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Mild violence
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"That was some extremely ominous wording at the table," said Robert. The shaggy bartender with the 29-o'clock-shadow cracked a big smile like he knew something he shouldn't. "I think I know what you were implying, but I really don't want to say it out loud in case I'm wrong."
"I'll say it, then: I've been attending a wrestling school for two months," said Alicia. "That's what you thought I meant, right?"
Robert nodded as his smile somehow grew wider. "That's crazy you went and became a pro wrestler. Do you fight people now? Were you keeping it a secret?"
"I'm training to become a pro wrestler. There's a world of difference." Alicia said. She put her fists on her hips and pushed back at the last question. "I can have secrets. Plus, I wanted to make sure I'd stick with it. I haven't told many people. Just you, actually. You know before any of my family, if it's any consolation."
"It's a lot of consolation, thanks," said Robert, again trying to sound like he was joking. "So how long is the training?"
Alicia couldn't tell if he was genuinely curious or just trying to sound interested, but now that she'd opened up, she found herself surprised at her willingness to talk. "It's a year-long program run by a training school owned by the big regional promotion, Queens of War. I'm sure I've mentioned them. You either complete it within 12 months and get a provisional contract, or you wash out. If you wash out, or if you don't finish in time, that's it. There's no do-overs. You can't come back."
Robert's reaction mirrored her own the first time she heard about the strictness of the program. Now Alicia could tell he was genuinely curious.
"How do you think it's been going?" Robert asked. "I bet it's been hard."
Alicia nodded emphatically, her eyes wide and eyebrows as high as they could go. She answered earnestly, "Mm-hmm! I think it's been going well, though. My trainer says I'm picking it up fast. I feel like I'm getting better. Things felt like they had been lightening up the past couple weeks, but I think it's about to get a lot harder really soon."
* * * * *
Two days had passed since Sabrina's outburst. If the trainer harbored any hard feelings, she hid them well. Warm-ups had gone smoother than usual, and Alicia was eager to learn the off-the-ropes sequence she saw on her first day of wrestling school: side headlock, shoot off the ropes, drop down, leapfrog, armdrag takedown. Sabrina's back hit the mat from the armdrag at the end of another repetition.
"No. Remember? You need to create a lane for the opponent to travel from the throw. Lean back when you go to hook the arm or they're going to collide with you instead of going over. Run it again."
Alicia stood up and rejoined her trainer in the middle of the ring, wrapping her arms around Sabrina’s waist and allowing the veteran to secure her in a snug side headlock to retry the sequence.
Shoot off the ropes. Alicia took a couple of steps backward, pulling the smaller woman alongside her. Alicia's limbs tensed with a sudden surge of power as she shoved Sabrina back-first into the ropes, setting her up like a slingshot before pushing the trainer off and sending her charging towards the opposite ropes with an Irish Whip. Alicia followed a couple steps behind. Sabrina deftly turned, hitting the ropes and rebounded to meet her student in the center of the ring.
Drop down. Alicia dropped prone onto the mat, allowing Sabrina to step over and continue running past for another rebound off the ropes as the trainee pushed herself to her feet.
Leapfrog. As Sabrina returned a second time, Alicia sprung off the mat with an impressive vertical leap, legs apart. The veteran passed underneath and hit the ropes again. Okay, big finish.
Armdrag. Alicia leaned back as Sabrina came back off the ropes, swinging out her left arm and hooking it under her target's armpit. Pop the hip. Lots of snap. Down to the mat.
"No. The hook goes in deeper. Run it again."
With a quick nod, trainer and trainee were back up. Headlock, shoot, drop down, leapfrog, armdrag.
"No."
Back to their feet. Headlock, shoot, drop down, leapfrog, armdrag. Sabrina hit the mat, rolled to her front, and slapped the canvas as hard as she could with both hands. "Did you forget how to do an armdrag, or are you just trying to do it your own way?" She glared at Alicia and spoke slowly and deliberately, "Hook. The arm. And lean. The fuck. Back."
There were those hard feelings.
"Up," Sabrina growled. "Come at me from the corner. I'll show you."
Alicia rose to her feet on command and took a corner, pressing her back against the padded turnbuckles before taking off at a run. In a lightning-flash of muscle, Sabrina reclined back, hooked her arm under her student’s left armpit, and sent Alicia hurtling overhead and onto the mat with a vicious snap. The veteran brought her other arm across and secured a grip on her wrist, tightening the hold down into an shoulder lock. Sabrina kept the hold applied full-strength for an extra couple of seconds for added emphasis before releasing her student.
"Again."
Another repetition, another crash onto the mat, another prolonged shoulder lock. Alicia clenched her teeth and struggled not to push back. The harsh treatment may not have been personal, but it was still being done to her person.
"You're not done. Get up," said Sabrina. "I'll tell you when to stop."
* * * * *
Pain shot up Alicia's right elbow and shoulder as her arm hit the kick pad Sabrina held at chest height.
"No. What did I tell you about straightening out your arm?"
Alicia took a step back from her trainer, wincing and gritting her teeth as she massaged out the sting in the point of her elbow.
"You're going to break your arm trying to clothesline that way. You keep just running past with your arm outstretched. That's not how you perform a clothesline," Sabrina paused for a second, showing nominal concern to gauge if her student was really injured. "You alright? I told you, didn't I? You ever seen an elbow go the wrong way? Trust me when I say you don't want to, especially not your own. Take a second and then come here."
No chance was Alicia going to "take a second." The antagonism had gone on for over a month, and Alicia had snatched an angry retort, fully formed, just millimeters from her lips on more than one occasion. Still with a tight grip on her right elbow, she stepped up to her (tor)mentor.
"You good?" Sabrina asked. Alicia nodded. They locked eyes for a second, as though Sabrina were sizing her up. "Okay," said Sabrina, raising the kick pad back to chest height.
With a nod, Alicia turned and hit the ropes, rebounded off, and swung her arm almost like a haymaker into the pad, hitting it with her forearm and bicep.
"No!" shouted Sabrina. "You're not gonna do shit hitting their whole body with just your arm! What did I tell you?" She threw the kick pad to the mat and stomped behind her visibly frustrated student. Sabrina grabbed Alicia hard by the wrist and tugged it into position. "Arm extended. Bring it around like you're swinging a right hook over their left shoulder. Where should your shoulder be?" The increasingly irate trainer continued working herself up as she stomped back around and got into position as if taking the move. "Your right shoulder and the right side of your chest goes into their body. Your shoulder hits at the same time as your arm. Why are you so desperate to throw a punch?"
"That's how I win fights, if you'd ever let me show you!" snapped Alicia.
"Not here," Sabrina said dismissively. "This isn't a hockey fight. That's why you're learning from me and not the other way around, so try and pay attention."
That was enough. Alicia looked Sabrina hard in the eye, lowered her voice, and spoke aloud the sentence she had been repeating in her head every minute of training for the past five weeks, "I didn't do anything to you."
An interminable three-second pause hung between them. Alicia wondered if Sabrina knew that Minisha had told what was going on. Maybe she at least suspected. The scowl faded slightly from Sabrina's scarred lips, and the darkness somewhat lifted from her expression. She bent down and grabbed the kick pad and held it in place like before. "Run it again."
Alicia wanted to press the matter, but she didn't want to risk getting Minisha mad at her, too–not to mention getting her in hot water with someone like Sabrina.
"Hey," the trainer barked. Alicia turned around. "I know you can do better. Okay? I've seen it. Run it again."
Alicia believed her. For the first time at practice in weeks, she felt the trace of a smile spread across her lips.
* * * * *
Alicia grimaced as Stacy secured her in a wristlock, torqued the limb and changed her grip, wrenching her into a standing armbar. Alicia felt her back press against the ropes as Stacy guided her into place and attempted to shoot Alicia into the far ropes with an Irish Whip. Alicia sprang off the ropes, took one big step, and planted both feet firmly on the canvas. She slipped out of the armbar and snatched Stacy’s wrist, reversing the maneuver.
Rather than send Stacy into the opposite ropes with an Irish Whip of her own, Alicia maintained wrist control and twisted Stacy’s arm behind her back in a hammerlock. Here goes. She ducked into position behind Stacy's back, slipped an arm around her waist, and grunted with effort as she hoisted Stacy up, arm still trapped in a hammerlock, and dumped her onto her back, shoulders, and neck with a Backdrop onto a crash mat in the middle of the ring.
The trainees looked up at their respective trainers. Sabrina clapped her hands together and offered both women a lift back to their feet. "Way better," she exclaimed. "Remember to keep your hips low, and let's run it again."
Minisha threw up a hand to slow her colleague's enthusiasm for another go. "Can I have a second with Stace first?" she asked, throwing an arm around her beleaguered student and guiding her toward the far corner for a bit of coaching.
Alicia couldn't quite hear what Minisha was saying, but it looked like she was concerned about Stacy not getting her hand back to soften the neck bump. Alicia felt bad she had spent the past several months being made to show up her training partner. She leaned closer to Sabrina and asked in just above a whisper, "Should I ease up a bit?"
"You'd better not," cautioned Sabrina, her voice stern. "That's why we do neck bridges. This is how she's going to learn."
* * * * *
Practice felt noticeably different without Stacy. Alicia hated to see her frequent training partner leave, especially since it meant Stacy would be moving out of her aunt's house and back to Indianapolis. Training also felt noticeably different because Minisha and Sabrina were way easier to throw around, much to their dismay.
Getting to Powerbomb the woman who ran her ragged the past seven months felt like the ultimate banana cream pie in the principal's face. Alicia had Sabrina bent over in a standing headscissor, arms wrapped around her trainer's waist. She hoisted Sabrina up into a seated position on her shoulders, reached up with both arms, and threw Sabrina down back-first onto the crash mat. The rattled trainer threw up the "time-out" sign.
"Okay, okay," Sabrina said, sitting up, back obviously aching despite the relatively soft landing surface. "That's it for Powerbombs. You can stop."
"Can we do Samoan Drops?" asked Alicia, giddy at the chance to show off another move in her repertoire.
Minisha groaned. "Sabrina first."
"Sounds good!" Alicia cheerfully replied as she grabbed Sabrina by the nape of the neck and hoisted the trainer onto her broad shoulders in a face-down position. Alicia threw herself backward onto the crash mat, flattening Sabrina beneath her.
It was Alicia's turn to be the class bully.
* * * * *
Alicia breezed through the door of Hard Times with two checks in hand, walking taller than she had in her life. Her gym bag hung from her shoulder and she had started doing her hair in french braids like back in hockey. She was eager to get to work. Today marked eight months to the day since she started, and the milestone came one week before Christmas.
"Hey Sab," said Alicia, handing Sabrina the checks.
The trainer waved her off. "Hold onto those for now. Follow me."
Alicia’s face screwed up momentarily in confusion. She followed Sabrina through the lonely door tucked in the corner for the first time since the day she signed up for Hard Times.
The decor could charitably be described as "bland" and accurately as "sterile." Bare white walls with a couple framed event posters hanging at eye-level. Alicia noticed the poster for the February 1989 Queens of War special event “Downtown Riot” advertising Iron Maiden, 15 years younger, in the main event challenging Helene Rivera for the top belt in the company: the Queen of Queens Championship.
They approached a door with an engraved golden plaque. The office was labeled H.R., for Helene Ramirez, but it was also labeled that because she very much was. Sabrina gave the door a quick knock and let herself in. Helene sat imperiously upon a leather throne of an office chair behind way too much of a desk. Hanging on the wall behind her was a framed Queens of War poster promoting the first show in the company’s history: Friday, August 2, 1974.
“Sit down. Let’s talk,” said Helene, gesturing toward the much smaller chairs across the desk from her. “Sabrina has been- well, to be quite honest, she’s been glowing about you.”
Alicia felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she shot her trainer a half-surprised, half-flattered look that did nothing to hide her bashfulness.
Sabrina did her best to temper the praise. "I said she's got potential, but yeah, she's gotten really good. I'm impressed." She turned to speak to Alicia directly. "I've been talking to Helene, and I convinced her that, if you're up for it, we should book you a match on the pre-show next week."
Alicia's jaw dropped. "Um," said the trainee, articulating her emotions. "Who would the match be against?"
Sabrina shook her head. "Sorry, I can't tell you. I wish I could, but it'd be a conflict of interest. Connie Rocket." Helene shot an are-you-kidding-me glare across the desk as Sabrina continued, "If you need some time to think about it-"
Alicia's voice quivered slightly. "I've been thinking about it for eight months. Yes."
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