I will if you will. Which clearly isn't going to happen.

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Rosalie sat there for a few minutes with her laptop, watching the message that her opponent had just for her. “Well, this should be fun.” She frowned, but it was more thoughtful than upset. Loca Rocsi had brought up a few good points, and it was going to take a few minutes to think of what she wanted to say in reply. A long drink of her raspberry Italian soda kept her from having to speak just yet.

Cara sat across from her in a coffee shop booth. She was silent for the moment, which stretched on into awkwardness before either of them said something. “I think it’s safe to say that both of you feel you have something to prove.”

Rosalie chuckled softly, and shook her head as she stood up from her chair. “You think? The once-was and the newbie…” She trailed off, and looked up at the ceiling as though asking whatever higher power her mother didn’t think existed around here for guidance. “Honestly, I think it sucks that they put me and her in a match like this. Really, from what she’s saying, I think we’d make a better tag team than opponents. Similar goals, different backgrounds.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let her hear you say that when you do your promo here in a minute,” Cara muttered, and looked down at her planner. “You’ve got to get a few wins before you can start talking about tag teams and bringing wrestling back to what it should be.”

“Do I? Or is that what I base my entire drive toward success on? I think Rocsi and I do have at the very least one thing in common here: we both believe that being a diva in this sport shouldn’t be an irrelevant thing.”

“Will you stop talking about that shit and just come up with what you want to say for your promo already? There will be time to try and make nice later, you know. Unless, of course, the drama of having two rivals is going to bring in more money and-”

“Cara. Please. I know, I know, I know. I’m thinking about it.” Another long drink of her soda followed, as she thought about what she needed to say. Eventually she drifted off into thoughts of her past, and of her motivations.

“Come on, Rosa. Don’t go and do this. You’ve got a good job, and good friends, and a lot of things going on for you here.”

Rosalie could hear the unspoken ‘and me’ in his voice as he pleaded with her not to leave Charlotte for the road. She stared across the table at him for a moment, and then waved one of her breadsticks at him. Not exactly the intended use for an Olive Garden breadstick, but it worked. “Look, Jared, I understand why you don’t want me to go, and probably on more levels than you’ve ever confessed. But this is something that I have to do for me. It’s my passion and my ambition. I would have thought you would understand this better than my mother.” Ouch, low blow, but she wasn’t about to take it back. He had a habit of not listening to her dreams, instead preferring his fantasy of a perfect relationship.

“I do, Rosa, I really do. But I was sort of hoping…” Jared leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. For a moment, he was inarticulate, and Rosalie felt the need to prompt him.

“You were hoping what, Jared?” Her voice was soft and gentle. She had a feeling she already knew, but she needed to hear him say it.

“I was hoping that we could get married and settle down. Start a family. I even have the ring, Rosa. I was going to ask last week, but then you brought this up.” He looked as close to tears as Rosalie had ever seen him, and she felt guilty.

“Jared, we’ve already talked about this. I’m not ready to settle down, and I’m not ready to have a family. And you’re not ready to go out on the road with me, so we are at an impasse.”

“Rosa, you’re twenty-seven. You are running out of time to have children.”

“Says who? I’ve got at least eight years. And there’s always adoption, if I even want kids. Don’t you dare try and guilt me into leaving the tour and having babies. I’ll have children when I’m ready to, and if you can’t accept that, well, maybe you aren’t as good for me as I thought.” Rosalie got to her feet.

“So that’s it? You’re going to leave me right here and now for a fake soap opera full of shit people?”

Rosalie grinned, although it was clear that she was doing it to keep from crying this time. The smile didn’t reach her eyes completely. Those were still hard and angry. “Yeah, Jared, I guess I am. Because those people can help me with my dream. You just want me to live your dream. Fuck that.” She turned around and walked toward the door, not realizing the breadstick was still in her hand. He followed.

“Rosalie, wait.” Jared’s voice was full of all the authority he could muster and he reached out and grabbed her arm.

Without even thinking about it, she counter-grabbed and twisted around until she had him in an elbow lock. She applied just enough pressure to let him know that she was serious, but not enough to do any real damage. The pain in his face was almost satisfying as she gave him a cold smirk. “I’m done living my life for other people, Jared. Now are you going to let me go, or am I going to have to make an even bigger scene than this?”

Jared looked around. Many of the patrons and staff in the Olive Garden had stopped eating, some with forks halfway to their mouths, and they all were staring at the woman who had her taller (ex?) boyfriend in an elbow lock. “This is really what you want, then?”

Rosalie nodded, and her features softened as she let him out of the elbow lock. “Yes, Jared, it is. I’m not interested in settling down. Not now, and hell, maybe not ever. You deserve someone who can be what you want. Not me.” She was trying not to cry at this point herself.

Jared sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m doing this… All right, Rosa. If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in your way. But you better get out there and do the best damn job you can of it, because I will be watching you on TV every week. I don’t want to see that you’ve thrown us away for nothing.”

Her smile trembled a little. “I am sorry, Jared. I loved you. I still do. But I think life has other things in mind for us both.”

“Just go already. I’ll bring your stuff by your apartment tomorrow. Have my stuff ready.” It was clear that he was hurting, and Rosalie sighed as she turned away without another word, and walked out the door.

"Earth to Captain Knight..." Cara was waving her hand in Rosalie's face, trying to get her attention.

“Sorry… was thinking about Jared,” Rosalie replied, and smiled weakly. “I think we all sacrifice something to be here. Sometimes more than one something.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Really, Rosalie? You’re really going to get all philosophical on me now? You have a shoot to do, you know. You can’t let her challenge just stand like that.”

“Actually, Cara, I’m half-tempted to do exactly that. Let it stand. But I get the feeling that she wouldn’t see it the same way I do. She would probably see it as a coward’s hiding, while I see it as not bothering to let words speak for me. Actions speak louder than words, Cara. They always have.”

Cara muttered under her breath, just loud enough that Rosalie could hear it. Whether that was deliberate or not, she had no idea. “What was I thinking getting a philosophical person like you into a sport like this?” It had been Cara who had first said, “Hey, Rosalie, you could do what they’re doing” at some show in Charlotte.

Rosalie grinned once more. “Come on, Cara. You know I can do this. Even if I lose my debut match to someone with more experience, this is hardly the end. Things are just beginning.”

“Things aren’t going to go anywhere if you don’t get your ass in gear and do your shoot. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Rosalie laughed as she finished the last of her soda and slid out of the booth. “All right, all right. Lead the way.”

* * *

Rosalie sits in front of the camera, staring right at it. She’s wearing an outfit much like the one she wore backstage in Edmonton. Blue jeans that fit her perfectly. Slouchy black suede boots that come to mid-calf. Royal blue T-shirt with a fleur d’lis in silver sparkles across her ample chest. She has one arm draped over the back of the chair, and her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. It is not the pose of one who is intimidated in the least. She has to believe in her own abilities or nobody else will. Maybe her confidence borders on arrogance at times, or maybe she just believes in her own power that much. It’s hard to say at this point.

She takes a deep breath, and keeps reviewing in her head the things she’s been wanting to say since hearing what Loca Rocsi had to say to her. She waits for that red light to come on that indicates the camera is rolling, and puts on her most confident smile. The red light comes on, and she leans back just a little further, addressing her opponent directly through the lens in her faintly Southern-drawled speech.

“Rocsi, sugar, honey, you throw around the word underestimate like it’s something I don’t understand. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be underestimated, and I don’t make the mistake when it comes to my opponents. I’ve seen video of your moves over and over. I’ve studied what everyone has to say about you. And in learning about you, I have to say that I’m becoming rather quite a fan of you. You’ve had one hell of a career, and I can’t deny that. If I was anything less, I’d probably turn into a quivering fangirl in the ring.

But here’s the thing, honey: I won’t. I’m more than that. I didn’t make it to the pros by breaking down at every little emotional trigger or backing down when the going got tough. I’m more than some rookie who wants the glory. If we’re going to be throwing around the word underestimate, I think you’re the one making the fatal error of doing so here.

You talk about doing the right thing, Rocsi. Guess what? That’s what I’m here to do as well. You’re right. This business isn’t about the merchandise. It’s not about playing pied piper and leading the rats, or the sheep, since you have your stories mixed up here. Hell, since it’s November and I haven’t seen a damn turkey anywhere, just a ton of bloated Santas, I’ll even say that it’s become like Christmas. It’s become trite and over-commercialized. It’s lost its meaning in the money. You’re not the only one capable of doing what’s right here, or the only one who wants to, and don’t make the mistake of being too arrogant to realize you’re not alone.

If I lose to you because you’re better than me, well, that’s just the way it is. But don’t think that I’m not going to try. You deserve more of a challenge than that, and I deserve more than selling myself short. Don’t think that you’re going to be able to force me into obscurity, ever. Don’t think that just because I haven’t bled and sweat and puked as much as you YET, that it’s not something I’m not willing to do, that it’s not something that won’t happen. It just means you’re a little ahead of me on this path. Been doing it longer. Not that you’re more important than me.

And one last thing, sugar, irrelevancy is not a word that is ever going to apply to me. I’m going to be noticed; I’m going to make myself be heard, and I’m going to be seen on this crusade of mine. So tell me that I’m irrelevant all you want. Tell me that I haven’t worked for it all you want. Tell me that I don’t deserve to be here if you think it will make you feel better.”

At this point, Rosalie turns the chair around to sit straddled across the seat with her arms folded on the back of it, and smirks.

“But none of it’s going to affect me, honey, because I know the truth of things. I’ve put in the work, and if you think I’m going to back down from the challenge, you are sadly mistaken. I won’t be taking my ball and going home, win or lose. I’ve sacrificed too much to be here, fought too hard to get to this point. Some of us have sacrificed more than others. I get the feeling that you understand exactly what I mean, Rocsi. I don’t want to be the next you, I just want to be me, and you and everyone else needs to understand that. So maybe, just maybe, you’ll see that I’m not the enemy, just the opponent you get to fight this time around.

So this week in that ring, darling, you and everyone else in IWF and the audience will see that the Lady Knight has the steel and the talent it takes to rise to the challenge. You and everyone else will see that I’m not a force to be underestimated any more than you are. So go ahead and bring it, because I won’t be holding back.

So, Rocsi, what do you say we give IWF and the world something to think about. Whichever one of us wins or loses, we women are on the rise, and it’s with a momentum and power that’s bigger than either you or me. Let’s run with it, shall we?”

* * *

Rosalie looked up to see Cara and the camera guy both staring at her. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Strangest trash talk I’ve ever heard.” Cara shrugged, but still wore a bewildered expression on her face.

“We can shoot again if you want. It just sort of started flowing.”

“No… It’s different. Like you said… let’s run with it.” Cara laughed quietly, and the camera guy started packing up.

Rosalie grinned, although it was a little pained. She really hoped she hadn’t started a catch phrase already. “Yeah… let’s run with it.”

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