Saturday August 24, 2002
Redondo Pier Parking Lot
Redondo Beach, California
2:24 PM Local Time
It was the evening before the third annual Summer Games wrestling tournament, and Southern California had been thrown into a fever pitch at what promised to be one of the most intriguing, exciting events ever. Six regional wrestling companies from around the world had sent teams, each one of four wrestlers each, to compete in a survivor style elimination tournament, the final company turning on itself in the end to name one final grand champion, as prestigious a prize as had ever been known in wrestling. The debate was as hot as the sun-baked atmosphere. California were the defending champions, but the Nevada company, barely into three months of existence, had managed to bring some of the best wrestlers in the world into their fold. The team from England were considered dark-horses, while everyone was quick to dismiss the rookie-laden New England squad.
It was as gala as any affair could be had. The event had been essentially turned into a three day party, with an enormous undercard show happening the night before, along with a huge fan festival today, and finally the main card, held just a few miles away in the Staples Center, culminating tomorrow. Up and down the beach were various parties, autograph signings, last-second promos being filmed, and general frivolity.
Augustus Briese didn’t give a flying damn about any of it.
He shoved his way through the crowd that had amassed on the blacktop, scowling distastefully at a group of surfers who sat drinking beer in the back of a pickup truck. The summer heat was sweltering, especially on the asphalt, surrounded by hundreds of reflecting automobiles, but he pressed on, heading towards the end of the parking lot where the various RV’s had been parked.
She was there. And she would listen to him this time.
Augustus didn’t know whether to feel sickened, embarrassed, or triumphant over what he had seen the night before, the cause of him flying all the way out here to this infernal sweat-drenched hellhole. During the preshow, the WhirlyBirdz had lost their tag titles in a match that anyone but Terrence and Wendy themselves had known they were going to lose. After all, what chance did the two young rookies really have when they had challenged one of the most dangerous tag teams in the world to a no-holds barred streetfight, then vowed to never use weapons? Despite putting up a fight that would be talked about for years, the reign had ended spectacularily- Wendy’s head being driven into a chair, and the girl easily covered for the loss. Gus had felt a moment’s sickness from watching his daughter being destroyed like that, followed by a sense of embarrassment that the world would know how pathetic his daughter looked during the end of that match- the desperate panic on her face as she went to tag out- only to realize that asshole Terrence was knocked out on the other side of the ring, and that she was a sitting duck. He hoped no one he knew was watching.
But overriding everything was the sense of triumph he was feeling. In that moment, he felt, everything had left Wendy. Not just her tag titles, but her legitimacy as a competitor, and the hope that she might actually make this wrestling charade work. Ever since he had shown up in Boston and demanded that she give up wrestling, she had refused him, feeding him such lines that they were just getting started, that she couldn’t back down now. What was worse was that she kept on winning, feeding her arrogance and belief that she need not listen to her own father.
She had finally lost. And in the most decisive way imaginable. This was his moment.
He found the RV, a dirty-dinged up 1992 Winnebago that he couldn’t believe Wendy would stoop to riding in. It took him several moments to lower himself to knocking on the door, but he finally did, taking a step back and waiting patiently for the door to open.
Gus did, and looked up to see Wendy in a light blue t-shirt that carried the emblem of her New England based company, her face flushed red from the Southern California heat. Gus wrinkled his nose- his fair-skinned daughter had evidently used about a whole bottle’s worth of sunscreen for the day. She blinked in surprise at the sight of her guest. “Daddy? What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” Gus simply asked, dodging the question altogether.
Wendy hesistated for several seconds before nodding. “Sure, okay.”
The RV was surprisingly cool inside, which was about the only positive thing that could be said about it. It was painfully small, at just over twenty feet long, and the style of furniture would have been outdated when the stupid thing was built. An ice pack sitting on the couch belied where his daughter was sitting before his arrival, and the small television hanging over the cockpit was playing a tape of a wrestling match, where a girl in overalls and pigtails was taking a chair to a man twice her size, the crowd booing.
“Where’s Terrence?” Gus asked as he sat down at the small dinette, looking over at Wendy.
The ex-tag champ sat across from him on the couch, holding the icepack gingerly to her neck. “He’s meeting with the rest of his team. They’re going over strategy for tomorrow.” Gus noticed she hadn’t quite been able to keep the embittered longing from her voice- she had campaigned hard to be one of the representatives in the tournament, and while Terrence had been selected, Wendy had been passed over. “Why?”
“I’d rather not deal with him, or his bullshit today. I’m not here for an argument.”
Wendy looked as if she was going to remind him that, in her eyes, at least half those arguments were his fault, but she seemed to think better of it, although Gus saw the flash of indignation in her eyes. He shrugged. “I saw your match last night.”
Wendy grimaced, and took a deep breath. Obviously she was still upset over her loss, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “Pollaski’s trying to get us a rematch, maybe in September or October. He told me that a lot of people were impressed by the heart and effort we showed, and how close we came. And we didn’t even use a weapon.” She finished proudly.
“Maybe you should have,” Gus muttered under his breath. He couldn’t exactly see the source of pride his daughter felt about her match, considering that it ended with them losing. He shook his head, brushing the thought from his mind. “So are you ready to go?”
Wendy frowned. “Go? Go where?”
“Home,” Gus replied, as if their leaving was a foregone conclusion. “The flights at eight, so we don’t have too much time..”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not leaving. I can’t. I have to defend my women’s championship tomorrow. And Terrence is in the Summer Game…”
“Wendy, no one cares about the Women’s Championship. It’s why you’re the second match on the show.” Gus interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “And besides, you’re too hurt to compete. You’re better off just calling it quits now, and going home while you are healthy enough to explore other options. Broadway won’t take someone who’s had their face caved in. They won’t take someone crippled, either.”
“I care about the women’s championship, and that’s enough for me. ” Wendy scowled, and looked away, back up at the television, where the pigtailed girl was in a different match now, but still working over her opponent rather decisively. “It’s my first ever singles title, Daddy. You couldn’t possibly begin to understand how happy I was to win it, and I don’t want to surrender it, especially not to that horrible woman. I’m not quitting because I lost one match. And I’m cleared to compete. I’ll be fine.”
Gus shook his head. “Wendy, you have got to understand that this isn’t-“
“No, Daddy.” Wendy interrupted. “You have got to understand that it IS what I’m supposed to be doing. This is what I want to do. I’m having fun, even though I lost last night. And I’m getting a lot of fans… even though I’m still a rookie. I wouldn’t have believed it myself a year ago, but I really think this is what I’m meant to do.”
Gus took a deep breath, finding himself growing angry. “Now, look here, Gwendolyn Constance Briese. I gave you EVERYTHING to ensure that you would be the next great thing on Broadway, and it’s a PISS-POOR display of gratitude for you to throw it all away for this stupid wrestling fantasy. And that’s what it is, Wendy. A fantasy. You’re not that good, and last night showed the world that. You can beat other weak women, and stupid people with no talent, but when it comes to a REAL wrestler with TALENT and a clue what they’re doing, the same thing is going to happen EVERY GODDAMN TIME . You’ve become all you’re ever going to be here- a novelty act who lucked her way into the tag team titles, and will never touch them again. And that idiot boyfriend you tag along with keeps feeding the lie to you so you stay with him.”
Gus paused, and looked at Wendy. She was breathing heavily , tears in her emerald eyes, but there was a fire burning behind the water that Gus had never seen before. She stared at him for a long while, then looked away. “You should go. I have a match to prepare for.”
That wasn’t the reaction Gus had been hoping for. He had hoped to provoke her into a rage, or a breakdown, or something that would have broken her will to keep going, something that could have made it easier to convince her. But this cold dismissal of his words, no matter how forced, made him feel foolish. “Look, Wendy, I…”
“Just go.” Wendy said again, pointing to the door.
Gus slowly got up, and walked towards the exit of the RV. He paused as he reached for the door, turning back to her. “What if you lose tomorrow, Wendy? What then? You won’t even be the champion of a division no one cares about. You’ll have nothing.”
“I’m not losing tomorrow,” Wendy declared, her voice more forceful than Gus had ever heard. “It won’t be like last night.”
“But what if you do? Will you then at least THINK that you’re doing the wrong thing here, Wendy? Will you at least CONSIDER giving it up?”
Wendy paused, staring up at the television, watching the pigtailed woman again. “I’ll think about it.” Wendy replied, in a deadpan voice, more to get rid of him than any commitment.
Gus smiled. “I’ll hold you to it.” He turned, and left the RV, letting the door slam behind him. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. He knew his daughter, and he knew how fragile her confidence could be. Her loss last night had shaken it, horribly, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise. Hearing her own father denounce her… well, that just wobbled it even more. And when she lost tomorrow, and was left with nothing but the knowledge that she was in over her head, she would be with him, heading back to Indianapolis, and then on to New York, where she would finally begin the career she was meant to.
Gus smiled. Sometime, he even impressed himself.
================
Sunday August 25, 2002
Four Seasons Hotel- Room 318
Los Angeles, California
9:08 PM Local Time
“A Bottle of your finest Scotch, and you better be DAMNED quick about it!” Gus snarled into the phone before slamming it onto the receiver. Not satisfied in the least, he picked up the receiver, slamming it down again, and then again, before plopping down on the bed, covering his eyes and letting out a long, feral growl.
How in the FUCK had she won?
Gus had been elated when Wendy’s opponent had decided to completely throw the rulebook out the window from the getgo, cheating at every single opportunity, including whacking his daughter over the head with a chair. Wendy had been knocked around the entire ring, the crowd hating every damned minute of it, only for somewhere, somehow, for Wendy to turn things around, mount an offensive, and finish the worthless redneck bitch off with a submission hold that left the woman suspended in mid-air, every single limb of her’s stretched to the breaking point. The crowd had loved it. Wendy had been completely elated.
Gus, however, was pissed, and had startled those around him when he stormed out of the biggest pay-per-view of the year just after the second match had finished.
So her career would continue, under the illusion that because she beat some pigtailed slut who talked to pigs, she was somehow actually built for this sham of a sport.
“God…. DAMMIT!” Gus growled. If those idiots in room service expected ANY sort of compensation, they’d better get their ass up here..
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
Gus blinked. That WAS quick. Still, you couldn’t show gratitude to these hotel types. Then they would feel some sort of empowerment, and start taking advantage of you.
“About goddamn time” Gus growled as he flung his door open. He stopped, blinking as he saw a middle-aged woman with dark hair standing in front of him. Still beautiful after all these years.
“Ivana?”
The Ukranian beauty stood awkwardly in the hallway, tugging nervously at the neckline of her dress. “Hello, Gus,” she said, her voice halting and thick in her accent.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard you were in town. May I come in?”
Gus nodded, too dumbfounded to do anything else. He stepped aside, gently shutting the door behind Ivana as she entered. “You’re living in Los Angeles now? Yuri too?” He was surprised when Ivana nodded. “I thought he couldn’t live without the injections they were giving him.”
“So did I,” replied Ivana, her voice full of bitterness. “Until the program ran out of money and they shut it down. I thought my little Yuri was going to die, but… he didn’t. He… they lied to us, Gus. He never needed those hormones, at least not in the doses they gave him. It was all a pretense to do their experiments, to use our son as a test…” She sighed heavily. “He still is wracked with pain sometimes, but he seems to be alright. But he’s just so… they made him a monster. I can barely stand to look at him, and I’m his mother, goddammit!” She sighed. “And I hate myself for feeling that way, but…”
Gus was quiet, listening to his onetime mistress’s lament. “So you moved to Los Angeles?”
“There was work and money to be had here,” Ivana said simply. “Well, for me at least. I’m a waitress. It’s a nice restaurant, I make enough to get us both by. But Yuri… he’ll never get a job. He’ll never have anything that I can’t give for him, all because of those damn Russians.” She sighed. “I know you never wanted to see me again, and I’m sorry for showing up like this… but…”
“It’s fine,” Gus lied. He was still too cowed to think of anything. He hadn’t thought of Ivana since that day her brother showed up at his house and attacked him. His blood ran cold as he remembered the day, and the fact that Vassily was now buried in his backyard. He looked at Ivana warily. Did she know about that? Is that really why she was here?
There was another knock on the door, and Gus answered quickly, too distracted to remember to berate the room service who handed him the bottle of Scotch. Closing the door again, he absently picked at the label of the bottle. “Care for a drink?”
“Please,” Ivana replied. Gus popped open the bottle, and poured two glasses, handing one to the woman. He sat down, taking a sip, and smiling grimly. Nothing was calming to him like a bottle of Scotch. As he watched Ivana, he began to suspect that her intent for being here wasn’t malicious, whatever else it might be. If she knew about Vassily, she was doing a better acting job than he had ever done.
“I’m glad to see you’re getting by.” Gus finally said, watching her for a reaction. A plan was very slowly beginning to form in his mind.
“For the most part,” Ivana replied, shrugging. “It’s better than what was in Ukraine.”
Gus paused, then leaned forward. “I want you to know that I do feel bad about what happened,” he began. “I didn’t want to send you and Yuri away. And I certainly never intended for him to be caught up in that accident. I know I’ve been cold, Ivana. Maybe I shouldn’t have been.”
“I’m past it.” Ivana said, an obvious lie. “I don’t even know why I came here tonight. Guess nothing better to do.”
“I want you to know this,” Gus said. “Had it not been for Wendy, I would have divorced Gayle, married you, and raised Yuri as my own. But with her being born, I panicked. I couldn’t bear the thought of a bastard child, and the scandal it could bring. I think I overreacted.”
Ivana blinked in surprise. Gus was rarely the kind of man who ever seemed apologetic about anything. Much less something like this.
“Knowing what I know now, I would have chosen you, Ivana. Gayle… she’s boring. She never turned out to be the great actress I envisioned her as, and nowadays she just sits around, reads and drinks. And Wendy… I had EVERYTHING planned out for her, and she’s jumped track, and now thinks she can be a professional wrestler. I’m trying to convince her otherwise, but…” He sighed. “I think I kept the wrong child, Ivana.”
Anger flashed in Ivana’s eyes. “Why? Why are you telling me this now? Do you think it makes me feel better? It’s too late, Gus.”
“Is it?” Gus replied. “Yuri’s alive, isn’t he? Who says I can’t be in his life again?”
“But what about your own marriage? The scandal?” Ivana replied sarcastically.
“To hell with my marriage. And I already have scandal. My daughter fights for a living, and dates some greased-up former auto racer who beats up people now because he went insane during a race. And everyone knows that Gayle’s cheated on me with some of her director’s. And besides, my career is over, and times have changed. Maybe it’s time for a new beginning.”
Ivana said nothing, but Gus didn’t miss the spark of hope in Ivana’s eyes. He tried to keep himself from smirking.
“Yuri, he’s big, he’s strong, right?” Gus asked. He let that smile out as Ivana nodded. “How would he like to meet his sister? And maybe teach her a lesson on what happens to ingrates who throw away everything they’ve been given, especially when they have a sibling who never had anything? Which child should I favor, the onEWe who spurned me? Or the one who’s always wanted me, but never could have me?”
Ivana thought for a second, chewing on her bottom lip. “I think Yuri would love to meet you. And Wendy too.”
Gus smirked. “Then tell him to get ready. Family reunions are the kind of things that create lasting memories. Ones that none of us would forget.”
Ivana nodded, and set her drink down. “What do you want from this, Gus? Why are you suddenly so amiable?”
“I just want to right what I’ve wronged, Ivana.” Gus replied. “But, if you’re feeling up to it, I certainly wouldn’t mind your old ‘payment.’”
Ivana paused, and smiled, slipping off the straps of her dress. Not hesitantly, but eagerly. Gus wondered how many men she had been with since then. He doubted it was a lot. But then again, Gayle was hardly the most eager of partners these days either.
Gus smirked contendedly as he began to unbutton his shirt. It had been an unexpected draw, but he finally felt he had the hand to win here, to get Wendy back into the fold, and to make her give up this ridiculous charade. And if not, he would simply have to decide what he’d have to end up discarding.
He wasn’t so certain it would be the same cards he threw away the last time.
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