Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue.
Rating: PG-13 now for language. Rating will increase for other stuff later on- I'll keep you posted.
"MOVE IT, YOU WENCHES! GET THOSE LEGS UP HIGHER! I SAID HIGHER! ARE YOU ALL DEAF?"
Tina Armstrong clenched her tongue in between her teeth, silently vowing not to say a word. Instead, she kicked her legs up higher as instructed, her pretty face narrowing into an expression of dawning fury. She moved quickly, shimmying to the tune of an intensifying salsa beat, the wooden floor of the stage slick under her bare toes, as the voice booming over her continued to rail.
"You all call yourselves PROFESSIONALS?!!! That's BULLSHIT!! PURE BULLSHIT!!"
Tina leaped blindly up into the air, knowing from experience another dancer would catch her. Sure enough, she felt a pair of large, warm hands at her waist, dipping her towards the floor. A low voice spoke into her ear. "Don't mind him," her partner whispered. "He's like that with all the dancers."
Tina rolled her eyes, though she was grateful that he even took notice of her plight. How she got to be in this mess in the first place, she had no idea.
After the last Dead or Alive tournament, which she had lost, though she made a great deal of money- Tina had debuted her modeling career, and pursued an acting career with even greater zest. Ignoring her father's obvious disapproval, she'd participated in several stage shows and gone to various stage and film auditions, which had led to her being cast as co- star in Rave, a small off-Broadway musical production.
Although a little wary of the amount of song and dance that would have to take place- she really was more of a 'strut n' show' type of gal- she was excited about the part, which she thought might be her ticket to jump- starting her acting career.
Tina's bubble burst the day she was exposed to the REAL world of acting as a virtual nobody. Her choreographer, Julius, was a short, ugly man with thick glasses, a harsh voice and an even nastier attitude, his preferred method of treatment harassing his singers and dancers verbally till he got what he wanted. And he did it well.
Tina was snapped back to attention when Julius stepped directly in front of where she was dancing, beginning to scream directly in her face. "You're TRASH, bitch! FREAKIN' country TEXAS TRASH!! WHAT the hell do you think THAT was? I may be half blind, and you may be stupid as a fence post, but we BOTH know that isn't a plie!"
"GRRRR!" Tina gritted her teeth, growling loudly as she shook her hair loose from its rubber band, spraying Julius directly in the face with droplets of sweat in the process. She wanted to mouth off, but couldn't- that would get her fired for sure. Hoping he'd leave her alone and move on to another victim, she increased her efforts, snarling. Her hostility didn't daunt him one bit, however. He pushed his oily face closer to hers, continuing his brigade.
"YOU SUCK, tramp! Apparently the only thing you've got going for you are those FAKE-ASS bowling balls on your chest...blondie!"
AARRRRGGGHHH! Tina wanted to scream, but held her tongue, putting her anger into her steps instead. Her feet beat out a rapid tattoo on the stage; she was drenched in sweat, her hair wild and tangled. Julius continued, his fetid breath blowing all over her face.
"BETTER, but SURE AS HELL not good enough. How'd you even GET in this show, bitch? WHO'D YOU FUCK?"
Oh, HELL no. THAT was the last straw. Spinning around, Tina lifted one leg and slammed one sneaker-clad foot under the choreographer's double chin, watching in satisfaction as he crashed to the ground, clutching his jaw in pain.
"I quit!" Grabbing her bag and ignoring the open-mouthed stares from the rest of the dancers, she headed for the door, leaving Julius writhing on the floor, yelling after her: "You'll NEVER get another job in THIS town! I'm gonna sue you for all you're worth..."
"PRICK!"
"BITCH!"
Tina was already halfway down the street.
When she arrived at her apartment, Tina slammed down her bag, picking up the mail and heading for her bedroom so she could strip and take a shower, then try and find a new gig somewhere. She squeezed her eyes together tightly, feeling a migraine coming on.
After grabbing two Advils and downing them without water, she stripped off her sweaty top and sweats, grimacing at the smell. She tossed them into the trash, determined NEVER to wear sweats again- she hated the feel of cheap cotton against her skin.
"From now on, I'll wear only velour suits," she muttered, making a mental note to buy some the next time she was in the city. J-Lo, maybe. The chick was extremely trashy- but she had some nice clothes.
After standing under a hot, steamy steam of water and jasmine-scented soap for nearly half an hour, she was hustled out by the sound of her phone ringing. Tightening her towel, she snatched up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Tina, honey? Is that you?"
"Hi, dad." Tina sighed- she really didn't want to speak to him right then. "Um, I kind of just got out of the shower, so can I just call you..."
"Tina, sugar!" Bass' voice was WAY to jovial. "How's the acting thing going on
Broadly?"
"That's Broadway, dad," she rolled her eyes, not bothering to explain that the show was an OFF Broadway show. "And things have gone to shit. I got fired."
"Don't curse. It's not ladylike." Bass then realized what his daughter had said. "What? You got fired? Why?"
"Don't even ask me." Tina sunk down into a chair, ignoring the puddle from her damp skin now staining the upholstery.
Bass made a sound that was probably supposed to be sympathetic, but it came out just a little better sounding than a hoot. Tina knew he was thrilled- her father hated her acting and modeling.
"Well, honey, I'm sorry, but other opportunities will come, and you know what? Vince McMahon just offered me a new deal- I have to create a new WWE tag team! Wouldn't it be awesome if you and I did it? We'd be a father- daughter tag team again! A comeback tag team, really- just think of all the ticket sales! We could wear all black leather and..."
"Daaaaad," Tina's voice grew irritated. "Let's not go down that road again, 'kay? I DON"T want to wrestle!"
"But, honey..."
"No!" Tina's voice grew stubborn. "Dad, I want to be famous, but I want to make my own name, okay? I don't want to get known as Bass Armstrong's kid. I want to get there because I earned it myself." A small smile crept over her face, as a thought formulated in her head. Her voice sweetened. "In fact..." her smile grew wider..."I think I'll enter this year's DOA tournament- they invited me, you know."
"Over my dead body!" Bass roared.
"Bye, Daddy." Tina hung up, then headed for her bedroom. She had a ticket to buy, luggage to pack, and some numbers to call.
Rating: PG-13 now for language. Rating will increase for other stuff later on- I'll keep you posted.
"MOVE IT, YOU WENCHES! GET THOSE LEGS UP HIGHER! I SAID HIGHER! ARE YOU ALL DEAF?"
Tina Armstrong clenched her tongue in between her teeth, silently vowing not to say a word. Instead, she kicked her legs up higher as instructed, her pretty face narrowing into an expression of dawning fury. She moved quickly, shimmying to the tune of an intensifying salsa beat, the wooden floor of the stage slick under her bare toes, as the voice booming over her continued to rail.
"You all call yourselves PROFESSIONALS?!!! That's BULLSHIT!! PURE BULLSHIT!!"
Tina leaped blindly up into the air, knowing from experience another dancer would catch her. Sure enough, she felt a pair of large, warm hands at her waist, dipping her towards the floor. A low voice spoke into her ear. "Don't mind him," her partner whispered. "He's like that with all the dancers."
Tina rolled her eyes, though she was grateful that he even took notice of her plight. How she got to be in this mess in the first place, she had no idea.
After the last Dead or Alive tournament, which she had lost, though she made a great deal of money- Tina had debuted her modeling career, and pursued an acting career with even greater zest. Ignoring her father's obvious disapproval, she'd participated in several stage shows and gone to various stage and film auditions, which had led to her being cast as co- star in Rave, a small off-Broadway musical production.
Although a little wary of the amount of song and dance that would have to take place- she really was more of a 'strut n' show' type of gal- she was excited about the part, which she thought might be her ticket to jump- starting her acting career.
Tina's bubble burst the day she was exposed to the REAL world of acting as a virtual nobody. Her choreographer, Julius, was a short, ugly man with thick glasses, a harsh voice and an even nastier attitude, his preferred method of treatment harassing his singers and dancers verbally till he got what he wanted. And he did it well.
Tina was snapped back to attention when Julius stepped directly in front of where she was dancing, beginning to scream directly in her face. "You're TRASH, bitch! FREAKIN' country TEXAS TRASH!! WHAT the hell do you think THAT was? I may be half blind, and you may be stupid as a fence post, but we BOTH know that isn't a plie!"
"GRRRR!" Tina gritted her teeth, growling loudly as she shook her hair loose from its rubber band, spraying Julius directly in the face with droplets of sweat in the process. She wanted to mouth off, but couldn't- that would get her fired for sure. Hoping he'd leave her alone and move on to another victim, she increased her efforts, snarling. Her hostility didn't daunt him one bit, however. He pushed his oily face closer to hers, continuing his brigade.
"YOU SUCK, tramp! Apparently the only thing you've got going for you are those FAKE-ASS bowling balls on your chest...blondie!"
AARRRRGGGHHH! Tina wanted to scream, but held her tongue, putting her anger into her steps instead. Her feet beat out a rapid tattoo on the stage; she was drenched in sweat, her hair wild and tangled. Julius continued, his fetid breath blowing all over her face.
"BETTER, but SURE AS HELL not good enough. How'd you even GET in this show, bitch? WHO'D YOU FUCK?"
Oh, HELL no. THAT was the last straw. Spinning around, Tina lifted one leg and slammed one sneaker-clad foot under the choreographer's double chin, watching in satisfaction as he crashed to the ground, clutching his jaw in pain.
"I quit!" Grabbing her bag and ignoring the open-mouthed stares from the rest of the dancers, she headed for the door, leaving Julius writhing on the floor, yelling after her: "You'll NEVER get another job in THIS town! I'm gonna sue you for all you're worth..."
"PRICK!"
"BITCH!"
Tina was already halfway down the street.
When she arrived at her apartment, Tina slammed down her bag, picking up the mail and heading for her bedroom so she could strip and take a shower, then try and find a new gig somewhere. She squeezed her eyes together tightly, feeling a migraine coming on.
After grabbing two Advils and downing them without water, she stripped off her sweaty top and sweats, grimacing at the smell. She tossed them into the trash, determined NEVER to wear sweats again- she hated the feel of cheap cotton against her skin.
"From now on, I'll wear only velour suits," she muttered, making a mental note to buy some the next time she was in the city. J-Lo, maybe. The chick was extremely trashy- but she had some nice clothes.
After standing under a hot, steamy steam of water and jasmine-scented soap for nearly half an hour, she was hustled out by the sound of her phone ringing. Tightening her towel, she snatched up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Tina, honey? Is that you?"
"Hi, dad." Tina sighed- she really didn't want to speak to him right then. "Um, I kind of just got out of the shower, so can I just call you..."
"Tina, sugar!" Bass' voice was WAY to jovial. "How's the acting thing going on
Broadly?"
"That's Broadway, dad," she rolled her eyes, not bothering to explain that the show was an OFF Broadway show. "And things have gone to shit. I got fired."
"Don't curse. It's not ladylike." Bass then realized what his daughter had said. "What? You got fired? Why?"
"Don't even ask me." Tina sunk down into a chair, ignoring the puddle from her damp skin now staining the upholstery.
Bass made a sound that was probably supposed to be sympathetic, but it came out just a little better sounding than a hoot. Tina knew he was thrilled- her father hated her acting and modeling.
"Well, honey, I'm sorry, but other opportunities will come, and you know what? Vince McMahon just offered me a new deal- I have to create a new WWE tag team! Wouldn't it be awesome if you and I did it? We'd be a father- daughter tag team again! A comeback tag team, really- just think of all the ticket sales! We could wear all black leather and..."
"Daaaaad," Tina's voice grew irritated. "Let's not go down that road again, 'kay? I DON"T want to wrestle!"
"But, honey..."
"No!" Tina's voice grew stubborn. "Dad, I want to be famous, but I want to make my own name, okay? I don't want to get known as Bass Armstrong's kid. I want to get there because I earned it myself." A small smile crept over her face, as a thought formulated in her head. Her voice sweetened. "In fact..." her smile grew wider..."I think I'll enter this year's DOA tournament- they invited me, you know."
"Over my dead body!" Bass roared.
"Bye, Daddy." Tina hung up, then headed for her bedroom. She had a ticket to buy, luggage to pack, and some numbers to call.