The commentators can be heard all throughout the arena. “It looks like they’ve got Jazz under some kind of…glamour spell!”
“I think you’re right, Dave! Jazz is totally under the command of the Glam Squad.”
Sasha struts over to me and hits me with an elbow drop. Eva’s next with a fist drop right to my head. I’m outmatched and outnumbered. Jazz, still in her stupor, makes her way over to me. Eva and Sasha cheer Jazz on, calling her over to my limp form, sprawled on the floor of the ring. The ref watches as Jazz saunters over to me. She scales to the top of the rope, faces the crowd, blowing kisses at them with her new perky attitude.
She blows one last kiss before pushing off into moonsault—a backflip off the ropes—and she lands square on my chest, with perfect timing and execution. I let out one last gasp, showing all the air and fight has been knocked out of me.
Jazz pins me down and Mike, our ref, comes alongside us.
“Best match ever, ladies! Let’s finish it strong!” He slams his hand down once.
“Great match, Marg,” Jazz whispers to me.”
Mike slams his hand down a second time.
“Love ya, bitch,” I mumble as she holds me down for one final second.
The third and final slap of his hand on the ring floor denotes the end of the match.
Jazz jumps off me and joins Sasha and Eva at the front of the ring. Eva snatches the microphone.
“Let me be the first to introduce the Glam Squad’s newest member—Jazz Fresco!”
The crowd cheers and boos, loving and hating the outcome of this match. The Glam Squad has Jazz under their spell, and I’m left alone, defeated in the corner.
I jump off the stage, grab a second microphone from the commentators’ table, and shout, “This isn’t over Glam Squad! Our feud is far from over!”
Jazz snags the mic from Eva. “Don’t hate us cause you ain’t us, Wild. You were right to be part of Below Zero because you don’t have what it takes to be number one!”
The crowd continues screaming and cheering as the three of them strut off the stage, Demi Lovato's song, ‘Sorry, Not Sorry’ booms throughout the arena. I pick myself up and do my walk of shame behind the curtains, smiling because the crowd has no idea what we have in store for them next.
28
JON
Jon: Great match, Beautiful!
I keepmy thumb hovering over the heart emoji. Would it be too much to include that? I ignore my urges and send the words only. I don’t expect a response from her for a while. She let me know she doesn’t get a chance to look at her phone for at least a couple hours after her matches.
Tonight’s match was crazy. Margeaux told me it was going to be a surprise ending and was it ever! I wasn’t expecting Jazz to be put under some kind of glamour spell and join forces with the Glam Squad—major plot twist.
It was painful to watch Margeaux lose and take so many big hits. She assured me so many times that everything is choreographed and practiced to look real. She’s such an amazing actress. There won’t be a rematch for a couple of weeks. I guess there will be a big showcase, in front of a bigger crowd. Margeaux made a comment about getting me a ticket. I’d love to see her perform live.
That’s got to be a good sign that she’s thinking a little farther into the future, and that I’m in her thoughts. I look around my apartmentand try to picture Margeaux living here with me. Maybe not full-time, but when she’s not training. I see her walking around in tight underwear, her long legs on full display. An image of us sharing breakfast over my kitchen counter comes to mind next. Pancakes. No, waffles. With whipped cream and strawberries. Then my thoughts drift to a naughtier place and all I can think about is licking whipped cream off every inch of Margeaux’s naked body.
Jon: Next time I come visit, make sure your fridge is stocked with whipped cream
Margeaux loves when I talk dirty with her. And I love thatsheloves this side of me. It’s becoming easier and more frequent that that four-letter word makes its way into my vocabulary when I talk about Margeaux.
We haven’t even declared ourselves exclusive, or ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ yet. I know what I feel for her, and I know she has strong feelings for me. A woman like Margeaux wouldn’t waste her time and energy with a guy unless he meant something to her.Right?
I fidget with my phone, ready to send my beautiful woman another message that lets her know how proud of her I am. How amazing she looked tonight. How I’m her biggest fan. Before I can send any of these messages my phone rings with a call from Dr. Nash.
“Dr. Nash? Good evening,” I say. It’s not uncommon for her to call me at night if there’s an update about a patient, or a new case being assigned to me.
“Dr. Jacob. Meet me at the hospital ASAP.”
I race to get my shoes on. “What’s wrong?”
