By AmaraSidhe
(Note -- WWFish characters are not mine, though I wish they were. Yeah. And Kari Foley, and Melinda Flair (they should show up eventually) belong to Indigo X. Oh, how I love Indy. Virginia "SoCo" Calloway is a muse of my own head, and copyrighted me. Thus ends the lovely disclaimer.)
"No one, but no one…will mess with
me and get away with it."
I'm in my locker room, well, the
little sweaty box that resembles my own personal space, punching the door
and repeating my mantra-ish bit, not even worrying about the fact that
I could split my knuckles.
Again.
But I'm SoCo Calloway, nightmare
of the world – or at least the WWF. Child of 'Taker and a long-forgotten
muse. Well, I certainly hadn't forgotten her, but…
That was another story entirely.
I mean, Daddy had left when I was
something…a wee bit around seven or so, and I really…no. It wasn't
something I liked to think about.
Mom's dead.
Dad's an asshole – well, he was
an asshole when I'd left, too, but…now, he was even more of an asshole.
"Badass…yeah, I see that.
JACKass is more like it, but I'm not one to really say anything."
Long auburn waves twist around my
shoulders and flow to my probably too-tiny waist, over my too-large chest
(I have a shirt that says "yes, they ARE real," if that tells you anything),
and I bite my lip, catching my reflection in the mirror…
Wild green eyes sparkle with an
unknown fire, a desire to annihilate anything that comes in my path, a
want…
To let my father know where he stands
in my life.
Which – well, do the words 'absolutely nowhere' mean anything to you?
Squinting a little, I bit my lip
as I headed down the hallway, just watching people, eyes still, my entire
frame almost –
All I can think about is the Deer
Hunter. Calm, but stalking. Scary, but…
Underestimated.
No one thought that the "Busty Redhead"
would be an ass-kicking machine. I mean, true, they all knew the
stock I came from, but…
No one thought anything about the matter.
-*-
"Nah-ce…" I mean, true to life,
things weren't as junky as I thought they would be, it being a testosterone
playground, full of people beating everyone else up…
Saying the same thing over all the
time (see, "What?")…
And otherwise…
Well, there were the merits of seeing
all sorts of nakedness. Always a plus. If I felt like being
just plain dirty. Today, though…
I had better things to do.
One, being find my dad and let him know that the impish little darling he left almost fourteen years ago – well, she was ready to bite him in the ass.
"Nah-ce hallway, nah-ce…"
That unmistakable Diphthong from
Hell™ rang out every time I opened my mouth (see what happens when you're
born and raised in Ashland, Louisiana?), and as I surveyed things…
Emerald eyes stopped on a very admirable
butt. Then they moved up.
Hellooooooooooo there. Apparently,
I've hit the jackpot in the gorgeous booty department.
And the rest of him ain't that bad
either.
"SoCo…" I said, sticking out
a hand and firmly slapping him on the ass, a mischievous grin alighting
those usually narrowed eyes. "…you look…interesting. Give me
a name, hrm?"
I couldn't resist, really.
"Um…Rob…" He seemed a little caught off guard, and I shook my head, a deep, throaty laugh erupting from satin-bow lips. I'm sorry, things were clicking – just because I hadn't been IN the business my entire life didn't mean I didn't watch.
"Oh, as in Rob Van Dam…'s in-ter-est-ing…"
Syllables slow as I drank everything in hungrily, trying to take in everything
I could, and just keep a little bit of mystery to myself.
Can't give all the answers away
first thing, right?
So, in the spirit if keeping things mysterious (and therefore in my court), I flashed him a grin, then started down the hallway – leaving him to sputter by himself.
