Wrestling the Russian Read online

Wrestling the Russian

  Copyright 2014 Desean Rambo

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead; is purely coincidental.

  ***

  [email protected]

  PROLOGUE

  “Brianna is in the fight of her life!”

  The announcers excitedly called every move of the match as I rolled around the ring ducking for cover. Laura Grey was no joke. She put every inch and every pound of her 6’1 frame into each blow. The crowd roared as I took jab after jab to the face.

  Laura’s large hands clasped the sides of my head. POW! She flung me to the mat with no regard. I blacked out for a moment. I thought I was having a concussion. Then my eyes burned. It was sweat beading in my eyes. I looked up. Everything was fuzzy. Slowly the picture came into focus. The Amazon of a woman was coming at me full force. The crowd yelled as my face met the side of her stiff boots. WHACK! My neck snapped as I rolled over from the force of the kick.

  I began getting dizzier and dizzier. My knees bobbled. My back ached. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even lift my arms over my head. There was no way I could defend myself.

  I had no idea what had I gotten myself into.

  This girl was going to kill me if I didn’t do something.

  I looked outside the ring. His coal like black eyes peered on. I had to do something. “Brianna! Get up!” he passionately screamed out from behind his thick black beard.

  I couldn’t let him down. Not him of all people. He meant everything to me. My heart ached, my feel wobbled, my arms burned.

  I had to find a way.

 

  CHAPTER 1

  “You’re crazy!” my mother said back to me with a look that said she was less than confident in my words. I had my mind made up. Today would be the first day of the rest of my life.

  I looked at the proudly framed photo of my college graduation. It’s tough to believe that was already two years ago. My whole life post college was a mess. Here I was the tender age of twenty five, still living at home and completely confused as to what I should do with my life.

  That was, well, until today.

  My mother and father were cool about me living at home. To a certain degree they probably preferred having me around. I could only imagine how boring things could have been without me. The two story brick and vinyl sided house is the place I‘ve called home for the last nine years. Nestled away in a little suburb of Nashville, I grew up a regular suburbanite. I played with the neighborhood children, my younger sister, and every day was a routine of school, homework, and playtime.

  There is one little thing that’s different about this girl though. I love wrestling. As a young child my father introduced me to the WWW (Worldwide Wrestling) and I’ve been hooked. The roar of the crowds, the energy, the emotion, and the nonstop action made me a fan. Guys larger than life were some of my childhood heroes.

  Every time WWW would come to Nashville I’d beg and beg my father to go see the wrestling matches and he’d oblige. You would think that would be a peculiar sight, a black man with two little black girls at a wrestling event, but nothing is out of the order in the world of wrestling. That’s its appeal. One thing that also wasn’t out of order was seeing the ladies mix it up in the ring. That’s where my mind grew on the unlimited possibilities.

  WWW has a division called the Ladybird division. The Ladybirds include all of the females in the company. They work either as managers and accompany male wrestlers out to the ring, play their girlfriends in storyline, or are actual wrestlers! Seeing women stand tall in the ring and do the same moves their male counterparts did always stuck with me as a child. Now, as an adult I decided it was time to make the leap. I wanted to be a wrestler.

  I told my parents once again that my decision was final and not a spur of the moment thing. I’d thought deeply on this.

  “Brianna don’t you think this is a little bit crazy?” my mother asked, she continued, “I know you love wrestling but that’s dangerous. I don’t want to see you break your neck or something trying to do what you see on TV.”

  My mother is a homely woman of God from North Memphis, Tennessee. To her nothing is more important than the church and her family. She would do anything to keep my sister and I out of harm’s way. I love my mother but as a homemaker she knew nothing about the world of wrestling. I doubt she even knew that the matches were predetermined and that the wrestlers were specifically trained to avoid serious injury. To her it was all the same and her baby girl would not be a part of such a barbaric act.

  “I think if that’s what you want to do then do it. But have a backup plan just incase it doesn’t work out,” my dad chimed in.

  My father is a bit more sensible. He’s also from Memphis, the East side exactly but moved to North Memphis where he met my mother and eventually moved with to Nashville. My pops works as a CDL truck driver and works routes between Tennessee, Atlanta, Alabama and North Carolina. He grew up on wrestling but never thought of being a wrestler. He was raised to get a “good job” the same way he raised his girls.

  The only issue at the moment was that the economy was in the toilet, I was $65,000 in student debt and the best job I could find was at Kinkos. Nothing against Kinkos but I needed something a bit more out of life.

  “I think I can do this. Dad you know none of the Ladybirds can wrestle. I know I can do what they do,” I smiled and reaffirmed my position.

  “Brianna, I don’t know. Those girls are tough,” my father said as he joined my mother and I around the wood kitchen table. “I think you should think a bit more about this. You aren’t in the shape those girls are yet. Maybe in a year or two you could go out there. Not now. You’d get killed.”

  I didn’t want to hear it but my dad was probably right. I couldn’t remember the last time I picked up a pair or weights or saw the inside of a gym. I was always naturally athletic but it’s a completely different story when you are in that ring. I felt I still had a good shot. At 5’7, 140 lbs I wasn’t a small girl. There definitely was something there if I decided to work on it.

  “Ok you got me. This is definitely something I’ll think about,” I said as I stood up a headed for the door.

  “See ya’ll later.”

  ***

  KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

  My sister swung open the door to her home. She stayed in Nashville as well and was working for Vanderbilt. It’s a shame when your younger sister is ahead of you in life. She always made good decisions except for that small thing about getting pregnant. She had her daughter and still managed to get her associates as well as the job at Vandy. She was doing really well for herself. A small part of me envied her success because of my situation.

  “Brianna!” she screamed as she welcomed me in her home.

  “What’s up sister?” I said.

  Nicole embraced me in her tight grasp. She’s a tiny little girl compared to be but life has made her extremely tough. Way tougher than me.

  “Alicia Aunt Brianna is here!” she yelled.

  My little niece ran from the TV room to give me a hug. Dora the Explorer was on. We sat down with Alicia as we caught up.

  “So what’s good? No work today?”I asked.

  “Nope. I have today off,” Nikki said back with an air of relief.

  “You want something to drink or something?” she asked.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “I just came over to use your internet. I need to research something,” I confessed.

  “What is it today?” Nikki said as she grabbed her Macbook Air from the opposite couch cushion and passed it to me.

  “Wrestling schools,” I said.


  “You can’t be serious,” Nikki said as she chuckled, then went on, “You, a wrestler? You got your head screwed on straight sis?”

  “I’m about as serious I can be. It’s either this or what? I’m not working at Kinkos the rest of my life. I need to be in front of that camera making a difference in the world,” I retorted as Alicia screamed at Dora on the television.

  My sister stared me down. She could tell I was dead serious.

  “Ok. I guess. I just don’t know. I can’t really see you as a Ladybird.”

  “Why not?” I snapped back.

  “One, you don’t work out. Two you’re not fast. Three you can’t act and four you’re too small,” she said with a matter-of-fact tone. She was her father’s daughter. Everything had to make sense to her.

  I would not be discouraged by my family. I typed Nashville Wrestling Schools into Google as I debunked all of the reasons I couldn’t make it.

  “One I am starting a workout plan, two I can get faster, three I can learn how to act, and four I’m bigger than you.”

  “That’s if you think so,” Nikki said as she smiled. My ambition was her entertainment.

  I browsed the listings; there were a few sites but they all looked like scams or their site was something from the 1990’s. This was not looking good minus the few schools I found in Memphis. “I don’t think there are any good schools in the area,” I said, thinking out loud, “Where do Ladybirds train at?”

  My sister paid me no mind as she played patty cake with her daughter.

  “I don’t know. I think somewhere in Florida. It’s been a long time since I kept up with WWW. Look up Ladybird training schools.”

  I typed the query in Google as they played on.

  “Here’s something. Ladybird Pro Wrestling in Orlando, Florida. I think this is what you’re talking about,” I said as I clicked on the result.

  The site looked legit. From the photos the school looked state-of-the-art complete with a full sized ring, a real studio audience, and cameras to practice. I knew instantly this is where I needed to be. The only caveat was there was no application page. This was an exclusive facility.

  “That place you’re talking about is run by WWW and its invite only,” I hollered to Nikki who was completely in her own world with Alicia.

  “Those types of industries are all about who you know. Not what you know. That’s why half of the Ladybirds now can’t wrestle. They are all there because of their last names or because of who they sucked in the back,” my sister proclaimed.

  “Well I’m going to do it. Nothing is going to stop me. I guess I just have to find somewhere to begin and go from there. But I guarantee you I will make it to Orlando and it won’t come from sucking anything,” I replied.

  “If you say so sister girl. If you say so.”

  My sister is the show and prove type. She never believed anything anyone told her they were going to do. You had to show her for her to completely buy in. Hence, why academia attracted her so much.

  “Check this out, I’m going to sign up at the gym and get a trainer. Then I’m going to go down to Memphis and start training,” I said.

  “Ok, but what about money? You can’t pay student loans and do that full time,” Nikki said back.

  “I’ll figure it out,” I said.

  I gave my sister her laptop back as I headed for the door. “Where are you headed?” she asked.

  “Girl, I have to go to work in 30 minutes,” I said. It sadly was that time of day. The grind was about to begin.

  Kinkos wasn’t a great job but it was a job. It gave me a lot of flexibility but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to deal with the crap on a daily basis. For one, my car was unreliable. My black 2002 Pontiac Sunfire had seen better days. She was on her last leg. It took a good three or four cranks before she fired up. One of these days I knew she was going to give out on me.

  I always parked way in the cut so the customers couldn’t see my whip. I didn’t care what my coworkers thought, a lot of them didn’t even have their own vehicles but customers are another thing. Customers feel they can talk to you any kind of way when they perceive they are doing better than you. At least that’s how the narrative played out in my mind.

  “Ay! Brianna!” Stacy said as I entered the building.

  Stacy was my road dog. She was a proper white girl who’d lived her entire life in Nashville. She attended Vandy as well and previously worked as a bartender. Her pristine blond hair was always pulled back in a pony tail and she wouldn’t be caught dead without a full face of makeup. Stacy was such a country girl.

  “What’s up?!” I said as I clocked in. She gave me the rundown.

  “Today has been slow. You’ll probably bore yourself to death,” she warned.

  “That’s what you think,” I joked, “I welcome a slow day.”

  “I hear you sister,” Stacy laughed.

  She was right. The day went by like molasses. Stacy left about an hour after I arrived and I was there for several hours before anyone else was scheduled to come in. I passed the time between customers as usual browsing the internet. However instead of watching the latest Rihanna videos I was researching my newest pursuit: weight training and wrestling.

  “Someone is trying to get in shape for the summer!” a boisterous voice thundered at me. It was one of my regular customers, a large middle aged Southern Baptist preacher named Pastor Elle.

  “Something like that. How can I help you today Pastor? ” I smiled at him. He had a stack of envelopes with him to send out to his congregation.

  “I need to send these out. Notices for the Fall Jamboree. You should come by. Everyone is invited. We need singers and dancers too if you’re interested.”

  “I don’t have any talent. I’d help you if I could,” I said back with a large grin.

  “A lot of people don’t have talent. But guess what? Those of us God didn’t bless with talent he blessed with desire. If you want to do something, you’re going to do it. Jesus be my witness!” he exclaimed.

  Whether it was an innocent plug for his show or divine intervention, my mind was totally made up. It was time to switch gears.

  CHAPTER 2

  “And this right here is the squat rack for your leg workouts,” the young energetic trainer said as he walked me around the busy community gym. He was a short country fellow with a twang to his voice. He didn’t seem like the type that was into hardcore bodybuilding. I had a feeling he was possibly the eye candy trotted out specifically for female clientele.

  I knew what a squat rack was. “Thank you,” I said as I looked around.

  The hot lights of the gym showcased a mildly packed gym of housewives and weekend warriors pin-balling back and forth from machine to machine. I had the overarching feeling this was possibly not the gym for me.

  “Is there some sort of fighting class? Like MMA or boxing? Or wrestling?” I asked.

  A quizzical look flashed on the little trainer’s face. “Hmmm… I don’t think so. We have a female self defense class but if you’re interested there are some gymnastic rooms with mats where you can practice anything you want,” he said.

  “I’m looking more for instruction,” I said.

  A look that said yeah right lady now covered his face. He for sure was not taking me serious. I was dressed casual in my work khakis with a flannel t shirt and a ribbon around my hair bun. That was definitely not the look of a future World Wide Wrestling Ladybird. The trainer walked with me back to the front desk and handed me an application for membership.

  “There is certainly no pressure. Whenever you are ready just bring back the application signed and you’re good to go! I already applied a discount to your account so your first month would only be $4.99.”

  It sounded too good to be true. And it was because as I scanned the fine print I quickly saw the regular membership price of $94.99 which resumed the second month of membership. This was a little too rich for my blood. I took the information and bounced as
far as I could.

  “Come on… come on…” I said as I tried to start my car.

  The Sunfire was not having it. She would not turn over. The ignition would not ignite. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel in defeat. Something had to change. I couldn’t take anymore of this.

  The gym was way too far from my house to try to walk and I didn’t have any cash for a taxi. Sadly I had to do what I’ve always done in life and call my parents to get me out of yet another situation.

  The phone rang twice before my father picked up.

  “Hey dad?” I asked with my most needy voice.

  “Yes Brianna?” he said. He was not fooled. He knew I needed something.

  “Dad I need to ask you if you can come get me. My car won’t turn over.”

  My father was never the type to tell you how he exactly felt; he went with the flow 90% of the time. I knew he’d say yes even if he didn’t want to.

  “Where are you Brianna?” my father asked.

  “I’m at the community gym,” I replied.

  “I’m on my way. Is there a place you can go nearby?” he asked. He was always overly concerned.

  “I’m fine. I can go back inside,” I assured him.

  About twenty minutes later my father showed up in his big white Toyota Tundra. He loved that gigantic truck. I climbed in relieved to see his familiar face. The vibe was one of confusion and mild disappointment, that same vibe I was dying to rid us of. My father broke the conversation shortly after I got in.

  “It looks like you’re ready for a new car, what do you think?” dad asked.

  “Maybe. Whenever I can afford it.” I said quietly.

  “What were you doing up here? You’re getting serious about this workout thing?” my father asked.

  “As serious as I can with no money. That place is super expensive and they don’t offer wrestling,” I said softly.

  “Well you have to start somewhere,” my father said hesitantly.

  We pulled into the driveway and I realized something was off. There was an extra car in front the house. I didn’t bother to ask whose car it was. My mother was always having people from church come over for this or that.

  I walked in the house to see a familiar face. It was my first cousin Tony B. We called him Tony because his first name was Antonio, and the B came because there’s more than one Tony in the family.