Use Me

[Isabella Maldini]

“What now?”

That was a good question my towering terror asked me once Bloody Assizes came to a close, perfectly apt considering you initial end game was complete.

Roberto is sipping his meals through a straw and that little British bast-… swine, was left to tuck his tail between his legs and run back to daddy like a little bitch. Honestly, I hadn’t planned beyond that point since Reed the Younger unceremoniously cheated me out of a spot in the big girls competition.

Then fate handed me a lacey second chance and he asked me again.

“What now?”

Would it be cliché of me to say, “to make mama and papa proud”? It’s a typical “orphany” thing to say…

So luckily, pleasing a pair of corpses isn’t at the top of my agenda.

Honestly, if they’re watching me from beyond the grave there’s a few topics they’d like to discuss that would no doubt rank as more important than a wrestling belt. Ones I’d be a damn sight less proud of and involved a loss of money rather than a wage rise.

Once I snatched my chance back, I had one simple goal.

To see where I was when Lineage rolled around.

And that is still the plan. I won last week, me and Eternity, somehow, formed a functional unit that overcame the deeply dysfunctional unit of Emma and Kathy and I registered a few points in the board, enough it appears to give me a little breathing room.

Nothing has changed.

This time next week I will have a better idea of the position I find myself in, and believe me knowing that sort of information is a God send for a girl… I mean, not all of us like to be on the bottom all the time guys.

Remember that.

Four girls are going to be left disappointed, not that most of them will be unused to that sort of feeling considering their choice in partners, but I digress, none of us want to be left feeling like the prom queen who took home the King and found out that he wasn’t even a Baron.

Those four spots are so precious and we have to snatch them with both hands.

We’re going to scratching, clawing and clambering to get over our nearest rivals as that clock slowly clicks down bit by bit, desperate to not be left behind.

Desperate to not be left feeling the sting of disappointment.

I know what it is like to be left feeling like you’re alone in the world, like you no longer matter and my guardian…well, I wouldn’t call him an Angel per se, but I digress, he saved me from oblivion once and I can’t expect a second chance at every failure.

I took a bite of the apple and I’ve run with the ball whilst grabbing the brass ring and I know that if I fail it will be the fault of one person, and one person alone.

Me.

I am not afraid of failure, I am only afraid of having never tried at all. There is nothing wrong with trying and falling short, but there are only so many times you can keep touching the prize with those fingertips before the alphas rip it away from you forever.

My friend had one nugget of advice.

“Make your mark now and make sure it is memorable.”

Despite the fact he looks like he walked off a horror set, he is quite smart. A frther lesson to never judge a book by its cover.

Even when it has a cover like mine.

I need to make sure I place my name on the map now whilst this company is in its infancy, before I become consumed in a sea of oestrogen and just another pretty face on a roster of beautiful women whose only skill is to inspire the fans who’re going through puberty on a weekly basis.

Diamond’s Champion or not, I will make sure that everybody knows my name.

I am not here to play games.

I am here to prove that I am more than a bit of totty.

I am here to show every woman what they can achieve, despite their humble beginnings and that being a woman and proud of every facet of that responsibility is nothing to be ashamed of.

As my friend would say…

“Beat them until they have no choice but to pay attention to you, or beat them until they’re incapable of doing so.”

It’s a little crude, but then he was never a wordsmith…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, Ayla, do you have any nuggets of advice for me?

Any whimsical words of wisdom to patronise me with like you’re a wise old sage whose opinion is actually worth something?

Or am I not cute and bubbly enough for you?

Either way, you can save your breath, I don’t need your validation to feel like I mean something in this place, I don’t look up to you and I sure as hell don’t see you as an icon worth of adoration, as far as I am considered you’re just another mildly successful woman who doesn’t know when to hang up her sports bra and call it quits.

I’d sooner take advice from Eternity and she has mental health problems.

Severe problems.

I’ve never understood what motivates women to pass down advice to their adversaries, is it an attempt to look like you give a shit about the business and want to help the next generation?

Nah, we both know you care about numero uno and not numero doce.

When you were dispensing your little pearls of wisdom to Tifa and Hannah Lite last week, I didn’t see a woman who was being sincere in his pleas, I saw a woman who was patronising the newcomers and lacing it in sugar.

You can save me the torment of that venom, Ayla, I’d rather you told me how much you hate me or even that I just don’t matter than watch you curl up your lips into an unnatural position and pretend to be a caring person with the future’s interests at heart. I don’t need mollycoddling like a little girl, I just want the truth.

However penetrating it may be.

I’ve watched you trade your many faces, switching from calm and approachable to a ravenous little wolverine in the flick of a switch, and it’s effective, it lulls people into a false sense of security before you turn and leave them wondering what the hell happened.

Newsflash, emulating Ted Bundy isn’t something to be proud of you sociopath.

Although, I must admit, it has obviously been effective for you in the past, just be aware that I can see through that little charade darling, I know that deep down you’re going to wear whatever face suits the situation and will have the greatest effect on the set of eyes opposite you. It’s smart, I’ll give you that.

Now, I could stand here and guarantee that I will beat you, but I’m never that brazen. I know what I am getting into and this is an opportunity to really pull away from the pack and cement myself inside that top four.

Where we are all so desperate to be.

You’re an obstacle I must overcome if I want to feel a little more comfortable going into the final week of this tournament, just like the lingerie contest was a trial that had to be conquered. I’ve persevered following disappointment and now I need to make it count.

This week, regardless of my rather ironic partnership, I will do whatever I have to to give me the best chance of picking up points at your expense and if it isn’t good enough, I’ll lick my wounds and regroup and come back stronger next week.

I’ll see you out there, Ayla.

Let’s see which mask you’re wearing. Now then…

You don’t want to lay your hands on me, Mike?

Colour me disappointed, big guy. It’s your loss.

I could do things for you that nobody else can, all you’ve gotta do is give in to temptation and let me help you feel like a real man. All I need is 30 minutes of your time and I can make all of the problems seem meaningless…

I can see it in your eyes, Mikey.

They don’t respect you. All those big mean boys in the back, they look down their noses at you because you can’t buy a win, they don’t see the real talent underneath that confrontational exterior, they just see the little boy who gets his ass kicked on a weekly basis. They don’t consider you their equal, they think you’re beneath them…

It’s ok, we can play a little role reversal.

You can use me, you can dominate me, you can let out those frustrations in exquisite bliss. I can make you feel like you’re on top, like you’re the man. You can stamp your authority with a tug of my hair or a swish of that wrist, you can unload all of you pent up rage…

All you’ve gotta do is ask, big boy.

If you ask nicely, maybe I can dress in a fine Italian suit, we can re-play all those title matches where you were emasculated by the Italian Stallion and you can be on top. This time Mike Laszlo can be the man in charge, this time you can be the winner…

Or maybe I can roll on some tattoo sleeves, you and me can engage in our back and forth Twitter flirtation but maybe this time, when push comes to shove, you can be the big man…

It’s ok, Mikey, you can be yourself with me, you can let out all those pent up feelings of inferiority on me, I don’t mind…

Hell, I like a man who can take control.

Can you take control?

Can you use me for your own gratification?

Can you chase away those little demons who whisper “You’re not good enough”?

In our world, you can be everything you’ve ever dreamed of. You can be the man who everybody is jealous of, you can be the man who is on top, you can unload all of those little foibles which pick away at you, that eat away at your ego every single day…

But if you insist, we can play by the rules, maybe you’re not really the man you say you are. The cocky, arrogant, rebel who does whatever he wants, whenever he wants…

Maybe you really are the loser everybody says you are.

It’s OK, Mikey, sometimes we have to live out our fantasies in the bedroom because we’re not capable of doing so outside of it. There’s no shame in being inferior, not when you can let it all out with one very understanding girl. Perhaps me and your little lady friend should have a little chat so you can win a few…small…victories somewhere.

Perhaps if she learnt to satisfy you, to help release that tension, you’d see an upturn in the ring?

Maybe she’s the problem?

I mean, you’re running out of excuses, you can have that one as a freebie, Mikey…