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Alicia and Party Girl stood with their backs to the unpainted cinder block wall of the Queens of War interview set, enveloped by the bustle of backstage staff and production crew. Arena ownership wanted the walls painted, but Allen liked the unpainted look, so this was the compromise: the promo wall. It was an entire interview set built around a fourteen-by-eight span of unfinished aesthetic.
Alicia felt unprepared, having never learned how to cut a promo for the cameras to call out an opponent or build hype for a match. That fell outside Sabrina’s purview. Had she been paired with anyone besides Party Girl, Alicia would have worried about keeping up her end of the conversation.
Unlike Alicia, Party Girl seemed excited. In addition to her street clothes, which were also her ring gear, the same tiny purse from the other night hung from Party Girl's shoulder. Impressively, she had somehow managed to squeeze both her keys and a tiny aerosol spray can in it at once. It looked like deodorant or some kind of hair product.
The tall guy with the clipboard got a cue through his headset and relayed it to Allen, who broke off the business-lite chatter with an assistant and joined his interviewees on the lit and microphoned set.
"We're promoting your match tomorrow at Fan Appreciation Fight, so make sure to get that over. Tomorrow, Saturday January 31st, 7:00 PM. Okay? I've had rookies mess up the date and time in their first promo. Don't let that be you," said Allen. Alicia's stomach felt a little sicker at finding a new reason to worry. "It's a no-DQ street fight against I.T. Factor. Fans bring the weapons, okay? Street Level forgot to mention the stipulation for last year's Fan Appreciation, and let's just say the fans didn't appreciate it."
The tall guy in charge called out, "Alright, everyone 30 seconds!" The crew took their spots with practiced expediency. Helene and Allen ran a well-oiled machine. For some reason, that precision made Alicia even more nervous.
Lights, camera, and crew were all laser-focused on the exact spot Alicia stood. Despite a production crew of only eight or so present, she already felt the eyes of every fan at home on her. This somehow felt more public than even her first time stepping through the curtain. That was a ring entrance; this was intimate. Fans would see every blink, every expression, hear every verbal slip-up, every forgotten date, judge how she stood, how she fidgeted with her hands.
Party Girl must have seen the nerves in Alicia's vacant stare. "Can you chill? I already know what I'm going to say. Don't worry; I'll make sure you hardly get to talk at all." It sounded self-serving because it was, but it also came as a relief. Party Girl could have the spotlight today; Alicia came for the gold.
The tall, clipboard-holding silhouette behind the lights and camera counted down, "We're live in five, four, three-" Alicia could fill in the blanks from there.
Allen held two fingers up to an earpiece Sabrina once mentioned wasn't connected to anything. "Thanks, Helene. Allen Preston here. I'm joined tonight by the newly formed tag team of Party Girl and the just-signed Alicia Winthrop. "
"The Goon," Party Girl corrected, leaning into the microphone.
Alicia tried to jump in before they moved on. "It's actu-" They moved on.
Allen brought the microphone back to his lips as he tried to get the interview on track. "My apologies: new signee, The Goon. Goon, I'll start with you." I really should've expected that, thought Alicia as her eyes darted between the camera and interviewer. "You appeared to suffer an injury to your hand in your match with Jill McKill two weeks ago. How is your hand feeling, and will it be ready for your match tomorrow?"
Alicia dropped her voice to a whisper. "Do I talk to you or the camera?" Silence. "Camera?" Silence. "Uh," replied Alicia charismatically. "Yeah, it really hurts, but not as much as before. I guess you could say it hurts less."
Silence.
"Sorry, what was the second part of the question?"
Allen decided to try his luck with his other guest. "Party Girl, we saw you run down to the ring to assist The Goon when she was outnumbered. Why did you come out of the back to help her out?"
A sincere smile crossed Party Girl's lips. "Two words, Allen: Potential. Take a look at The Goon and tell me what you see."
"I-" stammered the interviewer, caught off guard by the question.
"No, Allen," said Party Girl with a condescending little shake of her head. "You are looking at the perfect candidate for the Party Girl Lifestyle™." Alicia's eyes flitted nervously to her tag partner. They hadn't discussed this. "And everyone watching at home can keep living the Party Girl Lifestyle™ every day with Party Perm!" Out came the Look as she wrenched the can free of her minuscule pink purse on the third try and held it up for the camera, label out. "Whether I want an all-day hold that lasts through the final afterparty or just a boozy, 130-proof pick-me-up whenever, Party Perm is the only hairspray/cocktail I cram in my purse. Party Perm contains no known carcinogens or natural ingredients and comes in four FDA-acknowledged, EPA-approved flavors: Bubble Gum, Cotton Candy, Berry Tornado, and make sure to try the new Cinnamon with X-tra Hold!"
The interviewer thought he found his opening only to be cut off at the first syllable. With a flourish, Party Girl raised the can above her head, pointed the nozzle down, and sprayed her long, pink-tipped blonde hair while avoiding her pink dreadlocks. She brought the can to her mouth and sealed her lips around the nozzle, helping herself to at least a double-shot of Berry Tornado.
She smiled and took a deep breath before resuming her pitch. "Whether you're having a bad hair day or just a bad day in general, Party Perm is the convenient solution to all your problems. The ultra-compact, non-metallic cans are perfect for the club, office, commute, or just a night in for one! Party Perm: why should your hair have all the fun?"
Silence and thinly veiled frustration hung in the air as Allen regained his bearings. Party Girl offered the can to Alicia, who declined as she held up her hands, "Thanks. I don't drink."
"See?" said Party Girl to Allen, grinning ear to ear. "Perfect candidate."
Behind the camera, the silhouette with the clipboard started tracing a circle in the air with his finger in a "wrap it up" gesture.
The annoyed silence dragged on long enough for Alicia to do something about it. Speaking in a rote monotone, she hit all the points, "Me and Party Girl versus I.T. Factor, no-DQ street fight, fans bring the weapons. January 31st, 7:00 PM, Fan Appreciation Fight, Plunj Drain Cleaner Arena."
She smiled nervously, unblinking, waiting for the segment to end. The smile faded. Why was the camera still rolling? She looked back at Clipboard Guy. Now he was gesturing for her to stretch. Alicia turned to Allen and Party Girl, who seemed to think she had this under control. She spoke up again. "They won't kick our butts. We will kick their butts." Keep stretching. "We really appreciate you all. A lot. So much. Happy New Year?" Alicia's eyes reflexively shut in embarrassment.
As soon as Allen lowered the microphone, the production crew started dismantling their interview setup before heading to the next backstage segment. Allen turned to the mortified rookie. "You are aware today is January 30th." Alicia nodded sadly, face buried in her hands. "Great. Giselle, may we please have a word about your contract? Again?" With a meaningful look, Allen encouraged the new signee to make herself scarce as he took Party Girl aside.
"Oh my God, I wasn't selling anything!" shrieked Party Girl as Alicia turned a corner into the broad, darkened half-room, half-hallway that had become the de facto storage area for pieces of old special event set.
There were the radioactive toxic waste barrels from Earth Day Apocalypse. She could make out the mausoleum entrance that replaced the curtain for the Halloween show, Dia de los Deathmatches, but she didn't know what event the chariot behind it was from. Then she noticed that none of the production crew had gone this way.
"Ohhhh…" whimpered Alicia, realizing she was alone, and then realizing she wasn't. A shadowy face peered from behind a hay bale near the opposite wall. At least she thought so. She veered away in the direction of a burnt-out replica car from Chicago's famous "L" train and into the path of something human. "Ohmygosh!" scream-whispered Alicia as she turned to find herself staring down a silhouette of a tall, long-limbed shape.
Dark hair. Face mired in shadow. Alicia felt her heart stop as it leapt into her throat. She froze in place, the fight or flight centers of her brain still hashing it out in committee. She looked the unknown figure in the eye.
It was a woman. About six-three, 193 pounds, wearing torn jeans and a hockey jersey. She stood face-to-face with a train door's large glass window, trembling in front of her own spooked reflection. "Holy heckins! Oh my stars. Oh wow." Footsteps at the end of the corridor. Chatter over a headset. More crew. Alicia could breathe again, so she did.
This couldn't continue.
She exited through production into the backstage corridor, cracked the locker room door enough to see people inside and let herself in. She opened her locker and grabbed the gym bag with her work clothes. As Alicia turned to leave, an authoritative voice called out from behind her.
"Hey!" A tense quiet boiled as Kat Cable and Tracy Roote glared from the other end of the room. "See you tomorrow. It’s really going to hurt." Next to her, Tracy's trademark flat expression darkened. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a hungry, eager smile.
"Okay, you too!" Alicia chirped as she retreated back into the corridor. Everyone seemed to be looking for her tonight.
"The Goon!" The relief in Party Girl’s voice was palpable even a hundred feet down the corridor. "Oh thank God, I thought I was going to have to drive out to your… would you say 'house?'"
"Yeah."
"Hm. Well, whatever. So I'm doing this, like, charity thing at my compound tomorrow before the event, and you're invited as my guest of honor! It's not like, an official thing, and you won't be involved or recognized, but for realsies, you deserve it," said Party Girl, flashing a blindingly white smile even under the dim backstage lights.
"I don't have a way of getting to your place," said Alicia, her tone apologetic.
Her tag partner waved off the concern. "I know, I know, your car got stolen. It's whatever. You're with me, okay? I'll send a limo and you can come early, like during lunch! Won't that be fun, just us girls? I can't wait to show you all the stuff I have. Seriously, you're going to be soooo jealous." Alicia smiled and blinked, unsure whether to nod. "We can even show up to the arena together!" Party Girl exclaimed, punctuating her performative excitement with a gasp. "That's such an amazing idea! I can't wait!"
"Thank you, Party Girl. I'd love to come tomorrow," said Alicia, trying to match Party Girl's enthusiasm.
The cellular phone was already out, accompanied by the rapid-fire tap-tap-tap of a text message being written. Party Girl continued without looking up from her phone, "We're going straight to the arena after, so don't forget to bring your purse and your gear, okay?" Finally, Party Girl looked up from her phone long enough to make eye contact.
Alicia replied with a nod, "Got it."
"Tight," said Party Girl. "Alright, peace out. I'm going to go pick up some X."
"Making omelets?" asked Alicia.
"What? I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay? Kisses!" shouted Party Girl, flashing a peace sign as she turned and headed towards the VIP parking lot.
By the time Alicia decided on a first question, her partner was halfway down the corridor, still tapping away on her phone's keypad. Alicia marched past the locker rooms in the direction of the NVIP parking lot. As she approached the star dressing rooms and the trainer's room, her eyes were drawn to that blind corner where she had been attacked. Less than 10 feet separated her from the alcove where Black Violet had been hiding. She wouldn't try another ambush in the exact same place as before, would she?
Alicia held her breath and tiptoed a half-step closer. Then another inch. Slowly, one degree at a time, she angled her ear toward the corner and leaned in closer. She strained to hear anything over the sound of her own pounding heart.
"The Goon!" called Party Girl from behind her.
Her heart seized in her chest as she stood bolt upright. "YES HI AGAIN PARTY GIRL HELLO!" shouted Alicia right back. She wheeled around to see the fashion mogul catching up at a jog. Between the footfalls, Alicia heard a soft but distinct thud around the corner and what sounded like rolling office chair wheels.
Party Girl shed her shiny, pink leather backpack and unzipped it, allowing Alicia to briefly glimpse the scroll and parchment of the Queen's Decree. The mogul reached inside and withdrew a glossy black and white box plastered with the LorumPhone branding and a picture of a hot pink mobile phone.
"It took like an hour of talking to customer support to get it working. It sounded really frustrating for my assistant, but eventually she and the maids figured it out," said Party Girl as she handed Alicia the box.
Fear overrode the instinct to politely decline a gift. Alicia locked eyes with her partner and held a finger up to her lips. Confusion, realization, and then panic flashed in Party Girl's eyes. Alicia cupped a hand to her ear, then pointed to that blind corner. An uncanny quiet settled upon the hallway as the two steeled themselves for a closer look. Alicia counted down with her fingers. Three, two, one. She surged around the corner, followed by Party Girl a few seconds later. Nothing. There was the alcove with the locked service door and a large rolling trashcan shoved awkwardly beside it. Nothing in or behind the trashcan, or down either end of the corridor.
"You really heard her?" whispered Party GirL.
With a nod, Alicia examined the corridor and alcove again. Nothing. They would have seen Black Violet if she ran or at least heard her. And the heavy, brown metal door in the alcove would've made some kind of sound if she escaped into the maintenance hallway. Alicia couldn't shake a familiar feeling as she took a few reluctant steps closer to the abandoned alcove. Slowly, her eyes climbed up the wall. Something looked different.
Above the trashcan, she saw what looked like a three-by-three-foot gap in the ceiling among the exposed plumbing and ventilation. Alicia reached for the phone in Party Girl’s hand, removed it from its box, and climbed onto the trashcan. She slowly stood up on the improvised platform until her head was about six inches below the opening. Breathe in, breathe out. She flipped the phone open and stood all the way up. Before her stretched a narrow catwalk about 25 feet, surrounded on all sides by a dense web of cables, plumbing, and access panels before forking to the left and right. It looked like some sort of service crawlspace. Alicia held the makeshift flashlight out in front of her.
Shuffling carefully on the trashcan lid, Alicia turned and looked down the other end of the crawlspace, but darkness swallowed all visibility beyond a few feet. She raised the phone. Once again, the catwalk ran about 10 feet with a hard left turn at the end. Slowly, something inky and tangled slid into view around the corner at the end of the claustrophobic path. Sickly, jaundiced skin. Eyes like craters of shadow peering from behind a greasy, matted canopy of hair. Black Violet stared back, her face contorted in an obscene grin. Alicia didn't know how long they watched each other in silence before Black Violet slipped back into the shadows and was gone.
Alicia flipped the phone shut and hopped down from her perch. "She's up there. I think now we know how she gets around without anyone seeing her."
Party Girl's forever-summer tan turned white as she examined the catwalk entrance from a safe distance. "Well, that sucks. Anything else?"
Alicia did have one piece of good news to share. "Oh! I came up with a name for our team I think you're going to like!"
Party Girl stared back in silence. She didn't seem relieved.
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