The Run-In. Beforehand
"Whew."
The moment I fully cleared the entrance tunnel, a sigh of relief slipped out on its own.
—Clap clap clap—
John Michaels, Jane Kim, the PD, and the others waiting at Gorilla Position broke into applause. Aiba, the general manager of NEXT, stood there with her mouth hanging open as she stared at me.
She must have been stunned that the run-in she had fought so hard against—the one John Michaels had forced through on pure status—had actually worked this well.
I didn’t particularly feel like it, but I gave her a slight nod anyway.
"Impressive. The mic work was solid, but your facial expressions were especially good."
"Thank you."
"Rina, you did great."
"Yes."
Jane pulled me into a quick hug, looking proud.
"Senior, shall we head back now?"
"Shall we?"
That was when the PD stepped in front of us, blocking the way as if to say absolutely not.
"The booker keeps saying he has something to tell you and to keep you from leaving."
John had told him there would be a run-in, but not who was coming out, so of course the guy was dying of curiosity.
"Rina, what do you want to do?"
"Hmm. Just send him an emergency invite. If he wants to see us that badly, he can come himself."
"Pfft. That’d be fun.
John! PD! You heard Rina, right? We’re heading out first."
"At least stick around long enough to show your faces?"
John started to protest, but Jane cut him off cold.
"If we don’t leave now, they’ll keep us forever. The crowd’s about to start pouring out too."
The second Jane turned, I stuck right to her heels.
"Uh… hey."
"Something else, PD?"
"Sending you off like this just feels… and there’s more to discuss about future plans."
"Discuss that with our general manager. We’re done here!"
Jane’s expression was already on the cool side; the way she spoke made her look even colder.
We weren’t NEXT talent. We were just a partner promotion. Even if Triple J himself had been standing there, he couldn’t have held us.
"Rina. Changing clothes later is fine, right?"
"Of course."
"Then grab your stuff and let’s get out of here."
"Yes, ma’am."
As we walked out, a woman’s voice spat, “Shit!” behind us.
Pretty sure that was Aiba.
Well, maybe she shouldn’t have been so hostile in the meeting.
Rewind to Tuesday morning.
At TPA I showed off my new wrestling gear to my colleagues and Jane.
"Damn, you should dress like that more often."
"It… looks pretty."
Selma gave me a thumbs-up. Alf stammered. James actually drooled.
—Smack—
"Wipe that spit, you idiot!"
Selma punished him with a back-of-the-head smash.
"Uh… slurp."
James couldn’t even get mad; he just wiped his mouth first.
Jane walked a full circle around me, inspecting the gear from every angle.
"Rina. What about stockings? Your skin’s going to get scraped."
A lot of women who wore hot pants used stockings. Body shaping and coverage were part of it, but mostly it was to keep the canvas from chewing up their skin—or to keep sweat from making them too slippery for an opponent to grip.
"I’m not a heavy sweater, and my skin doesn’t scrape easily. I’m fine."
"One slap and you turn bright red."
"Only for that. And it fades fast."
"Still. Just in case, put on a thin layer of oil or Vaseline."
"Got it."
"So are you switching gear permanently?"
"No. Only for the big matches."
Jane immediately caught the meaning and shot me a sideways glare.
"You sly little—"
"Heh. I’ll wear it more often later."
I only told Selma and the others what I was actually doing that day once the day itself arrived. They saw me off with “go kill it” and I climbed into Jane’s truck.
I drove an SUV myself, but Jane’s vehicle was a full-size pickup.
"I like my cars big and solid whenever possible. Plenty of wrestlers have been in bad wrecks."
"I know. Owen Hart, right?"
"Exactly. If you ever decide to jump to WWO, get a camper or a travel trailer ready early.
If you end up traveling with Selma, you can ride together."
Jane went on to explain why.
Unlike TPA, which barely left Orlando, Law and Smashdown toured the entire country. Except for overseas tours or a tiny handful of top stars, talent paid their own hotel rooms and travel. So people usually carpooled with friends.
Why not just sleep in hotels?
In America a six- or seven-hour drive was standard. Better to travel comfortable, and with all the gear, a camper made sense.
"Do I have to buy one?"
"I’d recommend renting from a specialist company rather than buying.
Monthly cost is higher, but you can hire a professional driver through them.
Maintaining one yourself is a real pain—cleaning, driving, all of it."
TPA and NEXT weren’t far apart, so we arrived quickly.
"Don’t be nervous."
"Senior, you look more nervous than I do."
We didn’t have a perfect title for each other. Calling her “Writer” or just “Jane” felt weird, so we’d settled on “Senior.”
"Maybe… Hoo. Hoo. Let’s go!"
"Yes."
I grabbed my gear bag and stuck close behind her.
Jane showed her ID to security and we went inside. She walked like she knew every corridor by heart, moving fast even when she brushed past a few people.
Then we reached the meeting room.
"We’re going in."
"Okay."
—Knock knock—
"Come in."
At the woman’s voice Jane opened the door and strode straight in; I followed.
Seated around the table were Aiba—eldest daughter of “The Stone,” someone I’d only ever seen on TV—and John Michaels and the rest.
"It’s been a while, Jane Kim."
"It has."
A few faces looked surprised, but nobody stood up. Not even the young guy at the far end of the table.
That told me exactly how NEXT viewed TPA.
If Jane hadn’t warned me this would happen, I might have been a little thrown myself.
"Are we supposed to stand here the whole time? If so, we’re leaving."
Jane might not have been a WWO legend, but she had survived fifteen years in an era when women were treated like garbage. She wasn’t about to flinch at this.
"Ah… sorry. You there, scoot over and make room."
Only then did a few people rise and shift two seats over.
Jane had told me to stay quiet and let her handle it, but this was pissing me off.
"Senior. Let’s go."
"Huh?"
"This feels insulting. We’re not the ones who need this meeting. Let’s just leave."
"Shall we?"
It hadn’t been planned, but Jane backed me up instantly.
While she looked at me, her eyes met John’s. Under the cowboy hat, his gaze was pure interest.
"Cocky, aren’t we? I’ll give you pretty, but you’ve been debuted less than a month."
The fat guy sitting nearest us tilted his head back as he spoke.
"Funny. You’re not the one signing my checks. What are you gonna do about it?"
"What? Do you even know who I am?"
"Do you know who I am? You—do you know me?"
The fat guy’s face went scarlet and he shot up out of his chair.
"What did you just say? Hey!"
"Pfft!"
"Rina, enough. Schultz, you too."
"That’s right, Team Leader Schultz. Everyone else is staying quiet."
Jane lightly shielded me with her arm while she spoke; only after Aiba added her own line did the temperature drop a little.
"Alright! We’re all busy people, so let’s move. Old man, what’s the plan here?"
Aiba looked at John. He explained that the current storylines had gotten too predictable, they needed a fresh face, and that was why he’d called in an unknown like me.
"So you’re putting a run-in into Mina Keynes versus Philia?"
"Looks that way."
While they talked I leaned over and whispered to Jane.
"Senior. That’s the opening match. Feels off, doesn’t it?"
"Hmm. You’re right. What do you want instead?
The fourth match? The women’s tag?"
"No. The main event."
"What? The main? That’s a men’s match."
Jane’s eyes went wide.
"Yes. Joshua versus Ahmed.
Both of them are lighter than Olivia.
They’re taller, sure, but their frames are way thinner. Easier to lift."
"Pfft. Olivia would lose her mind if she heard that…"
"Ah—keep that part secret…"
"What are you two whispering about that’s so funny?"
Had we been too loud? John’s eyes across the table had caught us.
Jane answered immediately.
"The first match is bad for both sides."
"How so?"
"We come out too early, and you wreck every match that comes after us.
John, you know what happens once Rina hits the ring…
The whole crowd might follow her out.
And the other women’s looks get compared."
"So?"
"A men’s match would be better, wouldn’t it?"
—Bang—
"That’s ridiculous!"
This time Aiba slammed the table and flared up.
"Aiba must not have seen Rina’s matches. If she had, she couldn’t say that…
John. I’m disappointed. Triple J’s already seen her, yet the general manager of the promotion next door hasn’t…"
Jane dropped even the courtesy title of “General Manager.”
Aiba just flushed and said nothing more. Whether she really hadn’t watched or not, I wasn’t surprised.
Aiba was a pure nepotism hire, and incompetent on top of it.
She’d wrestled briefly, but her in-ring work was mediocre and she hadn’t inherited a single scrap of her father “The Stone’s” mic skills or acting ability. Only the ambition and the pride.
Stacey and Aiba had both used the daddy card, but the gap between them was the difference between a luxury sports car and a cheap compact.
"Tsk tsk. I told you to watch the tapes and you said you didn’t need to…
Well, the rest of you are the same, so whatever.
Jane, which match does she want?"
"Main event! Rina says she wants to blow that one up."
Coming right after John’s sarcasm, no one snapped back this time.
"A woman running into a men’s match?"
"Not unheard of."
"How?"
"Chair shot or low blow, maybe?"
Someone floated that.
"Coming out at the end would have impact."
"Could work. Joshua’s defending successfully either way. Just call it a no-contest from outside interference."
A few people were warming to it; others stayed negative.
"Look, I get that she’s skilled.
And she talks a good game.
But putting a complete rookie into a main-event run-in?"
"I agree, General Manager."
"I absolutely cannot accept this."
John held the real power, but with the general manager and that pig Schultz opposing so hard, he couldn’t just steamroll it.
"Mr. Michaels, could you call either Ahmed or Joshua in here?"
"Charina, why?"
"If I show them right here, doesn’t that prove I can handle the run-in?"
"True. That works better. Aiba, Team Leader Schultz—what do you say?"
"Fine."
She really hadn’t heard a single rumor about me.
What exactly did this woman do as general manager?
At John’s nod the guy in the corner pulled out his phone. Less than ten minutes later both men walked in.
"You called for us?"
"We came, but why the sudden summons?"
"Ahmed, Joshua. Say hello. This is Charina from TPA."
I stood and gave a small bow.
"Uh… uh…"
"Holy shit! She’s fucking gorgeous. Is she coming over to our side?
General Manager, Team Leader—can you put me in a love angle with her?"
Ahmed was still stuttering. Joshua, on the other hand, would not shut up. On top of that he casually dropped a hand onto my shoulder.
Where the hell did this guy think he was putting his hand?
I grabbed him by the throat and hoisted him clean off the floor like I was setting up a chokeslam.
"Ghk— ghk—"
"Senior, clear the chairs."
"R-right."
"Hey! Put him down!"
"Ahmed. Try stopping me."
"Y-yes."
Before Ahmed could even process, Jane had already shoved the chairs aside and made space.
I drove him straight into the carpet.
"N-no—!"
Ahmed’s eyes went huge as he lunged, but I was faster and the chairs blocked him.
—Thud—
A dull impact sounded against the carpet.
Then the room went dead quiet.
Even mid-slam Joshua, the champion, took the bump correctly.
"Hey. You’re fine. Get up."
"Huh? Yeah."
Joshua, who’d been staring blankly at the ceiling, answered and climbed to his feet.
"Now that’s a champion. Nice bump.
Hmph. That enough proof?"
Most of them were wide-eyed. Aiba still wore a full scowl.
"Hahaha! That settles it. Main-event run-in it is.
Jane, Charina, Ahmed, Joshua—my office. Let’s sketch the scenario."
John laughed loud, shoved his chair back, and stood.
"Shall we, ladies?"
He held the door and ushered us out. Jane and I followed immediately; Joshua and Ahmed trailed after.
The scenario meeting in John’s office was small and finished fast. Neither wrestler was in any position to argue with John, and once Jane locked in beside him the outline came together in minutes.
The only delay was the two men completely losing focus once I changed into the new gear; getting even a short sequence timed took longer than it should have.
"John. We should keep it secret from the announce team too."
"Then the call won’t be clean."
"Booker K’s reactions are more real when he’s actually surprised."
"True, he does have that.
Alright. Been a while since I pranked Booker.
I’ll only tell them there’s a run-in coming.
Jane—any interest in jumping to WWO? You’ve got real talent on the writing side."
"When Victor McMahon formally apologizes to me, I’ll think about it. Or after he’s dead."
"Tsk. That was almost twenty years ago."
It was about the time Victor McMahon had snidely compared Jane to an Asian porn actress.
She still hadn’t gotten an apology.
She probably never would. Unless there was money in it, that man didn’t apologize.
And so we finished our first meeting and timing session at NEXT, then headed to the Full Sail University gym where NEXT was running the show.
In the assigned locker room Jane and I waited for the card to start.
Once the show opened and the main event began, we moved to Gorilla Position. On the PD’s cue, I made the run-in.