******

CHAPTER 9: THIS IS AWFUL

“Morning, baby.”

Jinkx looks like she slept in a trash can. It’s one in the afternoon, and the redhead has clearly only just scraped herself out of bed - shuffling into the kitchen in an overworn pyjama shirt and underpants, glasses perched on top of her head and her eyes barely open yet.

“You’re too awake,” Jinkx groans, sitting down at the breakfast bar. This saves Dela a job, she guesses - she was getting ready to go to the gym, and she didn’t like leaving the house without making sure that Jinkx was at the very least awake. She’d quickly learned that getting her out of bed was too tall an order.

“What time did you get to sleep last night?” Dela asks, already in the process of making another pot of coffee.

“No idea - about six am?” Jinkx says through a yawn. “Maybe seven?”

“You need to start coming to bed with me again, this isn’t healthy,” Dela says, concerned.

“Yeah, you go to sleep when it’s still light outside like a fucking maniac - that’s not happening.”

“For a narcoleptic, you really suck at sleeping.” Dela leans against the counter, forcing back the last few drops of her pre-workout. She tries her best with the whole ‘clean eating’ thing, but she’s yet to find any variety of supplement drink that doesn’t taste like ass - protein shakes are also the bane of her existence.

“You going to the gym?” Jinkx asks, her voice still thick. Dela puts a mug of coffee down in front of her, along with her assortment of meds.

“Yeah. I think Courtney’s coming too - and Bianca’s bringing Adore along, it would be cool if you wanted to come down and meet her. She’s super sweet - insane, but sweet. I think you’d like her.”

“Nah,” Jinkx rebuffs the invitation, sounding somewhat unconvinced.

“Jinkxy, you can literally just sit and do nothing - or even like, drop me off and say hi, then come home again.” Dela tries to level with her. Jinkx shakes her head. “Look, I hate leaving you alone in the house by yourself all the time. And I get not coming to shows, but how long has Bea been your friend? Or Courtney? You’ve not seen either of them in months - they ask about you all the time.”

“Look, I just- it’s too soon, okay? I don’t think I could handle it.” Jinkx says. Dela gives a sigh.

“I’m sorry - I don’t want to keep bugging you about this, I just love you, and I don’t like seeing you this sad, okay?”

“It’s not your fault that I’m sad, and it’s not your job to fix it.” Jinkx sighs as Dela puts her arms around her, leaning her head on her shoulder.

“I’m not doing or saying any of this because it’s my job - it’s because I love you.”

“I love you too - but I’ll get over this shit at my own pace, okay? It’s just hard.” Jinkx purses her lips. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are, sweetie.” Dela says with a tight-lipped smile. She can feel Macho wrapping himself around her legs, and she scoops him up, the cat nuzzling himself against her face.

“Has he had breakfast?” Jinkx asks.

“Yeah - don’t listen to him if he tries to tell you otherwise.” Dela puts him back down on the floor.

Macho - or Macho Man Randy Savage to give him his full name -  had come into their lives about six months ago - with the primary intention of keeping Jinkx company, because Dela felt guilty about leaving her alone all the time. Jinkx had been on board with the idea - getting the cat had been the first thing she’d been legitimately excited for in god knows how long. She’d picked him out at the shelter - he’d been found in a dumpster when he was a kitten - and she’d been the one that named him. However, it was kind of impossible to ignore that he preferred Dela out of the two of them; he habitually ignored Jinkx, apparently spending most of his time pining for Dela when she wasn’t home, and the rest of it hiding under the couch or shitting on the carpet while making direct eye contact with his second-favourite parent.

“He doesn’t talk to me - why does he love you more than me? It’s not fair.” Jinkx scoffs - Macho has leapt up onto the counter, and she pushes him away as he attempts to dunk one grey paw into her coffee.

“I think he’s just mad at you for giving him such a stupid name.”

“Well, he needs to get over himself,” Jinkx tries to pet his head, and he snaps at her - Jinkx completely ignoring him as he chews on her hand.

“It could also be because he’s pissed off that you’re always here - apparently a lot of cats get mad when they live with people who work from home, because they get sick of them being around constantly.” Dela shrugs. “This is his house now, you never asked him permission to hang around 24/7.”

Jinkx doesn’t say anything, her face blank as she drinks her coffee. Dela feels like she touched a nerve, but she knows that pressing the issue will only make it worse.

“I gotta go. Last offer to come with me?” Dela tilts her head as she throws her gym bag over her shoulder.

“Hard pass.”

“Okay babe,” Dela lets out a small sigh. “Try and eat something while I’m out, maybe take a shower or-“

“Stop mothering me.” Jinkx rolls her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Dela purses her lips. She pulls Jinkx into a hug, kissing her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

******

Dela parks her car - sitting behind the wheel and staring into space, not quite ready to get out and be around other people yet. She felt guilty; she always did, whenever she left Jinkx for anything even remotely work-related. This entire situation sucked - she felt perpetually stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Nobody had really been at fault. It was a risky spot; no matter how many times it had gone fine in training, it was never certain that everything would go according to plan on the night. Botches were kind of like that - nobody had acted maliciously or set out with the intention of ending their opponent’s career. But shit happens.

The match had been a big deal. It had never been her and Jinkx’s intention to start the company as a means to put themselves in the spotlight. They’d been a consistent feature, granted. But they’d remained distinctly separate from the title picture - on the odd occasion that they did have an opportunity, they were there to put the other team over. That was what they were there for; veterans who’d already had their taste of glory in past years and other promotions, giving a stage to the next generation. But it had gotten hard to ignore the fans rallying behind them to end Pretty Dope’s six-month reign of terror with the belts; if nothing else, Gia and Ganja were fantastic heels, and the two of them incredibly natural babyfaces, and it had made sense. It had taken the convincing of the majority of the locker room to even book the match in the first place, lest of all to put it in the main event.

The win had felt incredible - until it didn’t. From what Dela had heard - she didn’t see what had actually happened, and she couldn’t bring herself to watch the recording of that particular show - Jinkx had been trying to get out of Laganja’s grip and back to her feet. Laganja had stumbled and, without thinking,  let her go. Jinkx had landed flush on the top of her head with her full body weight - giving her a massive concussion, compressing her spine and fracturing two vertebrae in her neck.

There’s not really a ‘good’ way for a person to break their neck, but Jinkx had been pretty far into the extremes of ‘bad’. Her specific injury had something like a five-percent survival rate, and of that five percent very few had the quality of life that she had. There had been a lot of talk about possible paralysis and nerve damage; it had taken almost a month for Jinkx to get sensation back in her arms, and the fact that that had happened at all was nothing short of a miracle. Likewise was the fact that she could still walk. Dela remembered a good few doctors telling Jinkx to ‘think herself lucky’, and that had driven her insane.

Sure, it could have been worse - but they weren’t the ones who were having post-concussion seizures, or undergoing spinal fusion surgery at age 36; who’d just had the career they’d devoted their entire adult life to pulled out from under them without warning. Surviving wasn’t the be-all and end-all. Dela rolls down the car window, folding her legs and lighting a cigarette.

For a time, Jinkx had still had hope - to an almost deranged extent, even. She’d already started fixatedly planning her return when she was still in the hospital. She’d been told that recovery would be difficult, but doable - she was facing maybe a year out.

Then she’d had a consultation with her surgeon - he wasn’t sure who had said that returning to the ring would be possible, but with the amount of hardware that was now in her cervical spine, any impact to her head or neck could paralyze her at best, and kill her at worst. He planned on refusing to clear her to compete, and she’d likely struggle to find any doctor that would.

Jinkx hadn’t gotten out of bed for three days after that. It was like the news had physically crushed her. When Dela was trying to write her retirement speech, initially she’d wanted to throw in the towel too - she’d been a tag team wrestler her whole career, and she wasn’t sure she was mentally or physically capable of continuing without Jinkx when she’d had no say in the matter of her retirement. But Jinkx had been adamant that Dela kept working. She wasn’t going to drag her wife down with her.

Dela’s first singles program had come about a few months after she’d vacated the tag titles - a sort of worked-shoot blood feud against Morgan McMichaels. Morgan had targeted a lot of low-hanging fruit, specifically what had happened to Jinkx. She was a consummate professional, and everything that she said on the mic had been okayed with Dela beforehand, but she was more than capable of playing an utter bitch in the ring, and a lot of it had cut pretty close to the bone. Morgan had a few of the girls in the locker room questioning whether or not there was actual heat between her and Dela, and had sold the fans on her utter disdain for her opponent so well that she’d left a show one night to find that someone had slashed her tires. The angle had all the potential in the world to be something great - it got people talking.

Within a couple of weeks of it getting off the ground, however, was when Jinkx started handing off more booking power to Bill, for convenience’s sake - letting her sleep through shows, allowing shit to go on in the background without having to give it any thought. Dela couldn’t say she was happy about this - giving input on the promotion from a distance had at the very least given Jinkx something to do to keep her sane - but she wasn’t about to argue with her.

Jinkx was a great booker - she’d always had a knack for in-ring psychology, and a good handle on what the audience were likely to engage with. That was not a natural ability that Bill had been blessed with; for the majority of his career, he’d been a glorified jobber who got most of his bookings off the back of having an impressive physique. Not that he would ever admit that, nor would anyone ever say it to his face, but she’d been present alongside Jinkx for the bulk of his career, and he had one of the most abysmal win/loss records she’d ever seen. He never really got it. What he could do, though, was pick holes in any idea he was presented with, and then proceed to make it just slightly worse, for no apparent reason besides being in charge and therefore able to.

The hair versus hair match had been Morgan’s idea, and it was originally supposed to be Dela that went over. But just after the match had been announced, Bill had gotten it in his head that he wanted a bigger blow-off to the feud, and that it felt like too much of a definitive conclusion to have Dela win their first major match. Dela hadn’t exactly been thrilled about the concept, but she was still the one who left the venue that night with a shaved head, so clearly if it had bothered her that much, she had waited too long to make her feelings known. That was one of Dela’s greatest weaknesses in life - she’d known for years that she had a bit of a propensity to be a doormat. Mostly for the sake of people-pleasing; she’d grin and bear whatever she had to in order to make it through the day without any major confrontations.

Dela, ever the career babyface, had won in the end - it had taken a brutal ‘I Quit’ match that had ended in the two of them bleeding profusely and a number of broken chairs and tables; Morgan eventually throwing in the towel after Dela pillmanized and storyline-broke her ankle. But by that point, the feud had kind of withered and died; it had been drawn out for too long, the audience had lost interest, and regardless of whether or not she eventually came out on top, it was impossible to ignore that Dela had been the real loser in all of this, standing in the ring with a buzzcut.

Of course Bill had blamed the two of them for the angle not going over well - it was always anyone else’s fault but his. He then forgot to sell the severity of the last match, booking Morgan for the next show despite the fact that everyone had watched her being stretchered out of the ring. It would almost be comical, were it not for the fact that Dela was stuck watching nine years’ worth of her and Jinkx’s hard work being flushed down the toilet.

That was the thing that frustrated her; trying to get Jinkx to care. She’d been reporting shit back to her for months, but none of it ever seemed to make a dent. She didn’t hold this against her wife - she had her own feelings and her own life to worry about. But Dela was starting to feel like she was constantly treading water, struggling to keep herself from drowning amid the ever-growing number of weights dragging her down.

The training school that they’d spent years putting together had folded last December. In amongst all the chaos of that year, Jinkx was too depressed, and Dela was stretched too thin. Bianca had tried her best, but managing everything herself had gotten too much - after canceling a few too many sessions because of crappy numbers, or Bea being too exhausted and stressed to teach them anything worth a shit, most of their girls enrolled somewhere else. The ones that hung around - Pearl, Fame, Laila, Joslyn, and Betty - had been brought onto shows arguably far too early, and most of them shoved right into the main event scene without any warning, as Courtney’s latest victims. Dela found out maybe a month ago that when they’d had people ask if they offered training, Bill had been flat-out telling them no, more or less since the minute Jinkx got injured.

An embarrassing number of their talent had quit over complaints about bad booking, or shitty treatment. Sometimes it was quiet; a couple of no-shows, followed by texts being left on read, until they popped up in another promotion and got in touch to apologise. Sometimes not so much. Simone, The Vixen, Monique Heart, Mercedes Iman, Peppermint, and Widow Von’Du had all walked en masse; when Dela had called Vixen to find out what had happened, the other woman had apologised, but said that none of them could justify hanging around after the way they’d been spoken to by Bill, all on separate occasions. The only reason they hadn’t lost Trinity too was because Bill had her entirely convinced that she’d never find work anywhere else. It really wasn’t lost on her that all bar one of the black women on their roster had left all at once because of him.

Did she say or do anything about this? Of course she didn’t. She didn’t seem to ever have the mental energy for that conversation - she didn’t feel equipped to try and stand up for herself, not without Jinkx there. Bill had never really listened to her anyway. It was obvious that he’d always seen her as a general nuisance that he had to put up with in order to maintain his friendship with her wife. Now that Jinkx wasn’t around, he’d given up on pretending to be civil with her - he’d been doing that for years, dropping the act around her if Jinkx was out of earshot. She couldn’t exactly say she was surprised by the last twelve months’ turn of events. Not that she’d ever mentioned this to Jinkx; she wasn’t in the business of shit-stirring, and she wasn’t going to interfere with a nearly twenty year friendship just because she and Bill’s personalities clashed a little.

Still, it remained true that if she wasn’t there to keep him in check, there was ultimately no point in trying to instigate any level of serious conversation. So, for now every new thing that went wrong was just another addition to her ever-growing mental list of reasons why she wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.

So, without Jinkx’s backup she really couldn’t do anything, and trying to even start the conversation with Jinkx was nearly impossible, because she just wouldn’t let it happen. She was having a bad day - she didn’t want to think about wrestling right now. And even when Dela did manage to get the ball rolling successfully, getting rid of him was always too hard. Hiring someone else would be too much work; he’d helped her out years ago and keeping him around was doing him a favour; Dela was within her right to challenge him. Which would never happen. So this was the state of affairs she was stuck with.

It sucked; being caught between the love she had for Jinkx, and the love she had for this promotion, which was their life’s work - their legacy. She could wait a while longer, see if Jinkx managed to get her head screwed on a little later down the line. But by that point, how much damage was going to have been done? She could tell that the other girls were losing faith; Bianca seemed like she was beyond caring, Courtney just looked bored all the time. She couldn’t stand it.

***

“Okay, I’ll keep trying her,” Ivy said, trying as best she could not to let her exasperation show, keeping her voice low so as to not worry Miss Fame if she happened to overhear, although Ivy was fairly certain that Pearl had her undivided attention at the moment.

IT was refusing to give her access to Courtney’s computer without written permission, so there was absolutely no way for her to tell where the potential fires were. She’d tried Courtney’s personal cell a few times, but it went straight to voicemail, so she was pretty sure it was turned off.

She still hoped that Courtney would see and respond to her exceedingly polite messages once she turned her phone back on. After all, they’d always had a very friendly relationship. (In fact, Ivy was feeling a tiny bit guilty over the whole situation, since she was pretty sure that she’d been the one to help tart her up for Bianca on multiple occasions.)

It was clear to Ivy from the beginning that Courtney was in over her head. If anyone had asked her, she probably would have said that there’s no way she was ready to handle the office on her own. But no one had asked, and she’d learned long ago that offering unsolicited opinions as an assistant was a one-way ticket to the unemployment office. Therefore, she’d kept her mouth shut about the subject.

The only saving grace at the moment was that Violet was on her way back with Raja. Ivy felt a bit guilty for being so relieved--after all, Violet’s promotion was well-deserved, and missing out on a vacation was terrible, but she selfishly knew that this would make her own life 20 times easier than any other scenario.

Miss Fame would be taken care of, by someone who knew and, as far as Ivy could tell, actually cared about her.

***

Violet furiously typed out text after text, doing her best to be as quiet as possible, tilting her thumbs so her nails never hit her screen, since Raja was talking on the phone in the front seat.

She was ever so grateful for the assistant network, Ivy adding her private number to the groupchat the minute she found out she was coming back. Roxy had run to the wardrobe to get her a somewhat Fame-approved outfit, while Ivy was trying to hold down Fame’s office, the mailboxes she could access filled to the brim with post-holiday catch ups.

Fame was going to be furious, the woman usually losing it if a single thing was out of place, and right now, everything was out of place.

At least, she hadn’t had to face Fame directly yet, Pearl throwing herself on the bomb that was Fame in a mood, the blonde somehow always able to get out unscathed where literally anyone else would have been eaten alive.

Violet was beyond grateful for the distraction, a text ticking in from Pearl with a picture of her in what looked like a Starbucks line, along with a question about Fame’s coffee order.

Violet hated that she knew it by heart, a medium double extra hot skinny vanilla unsweetened almond milk latte with cold foam and 2 shakes of cinnamon the safest bet when Fame was in a funk.

Roxy sent her a series of three different dresses, all of them usable, but she had included tan tights, the shade of them compared to her skin tone something Violet knew Fame would comment on instantly.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, letting the wave of anxiety wash over her, before she swallowed it down, and got back to work.

***

Juju’s phone was buzzing so much that it felt like a vibrator in her pocket. Still, she ignored it while she finished the color on one of her favorite clients, the legendary socialite Chad Michaels. After all, Detox and the kids’ schools knew to call reception if there was a real emergency. Also, she knew she’d have to take some time off when she had the baby, so she could use all the time she could get with her clients.

“There we go,” Juju smiled, finishing the last foil. “Sandy will be over to wash this out in 30 minutes, okay? And then we’ll do your cut. If you need anything, just ask.”

“Of course.” Chad smiled back, opening up the latest Vogue in her lap.

Juju headed for her office, feeling grateful that Baby Number Four wasn’t a bladder kicker--at least not yet. She did, however, need to rest her feet, so she plunked down onto her chair with a sigh and finally pulled out her phone, where she saw five missed FaceTime calls from Raven.

Uh oh.

Raven only war-dialed like this when something was truly wrong--last time, it was over losing a job to a 19 year old, and it had taken Juju about 3 hours to calm her down. She didn’t have that kind of time at the moment, but she did want to be there for her friend. As she was hesitating, the phone began buzzing again in her hand. She checked the clock. Thirty-five minutes to play therapist, tops. But would it be enough? She decided to risk it.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” Raven looked awful. Puffy and red-eyed, mascara streaked down her face.

“Why aren’t you on a plane to Colorado right now?” Juju asked, trying to keep her voice light and chipper. Sometimes, the same techniques that worked on her children were the best way to go with Raven.

“Raja doesn’t love me anymore.” Raven tried, and failed to hold down a sob, her normally flawless hair in a messy bun.

“... Come again?” Juju raised an eyebrow, Raven’s statement as unbelievable as it was unlikely, her two friends like peas in a pod.

“We were at the airport,” Raven wiped her eye and smearing her mascara even futher, doing her best to be understandable, “and then one call from the office about stupid Courtney quitting without warning and she-”

“Courtney quit?” Juju asked, eyes wide. She couldn’t say that it surprised her, but the no warning was worrying.

“Who gives a shit about her!” Raven snapped, and Juju held her tongue. “The second Raj found out, she dropped everything and went back there, and left me all alone with Sutan!”

“The horror.” Juju couldn’t help but smile, Raven ridiculously dramatic even though she was obviously genuinely sad.

“Shut up, it was awful!” Raven threw herself down on her bed, rolling onto her stomach. “He was so fucking calm, I wanted to strangle him!”

“Maybe he was trying to be calm for you?” Juju tilted her head. More often than not, Sutan’s calm acted like water on the burning embers of Raven's temperament, but sometimes, sometimes, it was like pouring oil on a fire. “He cares about you.”

Juju honestly had no idea how Sutan and Raven managed to work together as well as they did, their lives a somewhat terrifying blend of personal and professional with no clear boundaries that Juju knew she’d never be able to live with.

“I wish Raja cared.” Raven buried her face in her pillow, groaning.

“Come on, Rave. You know she loves you.”

“Then why did she leave?!” Raven sat back up, hugging the pillow to her chest. “It wasn’t even a discussion, it was just like, sorry babe, bye!” Raven sniffed bitterly. “She didn’t even look back. I think maybe…”

Juju tilted her head, seeing Raven’s gray eyes full of tears and uncharacteristically soft.

“Maybe what, babe?”

“Maybe she only loves me when it’s convenient.”

She looked so sad, so fragile, but it took every muscle in Juju’s body not to burst out laughing. Convenient?

“Rave…” she began softly, quickly adding, “and I say this with love, but you’re the least convenient person in the universe. You’re an enormous pain in the ass. Nobody would want to be around you unless they love you with all their heart and soul.”

“You really mean it?” Raven asked, sounding almost hopeful.

“I really do.”

***

Alaska wouldn’t dare say it out loud, since she’d risk sounding like the world’s biggest brown-noser, but she was actually excited to be back at work. She and Kim were planning a huge launch after fashion week for all their new products, and she couldn’t wait to really dig into their marketing and roll-out plans.

She entered the conference room with a spring in her step, waving a cheerful hello to Trixie and pausing, head cocked, at the table. There were bottles of Evian at each place along with the usual printed agenda, but that was it. No elaborate breakfast spread, no piles of pastries or even muffins--not that she minded terribly, but she knew that her team was grateful for all the treats she would snag and take downstairs with her every Monday. Plus, it made her wonder what it all meant.

Were there budget cuts? What would that mean for her plans, her department? Laying anyone off was, fortunately, not something she’d had to do since becoming a department head and she really, really didn’t want to lose anyone on her team.

All of her questions were somewhat answered a few minutes later, when Miss Fame entered, flanked by both Pearl and Ivy. Her heart sank a little.

Where was Courtney? She hoped she was okay. They hadn’t had a chance to talk much at the New Year’s party, but she’d seemed so happy, and Alaska hoped that nothing had occurred to destroy that.

Of course, Alaska knew better than to ask about her, even under her breath. Odds were, Amy would know all the gossip, and if worse came to worse, Roxy could always be bribed with a free sample or two.

They got right down to business, Alyssa taking them through the marketing plans, including the upcoming Marie Claireshoot and the makeup launch party in March. Alaska found herself getting excited all over again when the door opened and Raja stalked in.

Alaska looked up curiously - as far as she knew, Raja was supposed to be in Aspen right now. And based on her outfit, which was a cashmere sweater and what looked like velour track pants, she may have been under the impression that she was in fact there, sitting in a lodge in front of a roaring fire.

However, this was Raja, so she slid into her seat as if she was wearing couture and silently opened the packet in front of her, her and Trixie exchanged a lift of eyebrows before Trixie slid over another sheath of notes which she took, folding her hands and looking up at Fame.

She hadn’t expected it, but she saw the tiniest glint of relief in Fame’s eyes as she nodded at Raja, before gesturing for Alyssa to continue her presentation.

Alaska saw the door open once again out of the corner of her eye, Violet slipping in and walking up to Ivy without saying a word, Ivy handing her her notebook and giving her shoulder a brief squeeze, before they exchanged spots, Violet melting into the background like she had never left.

***

Courtney had waited until almost 10 am before making her way back to Bianca’s, just to be completely sure that she’d have already left for work. She’d done the cowardly thing and turned her phone off, which she knew was wrong, but she just couldn’t bear to deal with the barrage of calls and messages that she knew would come the second Miss Fame saw that she wasn’t there.

She would send a formal letter of resignation to Rita later, she’d decided. That was the correct thing to do. But right now, what she needed more than anything was a way to get out the anxiety that was making her mind spin in circles, thoughts spiraling like dominos, each one worse than the last.

She stripped out of her work clothes and put on a pair of sweats, even found an old iPod so that she could listen to music without her phone, and then climbed onto Bianca’s elliptical.

As she began working out, music blasting, she tried her very best to clear her mind and focus on the movement, the breathing.

The worst case scenario, very worst case, was that she’d made such a mess of things at Galactica, pissed Miss Fame off so much, that Bianca wouldn’t want her anymore. That would be the worst thing. But what would she do? Would she kick her out? Tati had gone back to her aunt’s house in New Jersey, so she could probably sleep on Adore’s couch. Of course, Adore loved Miss Fame too, so if Bianca was angry enough to throw her out, there was a chance that she’d lose her best friend too.

Why, why couldn’t she just go in and face Miss Fame like a fucking adult? Why did even getting near that building cause pain in her chest? What was wrong with her?

Courtney pedaled faster, pushing her body farther and farther, until sweat was pouring down her back. She squeezed her eyes shut and kept going, certain that if she could just go hard enough, she could release her mind from spiraling out of control, thinking of one doomsday scenario after another.

Moving back home to her parents’ house in Brisbane wouldn’t be the end of the world. She could handle it. So what if everyone in her life would know how terribly she’d failed? So what if she’d have to wake up every day to the disappointment on her mum’s face, the condescending pity from her dad? They were probably expecting this. Probably, everyone was expecting her to fail, come back home with her tail between her legs and admit that she wasn’t special, wasn’t able to cut it on her own out in the real world.

Maybe Ben would let her stay with him. Sydney was better than Brisbane, and she could cook and clean for him. Well, she could clean, at least. And maybe even learn how to help with his wig business. Not that she had the faintest idea how any of that worked. But maybe he would need help with the website or social media. And yeah, his place was a studio, but it was a pretty big studio. Of course, he probably wouldn’t want her around either--the last time she’d stayed with him, it had only been two days before he decided that having a little sister around was hindering his ability to get laid and pointedly asked her if she had any friends in the area.

Courtney turned up the resistance, pushing her body to the breaking point, gasping for air, every muscle working. She kept at it, losing track of time and finally, finally clearing her mind. As long as she kept up the furious pace, it worked just fine. But after awhile, when she started faltering and finally stumbled off the machine, she suddenly felt the pain searing through her body, crawling into the bathroom to throw up, then pressing her head against the side of the toilet bowl. She didn’t even notice the hot tears on her cheeks until a minute later.

It was no use wallowing in misery, she decided, wiping her face with the back of her hands. She needed to, at the very fucking least, turn on her phone and face the music.

***

“You’re seriously serious?” Jovan whispered, biting his lip. He was gathered with Bob, Maxwell and Blu around the espresso machine. Trixie had returned from the Monday department head meeting and went directly to his office, a newer face from HR right behind him, Trixie actually closing his door, which he never ever did.

“Swear on my life,” Bob put a hand on his chest, the other holding his coffee cup. “The entire upstairs is in an uproar over it.”

“Shit,” Jovan took a sip of his coffee. Bob was probably exaggerating about the uproar, upstairs way too uptight and WASPy to do anything beyond hushed whispers and quiet panic, though their quiet panic always manifested like earthquakes through the entire company.

“I can’t believe Courtney just quit,” Maxwell had his arms crossed, his eyes on Trixie’s office door.

“Well I can,” Blu sighed, fiddling with the end of her orange ponytail. “Poor Violet.”

They had all heard Bob’s tale of how Roxy had told him that Violet had been called back in, none of them really believing it until Alexis had bumped into Raja in the hallway, all of them knowing that Violet was supposed to be in Aspen with Raja, Sutan and Raven.

“I know,” Bob poured himself a second mug. “I’m still thinking of excuses to go to Miss Fame’s office.”

“Bob!” Maxwell turned to him, a level of outrage in his voice that he normally never took with his boyfriend. “Don’t even think about getting involved-”

“Relax,” Bob bumped his shoulder with his own. “I just want to check in on our girl.”

“I doubt that she needs us meddling right now,” Blu chewed her lip, clearly missing the irony of the fact that they were all just waiting for the other shoe to drop instead of actually working, Maxwell right back to staring at Trixie’s door.

“Should we like,” Blu glanced over her shoulder at Violet’s desk, everything neatly organized and put exactly right for the week she was supposed to be out of office, a stack of dated envelopes ready for Jovan, since he had offered to lend a hand, “send her a fruit basket or something?”

“You’re acting like she died.”

“Didn’t she?”

***

Fame took a sip of tea, watching as Raja pulled her sweater over her head, the first smile of the day playing on her lips at the sight of her friend's bra.

“If I had known I’d get a show, I would have requested something stronger.”

“Please,” Raja grinned back, grabbing a blue silk shirt from the small emergency wardrobe she kept in her office, pulling it on and buttoning it.

It had been a genuine surprise to see Raja at the meeting, and Violet slipping in behind her was a huge relief. If Fame was the type to feel real guilt, the tight sensation she had in her stomach would have been suffocating. They had gone to Raja’s office directly after the meeting, Ivy setting up their usual teapot and cups--which didn’t bother her this time, since Pearl had managed to get her coffee order correct--something she was sure had everything to do with Violet.

“So,” Raja sat down on the couch, picking up her notebook. She had made her ponytail into a quick braid, her lounge wear exchanged with a suit, a quick layer of gloss on her lips making her lack of makeup look intentional instead of accidental. “What are we going to do?”

At the we, Fame felt her stomach clench again. She hadn’t asked Raja to come back in, but she had to admit that she was so grateful that she was there.

“I already told Trixie that we might need Violet in your office for awhile.” Raja made a note, “He isn’t happy about it, but it is what it is, and with his new hire, he’ll figure it out.”

Fame nooded.

“Rita is working on nothing except finding a replacement, but we both know handling your office isn’t-“

“Are you back here all week?”

Raja paused, her pen touching the paper, a soft expression in her eyes. “I haven’t made any firm decision.“

“Raven can’t be happy.”

“Raven hasn’t answered any of my texts, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Raja didn’t sound like it was actually fine, but her tone was light enough, “Sutan says she got home safe.”

Fame nodded, taking a sip of her tea. As wonderful as it was to have someone who was always on her side, she wondered if it was a mistake to rely so heavily on Raja all the time. Surely she should be able to handle a week without her so that she could take a vacation.

“You could still go, you know.” Fame gently knocked their knees together, making Raja smile.

“Well…” Raja put down her notebook, taking her teacup leaning back on the couch. “I don’t really want to go without Tan, and he won’t want to go without Violet...” Raja trailed off, a sour note in her voice.

“Oh. Right...” While Fame knew that having Raja gone right now would be inconvenient, she also knew that she could manage. Violet, however, was another story.

She wasn’t willing to let Violet go, not when there was still so much chaos, not when she made things so very easy. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I understand,” Raja said, reaching over to touch her hand.

The best part was that Fame knew she was telling the truth. She smiled.

“But...maybe you could take her somewhere else?” Fame suggested. “Even if it’s just for a few days. So that she doesn’t want to kill me.”

“Hmm...well, St. Bart’s is pretty nice this time of year…”

***

“No, no you listen to me.” Violet hissed, pressing the handset from the landline against her ear. “I don’t care if I have to personally come down there and break every single pathetic bone in your little keyboard tapping fingers. I want access to that computer, and I want it now.”

“We can’t do that-“

Violet groaned, the tinny voice from the unfortunate soul down in IT only fanning the fire in her chest.

“If you think I won’t find a way to get you fired, you’re wrong.” Violet hung up, the plastic on the phone clacking. She hated using the landline, but since she didn’t have a new work phone, it was her only option.

Raja and Fame had thankfully gone to lunch together, so Violet had spent the break from tending to Fame digging through every single drawer in Courtney’s desk and flipping through her notebooks on a desperate quest for something, anything, that could help her understand the color coded illogical mess that had been left behind.

When she had opened the bottom drawer, she had seriously considered going on a witch hunt to find Courtney, the entire drawer filled with crumpled receipts and printouts that she just knew hadn’t been filed correctly with accounting.

Violet hated traveling, but she’d go to the end of the world, uproot the very earth to find whatever hole Courtney had crawled into, just for the chance to gut her like a fish.

She had managed to cobble an approximate schedule for the week together out of what she could see from Fame’s side of the calendar, but she knew there had to be hundred, if not thousand, of requests of all different kinds from both internal and external business partners in Courtney’s mailbox, since this was the first day back from the holidays.

Violet was just about to call Shangela, the Director of Operations starting to seem like her only hope in getting access to the computer, when her personal phone vibrated.

She picked it up to see a text from Ivy just with a screen shot from Courtney, who gave Galactica permission to open her accounts to whoever needed it.

Violet breathed a sigh of relief, clutching her phone as she quickly dialed the number for IT, feeling certain now that she could have a somewhat functioning office by the time Fame came back.

*****

CHAPTER 8: THANK YOU JINKX

One Year Earlier…

Dela is exhausted. Turns out that making the match a tornado tag was the worst idea that she and Jinkx had ever collectively had - having worked for the last decade as a tag team, neither of them were accustomed to working a match without intermittent breaks for breathing room. Since the bell had rung, it had been non-stop - Gia and Laganja are a storm in a teacup, and they've been quite thoroughly putting the two of them through their paces. There’s sweat dripping off her back, and sticking her bangs to her forehead; her muscles aching and breath heavy.

While Jinkx and Dela had more than three decades in the business between them, and were considered to be two of the small handful of veterans in the company, the two younger women technically had both years and skills on top of them, in spades. They’d both been wrestling since they were kids - Laganja’s amateur career had started when she was still in middle school, and she’d been a hair’s breadth from going to the Olympics a few years back. And that was saying nothing about Gia; a generational talent from Japan, both of her parents had been in the industry for most of their lives, and she’d practically learned to crawl in a wrestling ring. They started them young over there - her first match in front of a crowd had been at age fourteen, against her father of all people.

Through the match, Dela had been tasked primarily with taking on Gia, which had been a toughie - while Dela had clung onto the vast majority of the advantage, Gia worked much harder and much stiffer than she was accustomed to. Strong-style was nothing to be sniffed at. Every hold, every move, every strike had looked like it hurt - because it legitimately hurt. The match had only been going for ten minutes or so, and Dela already felt like she’d been hit by a car.

Gia whips Dela over the top rope; Dela stumbles, planting her feet on the apron and grabbing the ropes to steady herself, before swinging an enormous right hook towards her opponent. Gia dodges it; slamming a knee into Dela’s abdomen and doubling her over.

Dela cranes her neck to watch what’s going on between Jinkx and Laganja, as Gia pulls her into a headlock - it was supposed to be a rest hold, but it’s becoming apparent pretty quickly that that word isn’t in Gia’s vocabulary; Dela has to claw her nails into the brunette’s forearm to remind her to loosen up a little before she passes out.

Ganja is tied up in an armbar in the centre of the ring - the blonde’s shoulder is wrenched at an uncomfortable angle behind her back, and her face is twisted as she tries to writhe her way out of the hold; Jinkx’s brow furrowed in concentration as she cinches the submission in deeper. Dela realises the clock is ticking - and apparently everyone else does too. All four women look between one another, sharing an approving glance. That was the go-ahead to commence the closing spot. Final stretch. Thank god - Dela felt like she was ready to drop dead. Looking at Gia, who was barely breaking a sweat, only made that sensation worse. When did she get this old?

Gia grabs Dela by her ponytail, pulling her up to her eye level. Dela’s face twists into a grimace to contrast with Gia’s sick grin. She catches Jinkx’s eye for just long enough to mouth ‘I love you’ to her wife. Jinkx’s face cracks into a smile; she’s about to respond, when a superkick to the stomach from Laganja sends her flying. That’s her cue - Dela gives Gia a nod, and the brunette releases her neck from her grasp, before landing a stiff knee-strike on her exposed abdomen, knocking her off of the apron and down to the floor.

Dela lands flat on her back on the ground, lying there for a moment as she tries to get her breath back. God, that knocked all of the air out of her lungs - if anyone else had been as stiff with her as Gia was, she’d have been asking questions about whether or not she’d done something to piss them off. But a few years ago, she and Jinkx had worked a small assortment of matches in Japan, and if anything, compared to the norm over there, Gia was going easy on her.  She screws her face up -  gripping the edge of the ring in order to haul herself back to her feet.

Laganja has Jinkx set up for their finisher - a double-team sit-out tombstone, which they had christened the Sativa Driver. Laganja has Jinkx flipped upside-down, legs over her shoulders and head parallel with the mat, as Gia starts to climb the ropes. The move works by having Gia jump from the top rope onto Laganja and her chosen victim, pushing them both down - Laganja landing on her ass, spiking their opponent’s head into the mat. It looked terrifying - but piledrivers were one of the most notoriously worked finishers in the business. It had the potential to snap someone’s head off - but provided that the person delivering it knew what they were doing, it wouldn’t.

Gia gets up to the top rope, steadying her footing - Dela slides back into the ring, leaping to her feet and clobbering a forearm into Gia’s stomach. The other woman stumbles, and Dela seizes her opportunity - as Gia starts to topple, Dela catches her with a cutter and slams both of their bodies into the mat. She can’t see Jinkx, but that doesn’t worry her - this is how the planned spot has gone so many times in training, and at this point, her wife is kind of surplus to requirements.

Gia’s head lolls to the side as Dela hooks both of her legs, holding her shoulders down with one arm as she pins her. One-two-three - she hears the bell ring as she lets Gia go.

“Here are your winners, and new Femme Fatale Wrestling Tag Team Champions - the team of Dela and Jinkx Monsoon, The Weather Girls!”

Dela stands up. The crowd is eerily quiet.

She dusts herself off, glancing around the ring. Her eyes widen. She tries to settle the stirring, black mass of panic that’s suddenly risen in her stomach.

Laganja is kneeling on the ground, her arms tightly folded around herself. She’s sitting bolt upright and her face is drawn and bloodless - her eyes unblinking, mouth ajar as she takes heavy, ragged breaths. Gia sits up. Dela hears her mutter ‘oh shit’ under her breath.

Jinkx is face-down on the mat. She’s not moving.

Dela inhales sharply. She takes a couple of shaky, unbalanced steps towards her, swallowing a sob.

Bill is down on his knees at Jinkx’s side - he pushes Dela away sharply, holding her back with one outstretched arm. His breathing is off-kilter, his brow sweating.

“Don’t touch her.” His voice is panicky. In years of knowing him, she’s never heard the guy sound like he’s panicking.

Dela opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. She can’t tear her eyes away from Jinkx’s lifeless body. Bill gets to his feet - facing the entrance ramp, gesturing down to whoever is standing behind the curtain. He has both arms raised up above his head in an ‘x’. That’s not a gesture that any wrestler ever wants to see; a signifier that what’s going on in the ring just got very real. A nervous, agitated hum of noise has started to emerge from the crowd. Now that Bill has turned his back, Dela gets down to her knees, grabbing Jinkx’s hand - she’s frighteningly limp, and her skin is clammy.

The first people to run out are Courtney and Bianca. Bianca stops almost dead in the middle of the ramp - she doesn’t even try to hide the immediate shock  on her face.

“One of you, go call an ambulance. She’s out cold - based on the way she fell, there’s a chance she might have broken her neck.” Bill’s voice is hushed and frantic. Dela doesn’t think she was meant to hear that - she feels like she’s going to throw up.

Courtney nods - her face looks terrified as she absorbs both that information and the scene in the ring. She turns on her heel, sprinting back down the entrance ramp and behind the curtain.

Dela looks over to Laganja - the younger woman has neither moved nor blinked yet. Gia is standing at her side now, one trembling arm around her. Dela’s chest is aching from trying to hold in sobs.

“What the fuck happened?” She says, staring the blonde down. Her voice is thick, and talking is painful.

“...I dropped her.” Laganja murmurs, her lips barely moving. Tears start to spill from her eyes - Gia looks shell-shocked. Neither of them have torn their eyes away from Jinkx yet. “I’m sorry…”

******

Dela stands behind the curtain - she’s all-too aware of the sound of herself breathing, and how much effort it’s taking; consciously thinking in through the nose, out through the mouth with every breath, in an attempt to keep herself sane. Her hands won’t stop shaking.

She’s wearing all black - not necessarily in mourning, although that’s what it feels like. Her dress hits the floor, a slit in it up to her right hip; covered in sequins, with halter straps and a plunging neckline. It was the first article of clothing that she’d ever bought for a show - her first outing as Jinkx’s manager when they were both still in college. She feels too dressed-up; too glamorous for the occasion. But she hadn’t worn anything other than pyjamas or sweats for weeks - when searching through her closet, the zipped-up garment bag had called to her, and she realised that this only seemed right. This was the dress that started everything, and it was the one she was going to wear to end it.

She’s trembling in her high heels; the title belt around her waist seems oppressively tight. Her lips are pursed as she stares at the floor - trying her best to keep her head clear. To not think about what had happened that night - about watching Jinkx being stretchered out of the ring in a neck brace. Or about everything that had come after. The hours sitting in agonising wait in the emergency room - still in her ring gear, crying so hard that her false lashes had fallen off; face covered in running mascara and Bianca gripping her hand. The seemingly endless conversations about surgery and therapy and rehab; having to try and hold herself together  - trying to be the strong one for Jinkx, who for the majority of the time was barely conscious. It felt insensitive to cry in front of her. This wasn’t Dela’s tragedy.

Bianca and Courtney both step backstage - Courtney shoots Dela a sympathetic look that makes her stomach turn. She hadn’t even realised that their match had started, forget about ended. She feels Bianca’s hand on her shoulder.

“You good?” She’s still a little breathless from her match.

Dela doesn’t respond. She has a microphone in one hand - the second tag title belt slung over her shoulder.

“You got this, honey. We’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” Dela murmurs. Courtney pulls her in for a hug, and she leans her entire weight against her, resting her chin on the blonde’s sweaty shoulder.

The two women leave for the locker room - Dela shoulders  her way through the curtain and starts her walk down to the ring. She’s entering without music. It hadn’t seemed right to walk out to ‘It’s Raining Men’, and anything else she could think of had made it seem too much like a funeral. The atmosphere in the audience is somewhat tentative - she gets a standing ovation as she walks out, but it feels weirdly restrained compared to a normal wrestling crowd. It’s the first time they’ve seen her since that night, and Dela has gotten used to that kind of quiet, cautious sympathy by now. Nobody knows what to say, so they just don’t say anything at all. She’s sick of the way that people have started looking at her.

She steps into the ring, lifting the microphone to her lips. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out - the audience is deathly silent and it borders on off-putting. She clears her throat, and tries again.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, so if I start falling apart, please forgive me. Seventeen years ago, I was brought into the wrestling world by the most incredible woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. For the entirety of those seventeen years, we’ve trained together, we’ve travelled together, we’ve lived together - we’ve been through every up and down, every bump in this road together. She’s my rock, my everything - my tag partner, and for the last decade or so, my wife.

“We’ve spent so much of that time chasing glory, trying to make our mark on this industry - and the day we became your tag team champions should have been one of the happiest of our careers. We honestly couldn’t have done it without the support from all of you that we’ve had throughout all of our years in this company. I think we all know that wrestling is nothing without fans, and we’re lucky to have each and every one of you. So thank you. And I’m sorry that we’ve been gone - that we haven’t really been champions.”

Dela can feel her eyes welling up, and she lifts a hand to wipe them before the tears start falling. She hates this - she hates that she’s doing this, standing here and trying to eulogise her wife’s career. She’s never even been to a show without Jinkx until tonight.

“For those of you-“ her voice cracks, and she screws up her face - mad at herself for letting the emotion break through. “Sorry, this is where this starts to get hard. For those of you who don’t know - back in June, the night we won the titles, my tag team partner, and the love of my life, Jinkx Monsoon, broke her neck in the ring. The last few weeks  have been difficult, and scary - she’s still in the hospital,  we’ve gone through spells of not knowing whether or not she’ll ever be able to walk again; god, of not even knowing whether she’ll live or die, and in all honesty, neither of us have been sure where to go from here.”

Her lip is trembling despite her best efforts to stop it. She can feel the audience collectively gasp as she lays Jinkx’s championship down on the floor, before reaching to unfasten her own from around her waist. The belt is heavy and cold in her hands. She places it alongside Jinkx’s.

“It is with an incredibly heavy heart that I’m here to vacate the Femme Fatale Tag Team Championships, on behalf of the two of us. A match to crown the new champions  will be announced in due course. I’m sorry. I feel like I owe you more - I’m here, I’m fine. It’s not my future that’s hanging in the balance. But it doesn’t feel right to represent this company and the prestige of these titles without the woman I won them with.”

She stops. Bill approaches the side of the ring, Jinkx’s wrestling boots in his hand. His face is drawn, and there’s tears in his eyes - neither of them can meet one another’s gaze as he passes the boots to her through the ropes. The disquietude among the audience is mounting; Dela can feel the tension, and it makes her feel nauseous.

“I wish I could end it there, but I can’t - I came out here to be the bearer of two pieces of shitty news, and I got through the first one, so…Having spoken with numerous doctors and surgeons, an…an incredibly difficult decision has had to be made. In light of how serious her injury was, and the level of surgery required to save her life, Jinkx has been left with no other choice but to retire from in-ring competition, permanently.”

She places Jinkx’s boots down on the mat. That was one thing that Jinkx had insisted that she did - leaving her boots in the ring. It was a time-honoured tradition in ‘real’ wrestling before their industry had adopted it, and the gesture was something that carried an amount of finality. An indicator that this really was it - that she had literally left it all in the ring.

She closes her eyes - raising the microphone up to say something more. She’s not sure what, though; her planned script has entirely left her head. Someone in the audience has started an alternating ‘Thank you Jinkx, thank you Dela’ chant, and it’s only growing louder. That’s enough to break her.