May 11, 2018
Candi Bratton arrived to the bar and grill, she promptly sat at the bar and ordered a beer, a burger and some fries. She had nearly finished everything off when her tag team partner arrived.
It was just a few minutes shy of 15;30 – 15:27 if anyone wanted to be super specific. After some agreed upon and private back and forth exchanges, Anya and Candi – from what she learned – decided a strategy talk would be more than acceptable.
With 15:30 having been the designated time, Anya sighed, relieved she managed to arrive early instead of late.
Why here though? she internally asked, feeling just a bit uncomfortable at the designated location now surrounding her; a club. More specifically, its name bothered her a bit. It was literally called the X BAR.
“You’re just here for business,” she reassured herself softly. Hazel eyes scanned the recently opened bar. The moment she found Candi, she walked forward and took a seat nearby her assigned tag partner. “Afternoon. I … hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”
Candi Bratton, on the other hand, had been here since say… 1pm. She’d already had lunch, burger and fries, of course. She’s already had at least three beers – who keeps track of beers anyway? But she tilts her head as she sees Anya walk in and she offers a wry smirk and shrugs, “I’ve been here a while, but not waiting on you.”
She thinks this tag team match is bullshit. Stupid management putting them together as some sort of formal punishment for exchanging words on the goddamned Twitter-machine. Anyone who has paid any sort of attention to professional wrestling would know that Candi Bratton speaks her mind, whether it’s wanted or not.
“So, looks like you’re stuck with me at least for the time being,” Candi comments, before taking the final drink of beer and pushing her glass away from herself and turning on the stool to face the woman who’ll be her tag team partner. “So, look,” and yeah, here it comes, “You don’t like this and I don’t like this but we gotta do it so we may as well make the best of it. We we gotta beat up Run DMC in the meanwhile, may as well make it worth our while.”
Anya’s own head tilted. At first, her reply about being here a while but not waiting on her didn’t make sense. However, as the easily recognizable scent of alcohol was detected from her partner, it quickly made sense as to what Candi meant. Well … this was a bar. She was here to talk, not judge. Given Candi was being far more civil than she’d expected – especially while intoxicated, or buzzed at the very least, Anya was just going to take whatever blessings she got rather than waste them.
“Fair enough. Well, I’m glad I’m not late for our meeting.”
Anya pauses, allowing Candi to speak her mind … before tilting her hand in the air. “I wouldn’t say I dislike this match, to be perfectly honest. I’m definitely surprised, though. I was fully expecting to be put up against you. But either way … agreed. I also want to make the best of this.”
Even though it would be easy enough to assume Candi’s forte, she wanted to be damn sure. Besides, appearances didn’t mean everything; including being able to discern what a person was great with or not.
“So … what kind of fighter are you? I’m primarily aerial, though I can be a bit of a technical wrestler if needed. Let’s start there to make sure we can formulate the best plan possible.”
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m fat.” She definitely owns that about herself and has no problem with it whatsoever. “So, I tend to throw my weight around. I also use whatever dirty trick I can muster to win a match because I ain’t no gymnast, and no muscle-bound freak, or a great technical motherfucker. I just use what I got and if that means I gotta cheat to win, I cheat to win. Hope that’s not a problem for you.” She glances at the other woman, just to see if there’s going to be a problem with that. “I don’t claim to be more than I am. I win some, I lose some, but someone’s gonna know they’ve been in a fight when it’s all said and done.”
Oddly, the reply is faster than anyone may have expected. As if Anya had written a script for this gathering and memorized it perfectly. Her head shakes no. “As long as I’m not executing said cheating move, no issues. You do what you need to, and I’ll do what I need to. I know we had a rocky start, but I do think despite that, this match can work out well enough. I’ll respect your boundaries and preferences. I just want that much returned. Fair enough, yes?”
After allowing Candi enough time to mull over her response, Anya opted to move onto the next part.
“I honestly felt like you may be better for the beginning legal person, but either could likely work. Whenever switches are made is when we can capitalize the most … hopefully. I, for example, could set them in our corner, get you in, and you go to town on whichever opponent is the legal person. You, on the other hand … well, putting them in the middle of the ring would be preferable, but I’ll admit not necessarily the easiest. Just anywhere in reach should work, really. Most of my moves can be done standing as well as from a vantage point. I should be able to adapt well enough.”
Brief – but compared to how simply talking had felt a few days ago? This actually was considerable progress for Anya.
“Anything else you wish to add? Since you have done this much longer than myself? I may very well have missed something.”
“Well, I don’t mind starting out. I mean, if we want to win and all,” perhaps a little stinger thrown in there from the brash one, “But, I’m fine with whatever. Doesn’t mean we’re gonna be best of pals when this bullshit is over, and I hope for crying out loud this isn’t gonna be a regular thing cause I might have to have a few words with management,” and yeah, but ‘a few words’ she just might be referring to the fact she might have to smack someone around. “But it’s the first show and I figure I can be a team player for ten minutes or so. Fuck. As long as we get the win over these chumps, I’ll be just fine.” She picks up a lone fry still on her plate, “Just listen to me, and we’ll get along just fucking dandy,” she says before popping that fry into her mouth. She turns a wary eye towards Anya, “You ain’t expecting me to go to no gym, are you? I ain’t seen the inside of a gym since 1985 when I was forced to go in high school.” Revelation for all, she’s sure but she ain’t the ‘gym-going’ type. Lovely. As if poor Anya didn’t have enough pressure on her. She was intending to make this first professional appearance count, after all. Still, any indications that would otherwise give away she’s nervous are hidden.
“I doubt this’ll be ongoing. We didn’t even register as a tag team. And there are plenty of other members who could be paired up together aside from us. I think you were on the right track when you hinted the owner did this for … well, his amusement.”
Anya started to elaborate that, admittedly, part of this sport was exactly that – to entertain people. But no. Not at the risk of sounding like a smart-ass. She’d been doing great at staying on Candi’s decent side and wanted to keep it that way, thanks.
“No. If you don’t want to go to a gym, that’s also your choice. I just suggested it earlier. But if you don’t like gyms, fair enough. I have my own locations I’m not overly fond of.”
Granted, it baffled the hell out of Anya; what kind of wrestler refused to step inside a gym? Well … each to their own, she decided.
“But no, I’m definitely not going to force you to go somewhere you want to avoid. That won’t be an issue.”
Now noting Candi wasn’t even finished with her plate, this seemed like the best note to end on.
“I think, for the immediate time being, we have enough to help us out for next week. Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
“Hey barkeep, another beer and bring me some wings, alright?” She yells as she pushes her now empty plate away. “Well, good cause I ain’t been forced to do something in about thirty years.” She nods her head and shrugs, “I guess we’re done here unless you want something to eat. If not, I guess I’ll see you at the show.” She can’t stop the belch that escape, though she tries to at least minimize the noise by covering her mouth, which may be surprising. She’s not a complete beast. Just mostly.
The remainder of the conversation was forced, and eventually Anya left, leaving Candi to her meal. As she paid for her meal, an alert went off on her phone and she narrows her eyes as she pulls it out of her pocket. She swipes the screen and read, “Are you fucking kidding me? Grandma? I don’t even let my grandkids call me grandma. I’m gonna kill Run DMC.” She storms out.
A few minutes later, she’s going live and she looks down at her phone, “Listen here, Streetz? Is that what you’ve decided to call yourself? Well, let me fucking tell you one goddamned thing. First of all, it’ll take me about 38 goddamned seconds to convince you that I’m not just some fragile old lady. I’m a goddamned former World Champion and I have been doing this for nearly two decades and I’ve beaten up better women than you. Stronger women. Faster women. More manly women than you. You’re a couple of wanna be punk who think that they can say what they want and do what they want. But, let me ask you one motherfucking thing.”
She leans in close and grins, “What are you going to tell your ‘homies’ when they see you get your ass handed to you by this goddamned grandmother on television?”
She starts to laugh as she cuts the feed.