MARGEAUX
I’m on such a high.That match with Talia was amazing, and we created such a great twist in the season. Miss American Dream is now becoming America’s Nightmare—the crowd loved it. They lovedus. And, judging by the smiles of the match directors this morning, they’re loving us too. Every Friday morning, after match night, we do a debrief of all the matches, discuss what went well, the direction for the remainder of the season. Address any issues. Mine and Talia’s match is first up on the discussion list.
“Hats off to you two ladies,” Dave says.
He’s a fifty-something year old guy. A former competitor and coach and has moved up the ranks over the years. Wrestling is his life. I picture his bedroom is filled with posters from his hay day when he was The Riptide. He was born and raised in Southern California and sported the classic surfer-bro look. He was a fan favorite back in the day. He was also roided out like all the other dudes, and women wrestlers were merely arm-candy.
It's amazing to see how far women’s wrestling has come, but we still have a ways to go. The men’s matches have more fans, and the big-ticket athletes get paid more. It sucks. Us newer women are trying hard to be more than just tits and ass. Yea, I’ll wear sexy outfits; I’mproud of how my body looks. If the dudes can jump around in briefs and spandex, then we can be equally revealing without it being scandalous.
“The fans are really eating up the Glam Squad versus Below Zero rivalry,” Dave says, bringing my thoughts back to the meeting. “Let’s keep stoking that fire. Talia and Margeaux, that was a great idea to have your match ending with Talia joining Below Zero. It can mean that either squad is working to recruit more athletes,” he continues.
Jazz interrupts him before he can start speaking. “We actually have an idea that will make for a great mid-season match.” Everybody listens as Jazz walks through the brainstorm she and I had leading up to my match with Talia last night. I’m really proud of what we came up with, and it shows how we’re taking initiative, and wanting to be more than just mindless athletes.
We break into our groups to discuss basic match-ups for the following week and set practice times with our coaches. I’m really pumped for these next few weeks. If everything goes right, I’ll be getting my permanent contract with the PEW.
We finish up our planning sessions and then meet with the stylist and wardrobe crew to discuss any changes/alterations to our costumes for next week’s matches. Once that’s finished, I have a meeting with Ashleigh to go over my calendar, update my social media, and any updates on what happened in Paramount.
Sitting in her bright and colorful office, I watch her shuffle through papers, while somehow scrolling on her phone. She’s a master at multi-tasking. I didn’t think I’d need an agent-slash-manager, but when I joined the PEW, they told me it would be necessary. Ashleigh came highly recommended. She’s easy to work with, and she’s always reachable when I need her. She runs my social media—at least my wrestling one. My personal one is pretty much reserved for super close friends and family.
Jacky and I are still in this weird place. He’s sticking up for his snobby fiancé, and I’m just waiting for him to see logic and reason, then dump her, so he can be my brother again. I swear, he’s changed so much since he started dating Zoey. He’s such a simp for her, and I don’t understand why. Okay, so she’s pretty and bubbly, and everyonelikes her.Except me. AmIthe issue? No! Zoey and all her fucking friends were such rude assholes to me for no reason. I didn’t ask to be included, let alone invited to that bachelorette party. They had their minds made up about me the moment they saw me.
Jacky keeps asking me to come home and have lunch with Zoey.Get to know her one-on-one. I told him maybe after the main showcase is over, I’ll consider it. Their wedding is only three months away and Jacky’s feeling all the pressure to ensure everyone is happy on his big day.
Truth be told, I’m horrible at making friends with other women. I’ve been given the feedback that I’m abrasive and too blunt. It’s somehow really sexy and attractive when my male counterparts do it, but it’s rude coming from me.Oh well.I’m lucky Jazz is hardwired the same way. And Talia isn’t nearly as outspoken as we are, but she’s cut from a similar cloth.
“That story about that sick boy really helped get the media back on your side,” Ashleigh says, now typing something on her computer.
Her auburn hair is in a messy, yet fashionable bun, and her full lips are painted a bright red. Her hazel eyes are framed by her leopard-print glasses.
“Yea, about that, Ash,” I say, leaning forward in my seat. I hate her for using Sammy in that way. The poor boy has enough issues; he doesn’t need to have the spotlight on him even more. “We never got permission from Sammy, or his mom, to post those photos,” I say, trying to stay level-headed.
Ashleigh waves her hand at me as she stays focused on her laptop. “Oh, pssh. That’s why we didn’t reveal his face. You needed the good press, Margeaux. I don’t think you understand how much that bar fight is costing,” she says, now shifting her eyes to me, her perfectly plucked brow tugs up in an arch.
Yeah. I had to pay the city of Paramount a steep fine for causing a public disturbance. That hurt my bank account. It will probably go to planting more fruit trees around the city. Or maybe a fucking pumpkin patch. “Is that Strickland guy still pressing charges?” I ask, feeling sick to my stomach. My lawyers explained everything to me. He has a case for assault. That girl from the bachelorette party, Colleen, is sticking byher story that he wasn’t touching her inappropriately. So, I’m the one in the wrong.
“He’s willing to drop the charges if you’ll make a public apology.”
“That’s it? An apology?” This can’t be it. I only had eyes on that Brice guy for a few minutes, but all of my instincts tell me he’s a tool-and-a-half.
“Apublicapology,” Ashleigh repeats. “He wants you to go back to Paramount and make an apology to him in front of the town and news crews.”
“He wants me to publicly humiliate myself?” I clarify. “No. Fucking. Way.”
“Oh, you absolutely will,” Ashleigh deadpans, leaving no room for argument. I open my mouth to argue anyway. “Margeaux, his father is one of the most powerful lawyers in the country. His family is worthbillions. He can have you put in jail. And families like that, they will. So, you’re going back to Paramount, you’re going to tap dance, shake hands, say the words. And you’re never going to see, or speak, to Brice Stickland again.”
“I have nothing to apologize for! He’s a fucking creep!” I shout, getting to my feet and pacing Ashleigh’s office. She’s one of the few non-athletes who isn’t intimidated by my size. She’s a small firecracker and doesn’t give a fuck that I’m a foot taller than her, and can bench press her bodyweight easily.
“I bet he is a creep. Guys like that—entitled, rich, never had to own up to anything they did wrong—I hate them. But this is the game we’re in, Margeaux. You have more to lose right now. So, play nice, and get it over with. You being a celebrity means you don’t have room for mistakes or missteps. Everything you do is scrutinized. Even more so because you’re a woman. You know this,” she says, exhausted.
I do know this. I’ve known this for too long. It makes me so angry that I’m jumping through hoops like a circus animal just to be taken seriously, while dudes like Brice Stickland command the entire show because they can. Fucking bullshit. I hate playing the game.
“It’s just one more weekend. You’ll fly out tonight. Do the thing tomorrow and fly back Sunday. Easy peasy,” Ashleigh says, trying tocalm me down. I get a ping on my phone showing me my boarding pass.
Brice Strickland is the least of my concerns while I’m in Paramount. My mind immediately goes to a cute, but unavailable doctor. What are the chances I’ll bump into him?Hopefully zero. I’m not interested in seeing anyone or having anything to do with the city of Paramount.
“I’ll go pack,” I say as I leave her office.
I’m so flustered I forgot to mention to Ashleigh that I’ve been getting really creepy fan mail lately. After talking with Jazz about it the other day, it seems like it’s just part of being in this sport. It’s probably just a stupid fan, trying to get a shout-out on TV or something. I push that thought aside and focus on mentally preparing to go back to Paramount.
