Thursday January 23, 2014
Prairie Home Bar & Grill
Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin
2:43 PM Local Time
“MMM! This is literally the best steak I have ever eaten,” Terrence Thompson mumbled through a full mouth, before cutting off another piece and stuffing it in. “How’s your club sandwich, hon?”
“It’s good,” Wendy said softly, although she was currently attacking her cole slaw. “The bacon’s got a very nice spice to it. I like it.” She glanced up as another party of people were lead to a table ten feet away, and frowned. “It’s sure filling up in here rather quickly. That’s a bit odd, don’t you think? Being mid-afternoon and all?”
“Eh, it’s a farming community,” Terrence responded with a shrug. “They probably have unconventional schedules and all. So either a late lunch, or a really early dinner.”
Wendy didn’t respond, but she frowned as she looked up at the new party, just in time to see every last one of them turn away and look down at the table. That was the sixth time that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. She wasn’t unaccustomed to people recognizing her- she was the champion of the world’s premier all-female wrestling organization, of course. But it was rare that she went anywhere and got near universal recognition.
Even more odd, nobody actually approached her to say hi, or ask for an autograph or photo. Not that she minded- sometimes you just wanted to have a nice quiet dinner with her family. But something told her that they were just simply respecting her privacy. Too many of the glares she was getting had malice in them.
She should not shake this overwhelming feeling of doom that was suddenly hovering above her head. Or maybe she was just being paranoid, combined with her dismay over the backfiring of her petition?
“How’s your chicken tenders, Terr-Bear?” Terrence asked, again with his mouth full.
“Eh,” Theresa said half-heartedly with a shrug, although most of her food was gone. “I like Bennigan’s better.”
“Well, maybe we’ll hit up a Bennigans in Milwaukee. If they have them. Do you know if they have Bennigan’s in Milwaukee?” Terrence asked his wife.
“I don’t know.” Wendy said quietly. “Look, Terry, I think we should be going. I just have this feeling that something bad-”
“WHERE IS SHE?!”
“-is about to happen.” Wendy finished, as she turned towards the front of the restaurant, where a young woman was standing in front of the host. To her dread- but hardly to her surprise, the host raised a finger and pointed directly at her. All around her the restaurant had gone deathly quiet.
The woman stepped around the host, and slowly walked across the room towards the Thompson’s table. She was a big girl- taller and stockier than Wendy was, to be certain. Her sandy hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her face was dotted with freckles. She was certainly pretty, although she hardly was dressed for fashion in a Dierks Bentley T-shirt and Jeans. She couldn’t have been that much over twenty, by Wendy’s guess.
Her face was twisted in a leer as she stared down at the redhead. “So, you finally have the guts to show up.”
Wendy glanced over at Terrence, who looked even more cowed than she was, his jaw hanging open as he stared at the young woman. Wendy looked back up. “I’m… I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
The girl raised a beefy hand to her chest, thumb pointing at her. “My name.. is Miranda Kowalski. And I’m CALLING YOU OUT!”
Wendy flinched as some spittle from the girl landed on her, but tried to keep her face impassive. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “That was pretty good. A little over the top, but I admire the enthusiasm,” she said, as if the girl was offering an audition.
She turned back to her club sandwich taking another bite of her macaroni and cheese, hoping all the while that she WAS offering an audition.
She wasn’t.
As Wendy lowered her spoon to take another bite, Miranda reached in and ripped the plate away, the dish flying across the room, trailing food before shattering on the wall above the head of an elderly man in a John Deere hat. The man made no reaction to nearly being decapatated by her lunch, but Wendy was forced to take a deep breath to calm herself. “That was VERY rude,” she informed the girl.
“I don’t think you heard me right,” Miranda said in a low voice. “I said I am calling you out. I’ve waited YEARS to kick your phony little ass, and I’m not going to wait any longer.”
“Well, if you’re that eager, I’m sure you can join FFW and you can work your way into a position where-”
“I ain’t joinin’ anything!” Miranda declared adamantly. “Now I told you, this is happening right here, right now! You’ve ran around far too long with your fake ass championship, and calling yourself the best in the world when you know it’s bullshit! And I’m gonna be the one to PROVE IT!”
“And I’m telling YOU no. I have a contract, and I abide by my contract, and it specifically says that I am ONLY allowed to compete in FFW-approved-”
“I DONT GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOUR CONTRACT SAYS!” Miranda roared. “All I care about is that YOUR FUCKING FRAUD OF A CHAMPIONSHIP goes home with me today!”
Wendy took another deep breath. She’d had hecklers before, but this was by far the worst. “Please do not use that kind of language in front of my daughter.”
That proved to be a mistake, as Miranda turned to her daughter, leaning over the wide eyed seven year old. “So how’s it feel to know that your mommy is a coward?”
“EXCUSE ME?!” Wendy roared, leaping to her feet and shoving her way in between Miranda and Theresa. “You will NOT speak to my daughter that w-”
*SMACK!*
Wendy’s head snapped to the side as Miranda’s open palm smashed into her cheek, drawing an “oooh” from the surrounding crowd. Holding her hand up to her cheek, and blinking her eyes in surprise. For the first time, she was entertaining the thought of actually giving this boorish upstart what she wanted. She had no doubt in her mind that she could beat the brawny farmgirl- she was clearly overconfident and ungainly in her movements. But FFW Champions didn’t go around getting into fights in bars. She wasn’t going to disgrace herself, or disgrace the company, by giving into her temper.
Instead she glanced over, and saw the restaurant’s host standing impassively a few feet away. Unlike before, he didn’t look friendly at all now. “Excuse me, this woman just harassed my daughter and assaulted me.”
The host shrugged. “Well, I reckon she did.”
“So I would like her removed so that we may finish our meal in peace, please!”
A wave of laughter broke out from the spectators watching the confrontation, and the host guffawed. “And why would I throw MY daughter out of MY restaurant?”
“Your daughter… of course,” Wendy muttered, realizing how this woman had come to find them in the first place. Heatedly, she grabbed her coat. “Alright, fine. Terry, Theresa, come on, we’re leaving. I would like my check, please.” she finished, turning to glare at the restaurant owner.
The owner shook his head, and then gestured at his daughter. “She’s your check. You beat her, your meal’s on the house. You try to run out of here without paying, though, and the highway patrol will hunt you down before you even get your seatbelts on.”
Wendy glanced at the front of the restaurant, and was dismayed to see that another couple dozen people had come in, lining the walls. Among them were a couple of patrolmen, and they weren’t looking any more helpful than the rest of the crowd.
For crying out loud, was the entire TOWN in here?
She glanced over at Terrence, but her husband could only shrug, unable to offer any answers. She closed her eyes, and sighed, hoping Ms. Star and Mr. Kincaid would understand.
“Alright, fine. You want it, you got it.”
A great cheer went up from the spectators, and a “Mir-an-DA!” chat broke out. Miranda raised her arms in the air, grinning as the adulation of the fans washed over her.
“Alright, so where do we go to-”
“I said here and now, didn’t I?” Miranda interruped with a sneer.
“In a restaurant? Are you kidding?” Wendy looked down at the hard tile floor. “Someone could get hurt badly.”
“Awwwwww.. are you scawed?” Miranda mocked, as the crowd hooted contentiously.
Wendy didn’t answer, primarily because the answer was ‘yes.’ Things were just too out of control right now. She turned to her family, hissing at her husband. “Get Theresa out of here and into the RV.”
“But Mom!’ her daughter whined.
“NOW.” Wendy said in a tone that brokered no argument.
“I’m coming back,” Terrence growled. “I’m not leaving you alone in here with these people.”
“Fine. But lock the RV door, okay?” Wendy hissed back. “These people are positively insane.”
“CLEAR THE ARENA!” Miranda roared, and the crowd obeyed, shoving back tables to the walls, as Terrence grabbed Theresa’s hand, and dragged the protesting little girl out of the restaurant. Even as he did so, more people shuffled in, lining the walls and joining on for the cheering of the hometown girl.
Leaving Wendy alone in the middle of the room, surrounded by a mob calling out for her blood. With nothing else to do, she began to stretch, trying to clear her head.
All the while wondering how on earth she was ever going to get out of this one.
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