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Brief description of injury
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The mournful wail of a dying four-door pierced city life’s evening din. For a moment, the world seemed to hush, waiting expectantly for what would happen next. It was a squeaking, whinnying, cough-cough-cough of a finale, and the world continued on, unimpressed. Alicia didn't like that sound and mercy-killed the engine. She waited a moment and turned the key. Lights, squeals, but no ignition.
"Crunchy pancakes!" cute-cursed the new owner of a powder blue wheel-box. With her head buried in her hands, Alicia ran through the mental speed dial. I really hope Robert's working tonight.
She had had been putting off meeting her tag partner until she knew the condition of her hand, was the excuse she kept telling herself. In truth, Alicia’s swollen right hand only hurt slightly less than the morning after the match, and it remained every bit as stiff and painful to use. No, the real reason she had been putting the meeting off was nerves. While Sabrina had rather enthusiastically bailed her out of the beating of a lifetime, it remained to be seen if that same enthusiasm extended to polite conversation.
Alicia stepped out of her ex-car and emerged into the full brunt of winter when a sudden gale drove the air from her lungs. It reminded her of Hellion. Above the front door, beneath the bright-as-day lights, hung the faded, partially rusted maroon "Hard Times" sign. Below it, in smaller, eroded lettering, were the words "TLING TRAINING SCH OL."
Out of the
entire operation, the sign out front stood head and shoulders beneath the rest as the
least impressive part of the facility. Alicia wondered whenever she passed if
it represented the last remaining piece of the original building. If keeping it had been anyone's idea, it would've
been Sabrina's.
She jogged six steps up and through the door, breezed past the front desk, and popped her head back into the gym. The heavy door swung open with a shrieking, metallic lamentation. This must be the same metal they make Perlettas out of. No sign of her former trainer. Alicia headed through the unassuming door in the corner to the back offices. She approached the first door on the right. Breathe in, breathe out. Polite little knock.
"It's open," Sabrina responded.
Alicia turned the handle and pushed, then pulled the door open. Her head drooped and her shoulders sagged. She looked small. "Hey," she whispered. "I thought maybe we could talk about the match coming up."
The sinewy veteran stood bolt upright from her seat and started toward Alicia, cutting her off at the door's threshold. "I have something to say first. A lot to say, actually. That right hook of yours, the Gut Check, I thought I heard Chris call it? I was right about what I said. That move can't win a match." Sabrina leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "There was a reason for everything I taught you. Why you needed to listen to advice, why I told you to stick to the gameplan. You did everything right in practice. I saw you." Alicia wanted to escape that sharp stare, but she wouldn't. "And the second the bell rang, you threw all of our work in the trash trying to get into a damn hockey fight. And what happened? You threw your punch, it wasn't enough, and you got beat."
It was an interesting team-building exercise. With each sentence, Alicia felt her pulse quicken and blood pressure creep higher. She drew an angry breath to speak in her own defense, but Sabrina shut her down.
"Now let me tell you how much I got wrong. First thing: that Gut Check of yours might not be a match-finisher, but it's a hell of a wrestling move. And you're right; I should've involved you in coming up with a gameplan for your matches. Telling you to work a match the way I would wasn't helping you. That was lazy. You worked your ass off, and I owed you the same." Sabrina cast an uncomfortable glance to a bare spot of wall for just a moment. "I thought with your hockey background it would've been a better fit. I wasn't expecting your… level of cardio." The rookie pursed her lips at the apology-putdown. "I thought since you're used to skating up and down the ice full-tilt for an hour-"
"Shorter than that."
That wasn't the point. At least, Sabrina didn't know it yet. "Ten, twenty minutes. Whatever."
"45 to 60 seconds," Alicia corrected, crossing her arms to match her former trainer. "A shift on the ice lasts about 45 to 60 seconds. Hockey is an anaerobic sport. You assumed. You never asked."
The veteran tried to hide her embarrassment behind a straight face. In some ways, she didn't succeed, but to a far greater extent, she failed.
"I didn't go out there and do my own thing to try and prove a point, either. I was getting my butt kicked, and I was supposed to be the one doing that to others." Alicia paused until she was sure she had Sabrina's attention. "And you weren't lazy. You taught me a lot. You saw how I won, right?"
Sabrina's lips spread in a proud grin, "Damn right, I taught you a lot!" The mat technician punctuated the reply with a punch to the shoulder Alicia could barely pretend didn't hurt. "I was so proud of you adjusting for her right leg! How's the hand, by the way? I guess nothing's broken?"
"Nothing broken, but I'm not going to be anywhere close to 100% by Friday," Alicia admitted. "Like 20%, if I'm lucky."
The sound of a doorknob turning at the end of the hall caught the tag team's attention. Helene Rivera emerged from her office, dressed in a pure white suit and matching heels. "I'm so glad I caught you both," said Helene, voice thick with displeasure. "You two can spare a minute, can't you? Come on out, Sabrina. This concerns both of you."
Judging from the annoyed sigh, Alicia suspected Sabrina knew what this was about. The head trainer slowly stepped out into the hallway, taking her time as she circled around behind her former student to draw out the silence a fraction of a second longer while Alicia found herself collateral damage of Helene's blistering glare.
"Winthrop, you're new, so allow me explain what an open contract is. An open contract means that you have signed a contract for which the terms of the match have yet to be determined, or remain 'open,'" she said, thankfully not using finger quotes. "To be decided later--a decision that remains at the sole, exclusive, and immutable discretion of the head booker." Helene dramatically raised her right index finger and pointed it at her chest. Hands on her hips, the boss sauntered closer, her cherry-red lips only just holding back a scowl. "An open contract does not mean bending the ear of the producer in the middle of a show to settle your personal grudges." The rookie's heart sank. "I appreciate the initiative, but requests for matches go through me, not around me. I set the cards around here. Not Allen. Not Sabrina and Allen."
Alicia's face was frozen with a terror she hadn't experienced since the first trip to the principal's office. Three feet to her left, she thought she heard a stifled yawn. Helene's voice turned from stern to annoyed as she fixed her ire on her employee. "And Ms. Irons, I shouldn't need to repeat this, but a part-time contract does not mean whenever you want a match. The match is happening because Mr. Preston can't help himself in front of a crowd. Helene's eyes darted between the two women, confirming their understanding. "But I didn't have to give it to you, especially since you didn't ask. We're clear?" Alicia nodded meekly as the co-owner locked eyes with her. "Good."
With a quick nod towards the door, Sabrina invited Alicia to follow her. For as much stuff as she had crammed inside, Sabrina kept her office quite organized. It was Alicia who looked like a bomb just went off.
She paced the tiny room, hands shaking, the nervous energy working itself out on its own. "Ohhhhh crap, crap, crap. I blew it. I blew it, didn't I? I'm so screwed. Like… no matter how the match goes, she's just going to cut me."
With a creak and a bounce, Sabrina landed in her old, leather office chair. She wiped her nose with her wrist and looked up at her one-night-only tag partner. "Why?"
Alicia froze, mouth agape. The answers all got stuck trying to squeeze out at once.
“If she wanted to cut you, she’d have saved her breath and just cut you. It at least means you’ve got a shot at winning her over,” said Sabrina. Alicia’s grim expression lightened. Even in a long-shot, she found hope. “But yeah, she is pissed.”
And there it went.
Sabrina gestured for her to sit. “That’s nothing. Let me tell you the real bad news: cards on the table, I’ve never actually been in a no-DQ match before.”
Alicia wasn't sure how to react. Laughter wouldn't have been her first choice. After several seconds of trying to compose herself, she realized how unfunny that bit of Iron Maiden trivia was. "I'm sorry, what?! You never told me that!"
"Why would I tell you about something I haven't done? You assumed. You never asked," replied Sabrina. Alicia's eyes fled for safety as her cheeks burned. "Now, I'm guessing you didn't come here for a workout, seeing the state of your hand and you without your gear. I've dazzled you with my conversational charms, and yet you're still here." Sabrina folded her arms and rested them on the desk as she leaned in, "Alicia Winthrop, did you drive all the way out here after work on a Wednesday night to watch tape with me?"
The corners of Alicia's lips curled into a smile. "What can I say? You converted me when Connie didn't knee my head off--at least not on the first try. Let's just say I'm teachable." She felt like she was forgetting something. Something about the drive in? Right. The automobile carcass in the parking lot. "My car died."
Sabrina rested a finger on a VHS cover marked in pen and looked up from the third shelf of the "Tag/Multi" bookcase. "I'm so sorry. Does the family know?"
"Um-" stammered Alicia.
Sabrina clarified, "Ask me a question; don't tell me a story."
"Sorry. Can I use your phone to call someone for a ride?" Alicia asked.
Sabrina answered with a glance at the disused receiver and handset on the desk. It seemed to shrink in Alicia's hand as she lifted it from its carriage. Sabrina interjected before her tag partner started dialing. "By the way, if you need a ride to the match on Friday, I can pick you up."
Alicia shook her head. "That's like a 40 minute drive each way."
"I didn't ask how long of a drive it was."
Alicia forgot who she was dealing with. "Thank you. I really appreciate it." It felt good to have a partner again.
It felt even better to be a partner again.
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