THE SUCK ZONE, PART 1: Springtime for Harvey

 
Sunday March 24, 2024
Marion County Community Theater
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:47 PM Local Time
 
“Stop!  Stop! STOP!”
 
With a discordant bang of piano keys and a trailing off of voices, all other noises in the theater ceased as Wendy Briese-Thompson leapt out of her seat and marched towards the stage, flame colored hair trailing behind her.  She tossed her clipboard onto another row of chairs as she walked, mainly because the temptation to throw it at something- or someone- far more consequential was becoming overpowering.
 
She tried to remind herself that it was none of her actors’ fault, that this entire production had been doomed from the start.  When her boss had pitched the idea that the MCCT put on a writing contest where the winner’s script would be put into production, she had agreed.  After all, it was hardly a bad idea to encourage local writing talent, and the entire stunt would increase interest in the theater.  Little had she realized that the “contest” had been likely loaded in favor of her supervisor’s son, and force his writing into the limelight.
 
She still remembered all too well the bottomless chasm that had opened in her stomach when the script for WEINSTEIN: THE MUSICAL! had plopped down on her desk.
 
Wendy slid onto the stage and pulled herself to her feet, wincing slightly as her knee twinged from an old wrestling injury.  Smoothing her skirt, she turned to face George Stelter, the man she had selected to be the lead in this excremental insult to the musical theater.  “What was that?”
 
George blinked, nonplussed.  “What was what?”
 
“THAT.”   Wendy took a deep breath, again resisting the urge to do something unseemly.  George was normally a nice guy, and generally solid in supporting roles.  But he wasn’t the kind of guy Wendy really trusted to carry a production.  But that had been another unfortunate consequence of this production- a large percentage of those involved with the MCCT were teenagers, and given the subject matter, Wendy had absolutely refused to cast anyone underage for this.  She had to make do with what she had.  “You sound like a gameshow host announcing the next challenge.  It’s a serious moment.  You need to show more gravitas.”
 
George looked over at the other actors on stage, and Wendy could sense that she was heavily in the minority here in terms of support.  Several even nodded.  “I can’t do it.  Not with this crap.”
 
“You can.”  Wendy asserted.  “You absolutely can.  I wouldn’t have casted you in this role if I didn’t think you could.”
 
“Then you do it.”
 
Several people smirked.  Wendy was taken aback.  In the ten years since she returned to running the community theater, she’d never found herself challenged this much as she had been these past few weeks of rehearsals.  She had even began to suspect that there was a silent mutiny rising against her.  Her patience was running out.  Lousy production or not, she needed to take control.
 
“Alright fine,” Wendy snapped, beckoning George to move out of her way.  “I’ll do your job for you.” 
 
She took his spot, cleared her throat, then looked over at the piano player, nodding.  She began the lead in for the spot, and Wendy breathed in to sing.
 
You’ll be begging for more
You greedy little whore.
Because I’m not a slouch
On my own casting couch!
 
“Okay you’re right the line absolutely sucks” Wendy said immediately, beckoning for the pianist to stop playing.  “Oh my GOD does that line suck”  She raised her arm as if ready to throw her clipboard, but then remembered she’d already tossed it aside as a precaution for this exact situation.  So instead she ran her hand up the side of her face over to the back of her head, where it clasped the other in the classic surrender cobra position. 
 
“At least it rhymes,” offered Mary Albright, who had been cast to play the unfortunate actress in this abysmal excuse for a scene.  Wendy sensed some of the tension break, at least, as if her admitting the awfulness of the material had been just what the actors had been hoping for, that maybe she was on their side after all.  “Listen, Wendy.  We’d been discussing things over drinks after rehearsals and we think, well… the only way to make any of this work is to camp the hell out of it.”
 
“Like the Rocky Horror Picture Show or something” George offered.
 
“I don’t know” Wendy balked.  The vision of how the play would turn out in this manner was forming in her mind, and she was appalled at how much more… appealing it all seemed.  “It just seems so disrespectful”
 
“I don’t think any of this is respectful” Mary replied.  “Listen… we’ve also all talked about quitting.  Every single one of us feels like we need to take a shower after rehearsals because of this shit.”
 
“Harvey would probably like that” offered the pianist.

“NOT helping, Miranda” Wendy hissed in response.  She turned back to Mary.  “Look.  I’ve… I’ve thought about resigning too.  Maybe I should.  Maybe we ALL should.  And then we can at least leave with our dignities intact”
 
“Then what happens to the theater?” asked one of the stagehands, who had been busy resetting the scene.

“I… don’t know” Wendy confessed.  “We seem to always barely survive the budget meetings as it is.   Everyone quitting would probably be enough for them to pull the plug.”
 
“Putting on this performance is probably going to be enough for them to pull the plug,” Mary observed.
 
Wendy nodded.  The inevitable community backlash had been on her mind.  “Alright, you know what?  Let’s try it your way.  If we’re going to go down, we might as well go down on our terms, right?” 
 
Her cast and crew nodded, and Wendy felt more of the tension leave the room.  She had a feeling the only reason most of them hadn’t already quit was out of respect for her, and what she’d done on previous MCCT productions, and now that they knew she was still on their side over this whole fiasco, they were ready to support her.  She jumped down from the stage, pleasantly surprised by a lack of a tinge in her knee this time (although somewhat annoyed by the fickleness of the joint), grabbed her clipboard, and plopped down on her chair, waiting for everyone to finish getting back into position. 
 
“Okay, ready?  Five, six, seven, eight!”
 
The piano started up again, and Wendy cocked her head to the side, folding her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes critically as she took in the scene.  It was still abhorrent, and she still understood Mary’s desire to take a shower after dealing with it, but maybe… just maybe it was watchable?  If nothing else, her people seemed to be having fun with it.
 
“Interesting… interpretation.”
 
The voice at her side was delivered in a pleasant enough tone, but Wendy could sense the acid boiling not too far beneath the surface.  She glanced over her shoulder to see Carina Cantrell, her boss, standing next to her, an expression that was torn between bemusement and annoyance on her face.  Wendy inwardly grimaced.  There had been several Directors of Parks and Recreation for Marion County during the two stints Wendy had running the MCCT, and Carina was hardly her favorite.  She found the woman a bit too pompous for her liking, although they’d still gotten along well enough over the past couple of years.  At least until she’d sprung this nepotistic atrocity on her.
 
“We’re experimenting” Wendy replied stiffly.  “Trying to get the scenes to work is all.”
 
“And you think this… works?”
 
It was best to just treat that as a rhetorical question and move on. Wendy checked at her watch as the scene came to an end, grateful for at least an excuse to end rehearsals.  “Alright everyone, that’s all the time we have for today!   I’ll see you all Tuesday night, alright?”  
 
Murmurs of assent comprised of various enthusiasms greeted her, and Wendy herself rose from her chair, grabbing her tote bag and sliding her clipboard inside.   Carina watched the actors on the stage wander off for a second, then took a step forward, looking over at Wendy sternly.  “I do trust you are treating this production seriously?”
 
Wendy couldn’t keep the offense from her face.  “Of course I am.  Have I ever let you down?”
 
Carina at least had the decency to acknowledge the point with a tilt of her head.  “I’m just making sure.  I know David worked very hard to win that contest, and I would hope his efforts are given justice.”
 
Then why isn’t he directing, Wendy wanted to ask.  In truth, it wasn’t as sarcastic a response as it might seem- many times during her tenure she’d been more than happy to step aside and let someone else run a production.  But such a scenario hadn’t even been discussed- she’d simply been handed the script and told to make it happen.  Normally that wasn’t a problem.
 
“Anyways, the reason I’m here is to ask you for Belinda’s phone number” Carina responded, referring to the woman who was in charge of ticketing.  “I need to speak with her about adding names to the VIP seating list”
 
Wendy chuckled helplessly, then gestured around the auditorium that maybe sat 250 people.  “We don’t have VIP seating”
 
“Well, we will for this.  Some of David’s professors from college are going to be attending, and I hear they might even be bringing along a broadway producer or two.  This could be a very big moment for him!”
 
“I see.  I’ll text you her number,” Wendy said.  Her brain was spinning, and things were rapidly clicking into place as the answer to her previous unspoken question was becoming clear.  Carina had put the onus of the production in her hands with the hopes that she could provide a launching pad for her son’s writing career.
 
And make her an awfully convenient scapegoat if things didn’t work out.
 
Wendy collected herself for a second, steeling her resolve.  Her job be damned, she was going to tell Carina Cantrell exactly what she thought about Weinstein: The Musical! “Actually, Carina, you know wha- oh, can I help you?”
 
The last of that was directed at two police officers who had just walked into the auditorium, diverting her attention.  One stepped forward, taking in his surroundings.  “Yeah, I’m looking for a Gwendolyn Thompson?  Is she here?”
 
Her actual legal name.  That wasn’t good.  “Yeah.  That’s… that’s me” 
 
“We’ve been trying to reach you all morning.  Please, come with us”

EPISODE 285: Focused Ambition (vs. Mika Demidov)

Thursday April 16, 2015
1:45 PM Pacific Daylight Time
Grand Park- Fountains
Los Angeles, California 


Well, alls well that ends well, right? 

Thanks to Cassie’s excellent use of diplomacy, the North Marion Speedway’s opening night ended up being saved, with her managing to convince all the Modified and Late Model drivers to stick around and run.  And after parading Fifi Calipari around the pit area on her walk of shame (of which she muttered maybe two half-hearted apologies), she was also subsequently thrown out of the track, receiving a round of applause from the still disgruntled drivers. 

Terrence wasn’t so keen about Wendy causing strife with the upper management his racing team, but even he had to admit the stickers were over the line.  He was also five pounds lighter, thanks to a bad plate of chicken wings he’d picked up earlier from Kroger.  Let’s just say there was a good reason he didn’t answer Cassie’s cries for help. 

So with the NMS now fully opened and operational for the 2015 season, it was a tired, yet happy Wendy that hopped on a plane early Wednesday morning to Los Angeles.  And so it’s a beautiful day in the City of Angels, a city that’s seen too many beautiful days and not enough rain over the past couple of the years.  And with the infamous Santa Ana winds blowing, the risk of fire is going to be astronomical this week. 

Although that’s nothing compared to the conflagration that’s about to be unleashed in the Staples Center tonight. 

And thus we see Wendy Briese, standing in LA’s famous Grand Park, about a mile north of the arena.  Wendy is infront of the fountains, dressed for the warm weather in a short sleeved blouse and a pair of capri pants.  

“It’s always a gala event when FFW comes to Los Angeles,” the redhead begins, looking around at the city.,  “Doesn’t matter if it’s your standard weekly television fare or a pay per view, when it comes to the City of Angels, all stops are pulled!”

“It makes sense too, after all.  This is the home of FFW, the vast majority of our corporate offices are here.  It’s where our first show was, where we film the vast majority of Future Shock, and one of the most frequently visited cities in our company’s history.   We’ve seen some of the biggest main events this company has ever had in this city, from Valerie against Isabella in the very first show, to Scarlett and Isabella wrestling to a draw for the FFW Championship, to Eileen and Tara in a submissions match.” 

She pauses, grimacing a little.  “And last July, Wendy Briese versus Mikaela Demidov for the FFW Championship.  The same match that’s scheduled for tonight, although this time I’M the one who’s bringing the belt in her luggage.”

“In truth, I think you can say this is the prime individual rivalry in FFW right now.  I know, I know…. you all voted Mika vs. Scarlett the feud of the year last year, but the fact of the matter is that the moment Scarlett beat Mika to win her title back, it was over.  It was settled.  It seems I could beat Mika from now until the cows come home, and it still won’t be settled.  We’re just too opposed, too stubborn for either of us to wave the white flag.”

“But you know what?  I get a little bit ANNOYED when people keep talking about this like its some sort of a rubber match.  Right, the fact of the matter is that this now the SIXTH time I’ve stood across the ring from Mika in a wrestling match, and of the previous five times, I’ve been on the winning side four of them.  And to heck with this notion that it doesn’t count if it’s a tag match or a fatal four-way where someone may be defeated without taking a fall.  I don’t wrestle in matches that ‘don’t count’.  I view my blood, sweat, time, and talent too highly to waste it on something ‘meaningless’.”

“But it’s that one match… that one loss that everyone remembers,”  Wendy’s voice quiets, her face darkening in irriatation.  “Maybe it was because it was for the FFW Championship, maybe it was because it was at Unstoppable, maybe its because it was so surprising, or maybe it’s because i didn’t throw a full-fledged ticker tape parade after any of the times I won.  But it seems that loss seems to bear more weight than any of the four wins I have…”

“See, for as much as Mika detests me, losing to me doesn’t seem to bother her too much.  She makes up an excuse, blames someone else if she can, and shrugs it off.  It’s the standards of a woman who barely wins half her matches over the course of a year, then stands in the middle of the ring with a microphone and acts like she’s performed some historical greatness.”

“But when I lost to Mika…”  Wendy pauses, clearly emotional.  “It was devastating.  I’m not going to hide it.  It was painful as any loss I’ve ever taken over the years.  The time I spent preparing, the way it ended, hearing her gloat in the aftermath…”


“Every single time I lose, I take a long hard look at myself.  What could I have done better?  Where did it go wrong?  There’s a darn good reason why you can count the women in this company who have beaten me more than once on a single hand.   I LEARN from my mistakes.  I get BETTER.”

“But losing to Mika… as unclean as it was… that caused me to do some things I’d never done before.  I changed up my training regime, my analysis.  I turned my own sense of preparation on its head because of that loss.  I even went out and looked for a new finishing move.  Not since I began implimentation of the Banshee in early 2003 had I actually bothered looking for a new move to finish a match with, but after the way that ended… and that’s how the Hook Echo was born.  I spent two months perfecting it, making sure that I could pull it off without KILLING someone, before springing it on Valerie last September.”

“Unstoppable 2014.. was one of the most painful losses of my career.  But you know what, as of the moment I stand here, nearly nine months later… it’s been the LAST loss of my career as well.  Nine months, nearly.  And in that time I’ve beaten the best both FFW AND SVW have to offer.  And I’ve gotten this back,” she finishes, holding up the FFW Championship, and placing it over her shoulder. 

“So here we are, Mika.  Back at the scene of the crime.  The venue’s the same.  The prize is the same.  The match type is the same.  I wouldn’t be surprised if even the referee is the same.  There’s one thing that’s not the same though.  Me.  You’re facing a better me.  A smarter me.  One who’s learned her lessons, and one who’s dealt with your CRAP once, and has resolved never again"

“And what about you, Mika?  Have you gotten better?  Or is it the same old Mika with the same old tired act?  Didn’t I give you enough proof the last time how stupid it sounds when you stand in that ring next to Kyle, and brag about how you’re the only special little snowflake in this company who applies to some esoteric statistic?  And yet, there you were on the last Breaking Point… doing it again about how you’re the only one who’s beaten everyone else in this so called ‘elite four’.  And this time, its not even accurate… unless one on one matches are the only thing that counts in wrestling… in which case...why even have anything else?”  Wendy finishes asking with a bemused shrug. 

“I guess the question I have to ask is… do you even learn from your mistakes?  Because you’re STILL wasting time in that ring, acting like an arrogant, obnoxious, disrespectful buffoon.  You’re STILL throwing hissyfits with the referee over every single call you disagree with.  And you STILL are incapable of any discourse beyond spewing every single petty insult you can think of without rhyme, reason, or any regard for what you are actually saying.  And when that fails, you STILL resort to the same stock Wendy Briese rhetoric you always do.  I’m a Puritan!  I’m a suck-up!  I’m a hypocrite!’

“That last one always amuses me, because for all that you like to call me a hypocrite, you’ve never actually managed to come up with one specific example.   Or is “hypocrite” to you the same thing “slander” is for Jodie- you don’t actually know what it means, but it sounds good and biting, so let’s throw it out as much as we can?”  Wendy shakes her head, almost amused this time, although she does sigh.  “I mean, come on, Mika… really?  It’s gotten so sad you actually need ME to pick out the cute little derogatory nickname for you to use!  Although Shamrock does have a nice ring to it,” she finishes with a small chuckle.

“Honestly, Mika, if you really want to know how just plain OFF you are in all this, look no further than your last rant about me, when you actually said… and I quote… ‘Admit it, Gwendolyn: you're as ambitious as the rest of us -- which is not a problem to me! The problem with that is that you're too proud and too prudish to admit it.’

There’s a long pause before Wendy bursts out laughing, shaking her head.  “Not admitting I’m ambitious?   NOT ADMITTING… Mika… OF COURSE I’M AMBITIOUS!  I said in my very first promo when I was facing CHARITY DEAS that my goal was the FFW Championship, and I was going to get there.  I told Kaitlynn Stryfe, point blank in my FOURTH MONTH HERE that I wanted to be in the Elimination Chamber more than her.   I’ve said multiple times that there isn’t a woman in this company I’m incapable of beating.  I’m the one who took one look at this upcoming gauntlet run for the FFW Championship and said I wanted to be the FIRST IN LINE, because I wanted to be the one to see if I can make it through it all?  Of course Im ambitious!  EVERY WOMAN IN THIS COMPANY SHOULD BE!”

“Or is ‘ambitious’ yet ANOTHER word you like to throw around despite not knowing what it actually means?   Did you think it meant something like lacking scruples, willing to backstab and step on others to get their way?   NO!  It simply means a desire to accomplish or achieve something.  You can be highly ambitious and still have ethics and morals.  TRUST ME.”

“I daresay, Mika… I might be the MOST ambitious person in this company.  I dreamed big the moment I set foot in these doors and even now, with two FFW Championship reigns and a berth in the Hall of Fame, I STILL desire more, starting with getting as long as a defense run as i possibly can with this championship.  And when my time is up with this title, I am beaten, and forced to pass it along, whether that’s tonight or whenever, then I’ll turn around and come right back at it, and try to get reign number THREE!”

“Why do you think I want a match with Scarlett so badly, Mika?” Wendy asks, looking at the camera, her voice as animated as we’ve ever seen it in a promo.   “Because I’m AMBITIOUS.  Because I know that match has every potential in the world to be the greatest match in the history of this company- in the ENTIRE history of women’s wrestling!   And I want to be a part of that!”


“Me being on Team Cody at Relentless?  Guess what?  AMBITION!  Not for personal glory, this time, NO.  I have a DREAM and a VISION of this sport and company, one that I’ve NEVER shied away from, whether I saw eye to eye with my bosses or NOT.  And I believe in FIGHTING to make that dream a reality… as best I can!   That’s what this match is all about!  Two people, who have different views of what FFW should be, willing to do BATTLE over their ideas with people who SUPPORT them!   And what is more ambitious than fulfilling your own idealism?!”

“And you know who I pity?” Wendy asks, taking a deep breath, calming her self down a little. “I pity the people like you, Mika.  And Chris Sanderson.  THe people who sit on Twitter and WHINE about me being ‘judgmental’.  Everyone’s judgmental… its part of human nature to have opinions and make decisions on things.  And those who simply sit there and cry about me having ideals, and working towards them, are upset because they are simply IMPOTENT to make their own dreams a reality.”

“And you know it’s true, don’t you Mika?  You can’t stop me, you can’t stop my ambition.  Last July you slowed me down, but it only DELAYED me in the long run.  I STILL got here, I still got my belt.  And despite the fact that you seemed to care more about stopping it than winning the match for yourself, I *STILL* get my dream match with Scarlett.  Maybe a little later than planned, and certainly the question of whether or not this FFW Championship is going to be on the line when it happens is up in the air- there’s three VERY difficult defenses before that after all, tonight being number one.  But ITS HAPPENING, for all you’ve tried to do to prevent it.”

“And that’s why I think ultimately Mika, for all you’ve gloated over my setbacks, whether you had anything to do with them or not, when the time came for you to participate in the one thing that could have hurt myself AND Scarlett the MOST, you put your hand down.  You stepped back.  You wanted no part of Team Isabella, despite her declaring you the CHOSEN ONE.  Because you’d be up against myself, and four other women like me- women NOT afraid to fight for what they believe in, and NOT afraid to fight for a friend!  Knowing you can’t ultimately stop just myself, how the HECK are you going to stop FIVE of us… and best of luck to anyone who dares to try!”

“And ultimatey, I think you’re kind of jealous of that, aren’t you Mika?  I remember you talking last month, poo-poohing the idea of friendships, even going so far as to insist that one day your new protege Karina would turn on you.  And that’s gotta, well… suck, Mika, going through life with that BLEAK of an outlook.  Especially because all you have to do is look around the locker room to realize just how BUNK it all is.  Even in this highly competitive environment, friendships are forged, relationships maintained.  People don’t spend their entire lives plotting or expecting betrayal.  People understand that just because you might have to tear into each other for a half hour one day, there’s no reason you can’t be amiable in the meantime.”  Wendy finishes with a small chuckle. 

“I once told you, Mika, that you were only temporary and I was permanent, and that remains true today.  You are all about the moment, the fleeting.  You’ll get whatever you can by whatever means, and once it’s gone, move on to the next.  And because of that you have to be as in your face as possible, hence all the ‘only the lonely’ interviews you have with Kyle, where you have to constantly and constantly REMIND people of your greatness.  Its like a firework, only getting a couple of seconds at best to make an impression, and then it’s ashes.”

“I can be in the moment, but I’m here for the long run.  I am the most consistent wrestler in this company, and I have been for several years, and I welcome to try and come up with the evidence to refute that.  Year to year, my record has remained by and large the same, and always excellent.  When I was rising in this company, I rose steadily, and now that I”m at the top, I’ve stayed there for a couple years.  There are very few women in this company who come even NEAR the level of performance I put out week to week, month to month, and I am darn proud of that!” 

Wendy smiles softly, but proudly.  “I’m like a boulder rolling down a hill.  Once I get going, I’m darn near impossible to stop, and I want to just keep on rolling.  Nine months with out a loss.  Nine wins in a row.  I want to make it ten… then eleven… then twelve… and just keep on going right on through Unstoppable if i can.  Just to see how far I can go with this belt, and on this streak.  And you might notice, I’m not holding parades, I’m not in that ring every other week desperately trying to remind everyone how great I am.  Heck, before I mentioned it tonight, I doubt anyone else even knew what kind of streak I’ve been on.  I’m simply letting my talent, ability, and hard work speak for itself, and getting the job done.  And yet people seem to know I’m the champion just as well, Mika, and are far more okay with it, despite me somehow being this horrible unlikeable Puritan.”  She gives a small, sarcastic smile. 

“But more pressing than that, it’s EXTREMELY important to me that I carry this belt into Relentless,” Wendy continues, her expression turning much more somber.  "I know it’ll meant the belt won’t be defended on the pay-per-view, although I’d gladly do it and be booked twice if it was required.  But Cammie was right… this upcoming match is one of the FEW things that is more important than this belt.  And considering what a champion means to their company, it’ll be awfully fitting for the champion of THIS company to step in the corner of the man who’s helped make this belt the premier belt in all of women’s wrestling.  And it’ll be even more fitting for the champion of this company to stand opposite and DEFY the woman who’s trying to tear it down.  It’ll be all the more symbolic.” 

Wendy spreads her arms out, stretching slightly.  “The last time we faced over this belt Mika, you beat me, a win that frustrated me so badly I altered my training more in two weeks  than I had the entire decade before that.  All of that has been in preparation for tonight, when we would inevitably clash over the title again.  It's worked twice before, when we faced, but tonight... tonight is when it counts the most.  But whatever happens, Mika, I’m ready for you.  This is what I wanted, to run the champions gauntlet through this stacked array of challengers, and tonight, you’re first.  And I’m ready for you, I’m prepared for you… I know you about as well as any rival I have in this company, and I’m confident that either I’m winning, or you’re wrestling the best match you ever have, beyond anything anyone’s imagined you capable of.  And that's not arrogance, that's the TRUTH of someone who's spent the last three quarters of a year on the greatest run of her professional life and isn't about to stop now. ”

“And no, Mika, this isn’t about saving the title from you.  I realize that now, because ther’es nothing you CAN do to this belt that would kill it’s prestige.  It’s got too much history, too much prestige, for even someone as miserable as you to stain it.   I should have realized that last year, but I was too wrapped up in my own disappointment to see the one thing that TRULY needs to be saved from you is yourself.  And that’s not something I can do, only you can do that, and it won’t be happening tonight regardless.”

“So bring everything you got, Mika.  Bring your dislike of me, your terrible attitude in general.  Bring your cries of hypocrisy and your whines of judmentalism and your own lack of vision.  Bring your despair and loneliness and your cute little list of things that only you have ever done.  But the Red Star, Mika, and bring that part of you that managed to beat Scarlett Kincaid clean, your finest moment.  Bring the hunger.  Bring that feeling that this in your guaranteed rematch, that you’ve been waiting for since SEPTEMBER.” 

A small soft smile from Wendy, as she pats her title belt.  

“But most of all, Mika, bring the knowledge that even with all that, you’re going to need a LOT more if you hope to leave Los Angeles with MY belt.” 

And with that, Briese walks off, and the scene fades.  

EPISODE 284: Executive Meddling (Part 2)

Tuesday April 14, 2015
7:54 PM Eastern Daylight Time
North Marion Speedway- Front Straight Grandstand
Indianapolis, Indiana 

“Alright, here we go for Hornet heat number two… MacGregor leading them around turn number four… THERE’S THE GREEN FLAG!” 

Wendy smiled as the track announcer’s words were drowned out by a dozen whines, as the small four-cylinder cars accelerated in a tight pack, pursuing the leader, a black and red Volkswagon Golf that led them into the first turn of the eight lap race. 

So far, the season opener had been a rousing success.  Despite it being a weeknight in mid-April, the event had sold out, with well over eight thousand spectators filling the stands, while nearly 100 cars across the five race classes had entered the evenings event.  

And the Future Shock girls had done well, kicking the season off with a bang in a tightly packed race that saw plenty of action end ended with a fight between Cereza and Amanda that had really gotten the crowd into it.  Wendy wasn’t a fan of wrestlers brawling outside the ring, but even she had to admit that it was an exclamation point.  Besides, it wasn’t like the professional drivers acted any differently in those situations- even now on the track, a yellow Mustang was slamming into the side of the Golf, two cars fighting for track space that both could not have. 

Carefully, Wendy picked her way along the upper walkway, dodging in and out of crowds going to the concessions, the restrooms, or just loitering about chatting, occasionally looking down at the race.  She headed towards the edge of the grandstand, just shy of the fourth turn, where the spotter’s nest was located.  Just beneath that was where the FFW dignitaries had been sat.  She was looking forward to joining them, and seeing how they like the evening’s festivities so far. 

At the feeling of a vibration in her jeans pocket, Wendy stopped, reached in and pulled out her mobile phone.  She frowned in confusion at the caller ID, then hit the answer button.  “What’s up, Cassie?” 

“Wendy, have you seen Terrence anywhere?!”  The track manager’s voice sounded stressed, almost to the point of tears. 

“Not since the first race.  What’s going-” 

“I can’t reach him on the walkie-talkies, and no one’s seen him!”  Now Cassie sounded almost hysterical.  “If you see him, can you tell him to come to the pit area NOW?  She’s ruining EVERYTHING!” 

“Who’s ruining everything?!”   Wendy demanded, but Cassie’s reply was lost under the sound of a dozen four-cylinder engines racing by again, so that Wendy could only hear words hear and there, although the word “sticker” was oddly used.   “Cassie, I-”  but she paused as she realized the line was dead.  

Frowning, Wendy quickly dialed her husband to relay the news, but his phone went straight to voice mail.  “Terrence, you need to call Cassie NOW” she spoke into the phone as loudly and clearly as she could, before hanging up, biting her lip.  

She quickly scrolled to Pollaski’s number- maybe her manager might now where Terrence was… after all, he was sitting somewhere in the grandstands with Theresa, maybe Terrence had joined them for a spell.  But Pollaski’s phone had no answer either, and Wendy, now frustrated, stuffed her phone back into her pocket.  

If Terrence was unavailible, she’d have to go and try to handle the problem herself.  

With resolve, Wendy began walking again, in the same direction, but she walked straight on past the FFW seating area without even glancing over, not wanting to lose focus on her new mission.  She walked straight to the edge of the grandstand, down a flight of stairs, and out along a pathway that went behind the Turn Four wall out into the pit area. 

The North Marion pits were located behind turns three and four, a large dirt lot capable of supporting nearly 200 race teams, almost twice the nights turnout.  Still, it was a bustling place with drivers and mechanics working on cars.  The hornet race had just finished, the dozen competing cars returning to their pit stalls, the top five finishers to celebrate their qualification into their main event feature, while the rest prepared for the consolation B-Main.  Already the third and final hornet heat was lined up, ready to roll onto the track the moment the all clear was given, while behind them the first F.E.A.R (Figure Eight Auto Racing) heat began to line up as well.  It was a rigorous process, one designed for as little down time as possible so that they could fit in the twenty or so races scheduled to play out in about four hours.  Even as she watched, the signal was given for the third hornet heat to go, the cars coming to life and slowly pulling through a gap in the turn four wall onto the track, two by two, five rows deep. 

All was as it should be… except…

Wendy was surprised to see that several of the teams had their cars on the haulers- most of them late model and modified drivers, the two most powerful classes, and generally the last two classes to hit the track.  To see the cars already packed up and loaded… that was peculiar.  

And probably not good. 

“Hey, what the hell you pulling here?” demanded one of the drivers, who had noticed Wendy in the pits.  Wendy recognized him as one of the regular modified drivers at the track, although his name escaped her at the moment.  “I took a WEEK off work to drive here from Kokomo, and now you’re telling me I can’t race?” 

Wendy took a step back, surprised at the man’s aggressiveness, and noticed that several other drivers were also surrounding her, and none of them looked happy. “What?  Who said that?  I don’t... “   she took a deep breath to stop babbling.  “What’s going on.” 

“THIS is what’s going on!” the driver snarled, thrusting something at her.  Wendy took it, looking down on it.  It was a large black vinyl sticker, a decal that was stuck on cars, with a very familiar looking logo on it.  “I’m told that I can’t race unless I put this on my car?  What kinda bullshit is that?’ 

“Our current sponsors ain’t gonna be happy if they find out we’re sticking other companies on our car for free,” added another driver. 

“And I don’t have any more room on mine!  She just told me stick it over one of my current sponsors!  How you think they’re gonna like THAT?” 

“She? Who’s she?” Wendy asked, although she already knew the answer.  A helpless feeling, of one who’s starting to realize just how out of control things are becoming, was coming over her.  “Where is she?” 

“Over at tech inspection…”  the first driver said.  “She won’t let anyone pass tech unless…” 

“Alright.”  Wendy said, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.  “I am so sorry for this confusion, and I completely understand your frustrations.  Without you guys, North Marion Speedway wouldn’t be possible, and you are ALL welcome to partipate.  Please unload your cars and get them to tech, we will make sure all of you are put through before we run any more heats.  You don’t have to put anything on your car, you never should have been asked too, and I’m very VERY sorry that you were.  I’m going to go straighten this out right now, okay?” 

She got some very non-committal nods from several of the drivers, but that was going to have to do, as she turned on her heel and ran across the lot towards the car inspection station.  As she ran, she glanced at the cars and realized that all were sporting an FFW decals, even the ones that had already been out on the track.  The lower classes, being cheaper cars that required little sponsorship had no such legal issues putting on the sticker, so their drivers did it, albeit grudgingly.  Not so much with the pricier divisions.

Unfortunately, those were the exact same divisions that put butts in the seats from week to week, and they could ill-afford to have them angry.  

As she neared the inspection station, the track manager Cassie DeSlair ran out to meet her.  “Oh, thank God, you’re here!  She’s making everyone put these stickers on their car with no compensaion, and half of them are refusing and packing up and…” 

“I know,” Wendy said.  “I talked to some of the drivers.  And it makes no sense… she KNOWS people can’t do it...this is like her area of expertise.” 

“I’m sorry.  I tried to stop her, but she kept threatening lawsuits.  And…” the young woman was on the verge of tears. 

“Calm down, Cassie.  I know its not your fault, and I… know how she is.”  Wendy clapped the platinum blonde on the shoulder.  “Has any of the drivers left yet?” 

“N...no.  I don’t think so at least.  People are still packing up.” 

“Well, stop them, okay?  Apologize, raise the purse if you have to, just get them to stop packing up their cars before we end up losing two divisions over this.  If they’re still here, we can save this, alright?  I’ll go talk to her and put a stop to this nonsense.  And keep trying to get Terrence.” 

“Okay… okay,” Cassie took a deep, steadying breath.  “We’ll run the street and hornet B-Mains first, give everyone some time to get set up again.”  She pulled out her walkie talkie, heading towards a row of cars that were still being pakced up. 

“Oh, and Cassie?”   the track manager stopped.  “Call security, please.”  DeSlair nodded and ran off, and Wendy looked over at where Fifi was standing, looking so smug and self-assured.  Wendy half-expected security to be required to keep her off Fifi than for any other reason. 

“Hey, dearie!” Fifi said with a giggle and wave as Wendy approached, apparently oblivious to the mutiny and near disaster unfolding around her.  “Lovely night, isn’t it?” 

Wendy refused to fall for the small talk, instead crossing her arms.  “What the HELL are you doing?” 

“Promoting your wrestling company, dear,” said Fifi in that painful talk-to-the-five-year-old voice.  “That is my job, after all.” 

“We cannot FORCE drivers to put an FFW decal on their car!”  Wendy exclaimed.  “Especially because so many of them CAN’T!” 

“Actually, I CAN,” Fifi responded smugly.  “This is an FFW Racing event, after all.  And as I’m in charge of FFW Racing’s promotions…” 

“IT’s NOT an FFW Racing event!”  Wendy said, nearly pulling out her hair in frustration.  “It’s a Future Shock Taping that’s part of a larger show!  Arcanix Racing… YOUR company, has NOTHING to do with this!” 

“I believe if you read the contracts, dear, you’ll see otherwise,” Fifi said with a condescending smile.  “Besides, you should be grateful.  I’m giving your little company exposure, dear, and since you are now their ‘champion’, I would think you’d be VERY interested in their success. 

“Yeah, it’ll look great on FFW when word gets out that they supposedly strongarmed a bunch of local shoestring budget short track drivers into free advertising for them.  Not to mention the damage you’re doing to this track’s reputation with this!” 

“Sometimes you have to make hard business decisions,”  Fifi said, “Trust me, I know… I went to-” 

“Dartmouth.” Wendy finished angrily.  “Yeah, I know.  I don’t care.  You have absolutely no right to come in here and throw your weight around.  Don’t forget, MY company gives YOUR company MONEY to run YOUR company’s XFinity car.  That does NOT give you the right to come in here, throw your weight around like some big shot, and screw things up, especially in FFW’s name!” 
All traces of a smile was gone from Fifi’s face.  “And you presume to think that you’re acting in FFW’s best interests.” 

Wendy glared back.  “I don’t know, but my boss is sitting up there in the stands.  I’d rather let him enjoy his evening, but if you’re insistent, we could certainly go and get his opinion on the matter… and his opinion on your behavior this evening!” 

Fifi opened her mouth to respond, but simply glared back.  Wendy folded her arms, hoping she WOULDN’T have to get FFW management involved.  After all, the last thing she wanted was a souring of relationship between FFW and Arcanix racing.  The only one who’d be hurt by that was her husband. 

“Ms. Briese?  Cassie said you needed us?” 

Wendy turned, sighing with relief as she saw Nigel, the head of track security coming up, a couple of his staff behind him.  “Yes.. please escort Miss Calipari off the premesis and to her car.” 

“Alright, let’s go ma’am.” Nigel said, stepping forward and grabbing Fifi’s arm.  Fifi jerked her arm away, outrage all over her face.

“Wait.” Wendy said, looking over at the security guards.  “FIrst take her around to every pit stall in the lot, and make sure she apologizes fully for her actions tonight, and collects any FFW decals that drivers do not want on their cars.  And… if you see Cassie, tell her that we’re waiving everyone’s entry fees tonight for the trouble.” 

“Will Terrence be okay with that?”  Nigel frowned. 

“I don’t know,” Wendy confessed, slightly miffed about being second guessed.  “But that’ll be between him and me.  There’s a lot of angry people out here tonight, and we’ve got to do something.” 

“If you want to eject me, fine, but I will NOT go around apologizing!”  Fifi demanded, stamping her foot.  

“Yeah, you will,” Wendy replied calmly.  “Or else you and I are going to be having another conversation shortly.  And I GUARANTEE you that this one won’t be NEARLY as civil.”  And she spun on her heel and walked away.  

“You… YOU CAN’T!” Fifi protested, her eyes wide as she guessed the implications of Wendy’s statement.  SHe looked over at the head of security.  “She can’t…” 

“You really wanna find out?” deadpanned Nigel, doing his best to hide a smirk. 

EPISODE 283: Executive Meddling (Part 1)

From the Private Journal of Wendy Briese
 
3-1-2015

WHEE!

I can’t even begin to think of another word for it, other than WHEE!

It took thirteen months- about seven longer than I’d hoped and expected.  But I’m finally back on top.  I’m finally the FFW Champion again.  And it was amazing.  I was amazing.  The end of that match… it’s like everything slowed down, and little flashing lights were going off in front of my eyes telling me exactly what I needed to do.  Do this!  Do that!  Go here!   Wait for it… wait for it…

Victory.

To reach a pinnacle … both professionally and emotionally… well, you don’t get a lot of moments like that in your career… or lifetime for that matter.  It’s why they need to be treasured.  And I know I will treasure what I did last night, and what it meant, for the rest of my life.

I just hope Scarlett and Valerie understand what I’ve been trying to tell them about stepping up their game.  I know I’m harsh… but it’s because I know what their potential is to be not just a “face” in this company, but a downright, absolute hero.  Its just so frustrating that they’re not willing to step up, and lead this company like they were meant to.  Someway, somehow, I’m going to make them realize this. 

I think I’ve earned a few days of rest, recovery, and reflection.  After all, when one completes a journey, especially a long, torturous epic one, they deserve at least a little time to enjoy the spoils!

…And then the work begins again.

Mika’s my first challenger, because of course the last woman I’d ever want to lose this title to has to be the first one to get a chance at it.  But on the bright side, that means I can get her out of the way first, and then move on to the more enjoyable, fulfilling challenges in Tara, Crystal, and I can only assume Scarlett’s rematch sometime down the line.  It’s a loaded schedule to be sure, but ask not for small challenges!

I don’t know when I’ll be defending against Mika, if it’ll be at Relentless or beforehand, but I do know that anything that happens beforehand is going to be overshadowed by Ten Femme Chaos at Relentless.  5 on 5, Team Cody against Team Isabella… winner stays loser goes.

I don’t know why Mr. Kincaid decided to do things this way.  He could have let her be fired, and she would have been out of all our lives, and things would have been back to normal immediately.  But instead he went for this showdown… we’ve gone from problem solved to everything being risked on one single match… one single fall.  It baffles me… and terrifies me.  There’s just so much here that can go wrong… Murphy’s Law hangs heavily in the air.

But I guess in the end, it’s not my job to question why Mr. Kincaid did what he did, because I’m sure he had good reasons for it.  It is my job to ensure that in the end, he’s still here, he’s still my boss.  That whatever his goals are, they’re the ones that are accomplished.  Because he’s my boss, and he’s my friend, and ultimately, I trust him completely.

Not to mention the alternative is almost too much to bear.

It’s going to be a long next three months, I suspect.  Three months of choosing sides, and alliances, and propaganda, and ultimatums, and showdowns.  All with a gauntlet of FFW Championship defenses hanging over the whole thing.

Ask not for small challenges, indeed.

-Wendy
 
 
========
 
 
Monday April 13, 2015
4:12 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Storm Shelter- Viewing Room
Indianapolis, Indiana 

“Hehe, look at the expression on Tara’s face!”

Despite scoffing at her manager’s chuckle,  Wendy had to admit the frozen frame of Tara Thunder, her elation of having just eliminated Crystal Hilton combined with the shock from the sudden ambush from Mika was certainly a… unique one, her expression caught in a tansition from triumph to shocked dismay.  She didn’t need to unpause the video to know what happened next. 

Neither did Pollaski.  “But God, she’s gotten quick at springing that Soviet Burial on people.”

“She hasn’t tagged me with it yet.”  Wendy said quietly, cringing inwardly at her temptation of fate. 

“Good thing too, cause I’m not sure even your stubborn ass isn’t going to find a way out of it if she does.”  Pollaski responded.

“We’ll see,” Wendy replied with a small smile, before standing up, stretching.  “That’s enough tape for today.  Too much of it makes my head spin. And if I’m not prepared for Mika now, I’m not going to be.”

“Fair enough,” Pollaski said, nodding.  “A fair session tomorrow and Wednesday, just to make sure you’re  peak physically, then a warmup and walkthrough Thursday morning to get you ready.  Same fare as normal.”

“Sounds good,” Wendy replied, turning off the video player and screen.  She glanced over at her case, where all the belts that she had won over the years sat.  Six title belts sat on the shelf devoted to FFW- but  only one of those was true and not a mere replica.  With good fortune, she’d be returning that belt when she arrived back home Friday afternoon, and not another replica.  She sighed, a tiny flutter of nerves setting in.  That flutter was going to likely grow over the next few days.

“By the way,” she said, the thought popping in her mind.  “We’re just over a month out from Relentless.  I don’t know what’s planned for me schedule-wise after Mika, but I think its time we start getting ready for Ten Femme Chaos.  Start pulling videos… see what you can make of everyone.”   She paused.  “I spent last years match in isolation getting my butt whooped.  I’d rather not go through that again.”

“You still won though,” Pollaski reminded her.

“I’d like winning in slightly less painful ways that lets me be able to walk straight within a week of the match.,” Wendy said with a small smile  “Besides, the other team got stupid in that match and screwed around, and it cost them.  There’s a lot more at stake this time around- I don’t think any of them are going to be that foolish.  I can’t afford to let a repeat happen…”  she trailed off as she looked back at the now dark video screen.  She had watched Camilla’s interview with her earlier that day, before the normal video session for Mika.  And she planned to watch it every day until Relentless happened.  It was probably unnecessary- she doubt she’d ever forget the words Camilla had spoken to her that night… or the pleading tone they had been made with.  But she still watched it.  Necessary or not, she was going to remind herself every day about what was truly the most important thing in her upcoming schedule. 

Making sure everything was off, Wendy left the gym’s small viewing room, Pollaski following from behind, as they exited out the Storm Shelter into a bright blue spring day.  Shielding their eyes against the glare of the sun, the two strolled down the gravel road, heading the short distance between the converted storage shed and the race track.

“Lookin’ good.” Pollaski commented, glancing over at the track.  Indeed, the track had spent the better part of the past month being prepped for its annual reopening.  All around the half-mile circuit, the walls gleamed white in the sunlight, the billboards freshly painted.  Even the Figure-8 crossover section in the middle of the track had been paved over, so that it was like a cross-shaped black lake in the middle of the infield.  Floating on the black lake was a utility truck.. a “cherry picker” which had a platform on the back that could be raised high off the ground to change the many lightbulbs that consisted of the stadium style lighting.  The sign and light guy had been hard at work for two days now painstakingly checking every bulb in the complex, and replacing the ones that weren’t up to snuff.  Wendy could see her husband standing beside the picker, looking up, and shouting something to the operator.

Cutting through a gate in Turn 1, Wendy crossed the track, careful not to roll her ankle as she climbed down the corner banking, before striding up one of the Figure 8 Lanes, leaving Pollaski behind as the bigger man took longer to navigate the not-so-gentle slope of the banking.  As she approached the cherry picker, Terrence looked over, waving to her, and Wendy realized he wasn’t the only one standing there. 

“Hey hon!” Terrence exclaimed, giving her a hug and kiss as she approached.  “How was training?”

“Good,” Wendy replied, happliy returning the affection.  “I’ll be ready to go when I board that plane Wednesday morning.  Hello, Cassie.” She finished, turning towards the woman that Terrence had been talking to, and giving her a quick hug as well.

“Hey, Wendy!” The platinum blonde was grinning, a sense of excitement and accomplishment in her eyes.  It had been a risk to make Theresa’s former babysitter the director of operations for the track, but Cassie had proven more than adept at the job, raising the track from a dilapidated wasteland to a functional facility in less than a year.  And after a successful 2014, all signs pointed to an even better 2015. 

“Did you get my e-mail about the setasides for FFW employees for tomorrow night?  I’m not sure how many are actually showing up.”

“Yup!” Cassie beamed.  “Already have them in the ticket booth.  I’ll make sure the ticket girls know what’s going on when they get here tomorrow.  We’re going to set them up just below the spotter nest.  Good seats.”  SHe paused, tapping her chin.  “They’re not going to like break out in a massive brawl or anything, right?”

“I doubt it,” Wendy replied with a laugh.    “Maybe the girls on the track, but we should have the security to put an end to that.  But they’re wrestlers, not barbarians.  They’ll behave.”  Her brow suddenly furrowed, and she looked over at Terrence. “Um… weren’t you supposed to pick up Theresa from school?”

“I did.” Terrence said flatly.  “She’s just-”

“HI MOM!”

At the sound of her daughter’s voice, Wendy looked around, frowning as she couldn’t see the eight-year old.  Suddenly, the notion hit her,, and she turned back around, looking up.

“You let her go up in the picker?!”

“Yeah, I told her if she got an A on her Geography test, I’d let her go up.  Rick says its okay, and she’s not getting in his way.”

“Don’t you think you should have discussed this with me first?”  Wendy said, somewhat miffed.  She turned her attention back up the picker.  “Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay, Theresa?”

“Yes, mom,” came the flat reply.  A beat… “Hey Dad, if I jumped, could you catch me?”

“Um… no,” Terrence responded, trying his best to ignore his wife’s amazing ability to both face palm and death-glare him at the same time. 

“Aw, why not?”

“The fall would kill you,” Terrence said matter-of-factly. 

“But…”

“SOrry, Terr-Bear.  Your dad’s awesome, but not awesome enough to beat the laws of physics,”  Terrence said apologetically.  “But if you’re that eager… once you’re old enough, I’ll take you bungee jumping.”

“SWEET!”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Terrence scolded Wendy, making a ward as if to repel the even more intense glare he was getting.  “I never said exactly when old enough would be!”

Wendy opened her mouth to respond, but found her husband being ambushed from behind as someone jumped on his back, covering his eyes with their palms.  “GUESS WHO?!”

“Augh, what the hell?!”  Terrence exclaimed in an irritated protest!  “Geroff!”  And with a skill reminiscent of his own days in the wrestling ring, he shrugged off his attacker, falling over off balance only to be caught by Wendy.  Holding onto each other to keep from falling over, the WhirlyBirdz looked up to see…

“FIFI?!”

“Of course it’s me, sillies!”  Fifi Calipari beamed at the Birdz, her teeth almost glinting in the bright sun.  The brunette was every bit as perky as she had been back in Daytona that first week of the season.  Wendy had only been to a couple of XFinity races since then, thanks to her own busy schedule, and those trips, she’d managed to avoid Fifi like the plague. 

“Wha-what are you doing here?   In our own privately owned race track?  That’s closed at the moment?” the redheaded champion managed to standard out, noting with some satisfaction the dismayed- almost terrified look on her husband’s face.  Evidently he didn’t like Fifi any better than she did.

“Well, sillies,” Fifi began (Wendy strongly suspected that she was going to eventually gain a Pavlovian reaction to punch someone in the face every time she heard the word silly) “Tomorrow night, this adorable little track is going to hold a go-kart race as the first challenge for Future Sight.”

“Future Shock,” grumbled Pollaski.  “The show is called Future Shock.  Future Sight was the forty-second Magic: The Gathering expansion that would introduce upcoming game mechanics-”

“Right,” Wendy cut Pollaski off.  “We know about Future Shock.  This is OUR track, and I’m the challenge host for the show.  That doesn’t answer the question as to why YOU are here.”

“Well, the challenge for FFW Future Si-sh...whatever is RACING,” Fifi explained, as if she was explaining this to a kindergartner.  “FFW Racing.  And since I’m the Director of Marketing for FFW Racing… well, Arcanix Racing, of which FFW Racing is a subdivision… well, I should be here to work my magic!”

There was a long silence as Terrence, Wendy, and Pollaski stared at each other, no one able to come up with an argument to refute Fifi, while Cassie just stared in bewildered amazement, unsure of what was going on, and clearly not liking unexpected things happening on her watch. 

“Well, then,” Fifi exclaimed, clapping her hands, apparently oblivious to the tension that was suddenly in the air.  “I’m just going to set up some booths, and a few displays around here.  Nothing TOO garish, don’t worry.  But trust me, everyone will know that this is an FFW Racing event by the time I’m done!”

“But it’s not just a…” Cassie began weakly, but Fifi was already gone.  “Who the hell is that?”

“Someone with Terrence’s racing team…” WEndy sighed.  She looked over at her husband, and could sense the turmoil.  He wasn’t any more happy about this than she was, but at the same time, refusing Fifi could put him at odds with Arcanix racing not even a quarter of the way into the season, and for a rookie racer who sat just twenty-second in the standings to infuriate his bosses… that’d be suicide.  “Just… keep an eye on her, okay?”   Cassie didn’t exactly seem placated by the response, but it was all she could give.

“EW… what’s SHE doing here?”  Theresa’s voice was directly behind Wendy.  Evidently the light changer had lowered the cherry picker while they were all distracted. 

“Be nice, Theresa” Wendy said, without turning around.

Even if she didn’t entirely feel like it herself.