Jamie's Song

Jamie’s Song
By Jonica

Chapter 1

Her ponytail bobbed on the back of her head and sweat ran down her back.  The late evening Mississippi sun beat down on the bare flesh at the back of her neck and shoulders.  Her white t-shirt was sodden and sticking to her skin.  Jamie is one of the only inmates at the Northwest Mississippi Correctional Facility who is allowed to own a sports bra.  These were a luxury afforded prisoners here when they still had exercise equipment.  That was before an inmate’s throat was crushed in a horrific accident where a barbell fell across her throat.  Of course, Jamie is also one of the inmates who has been around NMCF long enough to know that ‘accident’ was an intentional act.  However, that led to the removal of exercise equipment from the facility.  Hence, there was no reason for the facility to offer sports bras. 

Jamie found other ways to keep in shape, though.  The prison yard was just big enough…if she ran along the fence line as close as she dared…for her to make a self-styled running track.  Year in, year out, for six years, Jamie ran.  She would stop in the middle of her running only to do some push-ups, sit-ups, and stretching exercises.  Over the course of time, she wore a path around the prison yard that became known as “10538’s Path,” which was Jamie’s official Mississippi Department of Corrections inmate number. 

Jamie has been here for 15 years…or more specifically, 14 years, 364 days, and 12 hours.  Her parole begins in a little over 12 hours…and she is terrified.  This is the only home she has known for 15 years…..15 years of dryness, soberness, and loneliness.  When she was 18, Jamie entered a prison cell and has looked at the inside of one for all of her adult life up to this point.  Jamie’s journey to adulthood came in a drug-induced haze of violence and savagery.  That night is still a foggy, almost dreamlike memory.  She has nightmares where she holds a gun to a young woman’s head while forcing her into the trunk of a car…her boyfriend holding a young man at gunpoint in the front seat of the same car.  She dreams about holding the gun to the young man’s head as her boyfriend drove them to an ATM machine in the southern suburbs of Memphis.  She remembers watching her boyfriend whip the young man with the pistol until he gave up his PIN number.  She will never forget the $60 dollars the ATM machine spit out.  She will always remember the price of her freedom for the next 15 years as being $60.45 cents:  the money from the robbery, and the $.45 the bullet lodged in the young man’s skull probably cost. 

Jamie got lucky.  She agreed to testify against her boyfriend in exchange for the 15 year sentence without the possibility of parole for 15 years.  In court, she testified that she watched in horror as her boyfriend took the young man to the bank of an overgrown ditch, and she watched as he shot him once in the side of the head.  After that, she testified, they drove to the casinos near Tunica, MS., and attempted to carjack a Cadillac in the parking lot.  However, their luck changed there.  The owner of the Cadillac was an off duty police officer.  He shot her boyfriend in the chest, thus ending their criminal career.  All that time, Jamie testified, she and her boyfriend forgot about the woman in the trunk of the other car.  Police found her…dehydrated but otherwise unharmed…during the investigation.  After that, she sat in a Tunica County jail with a pending murder charge looming over her head.  The other charges have already come down:  Kidnapping, especially aggravated robbery, aggravated assault, attempted carjacking, and the pending murder charge that could earn her a trip to Mississippi’s death house.  Fortunately for her…and her boyfriend…the young man clung to life and made an almost full recovery.  The murder charge never came.  She avoided the attempted murder charge by accepted the plea deal to testify against her boyfriend.  25 years for kidnapping and especially aggravated robbery.  There would be no chance for parole for the first 15 years. 

While incarcerated, Jamie was a model prisoner.  She earned her GED and later a BA in arts from a local college.  She is one of the very few prisoners in MDOC who have earned a four-year degree.  When the time came for her first parole hearing, her crime was basically forgotten.  The woman in the trunk had moved to California, and the boy with the bullet lived with his family in Florida.  The man who shot him…Jamie’s boyfriend…would not be eligible for parole until he has spent 32 years in prison.  He’s the one they were most interested in keeping. 

With her hands on her knees, Jamie let the hot May sun beat on her back.  Her sweat soaked shirt sticking to her skin.  She was alone in the yard.  Everyone knew she was getting out tomorrow, so the staff gave her time in the prison yard by herself.  She would be segregated from the general population so that no one would get any ideas and attack her in an attempt to ruin her parole.  Prisoners could be petty like that.  Why should anyone get their freedom while they were still locked up?  Jamie had to be careful. 

Jamie took one last look around the prison yard.  This will be her last run around the perimeter…she hoped.  She would do what she had to do to make sure it was.  Her new life would begin tomorrow.  Jamie was scared.  Life for a convicted felon is hard…to say the least.

Jamie finally goes inside and the correction officer allows her to shower.  She peels off the sweaty clothes and lets the hot, steamy water wash away the sweat, grime, dead skin, and the last 15 years of life in prison.  Another inmate comes into the shower, and Jamie tenses to see what will happen.  Their eyes meet through the haze of steam, and Jamie remembers how she felt the first time she walked into the showers here at NWCF.  The girl looks terrified.  I guess that explains why she is segregated.  Jamie returns her attention to the hot water and closes her eyes. 

Chapter 2

The sun wasn’t shining the next day as Jamie stood at the bus stop in Greenwood, MS. The bus was late…delayed by the May thunderstorms rumbling through the area.  The sky darkened as another round, more intense than the last, rumbled into the small city in the Mississippi Delta.  Jamie thought of her family.  Her father was never a part of her life, so she gave him little thought.  Her mother, on the other hand was always around.  Her mother was a mother in name only.  She was a drug-addled prostitute.  She gave birth to Jamie’s half-sister on the day she was arraigned.  Over time, however, Jamie’s mother found Jesus.  She gave up the drugs and the men.  She found a legitimate job and she actually did a pretty good job raising Jamie’s half-sister by working the nightshift at as an IHOP waitress in Gulfport, MS.  Her mother disowned her.  It’s hard enough for a single mother to raise a child without having to worry about the one gone bad.  However, Jamie’s little sister found out about her anyway.  They have been pen pals ever since.  Over the course of the last 15 years, Jamie has lived for only one thing:  the day she will finally meet her sister.  She has seen photos, but she can’t wait to actually lay eyes on her in person.  That day is finally here.  She is so excited that not even a tornado-warning siren a block away can dampen her spirit!

The bus ride is long, and the weather remains atrocious, but she finally arrives in Gulfport sometime after midnight.  To her dismay, no one is there to meet her.  Her sister said she would try to get her mother to come, but she could make no promises.  Apparently, mom was not swayed by the thought of seeing her first born. 

With a sigh, Jamie walks down the dark street toward a string of motels and casinos lining the Gulf coast.  She has approximately $375 on her.  She needs a place to stay to rest before beginning her new life of freedom. 

She finds a relatively inexpensive motel, and she collapses on the bed without removing her clothes.  She wakens to a stream of sunlight pouring in through the open restroom.  When she looks at the clock, she sees it is way past five in the afternoon.  She slept for almost 15 hours!  The rest of the evening is spent with futile attempts to reach her sister.  No luck.  As a matter of fact, the next three days are spent the same way.  Jamie’s mother would never allow her sister to send their address.  She only had a post office box number.  The address is unlisted.  The search has turned up empty, and Jamie is running out of money.

Chapter 3

Life for a convicted felon is hard.  Finding a job is almost impossible.  Not even McDonald’s will touch Jamie.  Not with her record.  Every job application she fills out asks for her criminal history.  Jamie is trying to be a honest person.  The applications are always denied.  Her parole officer actually takes pity and sends her to a few businesses that may help.  Unfortunately, they don’t have anything.  It’s a tough economy.  As a side note, Jamie did manage to get her sister on the phone.  They agreed to meet the next day.  However, her sister no-showed, and when Jamie called the number again….she got a message that the line had been disconnected.

The outside was supposed to be very different.  Looking back, Jamie isn’t sure what she should have expected, but she didn’t expect overwhelming depression.  She’s down to her last $50 and she is getting hungry.  If she doesn’t find a job soon, she will be unable to pay her parole officer.  She will be back in prison in no time.  She considers hopping a bus to New Orleans, where the job market might be better, but her sister is in Gulfport, not New Orleans, and she isn’t supposed to leave the state. 

Mired in a funk and loneliness that matches the one she felt during the long, lonely nights of her incarceration, Jamie finally collapses on a city park bench and puts her head in her hands.  Tears flow between her fingers and a taboo thought enters her head.  The thought begins to really take seed, and in her current condition, Jamie seriously considers suicide for the first time in 13 years.  Of course there were times she thought about it until she acclimated to institutional life, but this is the first time she has seriously considered it since she was 20.  Such was her desperation and despair. 

Tears flow between her fingers.  She is crying so hard now that she can’t control herself.  Her shoulders lift and fall with each choking sob.  All the memories of the last 15 years come flooding back:  The years of drug abuse.  The robbery.  The shooting.  God, how she wishes she could turn back time and right all the wrongs. 

Crying so hard and so long, Jamie does not see the middle-aged woman wearing black approach.  She doesn’t sense anyone near…such is her despair…until the woman speaks softly to her, “Cry it out.  You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Jamie jumps at the sound, but the voice is so soothing she actually feels a little comforted.  A warm hand caresses her hair.  Jamie has always been a guarded person, but this time she actually feels safe.  Almost like when one of the better correction officers was on her housing unit.  She knew nothing bad would happen that day. 

Jamie doesn’t even resist when her face is pulled to the stranger’s shoulder.  She smells clean fabric and a light whiff of perfume hits her, but nothing feels dangerous.  She continues to let the stress of the last 15 years pour from her.  Finally, the tears begin to dry and she develops a bad case of the hiccups.  After awhile, she is able to catch her breath and she sees the stranger before her. 

The older woman is dressed in a fine dark blue pantsuit.  Her hair is perfectly coiffed, and her expensive jewelry shines in the bright Gulf sunlight.  What is she doing in this downtown park talking to a convicted felon?  Jamie wonders to herself, but something about the stranger puts her at ease.  The woman smiles and simply says, “You can tell me about it, if you wish.  I am a good listener.”

For the next hour and a half, Jamie bared her soul to a total stranger in a city park.  She held nothing back.  Nothing.  Not the drugs.  Not the robbery, nor the shooting.  She told the stranger about her sister, and her futile attempts to find her.  She told her about her attempts to get a job.  She even told the woman about the thoughts of taking her own life.  When she was finished telling her whole life story to someone she doesn’t even know, Jamie fully expected the stranger to quickly make an excuse to get away from her.  However, before she knew it, she was riding in the front seat of a late model Cadillac heading for a home on the coast in Pass Christian.
  Two days later, after being fed and allowed to rest, Jamie showed up at the address the older woman provided her.  It was a restaurant in downtown Biloxi owned by the woman’s son.  She walked in expecting a job interview.  She wasn’t expecting to be handed an apron and ticket book.  Four hours of training later, and Jamie was waiting on her own customers.  The woman’s son turned out to be as friendly as she was. 

Jamie got a little money and after some time, the woman’s son, Phillip, helped her get an apartment in Biloxi.  For the first time in 15 years, her life was looking up.  However, Jamie still hasn’t seen her sister, and the pain is becoming evident.  She would work double shifts just to get her mind off her sister.  The phone number never reconnected.  Every attempt to find a new one was a dead end.  The hole in Jamie’s life kept getting deeper and deeper.  Even though she was free, she was still bound. 

Chapter 4

A few weeks into her new job, Jamie was called into her boss’ office.  She has gotten to know him fairly well, and she feels pretty comfortable with him.  She knows he is happily married, so she doesn’t feel threatened in that way.  She enters his office and sits across from him.  He has a very kind smile, but there is something in his eyes that makes her a little nervous, but she still doesn’t feel threatened.  She is just grateful to finally be making her own way.

“Jamie, you have become my best waitress.  In a short period of time, you have developed a pretty good clientele here.  Many come in and immediately ask for you.”

Jamie smiles shyly, not sure where her boss is going.  It almost sounds like she is about to get a promotion.  A raise in pay would certainly be welcome. 

“I have a new job proposition for you.  A woman with your looks could make a lot more money that you ever would waiting tables.”

As he says this, his eyes drift down her thighs and back up again.  For the first time in weeks, Jamie feels nervous around this man. 

“Sir, I…”

Her boss must have picked up on the sudden nervousness in her voice, and he holds his hand up to cut her off.  “Jamie, you are a beautiful woman.  How you managed to stay so youthful and vibrant under your circumstances is amazing.  The world is your oyster, and this could be the first step.”

Jamie’s mind races as she tries to process what he is telling her.  What is he going to ask her to do?  She will never prostitute herself. For one thing, that could lead back to prison.  For another, she wants to live a life of honesty and integrity from here on out.  No, she will do nothing illegal.

Again, her boss must read what she is thinking in her eyes.  “Jamie, what I am going to ask is not illegal.  I would never ask you to do anything that would compromise your freedom.”  Jamie sighs, but keeps listening intently, “But this is an opportunity to really better yourself.  For you….and your sister.”

Now she is hooked.  “We found her, Jamie.  Your mother will not let her see you, but we think if you can show you can take care of yourself without having to rely on someone else, she may have a change of heart.”

Jamie leans forward, now intent on every word.  “Your sister is sick.  She needs a kidney transplant.  That’s why you can’t reach her.  She’s in the hospital in New Orleans.  They are looking for a donor.”

“I-I-I have to go there….” Jamie begins, but her boss raises his hand to cut her off again. 

“Your mother has told the staff not to let you in.  She told them you are on parole.  She will have you arrested for crossing state lines.”

Jamie sobs once and puts her face in her hands.  Tears sting her eyes as the hopelessness of the situation hits her. 

“Jamie.  You have a chance, though.  If you accept my offer.”

For a moment she keeps her head in her hands and cries.  After a few minutes, however, she lifts her eyes and says, “I’ll do anything.”

Her boss sits back in his chair with a smile and says, “Perfect.”  Then he outlines his plan. 

Jamie walks out of his office 15 minutes later, not believing what she just agreed to do.

Chapter 5

The next night, Jamie walks into a seedy, rundown warehouse near the docks in Gulfport.  A steady rain is falling outside, but it can’t match the storm in her soul.  She still cannot believe what she has agreed to do.  Maybe she really has lost her mind.  She consoles herself by saying at least she isn’t prostituting herself.  She carried a small bag filled with only the items she was told to bring. 

Taking a look around the parking lot, Jamie couldn’t believe the number of cars there.  Surely they aren’t here for this, she thinks to herself.  She rolls her eyes and walks to the door she was told to go through.  When she opens it an absolute gorilla of a man meets her!  He has to be at least 6’8” and weighs somewhere in the neighborhood of 340 lbs.  At least!  He’s obviously a biker.  He has all the hair, tattoos, and patches…including a One Percenter patch.  This guy is the real deal.  However, Jamie has to bite her lip to keep from laughing when he talks, “Right this way, ma’am.”  His voice is that of a prepubescent teenager.  She looks at the rippling muscle under his hair and has to gulp though.  He is huge!  He seems harmless enough, however.  She still tries hard not to laugh out loud. 

The giant leads her to a small room with a table, some chairs, and a sofa.  He tells her there is a shower through the far door.  She looks at him and he smiles, “No one will bother you.  I promise.”  He blushes as he makes his little promise, and she almost laughs again, but she is positive she will be safe in here. 

She slowly begins removing her clothes until she is completely naked.  She covers her breasts with her arms even though she is certain no one is watching.  Taking a towel from her bag, she follows the instructions her boss gave her.  The bathroom is out of place.  It would fit in the finest apartments in the city.  Jamie steps onto the cool tiles and lets the hot water stream down her body.  She scrubs and scrubs until she feels the warmth soak into every pore.  She washes her hair and steps out of the shower wrapped in towels.  Drying her body, then her hair, she stands before a steamed over mirror and brushes her hair because this is her nervous habit when she is thinking.  Jamie is scared.  She is more worried than she has ever been in her life.

After a few minutes of brushing her hair and worrying, she looks at the clock and sighs.  She has to get ready.  She gathers what she was told to wear from her bag, and dresses.  Then she begins doing something she is good at:  She starts stretching and warming up.  She feels this will come in handy when the real festivities begin. 

Jamie stretches and does some light exercising for about 15 minutes then she hears a knock on the door.  Her heart almost stops as she looks at the clock.  It’s time.  She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she is doing this for her sister.  She pulls her brown hair back into a tight ponytail and opens the door.  The giant is standing there with a sheepish smile.  “It’s time,” he says, and Jamie has to bite he lip to keep from laughing.  She nods and they begin walking down a dark corridor. 

The long hallway is cool and dank.  There is relatively little light, so Jamie has to walk so close to the giant that she fears she will bounce off him if he stops abruptly.  She actually does run into him when he stops at a door.  She starts to apologize, but he beats her to the punch, “I’m sorry, miss.”  He says almost like an impish child.  Jamie is too nervous to laugh now, though.  She simply replies, “It’s ok.”

The giant turns to her with his hand on the door handle, “If they get out of hand, I won’t let them hurt you.  They can be assholes sometimes,” he says with utmost sincerity.  Jamie looks up and simply says, “Thank you.”  She is sure he means it.  The giant nods then turns the handle.  Light pours into the recess and Jamie sees what may be her destiny.

Chapter 6

The interior of the warehouse is huge!  It has been stripped of all mechanical equipment and replaced with rows of seats along three sides.  Another few rows cover the fourth side and all face a central point.  It is toward this central point Jamie and the giant head.  A huge overhead light glares down on that point, but Jamie really can’t see what it is shining down on because all the seats are occupied.  She feels hundreds of eyes on her as she walks behind the giant.  There is no applause.  Nor is there any booing.  As a matter of fact, there are no sounds except for that of a hundred people breathing.  Their eyes gaze at her curiously.  She walks with her head down, not wanting to meet any of those eyes.  Jamie has to constantly remind herself this is for her sister.

They finally reach the outside of the central point of the room, and Jamie gets her first good look at it.  It looks like a horse pen surrounded by a wooden fence.  It isn’t very large….maybe 25 ft by 25 ft.  The floor is a hard wood washed very clean.  It looks like it was recently mopped.  Recently as in the last five minutes.  In the middle of that ring stands a young girl of maybe 18 or 19.  She is dressed almost exactly like me, except the oversized t-shirt she is wearing is black with a New Orleans Saints logo.  Her eyes look at me with curiosity…and maybe a little fear. 

Jamie forgets about the crowd for a few minutes and returns the blonde’s curious start.  How did she get here?  Is she like me?  Jamie ponders if this girl is any different than she was at 18.  Of course there are physical differences.  This girl is at least 5’7 and weighs probably around 130 lbs.  Jamie is close to that height at 5’6, and she weighs a healthy 120 lbs, thanks to all the running she did in prison. 

 Of course there was the age difference.  Jamie is at the most 15 years older than this girl, but Jamie is pretty sure she is in better shape.  However, there is no indication that will mean much in this situation.  It doesn’t hurt, but Jamie saw many fights over the years she was in prison.  The fat girls usually did pretty well.  In the few fights Jamie was in, she lost badly to a heavier, out of shape girl, won another one, and probably would have lost the third if officers hadn’t shown up. 

However, this isn’t prison, and this girl looks like she is about to jump out of her skin.

“Welcome ladies.”

I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the familiar voice and it snaps me back to reality.  I start at my boss, Phillip, who is standing between the other girl and me.  He is looking back and forth at both of us, and he has a warm smile on his face. 

“Ladies, I would like to introduce you to each other.”  He nods at the young blonde.  “This is Leslie.  Leslie is a waitress at a casino in Gulfport.  She’s been in a few catty fights back when she was in high school.  Nothing serious.”  He smiles and nods at Jamie.  “Now, this gentlemen is Jamie.  She is a manager at my restaurant in Biloxi.”  Jamie’s eyes cut to him.  A manager?  That’s new.  “She recently moved to Biloxi from,” Jamie cringes because now everyone will know she is a convicted felon, “…the northern part of the state, near Memphis.”  Jamie visibly relaxes a little.  “She’s a little older than Leslie, and she has been in more than one fight.”  He steps back leaving Jamie and Leslie facing each other and says, “Now ladies, please shake hands and good luck.”

Jamie and Leslie look at one another with the same curiosity they have had since their eyes first met.  They shake hands, but Leslie pulls her back a little quickly.  She is scared to death.  Jamie thinks she can use this to her advantage.  Or maybe it may make all the difference for Leslie. 

“The rules are simple, ladies,” Phillip says from the outside of the ring.  “Fight until one of you cannot continue.  We have already discussed the rewards.  There is a lot to be gained for the one who earns it.”  A quick glimpse of his face shows a wolfish smile, “You may now begin.”

Chapter 7

Jamie watches as her opponent steps back and removes her black Saints t-shirt.  Underneath she is wearing a red bikini with American flags that she obviously bought at Wal Mart.  Jamie knows it came from Wal Mart because she almost bought an identical one.  Jamie is now glad she opted for a black one with white hibiscus prints.  The girls simultaneously kick off their flip-flops.  Jamie feels the cold, hard wood under her feet…the swabbing of the floor still evident under her bare feet.  The odor of a strong, industrial cleaner hangs in the air.  Jamie watches Leslie closely and sees that the girl looks like she might bolt and run if she says so much as, “Boo!”  Leslie is a real beauty, but she has evidently had a rough life.  That much is evident from the multiple cuts up and down her forearms.  She has either tried to kill herself a few times, or she was/is a cutter.  Multiple tattoos cover her upper arms and her shoulders.  There’s even a tribal thing imprinted on her upper left arm.  A pretty black rose is prominently displayed on her right breast.  Her stomach shows slight evidence of stretch marks.  Seems Leslie might be a mommy.  Jamie saw enough stretch marks, living with inmates, to know a mommy when she saw one.  However, the blonde isn’t as soft as she first appeared.  Her arms are toned from long nights of carrying drink trays to intoxicated assholes at the slot machines.  Her legs are lean and strong looking from all the walking she has done crossing the casino floor.  She probably has good balance from much practice keeping those drinks on her tray while gamers cheer wildly or cry desperately.  The ancient blisters on her feet tell the story of the long nights on her feet.  This girl has had a rough life.  Jamie thinks of her own sister.  Will she turn out like Leslie?  That is, if she survives her affliction.  A dark anger fills Jamie’s throat when she thinks of the unfairness that has befallen her sweet sister.  That anger turns to hatred for life in general.  A red, hot steam fills her mind just as Leslie’s first punch slams into her jaw.

Jamie’s head snaps violently to the right and she nearly goes down to one knee.  The crowd finally makes noise…erupting into cheers and derisive comments aimed at one...or both…of them.  Leslie tries to follow the opening punch with a follow up left jab, but walks straight into a flurry of punches and slaps. 

Jamie gets her balance and sees the second punch coming.  She keeps her head low and plows forward under the punch right into the blonde’s sternum.  Her fists pound out two fast punches that land right between the blonde’s smallish breasts causing her to backpedal.  Jamie keeps chasing her across the ring and finally against the rails.  The blonde hits the hard wooden fence with surprised yelp just as Jamie rifles a hard jab at her face.  The punch snaps the taller girl’s head back as if on a hinge, but she shows she still has some fight in her.  She is frightened after all, but as any dog owner will tell you, the most dangerous animals are the ones who are backed into a corner. 

A tiny drop of blood falls from the blonde’s lip as she shoves against Jamie and locks her arms around her opponent’s back like a boxer.  Jamie takes a few steps back, herself, then braces her feet and begins hammering short punches into Leslie’s sides.  Each blow brings a little grunt from the blonde’s lips that would be cute under any other circumstance.  In this one, though, they tell Jamie the punches hurt.  The blonde presses forward, though, pushing her smaller opponent backwards until Jamie stumbles over her own feet and crashes to the floor.  The blonde stumbles and falls on top of her. 

The two women then clench their arms around each other and roll back and forth across the hardwood floor.  The room echoes with thumps and bumps as their elbows, knees, hands, and heads make contact with the floor.  Jamie never thought Leslie would put up such a hard fight.  Maybe her prison attitude was carrying over even on the outside.  While incarcerated, life becomes a game of hunter and prey even for women.  It is possible to avoid this game, but it is very difficult.  For the most part, Jamie managed to stay on the sidelines.  However, it took a few well-timed punches and some vicious hair pulling.  In the end she walked out of prison with her head held high, and her dignity somewhat intact. 

The bigger girl braces her hands on the floor, and the rolling comes to a stop.  This is bad for Jamie because Leslie is straddling her foe.  The blonde begins to throw wild punches into the older woman’s head, chest, and shoulders.  Jamie brings her arms and hands up for defense, but many of the wild blows find their mark.  One right jab, in particular, rocks Jamie’s head back so hard that it thumps off the floor behind her, leaving her dazed.  Staring at the blonde as she keeps punching and punching, Jamie considers giving up.  This is getting painful!  However, she thinks of her sister and the desire to be with her becomes too great.  Phillip never said he wouldn’t help her if she lost this fight, but Jamie really doesn’t want to take that chance.  She has to get to her sister.  That has become the rallying cry of her life! 

Jamie’s feet slap the floor and she bucks her hips as hard as she can in an attempt to force the bigger girl off.  She becomes a constant blur of motion as she struggles to get from under the younger girl, even with punches raining down on her hands and arms.  Finally, she gets lucky when she strikes out with a wild slap.  The slap, itself, doesn’t find it’s mark, but her thumb catches Leslie in the eye.  The bigger blonde’s hands go to her face, and Jamie hammers a hard right into her foe’s unprotected tummy.  She simultaneously bucks her hips causing the bigger girl to lose her balance and tumble onto her side. 

Jamie comes up as fast as she can in a blur of hands and feet….punching and kicking at her stunned opponent.  The bigger girl squeals and tries to roll away, but Jamie grabs her bikini bottoms and pull as hard as she can.  The thin material rides up into the younger girl’s butt crack causing another squeal that, in turn, causes the audience to erupt in laughter.  This infuriates the humiliated Leslie and she drives her elbow back into Jamie’s breastbone with such force that it knocks the fast approaching brunette onto her butt. 

Jamie lands so hard that she fears her tailbone has chipped.  She rubs her chest and tries to catch her breath; all the while the big blonde is bearing down on her.  Leslie gets to her feet and walks deliberately forward.  One of her eyes has a dark ring forming under it, and her lower lip is puffy, but she isn’t bleeding any longer.  As she approaches the stunned older woman, Leslie raises her foot and stomps down on Jamie’s shin. 

“NNGGGGHHHHHHHGGHHHAAAAGGHHHH!!!!!”

Jamie’s scream reverberates around the room.  The audience is now sitting in stunned silence watching the spectacle in front of them.  From the time Jamie first laid eyes on the younger girl, Leslie hasn’t said a word.  Not one.  She starts talking now, however.

“You’re fucking dead you old bitch.”  Her voice would be sweet under normal circumstances.  An image of her taking a drink order flashes through Jamie’s shell-shocked mind.  “And what can I bring you?  We have Bud Light on tap, Michelob in a bottle….” 

The calmness in Leslie’s eyes as she makes one statement makes Jamie’s blood run cold.  It doesn’t help that as she’s talking, she is grabbing Jamie’s ponytail and yanking so hard that Jamie is forced to go onto all fours to keep her neck from snapping.  With her left hand wrapped in the ponytail, she can use it as a lever to guide her victim wherever she wants to go.  In this case, she twists so hard Jamie is forced to look down.  Her chin touches her chest.  Then Leslie draws her right back and begins slamming well-aimed punches into the back of Jamie’s head and neck…each one causing the brunette’s teeth to rattle. 

Jamie sags to the floor.  Her sister’s voice echoes in her head, and it seems to be getting farther and farther away.  Tears drip onto the hardwood floor.  Jamie senses her sister has slipped through her grasp.  She has no doubt she will be tossed to the wayside following this disaster.  Another punch sends her sprawling to the floor.  Dirt and grime stick to her sweaty body.  She can’t focus.  The pain has made her numb.  Leslie lets go of her hair and drops her knee into the small of Jamie’s back with such force she nearly loses control of her bladder!  “Nhhhhhh.”  She grunts weakly.  She lays on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks.  She has failed.  She has failed her sister.  The one person in the world who depends on her, and Jamie has failed her. 

Leslie’s bare toes tickle Jamie’s cheek, smearing the tear.  “You done, bitch?”  She asks in her barmaid voice.  No response comes, so she pushes her toes into Jamie’s cheek, causing her mouth to open in a nasty grin.  “I asked you a question?  Are you done?”  Jamie’s eyes focus on the blonde’s toes.  She recently had a pedicure.  One of the things you become pretty good at in prison is judging foot size.  That way you know whom to befriend so you can get their boots when they leave.  Prison is complex and simple at the same time.  Leslie has pretty big feet…probably an 8…maybe 8 ½.  They are cute feet too.  That’s another thing one finds herself judging in prison:  feet.  Jamie has fond memories of the long, cold nights she spent locked in an 8x12 cell with her roommate…and part-time lover…Amanda.  Amanda was in for armed robbery.  She too made some very poor choices.  She too was young.  Amanda liked to run too.  She is probably still tackling the 10538 Trail.  Amanda had the smallest toes Jamie had ever seen on an adult.  The two of them spent many long, lonely nights caressing and massaging each other’s feet.  There are some memories from prison Jamie will look back upon with fondness. 

The ball of Leslie’s foot pushes on Jamie’s head again, “Answer me and I won’t hurt you anymore.”  Leslie’s voice now carries a hint of laughter.  Then her foot slams down between Jamie’s shoulders, driving her chest into the floor, knocking the wind from her again.  “I said answer me bitch!”  Leslie apparently has a cruel streak.

Thinking of prison brings back the memory of things Jamie wanted when she was finally granted her freedom.  All she wanted was a family.  As a matter of fact, that is all she has ever wanted.  In prison, Amanda was her family.  Out her, she has none.  Her sister is slipping from her grasp more and more each day.  She closes her eyes and the words come to her lips.  She is ready to give up.  But then she thinks of her sister lying in a New Orleans hospital, dying.  She has wanted nothing more than to see her.  Now she wants nothing more than to see her once.  Just give me one chance.

“What was that?”  Another kick slams into her shoulder blades.

“Ngggghhhh,” Jamie grunts, but her eyes pop open.  She hasn’t been angry since she was 18.  There is no reason to be angry when you are facing 15 years looking at cold, gray walls.  She did that to herself.  No reason to be angry then.  But she has a reason to be angry now.  She locks her eyes on those toes with the perfect pedicure.  Anger surges into her throat and grows hot as it washes into her face.  For the last 15 years, Jamie has had nothing to focus on except finding her family.  Now she has someone to focus on for the short term.  The one person who seems to be standing between her and the opportunity she has wished for over those last few years.  She focuses on those cute toes…so long and perfect.  They are painted a very cute shade of hot pink.  I guess the color is coral.  Then those toes seem to tense and they grip the floor.  Jamie times it for a second then pushes her hands against the floor and does a perfect pushup. 

Leslie’s foot comes down for another stomp, but she is still just starting the motion and the pushup catches her off guard.  She loses her balance as Jamie’s upward motion changes the plane of her foot.  When she tries to lower her leg, it lands on Jamie’s side.  The older woman is turning toward her and that makes Leslie get further off balance.  Then Jamie lashes out with a wild kick at Leslie’s balancing knee. 

“Aggghhhhh!”  The blonde screams, as her knee is suddenly hyper extended backwards.  The sole of Jamie’s foot pushing against the kneecap with such force, Leslie actually drops like a rock onto the hardwood floor, face first.  Her head thumps and she signs once and goes limp. 

The frustration, desire, and yes, the anger, of the last 15 years overwhelms Jamie.  She grabs the fallen girl’s head and slams her face first onto the hardwood floor so many times Jamie loses count.  Rolling her victim over, Jamie straddles her chest and pins her victim’s upper arms with her knees.  For the next minute and a half, she rains punches from every angle down on the barely conscious blonde until she stops moving.  Tiring of this, Jamie gets to her knees, but she grabs Leslie’s hair…pulling her onto her side.  As she stands, she forces the blonde to get to her knees.  Leslie obeys and hangs her head limply.  Her lips move as if she is trying to speak, but the words do not come.  Although still angry, Jamie looks at her boss.  He has a smile, but he says, “Finish her, Jamie.”

That simple sentence can mean so many different things, but Jamie only registers one:  End this now, or forget about ever finding your sister.  Jamie yanks the blonde’s head up and draws her right fist back.  As she rockets the punch at the beaten girl’s jaw, she drops to one knee to get even more force behind it.  A funny thing happens, though.  Leslie finally opens her mouth to speak…probably to ask for mercy…or at least that’s what Jamie later thinks.  However, her mouth opens at the wrong time. 

Jamie’s punch slams onto Leslie’s lower mandible with such force she can feel the crush of the bones.  She will never forget the look of shock and horror on the blonde’s face as she crumples to the floor unconscious with her lower jaw hanging at such an odd angle.  Jamie sits down heavily beside her victim, just staring….her unbelieving eyes staring at her handiwork with her own horror.  The room is so quiet she hears a strange hissing and feels something warm on her foot.  When she looks down, she gasps and shoves the beaten girl away from her with her feet…recoiling violently from the growing pool of urine.  The crowd actually laughs at this sight!  They think Jamie is making fun of her victim.  They couldn’t be farther from the truth.  She caused this.  For the second time in her life, Jamie is the source of someone’s misery.  Suicide looks like the most viable option. 

Chapter 8

The giant finally enters the pen and helps her to her feet.  He leads her down the long dark corridor to her dressing room.  She sits and stares at the walls of her new cell for at least an hour.  Tears flow down her face. 

A knock on the door brings her back to reality.  Wrapping a towel around herself, she lets Phillip into the room.

“You were a hit,” He says dispassionately.

 “H-How is s-she?” Jamie asks, her voice quivering. 

“She’ll survive.  That was quite a punch.” 

His blasé attitude infuriates Jamie.  “Please take me to my sister.”

“In good time.  Your next fight is a week from today.”

Jamie looks at him in shock.  “Next fight?  I’m not doing that again!” She states flatly.

For the first time in the short frame she has known him, Phillip frightens Jamie.  That tends to happen when someone grabs you by the throat and you nearly black out.  Phillip’s hand clamps down tightly.  “You made me a lot of money tonight.  That won’t change.  What would your parole officer think of your new career?”  The threat isn’t even implied.  If her parole officer found out about Leslie, she would spend the next ten years in prison. 

Phillip lets go of her throat with a shove.  As she staggers back, Phillip flips an envelope to her.  “I almost forget.  Here’s your pay.  Good night’s work.”  His sweet smile returns and it’s like the previous two minutes never happened.  “See you tomorrow.  Let Robbie know if you need medical attention.” 

With that, he is gone.  A glance in the envelope tells Jamie she just earned more money than she would make in three months at the restaurant.  What of that poor girl, though?

A warm shower takes care of many of the aches and pains of this night, but her mind keeps coming back to the Leslie and her jaw.  Hot tears sting her eyes when she opens her door.  “Robbie?”  The giant’s eyes move to her shyly when she says his name.  “Take me to the hospital.”  Without a word, Robbie complies.

Later that night, Jamie finds the room.  She spends the next 15 hours sitting with Leslie, holding her limp hand and whispering over and over, “I am so sorry.”  She didn’t believe she could ever run out of tears. 

Later the next day…after she finally nodded off…a grip on her hand wakens her.  She looks up into Leslie’s blue eyes and gets another squeeze of her hand.  The look in those blue eyes tells her she is forgiven.

Confessions of a Reformed Cheerleader (Chapter 2: A Hot Mess)

“Get up and come over here!”

I sigh and take a deep breath, “I can’t….”

“Bullshit!  I said get up and get over here!”

“Ugghhhhh…I really can’t.”  Grimacing, “My back hurts!”

“It will hurt a lot more if you don’t get the fuck up and get your stupid ass over here!”

I hang my head, but I don’t wait for another reply.  I work my legs under me and get to my feet….nearly falling…but getting my balance.  I stand as erect as I can, but my back really does hurt.  Of course it hurts!  Crazy bitch has slammed me on it about a hundred damn times!

Grrr!!!

I walk across the wrestling ring to my personal coach and trainer.  Mary has been retired for a couple years, but she still looks like she could step between the ropes and win titles.  I know she could take me apart….she’s proven it on an almost daily basis for the last month and a half. 

I stand in front of her and look slightly up…she’s about two inches taller, and twenty pounds heavier.  She’s seen many battles, and her body shows the scars.  However, she has won most of them.

“Can we stop for the day?”  I ask hopefully.  I try to look as tired as possible, but I already know the answer.

“No.  No we cannot.  I have to have you ready by this time next month and…sadly…you are a year away from being near ready.  Now, shut up and let’s do the drill again!”

I sigh and walk to the corner…then I run out and jump into the air and land on my back.  We have been doing this for almost five hours.  My whole body hurts.  I have to learn how to fall…to fall without hurting myself or anyone else.  But I have to wonder if there really is a way to fall without hurting yourself.  I mean, really?  Maybe you just do it so many times you get immune to pain.

That time didn’t hurt so badly.  Maybe I did it right!

“Again!”

Maybe not….

[b][u]Chapter Two[/u] (A Hot Mess)[/b]

“She isn’t ready.”  Mary firmly states.  Her eyes locked on Lorie’s across the conference table.  “No where near ready.”

I can sense a great deal of tension between the two women.  I don’t think they much like each other.  However, Lorie is the president, and Mary an employee.

“She has to be ready, Mary.  It has been four months.  They are clamoring for her! Her debut is still the most talked about experience since our last match!”

Their last match?  Interesting.

“Lorie, she is not ready.  She is going to get hurt…or hurt someone else.  I won’t sign off on this.  You can’t make me.”

“Fuck you Mary!”  Lorie leaps to her feet and points her finger in Mary’s face.  “She is ready!  She has to be!  Next Friday night you will open the damn curtains and lead her to the fucking ring!”

My mouth drops open because I never thought Mary would stand being talked to this way.  I nod my head when I learn I am right.  Mary literally jumps out of her chair and chest bumps Lorie.  “I will take you apart if you don’t get out of my face!  How dare YOU!”  Her voice rises with each word. 

“Catfight!” Tony whispers from beside me then laughs.  I bite my lip and shrug.

There is no catfight, though.  The others in the room quickly separate the two women.  As Mary straightens her blouse, she hisses, “I beat you last time and I will again if you talk to me like that.”

Lorie has calmed by this time and she responds with, “Friday.  Her next match is Friday.”

With that she regains her composure and stalks out of the room.

Mary slams her hands on the table and sits down heavily.  Fuming for a few minutes until you can visibly see her mood change.  “I guess your next match is a week from Friday,” she says softly.

__________________________________________________


The next week is a whirlwind of activity as I prepare for what Mary calls my ‘real debut.’  She says I never had a chance against Marie, even though I got in some lucky moves.  “Marie would take you apart in a rematch right now.  Probably would several years down the road.”  I roll my eyes at Mary’s vote of confidence.

I do see Marie from time to time.  I was always told how wrestlers went at each other in the ring, but were friends outside.  Marie apparently didn’t get that memo.  When she saw me training in the gym she hit the ring like a whirlwind and chased me out with a chair. 

Luckily, Mary was there to keep her from killing me.  I might have been able to out run her…if I hadn’t gotten tangled in the ropes and fell on my head. 

Ouch!

The second time she saw me, she rushed the ring and actually got me.  She must have forgot how to wrestle.  She also forgot to put on clothes (I later learned she was taking a shower when I came in.  A troublemaker named Kayla told her I was in the ring).  Anywho, a very angry…and very naked Mawee stormed the ring and caught me.  As I said, she must have forgot how to wrestle, because she was throwing punches!

Imagine the look on my face when I was dragged to my butt from behind!  My ponytail held tight in a naked girl’s hands.  She’s dripping wet with shampoo in her hair!  Her first punch catches me on the chin.  The second in the throat.  The third on the ear.  I don’t remember four through twenty-five.  I woke up with Mary holding smelling salts under my nose! 

After that, Lorie and Mary decided that Marie and I should not schedule gym times on the same days.  I thought that was a pretty good idea. 

__________________________________________________________


Friday finally came and I thought I was ready.  Sitting in the dressing room…already in my wrestling attire: a purple sports bra with purple spandex boy shorts and gold high top Cons with purple laces.  For a final touch, I used black grease paint to make little marks like football players under my eyes.  I have no idea why I did this, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Yep.  I’m ready.

“You’re not ready, but here we are.”  Of course Mary is always here to pull me back to earth.  A girl has to stay grounded, you know.

We all have our own little ways of dealing with nerves.  I guess giving lap dances is mine.  It also happens to be a good way to warm up.  I am pretty sure Tony didn’t mind.  Mary did, however.  She seemed aghast when she walked in on us. 

Anywho, she nodded that it’s time to head to the ring.  She walks with a look of disgust that actually hurts my feelings a little.  I know I am not the best student she’s had.  I also know I am not the easiest person to get along with.  But I have been training hard.  Maybe she is being too harsh on me.  I have tried to soak in all the knowledge she is teaching.  It’s not my fault if my ADD gets in the way!  Boo!  She hasn’t so much as paid me a compliment.  Seems I have done nothing right.  As I walk into the dark arena, a feeling of sadness washes over me.  I am about to embarrass myself.  I am not ready.

At that very moment it occurs to me….no one has mentioned my opponent.

_____________________________________________________________

By the time I wonder who my opponent is, I have already heard the announcement and I didn’t even pay attention to her name.  I almost ask Mary as we walk down the aisle, but she would probably ridicule me more.  How can someone who doesn’t even know who her opponent is be ready for a match?

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!  GRACING OUR RING FOR THE SECOND TIME!  PLEASE WELCOME THE NEWEST PHENOM!  A LEGEND IN THE MAKING!  PERHAPS THE NEXT BEST THING TO COME FROM THE GREAT STATE OF LOUISIANA!  THE CAJUN QUEEN HERSELF!  GIVE IT UP FOR THE BAYOU BEAUTY!  CHEERLEADER JONI!!

Oh well, too late to worry about that stuff.  I have business to attend to!

[i]Jump around
Scream and shout
Joni spirit, is what it’s all about[/i]

I literally hop and skip down the aisle all the way to the ring.  Tony and Mary are panting by the time they finally catch up to me, but I am already on the ring apron blowing kisses and waving at the boisterous audience.  Smiling wide and showing all my perfect teeth…I certainly look more confident than I feel. 

Climbing into the ring, I grab the ropes and stretch my shoulders.  The crowd actually on it’s feet.  It seems they might have come to see me.  Lorie called me the ‘next superstar,’ and the announcer sure did his part to play that up.  Maybe I might make it after all.  Anyway, here I am.  Ready or not world…here I come!

The roar of the crowd finally subsides and I turn to look for my opponent.  I see her looking at me with total contempt and disdain.  However, I try to stay excited and keep the crowd into it, so I raise my hands and hop up on the bottom rope and hold my hands high over my head.  I shout:

[i]“GIVE ME A J!”[/i]

To my shock…the crowd replies:  “J!”

I giggle when I see Mary’s cheeks flare red, “GIVE ME AN O!!”

“O!”

[i]“GIVE ME A N!!!"[/i]

“N!”

[i]"GIVE ME AN I!!”[/i]

“I!”

Smiling at the crowd and finally hopping down off the ropes, “WHAT’S THAT SPELL?”

I don’t get an answer.  My opponent’s shoulder slams into my back so hard, I tumble from the ring onto the mats surrounding the outside.

_____________________________________________________________


“Why do I have to fight THAT?!?!”

A whiny, nasally voice echoes through the shockwaves in my head.  I look up to the ring and see blonde hair haloed by the light.  Mawee?  No.  It’s too big to be Mawee.  Besides, Mawee would  be standing on my throat by now.  I grab the apron and use it to pull myself to my feet.  The bell rings and the referee starts counting me out.  However, my opponent isn’t finished whining. 

“I don’t want to look at THAT…let alone touch THAT!”

I have seen her around.  She’s the ring leader of a group that calls themselves the Silk Stocking Tramps, or something like that.  I think her name is Heidi.  She’s really cute…in a spoiled, slutty kind of way, but from the way I have seen her treat everyone, she’s a total bitch!  I mean..look at her outfit?!?!  How the fuck can you wrestle in that?!?!  How?!?!

Heidi bounces around the ring wearing a slutty crimson one piece with the midsection bared.  It looks like silk.  I swear to gawd!  Silk!  What the fuck!  Silk!  Of course, she has on her trademark black stockings under that atrocity!  If there was ever someone they would make high-heeled wrestling boots for, it would be Heidi!  I am really shocked she isn’t wearing crimson high heels.  I mean it.  I am not joking.

I grab the ropes while she is whining and pointing. The poor ref already looks overwhelmed.  I pull onto the apron, but that is as far as I get.

“I can’t touch HER!”  Heidi whines….her voice really grating.  Then she touches me.  She grabs my hair and drops to her knees causing my throat to drop across the middle rope.  “AGGHHHH!!!!” I gasp and fall back to the floor.

“Back off Ms Foster!”  The referee yells and tries to corral the blonde back to her corner.

 “Shut uppppppp!!!” 

“One….two…..three…..”

The ref begins his count but I am not sure he’s counting me out or counting her to make her go to her corner.  I can still hear her though.

“Count faster!  Get to ten!  I will take a disqualification!  I don’t want to touch her!  She’s got dirty hands!”

Rubbing my throat, I get to my feet and this time I walk to the steps…climbing them and watching my opponent closer this time.

“I mean…look at HER!  She’s so……pitiful!”  Heidi’s head bobs while talking.  “She has to come from a poor family….those clothes!  Oh. My. GAWD!”  Pointing and bobbing her head at me as I get back in the ring.  “I mean….totally AWFUL!  I’m not touching her.  No way.”  The blonde crosses her arms and nods her head curtly to put an exclamation point on her last remark…a pout on her lips making her look like a towheaded child. 

Welp, the match is very early and I have already had just about enough of Heidi and her verbal jabs.  I step through the ropes while her back is too me and I drop back into the ropes.  Coming off, I run at her and jump leading with my feet.  Her head is still bobbing and her arms still crossed when my Cons hit her right between the shoulder blades..She pitches forward into the referee so hard the both nearly fall out of the ring.

The crowd erupts in wild torrents and catcalls when the blonde falls to the canvas and bounces. 

“HEYYYY!!!  Get her away from MEEEE!!!!”  Heidi literally squeals as she scoots across the ring on her tushie.  I give chase but she makes it to the ropes and the referee has no alternative but to stop me and make me go back to my corner.  Cursing myself for not being faster, I have no choice but to let the blonde get up.

“No FAIR!  Disqualify HER!  She CHEATED!!!”

Heidi gets to her feet, pleading with the ref to ring the bell.  She grabs his sleeve, imploring him to make me leave the ring.  I even think she has a tear on her cheek.

“She CHEATED!!!” 

Holy crap!  She just stamped her foot!

“Ms Foster!  Either leave the ring or wrestle!”  The referee finally declares.  Heidi starts to protest, but the ref raises his arm to call for the bell, and she huffs and puffs, but goes to her corner.

“I doooonnnnnnn’ttttt waaaannnntttt to touch HER!”  She whines but she moves out of the corner and starts circling the ropes….her eyes on me.  I will say this about Heidi.  She may whine and cry….A LOT, but she moves like an athlete.  One look at her and you can tell she is no pushover.  Her shoulders are wide like a (Gasp!) cheerleaders.  Her arms are tanned and toned from long days in the training room.  Her footfalls hardly make a sound on the mat and the ring doesn’t vibrate at all.  Her eyes belie her attitude.  I would never turn my back on this opponent.  If I did I would probably have to peel myself off the wall. 

I stalk with her in a tight circle and suddenly I lunge out with a move Mary showed me.  The old collar and elbow tie up.  That seems like a good place to start.  However, to my shock, Heidi squeals “Don’t touch ME!”…steps to the side and let’s my momentum carry me right into her oncoming thigh.  The blow knocks the wind from me, and as I double over, she grabs my hair and drags me face first into the mat.

THUDDDD!!!

The canvas burns as it scrapes across my nose and I gasp “fuckkkk!”  I blush when Heidi seems to laugh slightly, but then her arm slips around my neck and tightens.  Pulling my back to her chest as her leg slips across my body locking me against her.  “FUCKKK!”  I guess she doesn’t mind touching me now!

“I’m going to snap your filty little neck bitch!”  She whispers in my ear but she doesn’t try to break my neck.  Instead, she tries to choke me.  I gasp and squirm and slobber all over her…Okay, maybe I got a little melodramatic, but it’s worth it when the referee inspects the hold and yells, “Break it Foster!  One….two…..”  I pull away and roll toward the ropes.  My lungs burning from the choke. 

“It was totally LEGAL!  What the hell ref?!?!  You fucking her TOO?!?!”

Okay, that made me blush.  Who else is fucking the ref?  I wonder…..

I guess it doesn’t matter, however.  I grab the ropes and pull myself to my feet and see Heidi on hers arguing with the referee.  I rush at her again…remembering how well it worked for me last time.  I lower my head to go for a tackle and take an elbow right in the forehead.  Staggering back, her boot drives into my midsection.  Seeing stars and gasping for air. This is starting to remind me of the Mawee Bee match….

I roll onto my tummy and try to push myself to my hands and knees.  I am getting the hell beat out of me by a whiny, spoiled rich bitch who is most likely one of the federation’s biggest jobbers.  Maybe Mary was right.  I am not ready.  I glance in her direction, and see her looking at the floor shaking her head.  She’s rubbing her temples like she has a migraine.  I have that effect on people.

I don’t have much time to contemplate whether I am ready or not.  Heidi has apparently gotten over her phobia of touching me.  Her hand grips my ponytail and pulls me to my knees.  Once there, she unloads a hard knee right into my chest.  The blow knocks me backwards, but Heidi yanks on my hair to keep me upright.  Another knee to the chest, and then she lets me go, but I think it’s only because the referee has gotten to 8 on his 10 count.  However, I am not safe yet.  A cute crimson boot slams between my shoulder blades, knocking me to the canvas.

“Not so tough now are ya, baby?”  Heidi’s voice is no longer grating.  Now it is condescending.  This is the attitude I have always most associated with her.  The problem is, she usually attacks with her partners.  They have a bad habit of ganging up on their enemies.  The problem for me is Heidi apparently needs to partners to handle me.  She is kicking my ass pretty well on her own!

A hard tug and I am back on my knees.  A little yank and I am bent backwards.  One step and suddenly two powerful thighs clamp around my ears.  Next thing I know I am staring into the silky crimson crotch of my opponent’s outfit!  My nose about half an inch from her most intimate anatomical features!  I should have about a thousand thoughts racing through my brain, but the only thing I can think of at this moment is, I hope she is wearing panties. 

One step back and I am sitting on my heels.  I must look a sight!  I guess Mary was right. I am not ready, and Heidi is going to prove that in spades! 

The taller blonde…oh I forget to mention, Heidi really is bigger than me.  Unlike Mawee, Heidi looks like an Amazon next to me.  Well, she looks like one now….with me sitting on my heels, bent backwards, with her crotch in my face (Literally!  She squats and suddenly my nose sinks in about an inch!).  Heidi might be 5’4”….looks around 6’4” right now….and she weighs around 240 lbs.  Okay, not really.  She might weigh 120…maybe a few pounds less.  But that’s not the point!  She whines and cries, but this girl can wrestle!  She knows her stuff.  Okay, well maybe she doesn’t, but she looks like it against me!

WHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

Since I am so totally outclassed, I simply try to regain my composure and survive.  This isn’t going to be easy…considering I have my nose in my opponent’s ass…but I have to try.  I tell myself this will be my last match. 

(Ya know….odd but the thought to tap out never crosses my mind.  I guess I really am too dumb for this after all)

When I get out of this, I will make a beeline to the dressing room, pack, leave, and never come back.  I will grab Tony and just go.  I should have learned from the Marie episode, but I have always been hardheaded.  Mary was right.  Even if I was ready for this match, I would never be ready to be the superstar Lorie wants me to be.  Maybe I don’t have the talent to pull it off.  Maybe I don’t have the talent to do anything.  Maybe I am a hopeless cause.

Anywho, things go from back to worse.  Heidi tires of scissoring my nose into her butt crack, so she step back…freeing my head…but she drops to one knee and put my nose into an even worse place….her armpit.  My boobs point at the ceiling and she lowers my shoulders so that pain ripples through my arched back.  Her arm tightens and begins to cut off the flow of blood to my head.  I actually know this hold.  During one of my training sessions, Mary got mad at me and put me in this.  It’s called a Dragon Sleeper.  I took a nice long nap that afternoon.  Looks like I may be taking another one tonight.

Again, it never occurs to me to simply tap Heidi’s thigh.  I mean….it’s right there!  All I would have to do is tap.  The referee is standing in front of me saying something.  Looking back…I am pretty sure he is imploring me to submit.  However, I can’t hear anything he is saying.  That and the crowd noise have been drowned out by the roaring in my ears.  It also doesn’t help that one side of my head is mashed against Heidi’s boob and they other ear is being smashed by her upper arm.  One thing I can do now, though, is look into Heidi’s eyes.  I can’t hear a word she is saying, but she is talking to me.  Talking to me plenty.  I should probably happy I don’t know what she is saying, but I still have a pretty good idea what it is.  She is pretty much claiming ownership. 

I can’t say I am in much of a position to dispute that right now.

Heidi clamps down on the sides of my neck…further limiting the blood flow to my brain.  Mary has said on many occasions that I don’t have much blood flowing to my brain anyway, so this can’t be good.  My eyelids begin to flutter and my breath gets shallow.  I am past the point of panic.  My head feels lighter and lighter by the moment, and the ref grabs my wrist, lifts it, and lets my arm fall limply to my side.  He lifts it a second time and lets go, but this time I keep it up, but it starts slowly drooping…just like my eyes.  I can tell by the frantic look on his face, he is literally begging me to give up.  Somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of my brain…something tells me he is probably right.  I didn’t come here to get permanently damaged.  Something down there tells me to tap out before I black out.

Ha!  Almost unconscious and I can still make a rhyme!  One thing I always could do was cheer!  That’s one thing I am good at…motherfuckers!

 I lift my hand and reach toward Heidi’s thigh, but just as I begin to tap….she lets me go and I flop to the mat with my heels under my butt.  She let me go. 

Did I tap?  Is it over?  Did I pass out?

I don’t much think so.  I can still open my eyes, and Heidi is parading around the ring pointing and obviously mocking me!  Her fat ass even does a cheer!  What a bitch!

Pretty good moves, though…..

Anywho…I instantly hate her.

The match apparently isn’t over.  The ref is checking me and when I can understand what he is saying, he asks, “Do you want to continue?”


Hell no!  I don’t want to continue!  I want this nightmare to end!  But I nod my head up and down.  He steps back and when he does Heidi grabs my ankles and bends then 90 degrees then stomps on my tummy.  Following that, she drags me to the corner.  I don’t resist much.  I can’t.

A few more taunts…these I can hear…and she hooks her arms under my armpits and drags me to the turnbuckles.  She somehow manages to get my butt onto the second turnbuckle…then the top one…so that I am sitting on the top rope.  She steps up to the second one and locks my head under her arm.  I don’t know what she has planned, but it can’t be good.  All sorts of bad things can happen up here. 

I don’t want to fall.

Please, don’t let me fall. 

Maybe Heidi has some redeeming qualities.  She grabs the side of my shorts at the waistband and bunches them in her hand to keep me steady. 

She won’t let me fall.

So sweet….

The way her arm has my head trapped I am looking at the mat.  I feel her weight shift, but I am not worried.  She is holding onto to me.  Maybe she really is my friend.

So sweet….

Her muscles tense and tighten. 

My new friend is really straining to make sure I don’t fall.

She strains so hard to keep my from falling that my butt comes off the top turnbuckle. 

So sweet….

Then I realize what she is going to do!

Heidi is decidedly not my friend.

Fuck sweet!  This bitch is crazy!

She leans back to pull me into a suplex off the top rope and in a moment of panic I suddenly push my shoulder into her chest and shove with my feet.  I have to get off these ropes!

Next thing I know we are falling. 

SHIT!

One of two things will happen here.  She will drive the top of my head into the mat and make it pop like a balloon…or she will bend my head under and snap my neck.

Damn my fear!

Neither of those things happens, however.  For some reason,  she lets go of my head and when we land…I land on top of her.  I actually feel her breath rush from her lungs.  Because of the way she was holding me, her legs are up at a 90 degree angle and for some reason I grab them both under the knees and pull forward.  The force of the impact bounces me onto her chest and I lean forward putting all 107 lbs of me onto her shoulder and neck.  The referee drops to his knees in front of me and lifts his hand and slams it down once…..twice…..my hand grips Heidi’s trademark silk stockings and pulls her butt toward her head…..the ref’s hand falls a third time. 

The next thing I know he is standing and waving toward one side of the ring then he is patting me on the shoulder.  Heidi finally manages to kick me off her, but as she gets to her feet…the referee steps between us and yells something in my direction.

What did he say?

I’m so confused….

He grabs my wrist and pulls my arm over my head.  He shouts again….”WINNER!”

I look at him in utter amazement.  It doesn’t hit me until the announcer says over the PA:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN….YOUR WINNER AT THE 13 MINUTE 32 SECOND MARK OF THE MATCH…..CHEERLEADER JONI THE CAJUN QUEEN!!!

My eyes nearly bulge out of my head and I keep my arm up even after the referee lets it go.  A feeling of joy that I can’t readily explain washes over me.  Tony and Mary are in the ring by now…Tony is dancing around like he won the lottery.  Mary is shaking her head in disbelief. 

Heidi…on the other hand…is inconsolable. 

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!  She screams in frustration and anger.  “SHE CHEATED!!!”  She even tries to show the referee how I cheated by theatrically grabbing her own suit and pulling them so tight they ride into her ass giving her a wedgie so painful she yelps and comes at me.  One glance from Mary, however, stops her in her tracks. 

In response to all of this, the referee again points at me and shouts, “WINNER!”

It takes another moment, but the realization really begins to sink it.  I WON!  I BEAT HEIDI! 

Maybe I am a superstar in the making.

[i]Great job
Super well done
Come on Joni
Let’s score another one![/i]

I guess I really made a spectacle after my first victory celebration.  I am pretty sore now, but at the time, I was turning cartwheels in the ring, running from corner to corner, and screaming and shouting.  The crowd liked it.  It was like they were watching me at Tony’s club.  Only then didn’t throw dollar bills at me.

Boo!

Anywho, Mary looked disgusted when she finally got me to leave the ring.  However, as I stepped down, I caught a glimpse of Lorie’s face, and I will never forget the look of smug satisfaction I saw.  I think she really believes a star is being born.

[i]Our spirit…is outta control
Let it roll, let it roll, let it roll![/i]


Later in the dressing room, I am still jubilant.  I WON!  Mary, on the other hand, isn’t sharing in my excitement.

“You got lucky.”

“I know!  Isn’t it great?!?!”

“Great?”  The look of utter frustration on her face causes my mood to darken a little.  “She was about to snap your spine.  You were on the verge of losing to one of the biggest jobbers in the federation.  You were losing badly.”  A look of sympathy….almost, “Joni, you are not ready.  You are going to get hurt….”

Her words fade out when the door opens and an excited Lorie rushes in! 

“You’re a HIT!  You are about to go PRIMETIME!  Your next match will be our feature event on the Friday Night line up!”

Mary’s ominous warning is now forgotten.  This star is burning bright.

[i]Jam!
Say what? Say what?
Jam!
That’s what we do!
We Jam!
We do for you!
We turn around, touch the ground
Get back up, and Jam it down![/i]

Confessions of a Reformed Cheerleader (Chapter One)

[b]Confessions of a Reformed Cheerleader[/b]
By Jonica

[u][b]Prologue[/b][/u]

[i]We came to win
oh yea thats right
Were #1
Purple Gold and White
Tigers Live on top
were a team
that Cant be stopped!!![/i]

Hi!  My name is Joni.  If you haven’t guessed yet, I used to be a cheerleader.  Of course I never cheered for LSU, but THAT was my dream!  I did make it to college and I did cheer, but that is for later in the story!  This tale is about how I became a top flight wrestler in a little organization full of top flight wrestlers!  I might have been loved.  I might have been hated.  But one thing for sure…I left an impression! 

Are you wondering why I use so many exclamation points?!?!  Because I’m a cheerleader, silly!  Or I used to be….

As with any story there has to be a starting point.  Of course this one does.  It all started my senior year in high school.  I had been cheering for almost eight years by this time, and truth be told I didn’t know much else.  I was so focused on cheering the teams on to victory, I forgot about all that studying and book learning I was supposed to be doing to.  I was one of those lucky few who got to be a senior twice!  You know what that means…right?!?!  Of course you do! 

TWO PROMS!!!! 

Well, needless to say, mommy and daddy weren’t very happy about my progress in school, but I did get an extra year to hone my cheerleading.  After working with a tutor three hours following each cheer practice, I managed to work my way up to a 2.1 grade point average (amazing, right?!?!  I know!!!), and they let me graduate!  From there I went on to (unfortunately not LSU) Southeast Iberia Parish Community College, where I was all conference cheer squad each year for four years in a row!

[i]The ‘biters are the best,
So much better than the rest,
Scoring, tackling passing as well,
We’re the best cant you tell?!?![/i]

SIPCC even let me graduate with an associate’s degree in home economics after those four years.  The cheer coach hated to see me go, but alas, I did.  Then it was into the real world.  I would say my parents were proud, but I can’t find them.  Last I heard…the day I started SIPCC…they were sailing around the world with all the money from my LSU trust fund (Thank goodness for federal financial aid!).  I did get a post card from the Palau Islands the Christmas of my second sophomore year!

Anywho…sorry, got sidetracked…this is the story of how I became a wrestler!  After college, I couldn’t find a job.  I mean….who wouldn’t want to hire a former cheerleader with an AS degree in Home Ec?  I know, right?!?!  But that was the problem.  There wasn’t anything available.  I looked and I searched, but nothing came open.  One day I sat down on a park bench and cried.  The next thing I know, this kind man named Tony sat next to me and tried to cheer me up.  He had a weird accent…kind of hillbilly-ish, but with a nasally Yankee twang.  Does that make sense?  To my surprise, he put his hand on my thigh and offered me a job!  I didn’t know at the time what the job was, but how bad could it be?  I mean….he made me feel so good about myself!  He told me how pretty I am…how I could be making plenty of money to buy shoes and clothes and tv’s and an iPad and maybe even a Mustang!  OMG!  A MUSTANG!  Can’t you just see me driving a new Mustang?!?! 

O!

M!

G!

OMG!!!

Tony made me feel so good about myself.  He caressed my thigh until I stopped crying and offered to give me a foot massage!  My feet did hurt.  I had been wearing Western boots without socks all day (I looked great in my halter top and Daisy Dukes!  I really don’t understand why I couldn’t get a job.  Maybe if I had worn my cowgirl hat!  Maybe…), so how could I refuse! 

Tony had an office in the back of this neat place downtown!  He even had a leather sofa in there…next to the hot tub!  There is one thing I never could figure out about his office, though.  He had one big shiny brass pole holding up the ceiling.  One pole!  Holding up the WHOLE ceiling!  WOW!  That had to be a strong pole!  I would have been mad at my contractor though.  It was right in front of his desk…it had to be a distraction. 

One thing about cheerleaders…former or current…you have to be good dancers.  So for the next four years, I got to dance and cheer more!  Can you believe it?!?!  I go to CHEER more!  Well, it wasn’t the kind of cheering you would see on Saturday night in Death Valley (well…maybe ya could!), but I did get to keep performing.  AND Tony was right!  I made a whole bunch of money!  One night…this little shiny strapless top I was wearing slipped a little….I’ll go ahead and say it…I accidentally flashed the crowd!  It was embarrassing, at first, but these guys started pelting me with money!  I thought it was trash, but it turns out they were throwing wadded up balls of money at me!  Mostly one dollar bills…there were a few fives and a couple tens and twenties in there…but even those add up after awhile!  The next few nights I experimented (just like I learned to do in baking class!!) a little.  I’d let my top slip and see if they reacted the same way!  They did!!  Then….OMG!!!…one night it slipped all the way to the stage!  Tony had to send in security because all these guys rushed the stage wanting to hand me money!  I didn’t protest, but it did kinda scare me when one guy pulled off my four-inch heel and took off running with it!

[i]Open the barn doors who do you hear!
 Elvis Presley doing a cheer
 Firecracker firecracker boom boom boom
 Firecracker firecracker boom boom boom
 The boys got the muscle
 The couches got the brains
 The cheerleaders got the sprit
 That’s why we won the game!!!
[/i]
After the first year or so, I got pretty comfortable dancing for money.  I guess I grew up a little and figured out what it was all about.  After the second year, I started getting bored with it.  After the third, I began wanting to settle down.  Then…after the fourth…I wanted something new.  Tony was right.  I made tons of money…more than many lawyers in town.  Maybe more than a lot of doctors, but now I saw that look in those men’s eyes when I would take my clothes off.  I knew what I had become.  This cheering wasn’t much fun anymore.  Many mornings I would wake up crying.  I can’t explain why.  I would think of my mommy and daddy…off somewhere sailing the world (I still told myself that…even though a year ago last Christmas I got a letter from some unpronounceable place saying there had been a storm and my parents weren’t coming home).  I kept saying to myself I would get another postcard from some exotic place.  One never came.

I won’t admit to being depressed.  Cheerleaders don’t get the blues.  However, I was in a funk.  Tony still liked to give foot massages, but he ran hot and cold on my feet.  I guess some of the newer performers had cuter toes.  However, he still helped me invest my money, and believe it or not, I had a brand new Mustang!  A convertible yellow one!  A GT too! 

Uh oh…sorry…got sidetracked again…this is about my career as a wrestler.  One night Tony decided to have mud wrestling in his club.  I would say the rest is history, but I am too young for history!  However, I learned I have am what you would call ‘a natural’ at mud wrestling!  Tony called me his little ‘wrestling savant’…whatever that means!  It didn’t matter that I am only 5’2 and only weigh 105 lbs!  I was a vicious lil shit…as one opponent called me after I bit her on the thong!  I graduated from mud wrestling to oil and jello wrestling.  I even took on a few guys and beat a few of them!  My funk was gone, and I began having fun again!!! 

[i]We say hop and you say scotch!!!
HOP……[/i]

After about two years of wrestling on the club circuit I got so good that one night this woman came in to watch me tussle!  Turns out she was a talent scout from a major wrestling production company!  Now, you can say the rest is history!  Tony helped me negotiate…he somehow got a cut…and I was signed as a new talent for the company!  I couldn’t believe how much they told me I could make the first year!  I also didn’t believe how tough it would be, even though they told me up front.  Pro wrestling is faked, I kept telling myself.  Mud and oil wrestling is real….or more so than the stuff you see on television and Youtube.  How tough could this stuff me?  I took some lessons from a friend of Tony’s, and after two months of training, I was ready for my debut. 

Here is where the story really begins.

[u][b]Chapter One [/b][/u]

“Joni, this isn’t the fake stuff you are used to.”  The woman, who recruited me, says in a concerned tone.  “You could get hurt.  Are you sure you are ready for this?”

Her name is Lorie.  She is in her early 40s, and she used to be a wrestler.  She won’t tell me why she retired.  When I ask she smiles and limps away.  I don’t understand it. 

“Joni, have you ever seen one of these matches?”  Tony interjects.  “I’ve been trying to get you to watch, but you are more interesting in Scooby Doo.”  Lorie looks aghast at this realization, but I smile and say, “Of course I have!”  (Of course I have been watching Scooby Doo), but I am not worried.  I have been winning messy wresting matches for so long, I am pretty sure I know how to handle myself.  Plus I have been training so hard!  I am in good shape, plus I used to be a cheerleader!  Plus I like the word ‘plus.’  That has to be a plus. 

“Joni, this is different than anything you have ever done.  Please take it seriously.”  Lorie says then limps from the room with a concerned look on her face, but I am not scared.  I am ready.  Tony and I spend the next few minutes sitting in silence….me contemplating what life would be like with Freddy as a life partner…tooling all over the place in the Mystery Machine solving ghost mysteries and smoking weed….while Tony massages my feet.  Suddenly there is a knock on the door and an announcement, “Five minutes.”

Tony helps me with my socks and cute lil white boots with purple and gold laces…what else would you expect.  I look in the mirror, and I have to smile!  Not much has changed!  I am in as good of shape today as I was when I was cheering.  I look spectacular in my gold sports bra…with cute lil tiger paw prints on the cups…and purple bikini cut boy shorts!  My long light brown hair pulled back in a tight braid.  This is gonna be fun, I tell myself. 

Those five minutes seem to drag on and on, so in the mean time I warm up by stretching and jogging in place.  I try some shadow boxing but I accidentally punch the wall.  I will never make it as a boxer…I lament while shaking my hand.  Then there is another knock on the door and Lorie’s voice says, “It’s time.”  We open the door and walk toward the small, but well-lit and boisterous arena.  As I step through the curtains, the crowd erupts in cheers, and for the first time, I realize I am so nervous even my armpits are soaking wet.  I never got this anxious before getting in an oil pit. 

I try to ignore the crowd…they hurl catcalls and insults that would make a sailor blush…no…these would make sailors beat the hell outta them in my club!  The service boys actually had some manners.  Focusing on the ring doesn’t help my sudden case of the nerves.  This isn’t a stage with a dancing pole on it…this is a four-sided ring where I will be locked in mortal combat with another woman.  Well…being a little melodramatic here…not ‘mortal’ combat, but you know what I mean!

The aisle seems to go on forever, but we do eventually get to the ring.  I look around like I am lost, and Lorie has to give me a little shove to nudge me up the steps.  I am too short to climb between the top and middle ropes, so I stoop and slip between the middle and bottom ones.  The mat feels squishy under my boots, and it takes me a moment to get used to the bouncy spring underneath, but I eventually figure it out.  I am not alone in the ring either.  There are two guys there.  One is wearing a tuxedo…holding a microphone, and the other a black and white striped shirt with black pants.  He looks official…for some reason.  Anywho, while I am trying to figure out their purpose, this guy in the tux starts yelling into his mic. 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!  TONIGHT WE ARE WITNESSING A DEBUT!  HAILING FROM THE GREAT STATE OF LOUISIANA….STANDING AND WEIGHING IN AT A COMPACT 5’2 AND 105 LBS….LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT IS MY DISTINCT PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE TO YOU…THE NEWEST PHENOMENON….THE CAJUN PRINCESS…..JONI!!!”

Wtf?  Princess?  No one has called me ‘princess’ since my father.  He needs to tone it back a little.  Before I can protest, though, the Canadian National Anthem suddenly echoes around the small arena and the crowd really erupts in jeers and screams. 

“NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMENT, JONI’S OPPONENT FOR THE NIGHT IS NO STRANGER TO THIS RING.  AS A MATTER OF FACT…YOU REMEMBER LAST WEEK SHE LOST HER PAPERWEIGHT TITLE ON THESE VERY MATS!  ALL THE WAY FROM CANADA….IT IS MY PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE THE CANADIAN CRIPPLER…..MARIE….BEEEEEEE!!!!”

Wtf is a Marie B?  All I can see is a blonde ponytail.  Is she on her knees?  Paperweight champion?  Wtf is that?!?!

Then I see why.

She walks up the steps.  I almost walk across the ring to offer her another step stool.  Very rarely am I the tallest person in the mud pit.  I am shocked when I see I am the tallest person in a sports bra and boy shorts in this ring.  It’s true.  I am.  Marie B should probably change her name to MaWEE Bee.  She is tiny.  She might be 4’9.  Might be.  She can’t weight more than 95 lbs.  100 lbs, if she ate a hotdog.  As a matter of fact, I turn to Tony and almost begin to tell him to run to Little Caesar’s, but Lorie says something about Marie being ‘a former gymnast.’  I turn to look at her and find a pair of the coldest, icy blue eyes I have ever seen locked on me!

Mawee Bee might be small, but she can put on a ‘Grrr’ look like no other!  Her red sports bra and matching boy shorts with lil while maple leaves outfit seems a little intimidating too, but I am sure it’s a gimmick.  Maybe I should have worn a skull and crossbones or something…

The guy in the black and white shirt finally moves from his corner and walks up to me.  I almost slug him when he puts his hands on my waist, but then I realize he his just looking for weapons.  That’s funny because I won’t need one against the midget.  Finally, he does the same thing to Mawee, but she does slap his hands away.  I almost laugh when he threatens to disqualify her.  If I get this win that easily then Tony and I can go get that Little Caesar’s I am suddenly craving.

The guy in the black and white shirt is introduced as ‘the referee,’ and I blush when I realize they had those in almost every sport I cheered for over the years.  I guess I have seen those black and white shirts before.  He makes a motion with his arm and a loud “DONG!!” resonates around the small arena.  I stand stock-still.  We never started a mud wrestling match this way.  I look down at Tony and Lorie.  Lorie looks concerned and Tony is pointing wildly at something in the ring!  I guess maybe I should pay attention, but between my ADD and the vibrating of the ring, I can’t focus.  Then it occurs to me….THE DAMN RING IS VIBRATING!!

I look up and see a flash of bare tummy and red shorts just as Mawee’s tiny body slams across mine.  I fall back into my corner with her across my chest.  The wind leaves my lungs with a whoosh from the impact with her tiny body and the turnbuckles slamming into my back!

Dropping to my knees as my blonde opponent rolls away, I drop to all fours and wonder what the hell just happen.  I don’t get much time to ponder it, though.  A tiny boot slams into the side of my head with such force that it knocks me through the ropes onto the ring apron.  Now on my back, I roll down to the arena floor and shake my head.  Fog and cobwebs cloud my vision and I try to clear it as quickly as I can, but again, Mawee has other plans. 

I didn’t even realize she got out of the ring until she dropkicks me from behind!  I am kinda short too.  The kick slams me throat first into the ring apron.  Maybe I shoulda listened to Lorie when she said this isn’t like mud wrestling!  It really isn’t!

I fall onto my back. The dirty arena floor is sticky with spilled soft drinks, beer, and popcorn, but I don’t have to worry about it long.  A tug of my hair tells me Marie hasn’t left.  A quick tug…a thrust…a roll…and I am back in the ring, rolling to a stop in the middle.  What was it that announcer guy said?  She lost her title?  Oh shit!  She was a champion?  Key words being ‘champion’ and most importantly ‘WAS!’ 

OH SHIT!!!

Just my luck.  She’s pissed off.

On my back with the big overhead light beating down on me, I suddenly see the tiny blonde hovering over me.  Even through the lights I can see those angry, ice blue eyes.  I also see her lift her foot and stomp down at my forehead. 

Over the years, I have been called a lot of things:  Silly, goofy, ignorant, dumb, stupid, arrogant, twit, and other things I can’t mention here, but two things I am not:  a fool nor a coward.  Tony says I would charge headfirst into a brick wall.  He also says he would feel sorry for the wall if I did. 

I don’t plan on laying here and letting this Canadian midget kick my brains out.  I suddenly grab her foot with both hands and fold my knees upwards.  Pushing with my arms, I roll onto my side and kick out with both of my feet at her balancing leg.  I think this whole motion took her by surprise.  She cursed me in two different languages as she fell off balance and crashed to the mat.

Since we have established I am no fool, I keep my hands gripped on her foot and continue rolling to my knees.  I pull her knee toward her chest and in a flash I try to pin her body under mine.  Now this is an old mud-wrestling trick, and it usually works!  I fall across her chest with her leg pinned between us.  My hands go to her shoulders.  The referee guy drops to his knee and slaps the mat once…twice…but then Marie shoves with her trapped leg…showing a little strength and stamina…and rolls me onto my side.  I roll to the ropes and grab the bottom one to pull myself up.  Just as I get to my feet, Mawee is already running at me.

Fortunately, I have seen this before.  As she leaves her feet for the cross body splash, I drop to my knees and she sails over my head into the ropes.  She again curses me in two languages, but I am already getting to my feet.  The little gymnast shows her flexibility by grabbing the middle rope and pulling herself up.

Of the things I have been called over the years, the one that is closest to the truth is probably, ‘bitch.’  I am tired of being this little twerp’s (a name usually reserved for me) personal piñata.  As she pulls herself up, I raise my right foot and kick her between the shoulder blades as hard as I can.  She drops to the floor on her chest and rolls from side to side…her right arm behind her back trying to soothe the pain.

It’s then that I become aware of the crowd.  They are cheering for me!  Fuck!  I am leading cheers again!  This shit is fun!


[i]Get me a B!
Give me a E!
Give me a S
Give me a T
What does that spell?
BEST!
We are the best!
The other team thinks well give them a rest![/i]

Cheerleaders are performers…athletes and performers.  We love to have fun!  We are there for the purpose of making sure everyone is having fun!  We play to the crowd.  That is exactly what I do here!  I hop around and prance.  Dancing like I did on the stage.  Too bad there isn’t a pole for me to use.  I toss my head back and thrust my hips forward.  I close my eyes then the crowd goes insane as I do two back handsprings across the ring!

Everyone but Tony, that is.

He is busy looking worried and pointing at something behind me.  Wtf?  I’m winning Tony!  I smile sweetly, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.  Wtf? I think again.  Then it occurs to me the crowd isn’t cheering anymore.

I drop to my knees as sharp pain shoots through my kidneys…up my spine…to the top of my head.  Then I fall forward onto my face.  Marie’s tiny body falls across my slightly larger one and my left arm suddenly goes numb after she clamps her gymnast’s thighs around it.  Her hands reach around my face…still stunned from the stomp to the kidney’s, I can’t offer much resistance.  She tightens the move by leaning back slightly…pulling my head, then neck, and finally my chest and shoulders off the mat Fiery pain wrenches through my cheek, neck, shoulders, and trapped arm.  I’ve seen this hold before.  Y instructor showed me the cross-face crippler.  It hurts worse now. 

I close my eyes and try to focus on everything but the pain.  I feel her hands slip a little and stop when they get to my nose.  She readjusts them so that the back of her hand and her knuckles are against my lips.  I try to squeal, but she pulls harder and shuts off the sound in my throat.  My tiny boots pound the mat relentlessly!  I can’t use my free arm because moving it would give her even more leverage.  I am trapped…I don’t know a way out of this.  Maybe I should have paid more attention in wrestling lessons. 

“Cajun princess?  More like Louisiana trailer trash.”  For the first time all match, Marie starts speaks (well…except for cursing me in two languages).  “I am going to make you wish you were still swimming in the bayou, bitch.”  I almost tearfully tell her that I really wish I was still swimming in the bayou right now…anything but this…but suddenly my face slams against the mat, and 95 lbs of weight get off me.

Did I submit? 

I don’t think I did.  Did I?

Marie answers that question for me.  Her hand grabs my hair…even with the referee dude telling her to let it go…and she pulls me to my knees.  Then she makes me get to my feet.  Before I can take a step, her tiny fist slams into my tummy so hard that I double over.

“Ommmmppppphhhhhh!!!” I grunt and almost go to my knees, but her hands roughly pull me back up.  I won’t lie.  My back is still on fire from the cross-face crippler.  She had me beat.  I think she knows it too.  Maybe I can make something out of this mess.

Just as that thought crosses my mind, she whips me into the corner and I crash into the turnbuckles with a thud.

“Ohhhhh….” I moan pitifully and reach for the top ropes to pull myself up.  I need to think.  I also need to do it quickly because she is running at me from the far corner.  She leaves her feet once again to crush me in the corner with what will almost certainly be the final blow of the match.  There is no way I can come back if that lands.  So I do the one thing I feel will work (besides running and crying, that is).  I lift my foot straight out in front of me and let her run cheek first into it. 

The only person more shocked in the entire arena is me!  Even I can’t believe that actually worked!  Marie falls onto her back and lays still.  I mean it.  She does not move.  Her eyes don’t even flutter. 

[i]Great job!
Super well done!
Come on ‘biters!
Let’s score another one!
[/i]
I don’t plan on making the same mistake twice.  My back can’t take another cross-face crippler.  I use the ropes like a ladder and climb to the second rope.  The crowd suddenly erupts again when they realize the Canadian Crippler is about to lose to a rookie in her debut!  However, I am still a cheerleader and I can’t resist raising my hands over my head and doing a victory pose!  Cheerleaders are also attention whores!  I flex my body and squat down.  With every ounce of energy I can find, I explode upward and jump off the middle rope.  My body flashes through the air as I reach the summit and start the descent.  Stretching all 5’2” of my body to crash down on the smaller girl, I drop like a rock….a smile crossing my lips as I fall.  That smile grows even wider as I think of my first victory celebration.  Then….

“UMMMPPPPHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Flashes erupt in front of my eyes and my spine feels like it’s about to pop through my back.  I look down and see I am still about three feet off the mat but I am still speared by Marie’s tiny feet and gymnast legs.  Then I topple to the mat, curled in a ball, holding my belly.  I don’t get much of a respite, however, when Marie sinks her tiny fingers into my hair and pulls me to my feet again.  Gasping for air, sweat runs down my body.  My gold sports bra soaked and clinging tightly to my body.  I feel the cool air when she whips me into off the ropes.  I bounce and recoil back across the ring.  Marie does the same thing, but from the opposite side.  She ducks under my arm as I desperately try a clothesline, then blade my body to fall against the ropes on the other side.  I recoil off and see the blonde come off the far side.  This time she doesn’t pass me.  She actually grabs for my head as she passes, hooks her arm around my throat, and in one of the most amazing moves I have ever seen, she twists and drops onto her feet behind me.  My body is now bent backwards at a nearly 90-degree angle.  She lifts her knee into the middle of my back twice, knocking the wind out of me and forcing me off balance even more.  She follows that by dropping to her butt and slamming the back of my head and shoulders off the mat with such force I bounce.  The blow nearly knocks me unconscious.

It doesn’t take Marie much effort to pull me up this time.  I sway and rock in a nearly black fog when as she pushes me back first into the corner.  I offer no resistance when she hooks my arms over the top rope to hold me up.  I vaguely remember her strolling to the far corner and laughing at me.  I see her body flash across the ring at a dead run…do a cartwheel, and catch my head between her thighs…showing her gymnast’s grace.  I remember the sensation of being pulled forward, and I remember a slap of flesh when my back hits the mat.  After that I remember nothing…..

…..nothing at all until I open my eyes and see that referee dude, Tony, and Lorie standing over me.  I blink my eyes a few times and realize I am still in the ring!

“Oh crap!  She’s awake!  Are you okay?!?!”

I want to scream, ‘of course I am not okay!  I just lost to a fucking hobbit!’  But I hold my tongue.  Only because I can’t talk at the moment.  After a little while, I do get to my feet.  They have to catch me to keep me from falling.  I don’t remember the walk from the ring to locker room.

“Joni.  The crowd loved you.  You have to wrestle again!”

I stare blankly at Lorie as she talks.

“You almost won.  If you hadn’t celebrated early, you would have.”

Oddly, I can’t agree right now.

“With some training you can be great.  Watch this!”

Lorie presses a button on her laptop and up pops a recorded interview with Marie.  This had to be right after our match.  The interviewer is going on and on about how tough it was for Marie and how shocked a rookie pushed a wily veteran to the limit.  Marie, however, isn’t in a mood to talk about me in good terms though. 

“Fuck her….white trash bitch better never get in the ring with me again!….”fucking kill her next time….”

She even pulls the mic out of the interviewer’s hand and tosses it on the floor.  She looks into the camera and says some rather unsavory things that I am pretty sure are directed at me.  After that she storms off.

“Joni.  We need some fresh blood around here.  The promotion is getting stale.  I’m telling you…the crowd loved you….you could truly be a superstar….”

Lorie’s voice trails off into my thoughts.  The crowd did seem to like me.  The pay is awesome.  The word ‘superstar’ fills me mind.

[i]To The G!
   To The O!
   Yell Go, Go![/i]