out the flaws in your relationship. If you want to continue carrying on like everything’s just peachy between the two of you, go right ahead. Just realize that I can see through the façade.
Let’s move on…
Everyone likes to take shots at the Angelz as a whole, because – well, I’ll admit it, not all of us have gotten off to a stellar beginning. But all that aside, what makes you think none of us have what it takes to stand alone? Gray had been wrestling for years in another promotion, adding a ton of championships to his résumé, although you seem to go out of your way to shit on everything he’s ever accomplished. The same goes for Corey Bull. 54 championships to his credit over an incredible period of time, but none of that matters to you because right now, he’s not “on your level”. No, Ashleigh. When you can scrape together HALF of the accomplishments that Gray and Corey have, even individually, THEN you can talk about who’s on whose level. As for why I’ve chosen to run with Corey and the others, it’s real simple. So simple in fact, that even a simp like you should be able to understand it. I’d rather associate with people like him than be caught dead with a self-centered, egomaniacal snob like you.
Apart from the Five Lakes Championship you’ve got now, the only other title to your credit belongs to a promotion that hasn’t even uttered so much as a peep in over a month. Yeah… lay claim to a championship that belongs to a dead company that no one gives a flying fuck about… sound familiar? It should, because if you’re going to shit on what everyone else has achieved before they came here, then you should be cool with people throwing it right back in your face.
She scoffed, rolling her eyes.
Aurora: But you’re not cool with it, because you’re a fucking hypocrite.
Oh, and that reminds me. While we’re on the subject of hypocrites, and how your picture shows up right next to the dictionary’s listing of the word, who in the hell are YOU to tell me that I don’t embody rebellion enough? Do you even listen to yourself? Look at me, and look at the other members of AoD. Do any of us even remotely look like we fit in with the rest of society? No? I didn’t think so. And do any of us really care to be like everyone else? The answer to that question would be an emphatic “Fuck no!” So for you to stand there and say I’m conforming to anything is the biggest load of shit I’ve had to deal with outside of a horse farm. But then again, what else should I expect from someone who by her own admission hasn’t had a single tag team partner that she wouldn’t throw under the bus if it meant furthering her own selfish agenda. Yeah… I hope your husband remembers that little fact once it’s time to throw down. [/color]
She chuckled as she stood up from the chair. A few tiny bits of ceramic catch the sunlight as she left the pile of larger fragments on the table.
Aurora: And what is it that makes YOU such a hard ass, Ashleigh? Is it because you spent your childhood cast aside as a ward of the state? A poor, abandoned little girl that didn’t know how to react to the world around her, so she did the only thing that made sense, and that was lash out at anyone that tried to get close. If anything, I should feel sorry for you, but I don’t. It doesn’t make you any different than the tens of thousands of other kids that get aged out of the system every year. Of course, someone had to take pity on you, maybe because he saw some tiny shred of good in you; that little spark that made you into the star you are today, but the way I see it, all of that polish, all of the training you went through to become as good as you are in the ring doesn’t change the fact that deep inside, you’re still a shit human being. And we all know what happens to shit, don’t we, Ashleigh?
She walked past the bathroom in the hallway just in time to hear the muffled sound of the toilet flushing. As the door opened, Damon stood there in the doorway. He looked into the aquamarine eyes of his girlfriend, who returned his gaze with a smile.
Aurora: Impeccable timing, Puddin’…
She sniffed the air, shuddering at the odiferous aroma that spilled into the hallway.
Aurora: I know that’s not the litter box I smell…
Damon: Of course not. It was just cleaned. By the way… where’s the air freshener?
Aurora let out a sigh as she waved her hand in front of her face.
Aurora: It’s under the sink. I suggest you use it. And don’t forget to wash your hands….
Damon: Harley?
Aurora: Yeah?
Damon: I got a text from Alicia. She said the car would be arriving soon to take us to the airport.
Aurora: Great… I’ll go get the cats.
She walked into the bedroom, disappearing as she stepped beyond the doorway.
Aurora: Bruce… Selina! Time to go for a ride!
Los Angeles International Airport
Los Angeles, CA
Aurora: Whoa…
She stepped through the main door of the Boeing Business Jet, immediately taken aback by the lush interior. In a way, it reminded her of the charter jet Alicia had hired for her when she first flew out to Portland, only infinitely nicer. The seats were covered in rich black leather, and the tables and trim were made of rosewood. In the main salon, a large Ultra Hi-Def TV was mounted to the wall. Aurora placed the cats’ carriers on the first available seat as the flight crew boarded and shut the door.
Aurora: This thing is incredible… I can’t even imagine how much all this set them back.
An older gentleman in a pilot’s uniform approached from the cockpit, a smile peeking out from beneath a thin, graying moustache.
Pilot: Well, I must say you two aren’t the passengers I’m used to seeing on board. However, Mrs. Perry told me to expect you. Have you ever been to Atlanta before?
Aurora: I’ve never been any farther east than Arizona, to be honest.
Damon: Nah… farthest I’ve ever been is Texas, and that was for a funeral.
Pilot: I see. In any event, once I get the go ahead from the tower, we’ll be on our way.
Damon: Sounds like a plan to me. So… I was told there would be food?
Aurora: Damon!
Pilot: Of course! The galley is right through there.
The pilot gestured over his shoulder, and Damon immediately sought to satiate the roaring lion in his stomach.
As Damon disappeared into the galley, Aurora smiled sheepishly.
Aurora: Poor guy…we’ve been kinda busy today.
The pilot glanced down at Aurora’s left hand, taking silent note of the ring on her finger.
Pilot: Indeed. And if I may say so, congratulations on your engagement!
Aurora blushed, quickly shaking her head as she waved her hands in front of her.
Aurora: Oh no, no, no… you misunderstand. We’re not engaged. That is to say, he hasn’t officially proposed… yet.
There was a hint of disappointment in her words, as if she had a twinge of regret in talking him out of proposing at the park. She rationalized it away, insisting that it was too soon, but deep inside, she knew damn well that despite what she had promised to herself after that whole mess with that bastard, Jered – may he rot in pieces – that she would have said yes before Damon could even finish asking the question.
Pilot: Forgive me if I’m out of line on this, but I’d like to pass on a little word of advice to you. Don’t make the man wait TOO long.
Alicia: You don’t have to tell me twice. I just want to make sure we wait long enough to make sure it’s what we BOTH want, if that makes sense. [/color]
The pilot nodded in agreement.
Pilot: Young lady, it’s rare to find someone your age with as much wisdom as you. Keep that up, and you’ll do just fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get the plane ready for take-off.
She smiled as he walked past the galley and into the cockpit. Shortly after that, Damon emerged from the galley, a couple of cans of Mountain Dew Pitch Black tucked under one arm, and what appeared to be a pair of chicken sandwiches in the other. A third sandwich, with a bite taken out of it, was clenched in his hand. He smiled, and Aurora could see a tiny piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth.
Aurora: Damon, you got a little…
She pointed at the spot in her own teeth, indicating where the offending vegetable was wedged. Damon moved to the sectional sofa behind the first group of seats, sitting down on the end with his head beside one of the windows. He set down the plunder of food on the table, gesturing to Aurora.
Damon: This sandwich is pretty good. You should try one.
Aurora: Don’t mind if I do….
She sat down beside him, unwrapping one of the sandwiches. She took a bite and looked as if she had just tasted the nectar of the gods.
Aurora: Oh my god… you’re right! Remind me to find out where Alicia got these sandwiches.
She opened one of the cans of Pitch Black, pouring the cold, purple liquid down her throat. As she sat the can down, she turned to Damon, a somewhat serious look in her eye.
Aurora: So… tell me more about the shop. How exactly are we going to do this?
Damon swallowed the bite of sandwich in his mouth, then leaned back against the back of the sofa, smiling confidently.
Damon: Well, first off, we’re gonna have to do a little remodeling in there… knock out a couple of walls here, put another one up there… here; I’ll show you some of the pictures I snagged while I was there.
He pulled out his cell phone, swiping through the images of the former fitting rooms in the back of the shop, the curved counter in the front, and even a couple of rough sketches of what the shop would look like after the remodel. Aurora smiled widely, impressed with her boyfriend’s vision.
Damon: So, what do you think?
Aurora: Well, if we team up with the right artists, it’ll be great! But can I make one little suggestion?
Damon: And what’s that?
Aurora: The interior… can we paint it red and black?
Damon: I’m way ahead of you. Check out these paint samples I picked out….
He stood up, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a handful of folded paint swatches in three shades of red, plus one shade of black. But before he could get any further, the pilot’s voice came over the jet’s intercom. His voice was peppered with mild static, but still understandable.
Pilot: Alright, folks… we just got the all-clear to take off, so if we could have everyone in their seats, we’ll be departing shortly.
Aurora: Well, Puddin’… looks like it’s time to hit the road.
Damon nodded his head, gathering the food from the table as he got up and headed to one of the forward facing seats, beside the seat where Aurora had placed the cats’ carriers. Aurora soon followed, placing the carriers under that same seat as she sat down.
Damon: Poor things… they probably can’t wait to get out of those things.
Aurora: Once we’re in the air, they can come out and stretch their legs. But for now, we need to strap in.
Damon: That almost sounds dirty.
Aurora: You…..
Proctor Creek
Atlanta, GA
Monday, July 11, 2016
Three days had passed since Aurora and Damon had touched down in the Peach State’s capital city. And while Aurora enjoyed seeing the sites and mingling with the locals, some time away from everything was definitely in order. She found herself wandering along the bank, the soles of her Dr. Martens crunching through fallen leaves and dried up dirt clods.
In her wandering, she found a bridge, its walls plastered with graffiti, some of which was placed over other works of “street art” – the human equivalent of dogs pissing on the same fire hydrant, over and over again. Every few minutes, the rush of a car could be heard as it hurried over the bridge. She passed under the bridge, her footsteps echoing off of the concrete walls until she emerged on the other side, stopping to lean against the wall. A smirk crossed her face as she looked into the tunnel she had just passed through.
Aurora: You know, Gavin, I half expected to find you lurking under this bridge. After all, a bridge IS a troll’s natural habitat, is it not? But wait! That’s right! You’re off on your honeymoon, halfway around the world, lounging around with your pants hanging around your knees.
Say, that reminds me of an old song that went viral about six years ago… from someone that happens to be from right here in Atlanta. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna bust into a rousing chorus of “Pants on the Ground,” but if I’ve planted at least one earworm with that dated reference, then all I can say is “mission accomplished.”
She snickered, muttering the lyrics to the aforementioned one-hit-wonder under her breath. She stepped away from the wall, walking down closer to the creek itself. Water flowed down in a slow, barely audible trickle as it passed over the smooth river rocks at the bottom.
Aurora: But all kidding and pop culture references aside, I was raised to not judge a book by its cover. However, when I arrived in NGW, the first thing I saw was a picture of you plastered in Devlin Scott’s office with the Unified Heavyweight Championship. I looked and I thought… “THAT runty little weasel is the top dog around here? I’ve seen 11-year-olds with better moustaches than that!”
Normally, anyone that has held a championship for as long as you have would garner some amount of respect. But then again, when that so-called champion gets his challengers fed to him through a syringe like a lost baby bird, then that respect is no longer deserved. I mean, look at some of the names of the people that were picked to face you… Angelo Garcia? What ever happened to him? Seems like the man that called himself “El Rey” abdicated and went into a self-imposed exile, never to be seen or heard from again. Kenzie? The one that I’m ashamed to admit was once one of us? She choked harder than a virgin hooker giving her first blowjob!
She lightly wrapped her hands around her throat, making a mock choking noise. Letting her arms hang at her sides, she took a seat on a large boulder near the water’s edge. The treads of her boots narrowly missed touching the water.
Aurora: You’d like to call yourself a fighting champion, but you can’t. After you were fed Kenzie Rydell with a rubber-coated spoon – you know, like the ones used to feed babies – you went two straight shows without defending your title at all! Doesn’t matter if you got into a scrap with Brother Corey… why should I care when the title wasn’t on the line? And then, there was Dirk Bentley. I probably shouldn’t go there, but I will. If someone had brutally assaulted the one that I loved, I wouldn’t waste time fighting anyone else, much less anyone that had been hired to “protect” them. No… I would have gone straight for the throat of the son of a bitch and taken his ass out!
Newsflash, you fucking man-child! Going on Twitter and yelling “Fight me!” at all of your followers doesn’t make you a fighting champion. You keep bitching about that gauntlet match challenge that you threw at us on Twitter, saying right after that, we all went silent. Did we? Or did we simply just let it fall back on the shoulders of Devlin Scott to make the match official? Seeing as nothing ever came out of it, I can only assume that he didn’t think it would be a good enough draw. Maybe he felt that it would put his precious little lap-dog champion at risk of getting injured before he has you defend the title against another cupcake challenger. Who knows? Maybe he’ll give you the man that makes everyone’s knees clatter when they see his name across from theirs… John FUCKING Blade! No… baiting people into fighting you by throwing challenges out over Twitter doesn’t make you a badass. It makes you nothing more than a bitch with a set of virtual testicles. You know, to replace the ones your wife keeps in her purse.
Aurora scoffed, sneering as she picked up a twig that lay on the ground beside her foot. She began scratching at the ground with the twig, almost as if she were writing something in the semi-moist earth close to the creek.
Aurora: Speaking of your wife, this brings me to the next – and probably biggest – reason why you don’t deserve to call yourself a champion… the fact that your biggest – and possibly toughest competition aside from yours truly is the very same woman you’re shacked up on that little Greek island with. You both like to hide behind that old cliché that “we’ve gone through so much, and it’s only made us stronger.” Psssh! And you called DAMON childish and cliché….
Her eyes rolled as she shook her head, her long blonde hair brushing back and forth against her back.
Aurora: Honey, the only thing that you and Ashleigh have in common – aside from the fact that you two look like you’re still in middle school – are your enormous egos, and while you two may seem like you’re unstoppable now, you’re only delaying the inevitable. Eventually, your egos are going to clash, and everything you two have accomplished will come crashing down. But hey… at least you’ll still have each other. You’ll get to look into each other’s eyes as you stand among the rubble that was once your ivory tower and you’ll wonder where it all went wrong.
I’ll tell you where it went wrong, Gavin. It all goes back to when you stormed off, leaving your wife behind to stew in her own funk while you ran off to lick your emotional wounds. Any REAL man would have accepted her challenge right then and there. But did you? No. And I know the reason why. Deep down, you’re scared shitless, knowing that if the one person that knows you better than everyone else on the roster faces you for that title, you’re going to lose. So you slap a ring on her finger, thinking that will be enough hardware to distract her from what she REALLY wants, and that’s the same thing that everyone else in NGW wants… that strap around your waist. And if she tells you otherwise, she’s lying. She may look you in the eyes and tell you that your marriage means more than any championship, but for a champion to be openly against facing ANYONE for the championship doesn’t deserve to have his name engraved on that nameplate.
I hope that honeymoon does you two some good. I hope you and Ashleigh come back well rested and as lovey-dovey as you’ve always been. Keep putting on a show for Devlin Scott and the rest of the world, because if you keep telling everyone that everything’s fine, maybe you’ll convince yourselves. But like I mentioned before…
She leaned forward, putting her weight on her hands as she gripped her knees. Her eyes narrowed, but there was a dark smirk on her lips.
Aurora: I can see the cracks already forming. You can paint over them, turn around so that no one can see them, but all it’s gonna take is one little push. Who knows? That push may take place at Vendetta. This match may not be for the Tag Belts, but it could very well be the moment where you two fail to keep your egos in check and then your relationship implodes all over again.
Damon and I have no problem taking you two on in a non-title match. Whether or not we win or lose, it does nothing but showcase to the rest of NGW just what it’s going to take for anyone to even come CLOSE to keeping up with us. You keep saying that the Tag Team Championships are nothing but meaningless little trinkets, but Damon and I are going to change that. You see, while you’re off puttering around on a jetski waving your underwear around, Damon and I have been hitting the gym twice as hard. You see, to us, it doesn’t matter if the title isn’t on the line; we’ll still come at you with everything that we have, because THAT is what it means to be the NGW Tag Team Champions. You can keep knocking us all you want to. All you’re doing is giving us that much more motivation to shut you up. It doesn’t matter to us what other people did while holding these belts. That has nothing to do with us. WE are the NGW Tag Team Champions, and WE will be the team that makes those titles mean something again.
After this match, I see one of two things happen. Either it’s going to light a fire under those tag teams that are waiting in the wings, giving them a taste of what’s going to be coming at them when they step into the ring with us. It tells everyone watching that if they even hope to stand a chance at bringing home the Tag Team Championships, they’re going to have to step up their game. Just like we know we’re going to have to step up our game like never before just to KEEP the championships where they belong…
She stood up, making a motion across her waist with her hands, a determined smile on her face and fire in her eyes.
Aurora: Around our waists.
From the street above, a car moved across the bridge, slowing down to a stop. Hearing a car door open and close, Aurora looked at her watch and smirked.
Aurora: A-ha… right on cue!
She glanced over her shoulder as her tag team partner made his way down from the road. As he came down the incline, he kicked up a cloud of dust that settled onto his jeans. Over one shoulder, he held both championship belts, presenting one of them to Aurora as he kissed her on the cheek.
Damon: Did I miss all the fun?
Aurora: We can have our own fun later, Puddin’. But yeah, I’m pretty much done here. For now, anyway.
Damon: Come on… let’s get out of here. This place is feeling a little… grimy.
He looked at the graffiti-covered bridge, a sneer contorting his face as Aurora smiled at him.
Aurora: Yeah… and so are those pants you’re wearing.
Damon chuckled as he gestured up toward the road, stepping out of the way so Aurora could pass.
Damon: After you, Harley…
Aurora: Why thank you…
She winked at him playfully as she hiked up the hill. Damon watched her move, biting his fist before following her.
Torrance, CA
Friday, July 8, 2016
Charles Wilson Park was a major community hotspot in the city of Torrance. People from all over the South Bay would often come here for family picnics, birthdays, or just to roam the concrete pathways that wove through the sprawling green grounds. Today was no different. The park was crawling with visitors, some in the playgrounds, watching their children frolic in the sand, others carving paths down the concrete walkways, deliberately ignoring the “No Skating” signs that were posted every few yards.
But for Aurora, her favorite feature of the park was a treehouse-like structure built on stilts, large enough for several people to gather and wander through the various “rooms” connected by wooden-plank pathways. Beneath the largest such area, the NGW Tag Team Champions Aurora Knight and Damon Graves sat on a large black blanket. Or rather, Aurora was sitting on the blanket, clad in white shorts and a blue Sailor Moon tank top, while Damon lounged with his head in her lap, looking up at her face, his sketchbook propped up against his thighs, open to a sketch of the duck pond off in the distance. His emerald green eyes caught a shaft of light that slipped through the slats in the floor above them, giving them the look of lasers about to fire.
Aurora: Watch it with those things, Puddin’. You’re bound to burn a hole right through me if you keep looking at me like that.
She giggled as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was one of the rare times when it wasn’t a molded mound of brown concrete at the top of his head due to the amount of product he would normally use. It didn’t matter to her why he opted to go without. Perhaps because of the plain black baseball cap that lay beside him, but whatever. It was nice to be able to wrap the silken chocolate strands around her fingers. The low moan in his throat and the closed-eyed smile on his face suggested he was enjoying himself.
Damon: I’ll give you about 20 years to stop doing that…
Above them, a cluster of children scampered across the floor as they headed toward another section of the treehouse, sending shafts of light across Aurora’s face.
Damon: Right there… Harley, whatever you do… Don’t move. Not even your face! Just keep everything right where it is….
He quickly turned his sketchbook to a clean page and began to put pencil to paper. Aurora watched from the corner of her eye as line by line, her face quickly took shape on the stark white sheet.
Aurora: I swear… if you keep this up, our home is going to turn into the Damon Graves Museum of My Face.
Damon: Can I help it if you’re my favorite subject? Hell, I could draw you like a French girl from memory if I felt so inclined….
Aurora: I’d better not find any unauthorized nudes of me circulating on the internet….
Damon: Please… if I did draw you like that, I’d keep those under lock and key.
Aurora: If you say so….
There was an awkward pause when Damon suddenly looked up at her with a sly grin on his face.
Damon: Wait a minute… Is there something you're not telling me?
Aurora smiled.
Aurora: I’m not saying anything… not here, anyway. You never know who might be listening. And I don't see why you're so curious. You already get to see the real thing.
Damon: Hey, I’m not judging you. I know a certain other couple that might, but then again, since when do we care what they think?
Damon resumed his work on the sketch. After a few minutes of concentrated silence, interspersed with him looking up at Aurora with his eyebrow arched in a way that made it very difficult for her to hold her pose, Damon closed the sketchbook and set it aside. He sat up, leaning against his elbow as he looked up through the slats with a curious expression on his face.
Damon: I wonder… you think anyone’s ever gotten married in that treehouse?
Uh-oh… there he went again. Granted, he hadn’t brought up the “M word” since Vegas, but she knew it was bound to come up again in some form or another. And it was becoming more and more difficult for her to avoid the subject. Or maybe she was starting to warm up to the idea.
“Mrs. Graves.”
She couldn’t deny the fact that she had mulled those same two words over and over in her head. Nor could she deny that the more she did, the more she liked the way it felt. Nevertheless, it was WAY too early to be having any serious conversations along those lines.
She did her best to bury the thought in the back of her mind, looking for a way to answer his question without sounding the least bit… hopeful.
Aurora: Hmmm… I suppose if they kept the gathering at a decent size, it might work. It certainly wouldn’t surprise me if someone didn’t at least take their pictures up there. Though personally, I would have gone with Scherer Park…
A spark flickered in Damon’s eye as she said that, like he had just committed everything she had just said to memory.
Damon: Excuse me while I do absolutely NOTHING with that information….
He winked at her as she looked at him warily.
Aurora: Uh-huh… sure you won’t.
Damon: I know it’s crazy, but you’ll never guess what the 14th floor security guard asked me.
Aurora: I’m almost afraid to ask. But I’ll bite. What did Andrew ask you?
Damon: He asked me if I was gonna marry you.
Wonderful. Now Aurora could never look Andrew in the eye ever again. Not without blushing in embarrassment, at least.
She hung her head, trying to hide the smile that forced its way onto her face. [/color]
Aurora: And what did you tell him?
Damon: Told him I’d do it in a heartbeat. No hesitation, whatsoever.
Aurora: Damon…
Damon: And I meant every word of it.
Aurora could feel her face turning 20 different shades of red. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but words failed her.
Damon: Let me ask you something… how long had you known… I’m not even gonna say that fucking corpse’s name… before you got engaged?
She paused, thinking about Damon’s question. Truth to tell, there wasn’t any engagement. Not really. No proposal, no ring, no clue as to what the hell they were doing.
Aurora: Honestly, we got married on a whim. I told him I wanted to stick it to my dad in the biggest way possible. The rest is a total blur. Next thing I knew, he came out of a Claire’s with a cheap ring. Everything else… well, you know what happened. We hadn’t even really dated. We just hung out.
Damon: So technically, I’m already two months ahead of the game. That means there’s a chance!
Aurora stood up and dusted the grass off of her leg. She stared down at Damon, shaking her head.
Aurora: I never said there wasn’t. It’s just that…
Damon: I know… you need time.
He got up to a knee, stopping to grab the blanket they had been sitting on. At that moment, a small velvet box fell out of his pocket. With a panicked hiss, Damon scrambled to retrieve it, but it was too late. He looked up at Aurora, who stood there in mid gasp, her hands clamped over her mouth. Having been found out, he smirked.
Damon: Oh boy… I guess the jig is up, eh?
He picked up the box, turning it over in his hand. He then tossed it skyward, like someone would a tennis ball, pushing himself up to his feet and catching it. Looking at Aurora, he smiled.
Damon: You know what? Fuck it. We don’t have to get engaged right now… I mean, it’s only been a couple of months. But I still want you to have this…
Damon opened the box, pulling out a white gold ring with three princess cut rubies arranged in a Harley Quinn triple diamond formation, with several small round rubies and black diamonds running down both sides of the shank.
Damon: However you want to wear it… I’ll leave that to you. For now, you can just think of it as a sort of a “thank you for putting up with my ass” ring.
Aurora smiled as she held out her right hand. Damon slipped the ring onto her finger, kissing her hand before folding up the blanket. Aurora looked at her hand; the three main stones caught the light that poured through the slats, sending out a brilliant flash of red.
Aurora: Damon, this is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. Thank you!
Damon slung the folded blanket over his arm, carrying his sketchbook in the other. He saw the glow on Aurora’s face as she stared at the ring; it brought a smile to his own that rivaled that of a groom catching the first glimpse of his bride on their wedding day.
Damon: White diamonds have been done to death. No… anything that was going to grace your finger had better stand out from the rest. After all, why should we be like everyone else?
Aurora put a hand on Damon’s shoulder, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He walked ahead of her toward the parking lot, not noticing that she was moving the ring around on her finger. It seemed just a little bit loose.
Aurora: That’s not good… definitely don’t want this to go flying off my finger. Hmm….
She slipped the ring off of her right ring finger, taking a close look at the rest of her fingers. It was obviously too small for her middle finger, and much too big for her pinky. She looked at the ring finger of her left hand, a half smile forming on her face.
Aurora: I wonder….
She slipped the ring onto her finger. It slid into place with little effort, the metal feeling almost like a second skin.
Aurora: Like a glove….
She took a final look at her left hand before quickly moving to catch up with Damon.
Knight-Graves Residence
Long Beach, CA
Friday, July 8, 2016
A large black pilot case sat open on the edge of Aurora and Damon’s bed as Aurora walked back and forth between it and the dresser, pulling various articles of clothing from the drawers and transferring them into the case. With the addition of a pair of black Doc Martens and a pair of black Christian Louboutins – because even SHE recognized the need for a pair of killer heels – she closed it up.
She made her way into a large, walk-in closet, where an open box filled halfway with some of the items Damon had yet to unpack sat. Beside this sat the NGW Tag Team Championship belts. With a proud smile, Aurora ran her hand over the main plate, her fingers tracing lightly over every edge, every bevel. She picked up one of the belts, holding it tightly in her hands as she caught her reflection in the metal.
Aurora: There was a time when I couldn’t care less about holding a championship belt. Maybe because I never stuck around any place long enough to be considered for a title shot. Then again, back in those days, competition was severely lacking, so I got bored… fast. Sure, I faced some decent talent, but that talent was always overshadowed by self-entitlement; like the world owed them everything just for the fact that they laced up their boots.
Of course, all of that changed at City of Sin, where Damon and I stood across the ring from Avery Miles III. To see someone charge to the ring, knowing the odds were stacked against him, and still give us the fight of our careers… now THAT’S something worthy of respect. Which says a lot coming from me – I mean, let’s face it; respect is not something I hand out like candy.
She draped the championship belt across her shoulder, walking out of the closet and back toward the bed, sitting beside the pilot case as she used it as a resting place for her free arm.
Aurora: But as I stand here, holding one half of the NGW Tag Team Championships, I can’t even begin to tell you how good it feels to finally be standing at the top of the mountain. And yet, at the same time, there’s the thought that now that Damon and I are now the faces of the Tag Team division, the eyes of every other tag team are now squarely on us, including the eyes of those that think that all eyes should be on them.
A sneer twisted the features of her otherwise beautiful face.
Aurora: And no… I’m not talking about that attention whore, Persephone. But I’m almost willing to bet money that she expects me to talk about her. She just won’t like what I have to say about her.
But I digress. No, I’m talking, of course, about the pair that’s been looking down their noses at us ever since we arrived in NGW – Ashleigh and Gavin Grimes… or as I like to call them “Twice the Grime”. You know, I think it’s absolutely adorable how they let a couple of CHILDREN play at marriage like you are. I mean, just because you’re of legal age, doesn’t mean you’re mature enough to handle it. Trust me; I speak from experience.
I look at you two and while on the surface, you seem like the picture of marital bliss, I can already see the signs of another celebrity marriage that is doomed to fail. Sure, you two can crow about how much you love each other until the entire world is drowning in vomit – because let’s face it, seeing the two of you carry on on Twitter is more vomit-inducing that syrup of ipecac, but I’ve seen it before. The two of you are both too consumed by your own massive egos to understand what TRULY makes a marriage. In a REAL relationship, both sides support each other no matter what. Through good times, they celebrate each other’s successes. In bad times, they guide each other over the rough spots until they reach the other side. And then, there’s you two clowns. I swear, you make Kim Kardashian and Kanye West look like Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara. How much longer before the supermarket checkout lanes are littered with tabloids saying “’Gavleigh’ Calling it Quits in Multi-Million Dollar Divorce Scandal”?
Ashleigh, I’ll start with you, since your little outburst at City of Sin showed that you seem to possess bigger balls than your chump husband does. You know, it’s not the first time I’ve seen a wife challenge her husband to a match. But it IS the first time I’ve seen the husband act like a scared little bitch because of it. I know you don’t need me to tell you this, because you’ve already got it in your head that you’re the best thing to happen to professional wrestling since Classy Freddie Blassie, but one of the first things I noticed when I came to NGW was that you were one of the best wrestlers on the roster, and yet you were nowhere on the rankings for the Unified Championship. And why? Because you swore you’d never wrestle Gavin? I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit, and you’re selling yourself short by having that clause in your contract. I came here to wrestle the best of the best, regardless of who that puts in the ring across from me. The fact that up until recently, the idea of you going after the top strap in the company was out of the question simply because of who held it is just plain sad. And now look at you… sitting there, arguing with yourself because you think you’ve fucked up. Well, let me tell you something. If you think that challenging your husband for a belt he KNOWS he’s only holding onto because he knows that the one that SHOULD be challenging him for it doesn’t want to “hurt their relationship,” then you’ve already got bigger problems than you realize.
She walked out of the bedroom, through the living room and out onto the balcony. On the table sat a pristine-looking black ceramic vase. She sat on one of the chairs beside it, resting her hand beside the vase.
Aurora: You see this vase right here, Ashleigh? Looks pretty solid, doesn’t it? So smooth… like nothing has ever disturbed it. But take a closer look.
She turned the vase ever so slightly, leaning in with narrowed eyes as she pointed at what looked like a faint hairline crack in the ceramic.
Aurora: You can barely notice it, but there’s a HUGE crack running up the side. Sure, it’s been glued, patched up and painted over, with everything done to repair the damage. It’s even been angled so that anyone can just walk right past it and not see a damn thing. And sure, to the naked eye, it looks as good as new. But if it falls again, what’s going to happen?
Like a cat in one of those “Thug Life” vines that have gone viral over the internet, she slowly pushed the vase to the edge of table, before finally pushing it off. As it hit the floor, it broke, sending fragments both large and small all over the balcony. One by one, she picked up the larger pieces and set them back onto the table, attempting to reassemble them as if they were pieces of a 3D jigsaw puzzle.
Aurora: That seam where it had been repaired will be the first to split, followed by several others, until that first crack leads to a pile of jagged fragments. With enough time, and a fuckton of glue, you could still put it back together, but there will always be tiny fragments too small for you to pick up.
She hissed in discomfort as one such shard lodged itself into the tip of her finger. Nothing she couldn’t pull out, but as she did, a tiny droplet of blood formed, which she quickly licked off. She looked into the camera and smirked.
Aurora: What? Don’t act like you’ve never done that. But anyway, enough of me pointing out the flaws in your relationship. If you want to continue carrying on like everything’s just peachy between the two of you, go right ahead. Just realize that I can see through the façade.
Let’s move on…
Everyone likes to take shots at the Angelz as a whole, because – well, I’ll admit it, not all of us have gotten off to a stellar beginning. But all that aside, what makes you think none of us have what it takes to stand alone? Gray had been wrestling for years in another promotion, adding a ton of championships to his résumé, although you seem to go out of your way to shit on everything he’s ever accomplished. The same goes for Corey Bull. 54 championships to his credit over an incredible period of time, but none of that matters to you because right now, he’s not “on your level”. No, Ashleigh. When you can scrape together HALF of the accomplishments that Gray and Corey have, even individually, THEN you can talk about who’s on whose level. As for why I’ve chosen to run with Corey and the others, it’s real simple. So simple in fact, that even a simp like you should be able to understand it. I’d rather associate with people like him than be caught dead with a self-centered, egomaniacal snob like you.
Apart from the Five Lakes Championship you’ve got now, the only other title to your credit belongs to a promotion that hasn’t even uttered so much as a peep in over a month. Yeah… lay claim to a championship that belongs to a dead company that no one gives a flying fuck about… sound familiar? It should, because if you’re going to shit on what everyone else has achieved before they came here, then you should be cool with people throwing it right back in your face.
She scoffed, rolling her eyes.
Aurora: But you’re not cool with it, because you’re a fucking hypocrite.
Oh, and that reminds me. While we’re on the subject of hypocrites, and how your picture shows up right next to the dictionary’s listing of the word, who in the hell are YOU to tell me that I don’t embody rebellion enough? Do you even listen to yourself? Look at me, and look at the other members of AoD. Do any of us even remotely look like we fit in with the rest of society? No? I didn’t think so. And do any of us really care to be like everyone else? The answer to that question would be an emphatic “Fuck no!” So for you to stand there and say I’m conforming to anything is the biggest load of shit I’ve had to deal with outside of a horse farm. But then again, what else should I expect from someone who by her own admission hasn’t had a single tag team partner that she wouldn’t throw under the bus if it meant furthering her own selfish agenda. Yeah… I hope your husband remembers that little fact once it’s time to throw down. [/color]
She chuckled as she stood up from the chair. A few tiny bits of ceramic catch the sunlight as she left the pile of larger fragments on the table.
Aurora: And what is it that makes YOU such a hard ass, Ashleigh? Is it because you spent your childhood cast aside as a ward of the state? A poor, abandoned little girl that didn’t know how to react to the world around her, so she did the only thing that made sense, and that was lash out at anyone that tried to get close. If anything, I should feel sorry for you, but I don’t. It doesn’t make you any different than the tens of thousands of other kids that get aged out of the system every year. Of course, someone had to take pity on you, maybe because he saw some tiny shred of good in you; that little spark that made you into the star you are today, but the way I see it, all of that polish, all of the training you went through to become as good as you are in the ring doesn’t change the fact that deep inside, you’re still a shit human being. And we all know what happens to shit, don’t we, Ashleigh?
She walked past the bathroom in the hallway just in time to hear the muffled sound of the toilet flushing. As the door opened, Damon stood there in the doorway. He looked into the aquamarine eyes of his girlfriend, who returned his gaze with a smile.
Aurora: Impeccable timing, Puddin’…
She sniffed the air, shuddering at the odiferous aroma that spilled into the hallway.
Aurora: I know that’s not the litter box I smell…
Damon: Of course not. It was just cleaned. By the way… where’s the air freshener?
Aurora let out a sigh as she waved her hand in front of her face.
Aurora: It’s under the sink. I suggest you use it. And don’t forget to wash your hands….
Damon: Harley?
Aurora: Yeah?
Damon: I got a text from Alicia. She said the car would be arriving soon to take us to the airport.
Aurora: Great… I’ll go get the cats.
She walked into the bedroom, disappearing as she stepped beyond the doorway.
Aurora: Bruce… Selina! Time to go for a ride!
Los Angeles International Airport
Los Angeles, CA
Aurora: Whoa…
She stepped through the main door of the Boeing Business Jet, immediately taken aback by the lush interior. In a way, it reminded her of the charter jet Alicia had hired for her when she first flew out to Portland, only infinitely nicer. The seats were covered in rich black leather, and the tables and trim were made of rosewood. In the main salon, a large Ultra Hi-Def TV was mounted to the wall. Aurora placed the cats’ carriers on the first available seat as the flight crew boarded and shut the door.
Aurora: This thing is incredible… I can’t even imagine how much all this set them back.
An older gentleman in a pilot’s uniform approached from the cockpit, a smile peeking out from beneath a thin, graying moustache.
Pilot: Well, I must say you two aren’t the passengers I’m used to seeing on board. However, Mrs. Perry told me to expect you. Have you ever been to Atlanta before?
Aurora: I’ve never been any farther east than Arizona, to be honest.
Damon: Nah… farthest I’ve ever been is Texas, and that was for a funeral.
Pilot: I see. In any event, once I get the go ahead from the tower, we’ll be on our way.
Damon: Sounds like a plan to me. So… I was told there would be food?
Aurora: Damon!
Pilot: Of course! The galley is right through there.
The pilot gestured over his shoulder, and Damon immediately sought to satiate the roaring lion in his stomach.
As Damon disappeared into the galley, Aurora smiled sheepishly.
Aurora: Poor guy…we’ve been kinda busy today.
The pilot glanced down at Aurora’s left hand, taking silent note of the ring on her finger.
Pilot: Indeed. And if I may say so, congratulations on your engagement!
Aurora blushed, quickly shaking her head as she waved her hands in front of her.
Aurora: Oh no, no, no… you misunderstand. We’re not engaged. That is to say, he hasn’t officially proposed… yet.
There was a hint of disappointment in her words, as if she had a twinge of regret in talking him out of proposing at the park. She rationalized it away, insisting that it was too soon, but deep inside, she knew damn well that despite what she had promised to herself after that whole mess with that bastard, Jered – may he rot in pieces – that she would have said yes before Damon could even finish asking the question.
Pilot: Forgive me if I’m out of line on this, but I’d like to pass on a little word of advice to you. Don’t make the man wait TOO long.
Alicia: You don’t have to tell me twice. I just want to make sure we wait long enough to make sure it’s what we BOTH want, if that makes sense. [/color]
The pilot nodded in agreement.
Pilot: Young lady, it’s rare to find someone your age with as much wisdom as you. Keep that up, and you’ll do just fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get the plane ready for take-off.
She smiled as he walked past the galley and into the cockpit. Shortly after that, Damon emerged from the galley, a couple of cans of Mountain Dew Pitch Black tucked under one arm, and what appeared to be a pair of chicken sandwiches in the other. A third sandwich, with a bite taken out of it, was clenched in his hand. He smiled, and Aurora could see a tiny piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth.
Aurora: Damon, you got a little…
She pointed at the spot in her own teeth, indicating where the offending vegetable was wedged. Damon moved to the sectional sofa behind the first group of seats, sitting down on the end with his head beside one of the windows. He set down the plunder of food on the table, gesturing to Aurora.
Damon: This sandwich is pretty good. You should try one.
Aurora: Don’t mind if I do….
She sat down beside him, unwrapping one of the sandwiches. She took a bite and looked as if she had just tasted the nectar of the gods.
Aurora: Oh my god… you’re right! Remind me to find out where Alicia got these sandwiches.
She opened one of the cans of Pitch Black, pouring the cold, purple liquid down her throat. As she sat the can down, she turned to Damon, a somewhat serious look in her eye.
Aurora: So… tell me more about the shop. How exactly are we going to do this?
Damon swallowed the bite of sandwich in his mouth, then leaned back against the back of the sofa, smiling confidently.
Damon: Well, first off, we’re gonna have to do a little remodeling in there… knock out a couple of walls here, put another one up there… here; I’ll show you some of the pictures I snagged while I was there.
He pulled out his cell phone, swiping through the images of the former fitting rooms in the back of the shop, the curved counter in the front, and even a couple of rough sketches of what the shop would look like after the remodel. Aurora smiled widely, impressed with her boyfriend’s vision.
Damon: So, what do you think?
Aurora: Well, if we team up with the right artists, it’ll be great! But can I make one little suggestion?
Damon: And what’s that?
Aurora: The interior… can we paint it red and black?
Damon: I’m way ahead of you. Check out these paint samples I picked out….
He stood up, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a handful of folded paint swatches in three shades of red, plus one shade of black. But before he could get any further, the pilot’s voice came over the jet’s intercom. His voice was peppered with mild static, but still understandable.
Pilot: Alright, folks… we just got the all-clear to take off, so if we could have everyone in their seats, we’ll be departing shortly.
Aurora: Well, Puddin’… looks like it’s time to hit the road.
Damon nodded his head, gathering the food from the table as he got up and headed to one of the forward facing seats, beside the seat where Aurora had placed the cats’ carriers. Aurora soon followed, placing the carriers under that same seat as she sat down.
Damon: Poor things… they probably can’t wait to get out of those things.
Aurora: Once we’re in the air, they can come out and stretch their legs. But for now, we need to strap in.
Damon: That almost sounds dirty.
Aurora: You…..
Proctor Creek
Atlanta, GA
Monday, July 11, 2016
Three days had passed since Aurora and Damon had touched down in the Peach State’s capital city. And while Aurora enjoyed seeing the sites and mingling with the locals, some time away from everything was definitely in order. She found herself wandering along the bank, the soles of her Dr. Martens crunching through fallen leaves and dried up dirt clods.
In her wandering, she found a bridge, its walls plastered with graffiti, some of which was placed over other works of “street art” – the human equivalent of dogs pissing on the same fire hydrant, over and over again. Every few minutes, the rush of a car could be heard as it hurried over the bridge. She passed under the bridge, her footsteps echoing off of the concrete walls until she emerged on the other side, stopping to lean against the wall. A smirk crossed her face as she looked into the tunnel she had just passed through.
Aurora: You know, Gavin, I half expected to find you lurking under this bridge. After all, a bridge IS a troll’s natural habitat, is it not? But wait! That’s right! You’re off on your honeymoon, halfway around the world, lounging around with your pants hanging around your knees.
Say, that reminds me of an old song that went viral about six years ago… from someone that happens to be from right here in Atlanta. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna bust into a rousing chorus of “Pants on the Ground,” but if I’ve planted at least one earworm with that dated reference, then all I can say is “mission accomplished.”
She snickered, muttering the lyrics to the aforementioned one-hit-wonder under her breath. She stepped away from the wall, walking down closer to the creek itself. Water flowed down in a slow, barely audible trickle as it passed over the smooth river rocks at the bottom.
Aurora: But all kidding and pop culture references aside, I was raised to not judge a book by its cover. However, when I arrived in NGW, the first thing I saw was a picture of you plastered in Devlin Scott’s office with the Unified Heavyweight Championship. I looked and I thought… “THAT runty little weasel is the top dog around here? I’ve seen 11-year-olds with better moustaches than that!”
Normally, anyone that has held a championship for as long as you have would garner some amount of respect. But then again, when that so-called champion gets his challengers fed to him through a syringe like a lost baby bird, then that respect is no longer deserved. I mean, look at some of the names of the people that were picked to face you… Angelo Garcia? What ever happened to him? Seems like the man that called himself “El Rey” abdicated and went into a self-imposed exile, never to be seen or heard from again. Kenzie? The one that I’m ashamed to admit was once one of us? She choked harder than a virgin hooker giving her first blowjob!
She lightly wrapped her hands around her throat, making a mock choking noise. Letting her arms hang at her sides, she took a seat on a large boulder near the water’s edge. The treads of her boots narrowly missed touching the water.
Aurora: You’d like to call yourself a fighting champion, but you can’t. After you were fed Kenzie Rydell with a rubber-coated spoon – you know, like the ones used to feed babies – you went two straight shows without defending your title at all! Doesn’t matter if you got into a scrap with Brother Corey… why should I care when the title wasn’t on the line? And then, there was Dirk Bentley. I probably shouldn’t go there, but I will. If someone had brutally assaulted the one that I loved, I wouldn’t waste time fighting anyone else, much less anyone that had been hired to “protect” them. No… I would have gone straight for the throat of the son of a bitch and taken his ass out!
Newsflash, you fucking man-child! Going on Twitter and yelling “Fight me!” at all of your followers doesn’t make you a fighting champion. You keep bitching about that gauntlet match challenge that you threw at us on Twitter, saying right after that, we all went silent. Did we? Or did we simply just let it fall back on the shoulders of Devlin Scott to make the match official? Seeing as nothing ever came out of it, I can only assume that he didn’t think it would be a good enough draw. Maybe he felt that it would put his precious little lap-dog champion at risk of getting injured before he has you defend the title against another cupcake challenger. Who knows? Maybe he’ll give you the man that makes everyone’s knees clatter when they see his name across from theirs… John FUCKING Blade! No… baiting people into fighting you by throwing challenges out over Twitter doesn’t make you a badass. It makes you nothing more than a bitch with a set of virtual testicles. You know, to replace the ones your wife keeps in her purse.
Aurora scoffed, sneering as she picked up a twig that lay on the ground beside her foot. She began scratching at the ground with the twig, almost as if she were writing something in the semi-moist earth close to the creek.
Aurora: Speaking of your wife, this brings me to the next – and probably biggest – reason why you don’t deserve to call yourself a champion… the fact that your biggest – and possibly toughest competition aside from yours truly is the very same woman you’re shacked up on that little Greek island with. You both like to hide behind that old cliché that “we’ve gone through so much, and it’s only made us stronger.” Psssh! And you called DAMON childish and cliché….
Her eyes rolled as she shook her head, her long blonde hair brushing back and forth against her back.
Aurora: Honey, the only thing that you and Ashleigh have in common – aside from the fact that you two look like you’re still in middle school – are your enormous egos, and while you two may seem like you’re unstoppable now, you’re only delaying the inevitable. Eventually, your egos are going to clash, and everything you two have accomplished will come crashing down. But hey… at least you’ll still have each other. You’ll get to look into each other’s eyes as you stand among the rubble that was once your ivory tower and you’ll wonder where it all went wrong.
I’ll tell you where it went wrong, Gavin. It all goes back to when you stormed off, leaving your wife behind to stew in her own funk while you ran off to lick your emotional wounds. Any REAL man would have accepted her challenge right then and there. But did you? No. And I know the reason why. Deep down, you’re scared shitless, knowing that if the one person that knows you better than everyone else on the roster faces you for that title, you’re going to lose. So you slap a ring on her finger, thinking that will be enough hardware to distract her from what she REALLY wants, and that’s the same thing that everyone else in NGW wants… that strap around your waist. And if she tells you otherwise, she’s lying. She may look you in the eyes and tell you that your marriage means more than any championship, but for a champion to be openly against facing ANYONE for the championship doesn’t deserve to have his name engraved on that nameplate.
I hope that honeymoon does you two some good. I hope you and Ashleigh come back well rested and as lovey-dovey as you’ve always been. Keep putting on a show for Devlin Scott and the rest of the world, because if you keep telling everyone that everything’s fine, maybe you’ll convince yourselves. But like I mentioned before…
She leaned forward, putting her weight on her hands as she gripped her knees. Her eyes narrowed, but there was a dark smirk on her lips.
Aurora: I can see the cracks already forming. You can paint over them, turn around so that no one can see them, but all it’s gonna take is one little push. Who knows? That push may take place at Vendetta. This match may not be for the Tag Belts, but it could very well be the moment where you two fail to keep your egos in check and then your relationship implodes all over again.
Damon and I have no problem taking you two on in a non-title match. Whether or not we win or lose, it does nothing but showcase to the rest of NGW just what it’s going to take for anyone to even come CLOSE to keeping up with us. You keep saying that the Tag Team Championships are nothing but meaningless little trinkets, but Damon and I are going to change that. You see, while you’re off puttering around on a jetski waving your underwear around, Damon and I have been hitting the gym twice as hard. You see, to us, it doesn’t matter if the title isn’t on the line; we’ll still come at you with everything that we have, because THAT is what it means to be the NGW Tag Team Champions. You can keep knocking us all you want to. All you’re doing is giving us that much more motivation to shut you up. It doesn’t matter to us what other people did while holding these belts. That has nothing to do with us. WE are the NGW Tag Team Champions, and WE will be the team that makes those titles mean something again.
After this match, I see one of two things happen. Either it’s going to light a fire under those tag teams that are waiting in the wings, giving them a taste of what’s going to be coming at them when they step into the ring with us. It tells everyone watching that if they even hope to stand a chance at bringing home the Tag Team Championships, they’re going to have to step up their game. Just like we know we’re going to have to step up our game like never before just to KEEP the championships where they belong…
She stood up, making a motion across her waist with her hands, a determined smile on her face and fire in her eyes.
Aurora: Around our waists.
From the street above, a car moved across the bridge, slowing down to a stop. Hearing a car door open and close, Aurora looked at her watch and smirked.
Aurora: A-ha… right on cue!
She glanced over her shoulder as her tag team partner made his way down from the road. As he came down the incline, he kicked up a cloud of dust that settled onto his jeans. Over one shoulder, he held both championship belts, presenting one of them to Aurora as he kissed her on the cheek.
Damon: Did I miss all the fun?
Aurora: We can have our own fun later, Puddin’. But yeah, I’m pretty much done here. For now, anyway.
Damon: Come on… let’s get out of here. This place is feeling a little… grimy.
He looked at the graffiti-covered bridge, a sneer contorting his face as Aurora smiled at him.
Aurora: Yeah… and so are those pants you’re wearing.
Damon chuckled as he gestured up toward the road, stepping out of the way so Aurora could pass.
Damon: After you, Harley…
Aurora: Why thank you…
She winked at him playfully as she hiked up the hill. Damon watched her move, biting his fist before following her.