| Another Cake; Pre-Destiny | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 6 2017, 07:00 AM (151 Views) | |
| Ash | Mar 6 2017, 07:00 AM Post #1 |
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February 1, 2017 Atlanta “Dearest, Ashlyn. At this time, Vincent here would like to present you with a congratulatory cake in celebration of your recent accomplishments. And… please, keep in mind, that although young Vincent is presenting you with this cake, it is a dear gift from the boys.” The corners of Ashlyn’s lips tugged into a smile as Alfonso turned toward Vinny-- who was now grown and would like to be called “Vincent.” Ashlyn chuckled aloud every time she tried to say his name, but she refrained this time, stifling her heartfelt (and abusive) words, substituting them for an “aww” instead. Vincent did indeed step forward, holding a round, homemade cake in lime-green-colored icing. A leaf-shaped candle sat atop it, flickering tall above the icing. “Congrats, Ash,” Vincent said, placing the cake down on the break-room table. Aside from the three of them stood the bakery’s other only three employees-- Frank, Karen, and Landen. Landen George was a new hire, picked by Ashlyn as an extra set of hands around the growing business in her absence. He was a lanky, slender black kid that always wore t-shirts displaying R&B bands that were popular before he was even born, and full-length cargo pants-- because someone evidently didn’t have the heart to tell him they’d gone out of style. Hard. Landen was soft-spoken and fidgety but he’d been a loyal patron since Ashlyn could remember. He was an eighteen-year-old high school senior and had lost the only job he’d had, working at a gas station near his house in Austell before it closed. She had a soft spot in her heart for the kid. He called her “Miss Ashlyn” and she melted just a bit more every time. “Did you bring the cup with you?” Landen asked curiously, eyes searching the room. “No,” Ashlyn said smiling faintly. “I’ll bring it to show you this week. Promise.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll keep it here.” Her smile became something of a smirk and she looked toward Alfonso and Karen. “Is that arrogant?” “I think it’d be cool,” Landen muttered. “Keeping the Young Guns Cup in the basement of a cafe in downtown Atlanta,” Vincent muttered. “That’s not risky.” “That fuckin’ negativity, Vinny. What did we say about that fuckin’ negativity?” Alfonso grumbled. “NEGATIVITY HOW?!” Vincent snapped. “And you can cease with that Vinny shit! Cease!” ”Cease my foot up your ass.” “That doesn’t even make fuckin’ sense!” Vincent snapped again. “Anyway,” Karen cut in. “Ashlyn, blow out that candle before we get weed-leaf-candle-wax all over the cake. Who put a candle on there anyway? It’s not her birthday.” “It’s a candle. It’s for a fuckin’ celebration. It doesn’t need to be anyone’s birthday!” Vincent was growing increasingly agitated. “Watch your mouth,” Alfonso said, loudly. Sternly. And just like that, Vincent fell silent, though he still glared at his older cousin. Frank fell silent too. But Frank was always silent. Ashlyn blew out the candle and gestured toward the knife, which Karen grabbed for her. “Let’s eat cake, people.” * * * * * ”I need to know where we stand… Do we share this special thing called love…” Sitting behind the wheel of the super-luxurious 2014 Hyundai Elantra, Ashlyn drummed her fingers along to the beat of the radio. She slowed her pace as she cruised through the streets of Austell. Karen slept in the passenger seat and Landen sat in the back, nodding along to the track as he looked idly through his window. Ashlyn came to a stop at a railroad crossing, familiar with the area, knowing Landen’s house was just a block away. “Does it get noisy at night, being next to the tracks?” Ashlyn asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror. Landen shrugged a little. “I dunno. I sleep sorta heavy. I don’t think it comes through more than once a day.” Ashlyn nodded, turning her gaze forward again, watching as the obnoxiously long train continued to cross. “How’s your grandma doing?” Ashlyn knew enough about Landen to know that he lived in a duplex with his grandmother and his kid half-sister, but not enough to know the… conditions. Another shrug from the eighteen-year-old in the back. “Good I think. The doctor cleared her to start driving the school bus again. I think she’s happy to be back to work.” He looked up at Ashlyn, meeting her eyes through the mirror. “Think you could maybe do something?” “Hmmmm, depends on what it maybe is.” “Could you sign something for her?” Landen asked, quietly. “I don’t have a pen…” The train finally passed. Ashlyn watched the flashing red hazard lights in front of the track, smiling thoughtfully. “What do you want me to sign?” “Oh.” Landen was visibly embarrassed. “I dunno…” Ashlyn laughed a little, finally driving toward the train tracks as the lights faded. “Tell you what. You find me something to sign and I’ll sign whatever you want.” Landen nodded, sitting back in the seat as they crossed the tracks. * * * * * Karen leaned against the outside of the Elantra as they sat, parked in Landen’s driveway. She took a long drag of her Marlboro Light, eyes closed, groaning a bit from the exhaustion before she addressed Ashlyn. “We should’ve just dropped him off and told him we’d get it to him when he works next,” Karen complained. “What’s taking him so long? And what are we doing taking this kid home at eleven on a school night?” Ashlyn politely declined Karen’s offer for a drag of the cigarette, raising a hand as she responded. “It was either we drive him home or he stands on the side of the road waiting an hour for the bus to come. He shares a car with his grandma so…” “Fish a couple bucks out of those hundred G’s and spot him for a cab next time,” Karen muttered, though a wink and a small smile with her next puff of the cigarette proved it was said in jest. “Really though-- has all this gone to your head yet?” “Gimme a couple weeks, I’m sure it will.” Ashlyn leaned against the car alongside Karen, thumbs jammed into her pockets. She took a breath and continued: “I think Tommy’s really upset it didn’t come down to me and him.” “Huh.” Karen looked over at her friend with an arched brow. "Would’ve been a convenient ending.” “Sixty-four of us. It was always a long shot,” Ashlyn said, voice trailing off along with her gaze. “Tell me,” Karen began as she dropped the butt of the cigarette into the dirt alongside the driveway, snubbing it out with the toe of her sneaker, “is he mad that it didn’t come down to the two of you or is he mad that after all the hype the world started to give him, he isn’t the one with a World title shot?” Before Ashlyn could respond, the screen door of the George house was thrust open. Landen winced at the sound, closing it gently behind him. He’d switched his shoes out for slippers, tip-toeing down the driveway toward Ashlyn. In one hand, he had a variety of pens and Sharpies, and in the other he clutched a magazine which likely wasn’t as old as it looked. The edges of the pages had lost their color and the cover was faded, as if it had sat in the sun for weeks. “Sorry I took so long,” Landen said. “Wanted to find all my Sharpies. Didn’t know what you wanted to use.” Ashlyn smiled fondly. “Ha, what a gentleman.” She plucked a violet-colored Sharpie from the set and carefully took the magazine, by chance opening to a page that features her competing in a World Championship match against Aurora Jansen in PW. “Anything in particular you want it to say?” Landen thought about it, looking back toward the house as if for inspiration. He shook his head, almost ashamed that he had nothing. He looked back at Ashlyn with a small shrug. “Her name is Theresa. I…” “Theresa?” Ashlyn politely interrupted, seeing the gears turning behind her head. Without voicing the message aloud, she pulled the cap of the sharpie off between her teeth, holding the page open on her hand as she took maybe twenty seconds to write a message, finishing it off with the marker-strokes Karen had come to associate with her “wildly obnoxious” signature. With the cap back on the Sharpie, Ashlyn closed it inside the magazine on the autographed page, handing it back to Landen. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. He held the magazine against his chest, still gripping the other Pens and Sharpies in his hand. “Sweet. Touching. Let’s all get in our respective beds and reflect on this moment,” Karen said, impatiently pulling open the passenger door. She offered a small wave to Landen before she dropped back into the car. Landen’s eyes drifted from the closed passenger door, back to Ashlyn. “You’ll really bring the Cup in so we can see it?” “A promise is a promise,” she replied. “Come here.” She wrapped her arms around Landen in a tight hug. Maybe she felt like he needed more. Maybe she had gone soft and was just a hugger now. She released him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before she moved to the driver’s side of the car, pulling open her door. “See you at work Friday?” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. She smiled faintly, giving him a nod. “Goodnight, Landen. Be safe.” She sank down into the car, allowing Landen close the door with his elbow, giving the girls a nod as they pulled out of his driveway. He made his way to the porch, stopping in front of his door, watching until Ashlyn’s tail lights faded from view. March 4, 2017 San Antonio “She’s such a cunt.” Karen didn’t have a Twitter herself, but she sat pretzel-style in the picture window of the hotel suite, window open, mimosa in hand as she scrolled through the Crimson Baroness’ Twitter feed on Ashlyn’s phone. She took a sip, finishing off the small glass in her hand before extending the phone back out to Ashlyn, shaking her head a bit. “Everything about her is gross. Not sure why you have so much patience with her.” “She is who she is,” Ashlyn muttered, accepting her phone back. “I don’t necessarily have to like it… but I’m not gonna get worked up about it. Doesn’t help me get anywhere. Doesn’t get my championship back.” She took a deep breath, sliding the phone into the pocket of her sweatpants, still unchanged from her makeshift pajama in the early morning hours. “Yooo, nice dedication by the way. Mimosa in hand before the sun’s all the way up.” Karen made a face at Ashlyn, pushing the empty glass aside as she swung her legs around to stand up on the floor, stretching before she replied. “Zero redeeming qualities. You should rip her eyes out. She fucking stole from you. Little shit.” “Yeah. Probably should.” Ashlyn scrolled through missed notifications in her phone, shrugging gently at the proposition. “I just want my title back, then we’re straight. I’ll do what I have to do to get it. I don’t care about the phone.” “Fuck the phone, but it’s the principle. She STOLE from you. Fuck that.” Karen looked visibly upset. “And Ashley Chase doesn’t care about you. She didn’t have your back. You guys did some good shit tagging together, like you were supposed to, but she’s also a little cunty, is she not?” “Mmmmmnot on the same scale.” Ashlyn looked back up toward her friend with a raised brow. “I get it, Karen. But I don’t want to get carried away, focused on the wrong thing, and then have somebody catch me in the side of my face and eliminate me from the match. Then I’m… where?” Exhale. “She stole from me. I didn’t forget that shit, man. But she’s not the only person out there. Everyone forgets how dangerous Ashley is and in a wildcard kinda match like this? I’m not letting Katie take me out of my game.” “She makes me feel sick,” Karen muttered. A small laugh escaped Ashlyn’s lips. “Same.” Knock! Knock! Knock! Karen frowned, looking at the Fitbit around her wrist. “It’s not even six-thirty!” “...says the woman that just downed two mimosas,” Ashlyn muttered, walking toward the door. “Relax, it’s Cass.” She pulled the door open and sure enough, the brunette stood in the doorway of the suite, offering a small wave. Cassandra McPherson didn’t look as Ashlyn had seen her so often before. Dressed down, Cass wore a pair of yoga pants and a gray “AnnieManiacs” hoodie-- a full ripoff of the Animaniacs and Warner Bros. logo that Ashlyn hadn’t seen before this second. Cassandra stood inside, allowing Ash to push the door shut behind her. “Still haven’t conducted any interviews yet, have you?” McPherson asked with a wink. “Nah, you still get the first one.” Ashlyn turned, making her way back toward her couch. She sat down, looking back up at Cass, adding, “wait until Monday though, so you can ask me how it feels to be a two-time Bloodlust Champion too…” “Or how it feels to lose to the Crimson Baroness two times,” Karen says quietly, not bothering to hide the obnoxious grin that stretches across her face. And with that, she nods toward the shower, pulling herself up onto her feet with the morning’s second great effort, finally sliding her feet into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Cassandra’s eyes drifted from the door, toward Ashlyn again, only speaking when she heard the loud squeal of the hotel’s showerhead. “You’re not gonna blow me off if it doesn’t go well, right?” Cass lowered her voice. Ashlyn laughed aloud, looking at Cassandra out of the corner of her eye. “If it doesn’t--?” “Say the Baroness keeps this momentum up. Say she does make history like she says she will,” Cassandra went on, quietly, “or Chase surprises the both of you. One of you takes out the other, and all she has to do is clean up. In a match like this, focus is everything. Basically.” She angles her head a bit as she tries to read Ashlyn. “So if fortune swings in their favor, are you gonna blow me off?” Ashlyn looked back at Cassandra for a long time without saying anything, perhaps out of defiance. She smiled faintly, looking down toward the couch she sat on, trying to form the right response. “We’re friends. I wouldn’t do that. You’ll get your interview.” “Thanks, Ash.” Ashlyn narrowed her eyes a bit. “But Cass?” “Yes.” “I’m bringing a championship back to this room, man.” Cassandra smiled back, sitting across from Ashlyn on the single desk chair in the suite. She nodded, looking directly into her friend’s eyes. Cassandra didn’t need to say she believed Ashlyn. Ashlyn could already see it in the look she gave her. She knew Ashlyn already had the confidence-- the idea, in the back of her head, that she would emerge as the Bloodlust Champion. But for whatever reason, Cassandra felt compelled to respond, offering a quiet and simple:"good." fin. Edited by Ash, Mar 6 2017, 07:01 AM.
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