So yeah, you people don't seem to enjoy reading this story, but I enjoy writing it.
So I'll continue.
Reviews would give me a bit more confidence, btu I'll continue never the less, I suppose.
Anyways; a short one tonight.
Call me crazy - and, by the time I've finished telling my story, you probably will - bur I do think it's illegal to force someone to do something unwillingly. If a man forces a woman to have sex with him, it's rape. But what is it if a woman forces a woman, to have sex with a man? Is it still rape?
Looking back on that Tuesday afternoon, I don't ever remember fully consenting to Dawn Marie's plan, I don't remember giving any notion that I was consenting. In fact, I did not nod. I did not smile. I did not speak. I, respectfully, went to the bathroom, splashed some cold water on my face and went back out to the girls, who were all screaming down Dawn's cell hysterically. And that's when I heard it. That's when I heard Shawn. Whooping with glee.
But once the phone call was ended and Shawn was off whooping some more, or dancing round the maypole, whatever kept him happy, Trish, Jackie and Dawn wolfed down there pasta, Trish even finishing mine - see that's what I hate about you meat eaters : you complain that veggie stuff is no good, but you eat it anyways. Within minutes, the bill had been paid and I was being whisked off to a large department store Trish had spotted on the way to the mall because "Department stores offer everything Lita - facials, make up, jewellery, clothes, shoes, class…and all in one place" Jackie had informed me. I let the comment about the class slide but only because I was still pretty pissed off with Dawn.
The car ride there was pretty silent. Sure, there was music coming from the radio, but on the chatter front, it was pretty much mute. No one said anything. That was, until we were pulling into the parking lot, our rental luxury car sticking out between the battered and bruised models like a sore thumb. "You had this whole thing planned, didn't you, Psaltis?" I complained from the back seat of the car - Jackie was steering the car into the tiny parking bay, with Dawn applying her make up in the passenger's mirror, Trish and I sitting uncomfortably in the back. "I saw you whispering to Kane, so don't deny it."
"Whispering to…" she took a few moments to work out when I was talking about but when it finally dawned on her, she shook her head sending brunette curls everywhere and making the whole car smell of Elnett Strong Hold hairspray. "Oh no…I was planning to have you seduce McMahon but that's nothing compared to this. McMahon…Bischoff…they're external influences. When you wanna infiltrate a country, you have inside men. Or at least that's what Kane said - his plan was to have you join Evolution. But….I changed his mind." And that grin, that devilish grin she sent us, sent shivers down my spine. She had slept…with the monster.
Conversation in the car ceased once again after that, I don't think any of us could stomach Dawn's comments about Kane - even Jackie, who - on my few amicable meetings with her - had always wanted in depth details of our friends' conquests, kept quiet.
The first time I saw the movie Mean Girls brought back this memory, the memory of Jackie, Dawn, Trish and I entering the department store. We walked in a straight line. Dawn up front, like Regina George, flanked by Karen and Gretchen, in this case Trish and Jackie. And there I was - confused, scared and innocent little Cady. Except, in our version of Mean Girls, the Plastics were four grown men in Armani suits and 'the coolest people you will ever meet' were three women, all with fake breasts and a sick, twisted way of getting me sex.
"So we need facials and hair, Jackie you take her for that," Dawn ordered, sizing me up. You know when someone's sizing you up, you can see them focus on every part of your body, every flaw and every imperfection. "I'm off to buy her some clothes. Little Miss Thrift Store is impressing no one with those pants." I have to admit this offended me. Sure, the pants were a little worn, a little tatty but I wasn't exactly planning on going to an evening Gala in them, I was going for lunch with my friends. "And Trishy?" Trish nodded and saluted back at her like a soldier. And right then I could have killed her. "We need shoes, make up, bags, books. She's not exactly on the same…you know, level…as he is." Cheeky cow.
Jackie, once again touching my hand which I wasn't happy about, dragged me off in the direction of the health and beauty section of the department store, which she told me she visited frequently, leaving Dawn and Trish to discuss how well educated Randy was.
An hour later and my nails and facial was done - although by the end of the night I had a long scratch from eye to mouth from the false nails scratching me of their own accord - and I was drinking a cup of tea, waiting for my hair to be finished. Much to Jackie's disappointment, I would not be going blonde. "I read it once," I lied. "Orton - I mean Randy - said he preferred brunettes. And technically, I'm brunette. I'm just…masking it." She had fallen for it, somehow and, after a little more persuading, she allowed me to remain a redhead. On the note of my hair, the very Legend Killer himself had once asked me if the carpet matched the curtains - what a charming boy - and I had delivered a swift kick to his testicles. It was one of two very brief encounters we had had before this plan, the other having been in a ring and televised to people around the world.
My hair was cut, coloured and straightened, my nails and tan falsened, my eyebrows plucked, my legs waxed and was in the process of having an incredibly painful bikini wax done when Dawn stomped into the small waxing room, throwing her - or should I say my - bags on the floor dramatically and demanding a cup of tea. As the beautician leaves me, still stinging I should point out, to go make Dawn's tea, the brunette starts whinging. "I swear, I was surrounded by designers and everything just looked perfect. But on me, not you. Nothing would look good on you. None that I saw anyways. I mean I got a few numbers but I just don't know what he'll like."
"Your boyfriend?" the beautician replied, re-entering the room, the cup of scalding tea - "two sugars and the tiniest drop of milk" - in her hand.
"No." said Dawn, her head almost bowed in shame as she took the cup from her. Motioning to me, she added : "Soon to be hers."
The look on the beauticians face said everything. We were insane.