Post by Do I make you Randi, baby? on Dec 23, 2005 3:17:13 GMT -5
A dull lonely night. One could sit back and ponder for hours how exactly a night could be “lonely”, but to ease the mind, this night was particularly lonely because of the nearness of the rapidly approaching holidays. A tense feeling lingered in the air, a feeling that could possibly be described as the “un-festive-ness”, which is not a word, which seemed to be swelling mostly in the mind, body, and soul of one degenerate woman with a heart almost as black as the Dodge Charger she was currently speeding down the icy streets of Calgary. As the new 2006 edition raven black Charger whipped into the parking lot of the Chez Belle restaurant. The soft, well not entirely soft, purr of the Hemi engine “sang along” with the pound of the sub woofer speakers as “House of Secrets” by Otep blared with the opening of the door. The exposure of black Cowboy boots and tight bootcut stone washed jeans followed the opening of the door leading up to the soft curvy features of a woman of mystery and hate. The snug white v-necked shirt clung to the pale chest and cleavage surrounded by a tight fitted leather jacket. Her dark brown hair fell in wavy locks around her rouged face and perfectly pouty lips. With her left foot extended behind her, the woman kicked the door shut, crunching her way through the bitter winds and snow towards the “four and a half” star restaurant. No jingle bell greeted her entrance here, as the maitre d looked from his podium towards the “Female Fonzi” admiring real plant life instead of silk plant life in which she would “naturally” be accustomed. Having no couth for the “shirt and tie required attire” rule, she clunked her way towards the restaurant. However, much as one would expect, in fancy dress restaurants, one dressed like James Dean with ovaries cannot just waltz into the sitting area. The maitre d halted her at his podium.
Maitre D: ‘oo cannot go inside, mademoiselle. There eez a dress code for the Chez Belle. I am very sorry.
The woman removed his hand from in front of her gradually and forced a pathetic excuse for a caring smile onto her face.
Woman: I’m meeting someone.
Maitre D: I am sorry, but ‘oo cannot meet zem dressed like zat!
The woman chewed her lower lip and looked him over. He was a pointy nosed Quebquois with horn-rimmed glasses and a receding hair line.
Woman: I’m on the list. Randi Justice.
The man barely even glanced at the list of reserved tables before him before he extended his hand once again to block her entrance. However, this time “Pierre” made the mistake of placing his hand upon her chest. Randi lowered her eyes to his “firm” press against her chest.
Randi: I would hate to have to rip that off of your arm and shove it straight up your ass, but if you don’t get out of my way I will be forced to take your “suit and tie” and shove it in your mother….
Another well dressed man appeared at their side, he was mediocre in height but very handsome. He looked at the situation and immediately stepped it.
Man: It’s ok, Jacques, she’s with me.
The maitre d removed his hand and distastefully allowed Randi Justice to join her male companion in the restaurant. She ignored the familiar gasps of “horror” and stares that burned in her direction as he quickly pulled her into a walled off reserved area. Taking a quick seat he gave her a once over and shook his head.
Man: Randi, when I ask you to dinner at a nice restaurant to discuss business, the least you could do is dress suitable for the occasion.
The mysterious woman known as Randi Justice lit a cigarette and blew a thick cloud of “toxic” smoke in his direction. She smiled a wicked smile of sinfulness, coldheartness, and other words of “meanness” that end in “ness”. She admired the room for a total of ten seconds before turning her attention back to the handsome mediocre man, my what an oxymoron.
Randi Justice: Sorry, Jackie, all my prom dresses were in the wash. Now to what do I owe this fancy dinner? Is your wife out of town again and Mr. General Manager of Xtreme Indy Wrestling is looking for another quick fix?
The man, now known as Jack Spencer of XIW, a large growing indy fed in Canada, waved the puffs of smoke from his face and admired the “eyes”, of the beautifully erotic Randi Justice, and her nice chest too! (Wouldn’t you?)
Jack Spencer: Well, as we all know, Randi, your contract is up for renewal this weekend….
Randi: So just do like always and give me my extra annual raise in allowance and we’ll call it another happy year with Jackie Spence.
Jack Spencer narrowed his eyes to a, uncomfortable look that did not sit well with Randi.
Randi: What?
Jack Spencer: Randi, I’m really sorry, but I don’t think XIW will be renewing your contract this year.
Randi’s eyes lit up like the fires of hell as she gazed through her cloud of smoke at Jack Spencer.
Jack: What I mean is, Randi, lately you just haven’t brought in the fans like you used to.
Randi: Well, if you haven’t noticed you’ve been putting me up against any dead beat ex-cheerleader, out of shape aerobics teacher, wannabe model and/or actress that waltzes in here teeny bopper like with a pretty face and a nice ass. I’m one of your biggest attractions in XIW. I helped make your little underground independent federation into what it is now, and you are moving me onto the backburner to face no-names and “who gives a crap abouts”. I was your reigning Women’s champion for a year straight before you made me toss a match to Katrina Katz, and now you are denying me the right to renew my contract?
Jack: I had to do all that because people were getting tired of the “baddest bitch” on the playground stomping all the other talent into the dust. I had to move you from top-notch spotlight into the dark so I could make room for my booming roster. I had to…
Randi snubbed out her cigarette and leaned across the table towards Jack Spencer.
Randi: How about I tell Victoria about our little flings while she’s away at her mother’s? She’d sure hate to find out about all the illegal and deceitful things her precious Jackie has been doing with her daddy’s money so close to the holidays.
Jack: Your blackmailing won’t work this time, Randi. Vickie filed for divorce three months ago.
Randi let out a sigh of disgust as the waiter approached the table.
Waiter: Are we ready to order now, sir?
Jack: I’d like the house special please with white whine.
Waiter: And for the madam?
Randi: What’s the most expensive thing on the menu?
Waiter: Duck a la orange over angel hair pasta and wine sauce.
Randi: Give me one of those with a Budweiser.
Waiter: Madam, we do not sell beer here, only wines, champagnes, and mixed drinks.
Randi: Then give me a straight scotch.
As the waiter left, Jack slid a large manila envelope onto the table.
Randi: Is that my pink slip or the lace g-string I left in your limo?
Jack: It’s your last paycheck and a brochure. Randi, let’s face it, we’ve had some great times together, I could never toss my best competitor into the cold because of bad business.
Randi: It does have a heart then? I was beginning to think I’d rubbed off on you a little too much, Jackie.
Jack: You aren’t the only one I’ve had to release; unfortunately I’ve had to release several. However, you are one of the few I am sending to another, promising fed in the states. I’ve arranged a business deal with an old friend of mine who runs Valor Wrestling Association. Due to the misfortune of our partnership ending, I felt it only respectable to send you to another fed instead of leaving you jobless because of my lack of money fluctuation.
Randi: Hold it, Jack, what makes you think I want to lower myself to some fed you just happened to pick for me. I haven’t even heard of this place let alone…
Jack: Randi, I’m sorry, I’ve already promised them some talent. I sent your transcript, a video of your best matches, your biography, etc. They loved you at first sight.
Randi: Well so does every other man and some of the women that look at me.
Jack: The point is you are already signed up as an active member now and, I believe they have placed you on a card coming up.
Randi: Gee thanks for the two weeks notice, ass. You know I have a right mind to shove my duckling a l’orange straight up your ass for this.
Jack: I’m sorry, Randi. You won’t be alone, however. I’ll be sending Channon Cade with you as well. I figured you two could get to know each other a little better, since you are coming from the same federation and all.
Randi: Channon Cade? “The” Channon Cade? You mean to tell me you are tossing out the two biggest names in XIW?
Jack: Business is business, Randi. I have some promising new talent…
Randi: Stop right there, Jack. I have heard enough bull-**** from you tonight and I think if you dealt me anymore I just might choke from the stench. The only thing I want to know is when do I start so I can get the **** away from you and your talentless federation.
Jack: You have a match at the pay per view Christmas morning. Holiday Havoc.
Randi: Swell.
Randi snatched the manila envelope from the table and spit at Jack as she pushed past the waiter bringing their meals back to the table. As she clunked her way back through the restaurant the faces uttering gasps and staring lifelessly at her quickly shuddered as if the room had filled with so much hatred and anger that it affected everyone in the room. The maitre d pressed himself against the wall as she slammed past him, as well, and out the door. The snow crunched loudly as she briskly marched back to her car and squealed tires in the parking lot. As she sped along the icy roads, dangerous I know, the sound of a cell phone ringing startled her from her angry fit. Randi reached for it to answer it.
Randi: Yeah?
Voice: Randi? It’s Mike, I was wondering if you had gotten the message I sent you about Jack Spencer?
The sound of Mike Steinberg, Randi’s lawyer slash best friend soothed her tension slightly. However, Randi Justice is a woman of four emotions, anger, greed, eroticism, and cockiness; therefore the slight soothing of tension was not enough to calm her down to a normal tone of voice.
Randi: What about that sack of ****?
Mike Steinberg: Uh, I see you’ve already met him then?
Randi slammed on her brakes skidding for a few seconds on the deserted road and finally coming to a halt.
Randi: How the hell did you know he was going to fire me?
Mike: I tried to warn you, Randi, I promise. I left you a voicemail, but…Forget it, look, I overheard him giving Channon Cade the same retarded speech about his bad business and I immediately knew he was going to knock you out as well. The truth is Spencer’s wife is suing the hell out of him in the divorce and the courts are considering handing over the federation to her.
Randi: So, Jack assumed if he got rid of the dirty players that he ran with, her business would bankrupt?
Mike: And, the fact that Jack always schemed his sneakiness with the likes of you two. You and Channon were Jack’s prized pigs. He did every evil deed imaginable to ensure you two were his top notch talent.
Randi: Meet me at the bar, pronto!
Randi began to drive again forward again as she made a brisk left hand turn whipping her car into a dingy little pub known as the Kettle. Randi pulled the Charger into the familiar dirt and gravel parking lot and exited the car in the same familiar fashion as before. She forced open the large wood door and emerged herself into the haze of dim barroom light and the thick stench and atmosphere of cigarette smoke. The bar was noisy and cramped with all the wrong types of riff raff as she forced herself past a few drunken crack dealers and into the pool hall. The sound of the pool balls clacking loudly against one another made her feel more at home than the fancy dress snobfest as she removed her leather jacket tossing it on a far stool. The soft features of her curvy, yet muscular body gave light to the feminine, yet tough nature of Randi Justice. Randi was tough by birth, the youngest of four children, three of which who were boys. Her father worked as a boxer during their early childhood, however, his career ended when he lost full vision in one of his eyes during a match in Montreal.
Randi’s mother was a homemaker and an alcoholic who eventually spent most of Randi’s childhood in a rehabilitation clinic in Wisconsin. After her final “graduation”, Mrs. Justice had requested a divorce from her husband abandoning him with the four children. Without a motherly, tender influence, Randi’s life revolved around her father’s roughhousing and old fight stories. She became the “fourth son” by turning away from dolls and pink to fast cars, black, and fist fights. However, despite her manly influences, Randi was far from “dyke-a-delic”. She was eye-candy and sultry from head to toe, she embraced her beauty with her toughness making her what she is today.
Mike Steinberg emerged from the noisy bar area with a tray of shots and placed them beside her jacket. As he turned to greet Randi, his eyes fell over the perfectly heart-shaped backside as she bent across the pool table to break.
Mike: You are lucky I was in driving distance or else I wouldn’t have shown up on command. I’m not your little *****, Randi.
Randi: Mike, everyone is my little *****, and they better get used to it.
Mike: So, Jack’s sending you to Valor, huh? I’ve heard promising things about it. Besides, you aren’t going alone, so I hear.
Randi: I know, Channon Cade. I’m still in shock.
Mike: Well, it isn’t official but…
Randi: Are you kidding me? If Valor is so hot, they will most definitely sign Channon Cade. He’s the hottest **** in the Western side of the world. Channon is the next biggest rising star. He’s a feared man in Canada, not to mention he’s easy on the eyes. I’d do him.
Mike: You’d do anyone to get anywhere. Randi, I think you should consider Valor wholeheartedly. The women’s roster is booming with new faces and talent. New to the fed, but not new to wrestling. Not the lowlife forms you were facing back in XIW.
Randi: Really? Well, I still have to start at the bottom, and Randi Justice does not like it on the bottom. I’m a top notch, bad-ass wrestler with more talent in my little finger than half that fed! Look at me, Mikey, do I belong on bottom? Or should my talent, glory, and body be placed on a pedestal where all the men and women in the world can fall to their knees and pray that they were half as good as me?
Mike: You know I think you are the best, Randi. I’ve seen you kick more ass than any other diva in any other fed. You are the supreme dominatrix.
Randi: Do not ever call me a diva, Mike. Divas are prissy, sissy, and begging for attention. Aretha Franklin is a diva, Mariah Carey is a diva, Randi Justice is the queen of extreme. I am the baddest ***** on the playground.
Mike: Look, the fed is promising, and you don’t seem to have that many “divas” to put away before you can become a women’s champion again.
Randi: If Valor had any sense they would just hand the title to me and let the other priss-pots lick the mud off my boots. Tell me what I’ve got to go up against and I’ll tell you what I think.
Mike: Well, the roster is still underway. I don’t have the full one yet, but I can certainly tell you about the match you are booked it. I don’t think you are going to like it, though.
Randi: Let me guess, I have to dress in some sort of attire and play “slap-a-***?” Mike, it isn’t like I haven’t been practically naked in front of a bunch of drooling men before. All they need is a little excitement to help them ignore how pathetic their little lives are and how ugly their wives are. Women like me are a dime a dozen. It isn’t everyday someone with a body of a goddess and more curves than the Grand Canyon waltz around almost naked for a bunch of beer swelling fatties. It is the least I could do for the men of Valor, give them something worthwhile to appreciate while they sit backstage doing whatever it is men do when they are alone.(ooc: rhymes with toe)
Mike: Well, you have to dress like a sexy Santa or something to that nature. Basically hot, sexy, kinky, and festive. Too bad I’m jewish.
Randi: Hey, yeah, I could stick some candles over my private parts and call myself a menorah! Or better yet, let’s just say I’ve been a bad, bad girl this year and deserve a lump or two of coal and a bag of switches.
Mike: I don’t know if being “naughty” is considered festive.
Randi: Who cares, I’ll find something to wear Sunday just tell me what I’m going up against?
Mike: Well, I don’t know too much but you have one by the name of Jamie Black, who is pretty reserved. She hasn’t really made an impact as far as I’ve seen yet. She’s kind of quiet and what not.
Randi: Good, maybe she’ll stay that way if she knows what’s good for her. If not I’ll perform the cellblock tango all over her little face.
Mike: Next, we have Brittney Bailey. She’s Eric Hardcastle’s ladyfriend, her brother also wrestles for the fed,s he’s pretty, sweet, your normal babyface.
Randi: Oh, well isn’t she a little Barbie doll. Remind me to slap her around first. If there is anything I hate more than a snobby brat, it’s a perfect little blonde *****.
Mike: Jade, she calls herself the “resident *****.” She’s tough and not that much of a pushover. She’s like you, cocky arrogant, and determined.
Randi: Well, that’s nice but unfortunately, I don’t play well with others so Jade will just have to tolerate sharing the ***** title or I’ll have to kick her ass.
Mike: She’s probably going to be your best ally.
Randi: Well, then maybe I should send her a greeting card. Like I said, Jade will just have to learn to share.
Mike: Lastly we have a cutie innocent. Her name is Ivana and she refers to herself as “God’s gift” not in the arrogant way, however in the spiritual way.
Randi: They let preschoolers in Valor or something? Ivana? Ha! She sounds more like a bible thumping nun on steroids. She’s more than a pushover. If she’s trying to prove her status by batting those baby blues and holding fellowship backstage, she better not consider inviting someone as sinful as me. I crush little baby bugs with my boots, and Ivana is just a baby bug crawling along on the filthy floor of this women’s roster. She sees herself as alive with the spirit. I see her as dead as her career is going to be when I get through with her Sunday.
Mike: That’s about it. All for the match anyways.
Randi lit another cigarette and tossed back a few shots of whiskey. She took a seat upon the filthy pool table rocking the pool stick between her spread legs admiring her longtime friend.
Randi: You know I think Channon and I just might wipe this fed clean. I mean, obviously the women’s roster if full of has-beens…I’m afraid to see the men’s. Nonetheless, Channon Cade, Mike, Channon Cade! If the VWA only knew how strong and powerful this Cocky Canadian is. He’s beat down more men and broke more records in the past few feds he’s wrestled in then anyone I know. All he needs is one large deal with a larger fed, like Valor, and he’ll be the king of the business. And, I’m going to be the first ***** to shake his hand when he gets there. As a matter of fact, I think I might sweet talk Mr. Cade into letting me be his arm-candy. I think I’ll have to give him a little call before I waltz into that fed alone. Not that Randi Justice needs a man’s help.
Mike: Back to your match.
Randi slid off the table and went to take another shot at the game she had started.
Randi: What about it?
Mike: Aren’t you a little doubtful?
Randi: Hell no! I’m the biggest mother hen in this fed. Randi works one way, be good to her she’ll be good to you. Piss her off and you’re ass is grass. Life is tit for tat, and I have a lot of tat for what I’m going to dish out on those broads Sunday. The folks atop the ladder are the ones the world adores. This match will boost me up in valor, and I just might boost them up theirs. The name on everybody’s lips is going to Randi. I’m going to be a celebrity. They’re going to recognize my eyes, my hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose. Randi Justice will be a household name.
They’re going to wait outside in line to see me. I’m a star and the audience loves me and I love them and they love me for loving them and I love them for loving me and we love each other and that’s because none of us got enough love in our childhoods. The system works, Mike. Justice will be served at Holiday Havoc.
Mike laughed as Randi flashed him a provocative wink and a slight effeminate giggle. She glanced back onto the pool table to determine the correct shot. After studying it carefully she shot the cue ball towards the nine ball knocking it and two other balls into the middle left pocket. She smiled again and extended the stick to Mike. As he searched the table for an open shot, Randi admired the noisy crowded bar. Her lavish good looks seemed heightened as the roughnecks and tramps around her caused all sorts of ruckus. She leaned back against the wood panel of the pool room and swallowed a large gulp of whiskey as her night came to an end.
Maitre D: ‘oo cannot go inside, mademoiselle. There eez a dress code for the Chez Belle. I am very sorry.
The woman removed his hand from in front of her gradually and forced a pathetic excuse for a caring smile onto her face.
Woman: I’m meeting someone.
Maitre D: I am sorry, but ‘oo cannot meet zem dressed like zat!
The woman chewed her lower lip and looked him over. He was a pointy nosed Quebquois with horn-rimmed glasses and a receding hair line.
Woman: I’m on the list. Randi Justice.
The man barely even glanced at the list of reserved tables before him before he extended his hand once again to block her entrance. However, this time “Pierre” made the mistake of placing his hand upon her chest. Randi lowered her eyes to his “firm” press against her chest.
Randi: I would hate to have to rip that off of your arm and shove it straight up your ass, but if you don’t get out of my way I will be forced to take your “suit and tie” and shove it in your mother….
Another well dressed man appeared at their side, he was mediocre in height but very handsome. He looked at the situation and immediately stepped it.
Man: It’s ok, Jacques, she’s with me.
The maitre d removed his hand and distastefully allowed Randi Justice to join her male companion in the restaurant. She ignored the familiar gasps of “horror” and stares that burned in her direction as he quickly pulled her into a walled off reserved area. Taking a quick seat he gave her a once over and shook his head.
Man: Randi, when I ask you to dinner at a nice restaurant to discuss business, the least you could do is dress suitable for the occasion.
The mysterious woman known as Randi Justice lit a cigarette and blew a thick cloud of “toxic” smoke in his direction. She smiled a wicked smile of sinfulness, coldheartness, and other words of “meanness” that end in “ness”. She admired the room for a total of ten seconds before turning her attention back to the handsome mediocre man, my what an oxymoron.
Randi Justice: Sorry, Jackie, all my prom dresses were in the wash. Now to what do I owe this fancy dinner? Is your wife out of town again and Mr. General Manager of Xtreme Indy Wrestling is looking for another quick fix?
The man, now known as Jack Spencer of XIW, a large growing indy fed in Canada, waved the puffs of smoke from his face and admired the “eyes”, of the beautifully erotic Randi Justice, and her nice chest too! (Wouldn’t you?)
Jack Spencer: Well, as we all know, Randi, your contract is up for renewal this weekend….
Randi: So just do like always and give me my extra annual raise in allowance and we’ll call it another happy year with Jackie Spence.
Jack Spencer narrowed his eyes to a, uncomfortable look that did not sit well with Randi.
Randi: What?
Jack Spencer: Randi, I’m really sorry, but I don’t think XIW will be renewing your contract this year.
Randi’s eyes lit up like the fires of hell as she gazed through her cloud of smoke at Jack Spencer.
Jack: What I mean is, Randi, lately you just haven’t brought in the fans like you used to.
Randi: Well, if you haven’t noticed you’ve been putting me up against any dead beat ex-cheerleader, out of shape aerobics teacher, wannabe model and/or actress that waltzes in here teeny bopper like with a pretty face and a nice ass. I’m one of your biggest attractions in XIW. I helped make your little underground independent federation into what it is now, and you are moving me onto the backburner to face no-names and “who gives a crap abouts”. I was your reigning Women’s champion for a year straight before you made me toss a match to Katrina Katz, and now you are denying me the right to renew my contract?
Jack: I had to do all that because people were getting tired of the “baddest bitch” on the playground stomping all the other talent into the dust. I had to move you from top-notch spotlight into the dark so I could make room for my booming roster. I had to…
Randi snubbed out her cigarette and leaned across the table towards Jack Spencer.
Randi: How about I tell Victoria about our little flings while she’s away at her mother’s? She’d sure hate to find out about all the illegal and deceitful things her precious Jackie has been doing with her daddy’s money so close to the holidays.
Jack: Your blackmailing won’t work this time, Randi. Vickie filed for divorce three months ago.
Randi let out a sigh of disgust as the waiter approached the table.
Waiter: Are we ready to order now, sir?
Jack: I’d like the house special please with white whine.
Waiter: And for the madam?
Randi: What’s the most expensive thing on the menu?
Waiter: Duck a la orange over angel hair pasta and wine sauce.
Randi: Give me one of those with a Budweiser.
Waiter: Madam, we do not sell beer here, only wines, champagnes, and mixed drinks.
Randi: Then give me a straight scotch.
As the waiter left, Jack slid a large manila envelope onto the table.
Randi: Is that my pink slip or the lace g-string I left in your limo?
Jack: It’s your last paycheck and a brochure. Randi, let’s face it, we’ve had some great times together, I could never toss my best competitor into the cold because of bad business.
Randi: It does have a heart then? I was beginning to think I’d rubbed off on you a little too much, Jackie.
Jack: You aren’t the only one I’ve had to release; unfortunately I’ve had to release several. However, you are one of the few I am sending to another, promising fed in the states. I’ve arranged a business deal with an old friend of mine who runs Valor Wrestling Association. Due to the misfortune of our partnership ending, I felt it only respectable to send you to another fed instead of leaving you jobless because of my lack of money fluctuation.
Randi: Hold it, Jack, what makes you think I want to lower myself to some fed you just happened to pick for me. I haven’t even heard of this place let alone…
Jack: Randi, I’m sorry, I’ve already promised them some talent. I sent your transcript, a video of your best matches, your biography, etc. They loved you at first sight.
Randi: Well so does every other man and some of the women that look at me.
Jack: The point is you are already signed up as an active member now and, I believe they have placed you on a card coming up.
Randi: Gee thanks for the two weeks notice, ass. You know I have a right mind to shove my duckling a l’orange straight up your ass for this.
Jack: I’m sorry, Randi. You won’t be alone, however. I’ll be sending Channon Cade with you as well. I figured you two could get to know each other a little better, since you are coming from the same federation and all.
Randi: Channon Cade? “The” Channon Cade? You mean to tell me you are tossing out the two biggest names in XIW?
Jack: Business is business, Randi. I have some promising new talent…
Randi: Stop right there, Jack. I have heard enough bull-**** from you tonight and I think if you dealt me anymore I just might choke from the stench. The only thing I want to know is when do I start so I can get the **** away from you and your talentless federation.
Jack: You have a match at the pay per view Christmas morning. Holiday Havoc.
Randi: Swell.
Randi snatched the manila envelope from the table and spit at Jack as she pushed past the waiter bringing their meals back to the table. As she clunked her way back through the restaurant the faces uttering gasps and staring lifelessly at her quickly shuddered as if the room had filled with so much hatred and anger that it affected everyone in the room. The maitre d pressed himself against the wall as she slammed past him, as well, and out the door. The snow crunched loudly as she briskly marched back to her car and squealed tires in the parking lot. As she sped along the icy roads, dangerous I know, the sound of a cell phone ringing startled her from her angry fit. Randi reached for it to answer it.
Randi: Yeah?
Voice: Randi? It’s Mike, I was wondering if you had gotten the message I sent you about Jack Spencer?
The sound of Mike Steinberg, Randi’s lawyer slash best friend soothed her tension slightly. However, Randi Justice is a woman of four emotions, anger, greed, eroticism, and cockiness; therefore the slight soothing of tension was not enough to calm her down to a normal tone of voice.
Randi: What about that sack of ****?
Mike Steinberg: Uh, I see you’ve already met him then?
Randi slammed on her brakes skidding for a few seconds on the deserted road and finally coming to a halt.
Randi: How the hell did you know he was going to fire me?
Mike: I tried to warn you, Randi, I promise. I left you a voicemail, but…Forget it, look, I overheard him giving Channon Cade the same retarded speech about his bad business and I immediately knew he was going to knock you out as well. The truth is Spencer’s wife is suing the hell out of him in the divorce and the courts are considering handing over the federation to her.
Randi: So, Jack assumed if he got rid of the dirty players that he ran with, her business would bankrupt?
Mike: And, the fact that Jack always schemed his sneakiness with the likes of you two. You and Channon were Jack’s prized pigs. He did every evil deed imaginable to ensure you two were his top notch talent.
Randi: Meet me at the bar, pronto!
Randi began to drive again forward again as she made a brisk left hand turn whipping her car into a dingy little pub known as the Kettle. Randi pulled the Charger into the familiar dirt and gravel parking lot and exited the car in the same familiar fashion as before. She forced open the large wood door and emerged herself into the haze of dim barroom light and the thick stench and atmosphere of cigarette smoke. The bar was noisy and cramped with all the wrong types of riff raff as she forced herself past a few drunken crack dealers and into the pool hall. The sound of the pool balls clacking loudly against one another made her feel more at home than the fancy dress snobfest as she removed her leather jacket tossing it on a far stool. The soft features of her curvy, yet muscular body gave light to the feminine, yet tough nature of Randi Justice. Randi was tough by birth, the youngest of four children, three of which who were boys. Her father worked as a boxer during their early childhood, however, his career ended when he lost full vision in one of his eyes during a match in Montreal.
Randi’s mother was a homemaker and an alcoholic who eventually spent most of Randi’s childhood in a rehabilitation clinic in Wisconsin. After her final “graduation”, Mrs. Justice had requested a divorce from her husband abandoning him with the four children. Without a motherly, tender influence, Randi’s life revolved around her father’s roughhousing and old fight stories. She became the “fourth son” by turning away from dolls and pink to fast cars, black, and fist fights. However, despite her manly influences, Randi was far from “dyke-a-delic”. She was eye-candy and sultry from head to toe, she embraced her beauty with her toughness making her what she is today.
Mike Steinberg emerged from the noisy bar area with a tray of shots and placed them beside her jacket. As he turned to greet Randi, his eyes fell over the perfectly heart-shaped backside as she bent across the pool table to break.
Mike: You are lucky I was in driving distance or else I wouldn’t have shown up on command. I’m not your little *****, Randi.
Randi: Mike, everyone is my little *****, and they better get used to it.
Mike: So, Jack’s sending you to Valor, huh? I’ve heard promising things about it. Besides, you aren’t going alone, so I hear.
Randi: I know, Channon Cade. I’m still in shock.
Mike: Well, it isn’t official but…
Randi: Are you kidding me? If Valor is so hot, they will most definitely sign Channon Cade. He’s the hottest **** in the Western side of the world. Channon is the next biggest rising star. He’s a feared man in Canada, not to mention he’s easy on the eyes. I’d do him.
Mike: You’d do anyone to get anywhere. Randi, I think you should consider Valor wholeheartedly. The women’s roster is booming with new faces and talent. New to the fed, but not new to wrestling. Not the lowlife forms you were facing back in XIW.
Randi: Really? Well, I still have to start at the bottom, and Randi Justice does not like it on the bottom. I’m a top notch, bad-ass wrestler with more talent in my little finger than half that fed! Look at me, Mikey, do I belong on bottom? Or should my talent, glory, and body be placed on a pedestal where all the men and women in the world can fall to their knees and pray that they were half as good as me?
Mike: You know I think you are the best, Randi. I’ve seen you kick more ass than any other diva in any other fed. You are the supreme dominatrix.
Randi: Do not ever call me a diva, Mike. Divas are prissy, sissy, and begging for attention. Aretha Franklin is a diva, Mariah Carey is a diva, Randi Justice is the queen of extreme. I am the baddest ***** on the playground.
Mike: Look, the fed is promising, and you don’t seem to have that many “divas” to put away before you can become a women’s champion again.
Randi: If Valor had any sense they would just hand the title to me and let the other priss-pots lick the mud off my boots. Tell me what I’ve got to go up against and I’ll tell you what I think.
Mike: Well, the roster is still underway. I don’t have the full one yet, but I can certainly tell you about the match you are booked it. I don’t think you are going to like it, though.
Randi: Let me guess, I have to dress in some sort of attire and play “slap-a-***?” Mike, it isn’t like I haven’t been practically naked in front of a bunch of drooling men before. All they need is a little excitement to help them ignore how pathetic their little lives are and how ugly their wives are. Women like me are a dime a dozen. It isn’t everyday someone with a body of a goddess and more curves than the Grand Canyon waltz around almost naked for a bunch of beer swelling fatties. It is the least I could do for the men of Valor, give them something worthwhile to appreciate while they sit backstage doing whatever it is men do when they are alone.(ooc: rhymes with toe)
Mike: Well, you have to dress like a sexy Santa or something to that nature. Basically hot, sexy, kinky, and festive. Too bad I’m jewish.
Randi: Hey, yeah, I could stick some candles over my private parts and call myself a menorah! Or better yet, let’s just say I’ve been a bad, bad girl this year and deserve a lump or two of coal and a bag of switches.
Mike: I don’t know if being “naughty” is considered festive.
Randi: Who cares, I’ll find something to wear Sunday just tell me what I’m going up against?
Mike: Well, I don’t know too much but you have one by the name of Jamie Black, who is pretty reserved. She hasn’t really made an impact as far as I’ve seen yet. She’s kind of quiet and what not.
Randi: Good, maybe she’ll stay that way if she knows what’s good for her. If not I’ll perform the cellblock tango all over her little face.
Mike: Next, we have Brittney Bailey. She’s Eric Hardcastle’s ladyfriend, her brother also wrestles for the fed,s he’s pretty, sweet, your normal babyface.
Randi: Oh, well isn’t she a little Barbie doll. Remind me to slap her around first. If there is anything I hate more than a snobby brat, it’s a perfect little blonde *****.
Mike: Jade, she calls herself the “resident *****.” She’s tough and not that much of a pushover. She’s like you, cocky arrogant, and determined.
Randi: Well, that’s nice but unfortunately, I don’t play well with others so Jade will just have to tolerate sharing the ***** title or I’ll have to kick her ass.
Mike: She’s probably going to be your best ally.
Randi: Well, then maybe I should send her a greeting card. Like I said, Jade will just have to learn to share.
Mike: Lastly we have a cutie innocent. Her name is Ivana and she refers to herself as “God’s gift” not in the arrogant way, however in the spiritual way.
Randi: They let preschoolers in Valor or something? Ivana? Ha! She sounds more like a bible thumping nun on steroids. She’s more than a pushover. If she’s trying to prove her status by batting those baby blues and holding fellowship backstage, she better not consider inviting someone as sinful as me. I crush little baby bugs with my boots, and Ivana is just a baby bug crawling along on the filthy floor of this women’s roster. She sees herself as alive with the spirit. I see her as dead as her career is going to be when I get through with her Sunday.
Mike: That’s about it. All for the match anyways.
Randi lit another cigarette and tossed back a few shots of whiskey. She took a seat upon the filthy pool table rocking the pool stick between her spread legs admiring her longtime friend.
Randi: You know I think Channon and I just might wipe this fed clean. I mean, obviously the women’s roster if full of has-beens…I’m afraid to see the men’s. Nonetheless, Channon Cade, Mike, Channon Cade! If the VWA only knew how strong and powerful this Cocky Canadian is. He’s beat down more men and broke more records in the past few feds he’s wrestled in then anyone I know. All he needs is one large deal with a larger fed, like Valor, and he’ll be the king of the business. And, I’m going to be the first ***** to shake his hand when he gets there. As a matter of fact, I think I might sweet talk Mr. Cade into letting me be his arm-candy. I think I’ll have to give him a little call before I waltz into that fed alone. Not that Randi Justice needs a man’s help.
Mike: Back to your match.
Randi slid off the table and went to take another shot at the game she had started.
Randi: What about it?
Mike: Aren’t you a little doubtful?
Randi: Hell no! I’m the biggest mother hen in this fed. Randi works one way, be good to her she’ll be good to you. Piss her off and you’re ass is grass. Life is tit for tat, and I have a lot of tat for what I’m going to dish out on those broads Sunday. The folks atop the ladder are the ones the world adores. This match will boost me up in valor, and I just might boost them up theirs. The name on everybody’s lips is going to Randi. I’m going to be a celebrity. They’re going to recognize my eyes, my hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose. Randi Justice will be a household name.
They’re going to wait outside in line to see me. I’m a star and the audience loves me and I love them and they love me for loving them and I love them for loving me and we love each other and that’s because none of us got enough love in our childhoods. The system works, Mike. Justice will be served at Holiday Havoc.
Mike laughed as Randi flashed him a provocative wink and a slight effeminate giggle. She glanced back onto the pool table to determine the correct shot. After studying it carefully she shot the cue ball towards the nine ball knocking it and two other balls into the middle left pocket. She smiled again and extended the stick to Mike. As he searched the table for an open shot, Randi admired the noisy crowded bar. Her lavish good looks seemed heightened as the roughnecks and tramps around her caused all sorts of ruckus. She leaned back against the wood panel of the pool room and swallowed a large gulp of whiskey as her night came to an end.
