Chapter 27 Margeaux
MARGEAUX
Tag team matches are so much. They’re a lot of work to prepare for.
This week, training has been grueling. Extra-long practices just to get the choreography just right.
With four people in and around the ring, everyone needs to be doing something.
If one of us is just standing around for too long, or laying on the ground, the matches will lose energy.
Jazz and I stand on one end of the ring waiting for Eva and Sasha to finish their entrance.
The song “Don’t Cha” by the Pussy Cat Dolls fills the arena as they strut towards the ring.
Fed up with waiting, Jazz and I pace our end of the ring, give each other a look and a nod.
We jump out of the ring on opposite sides and sprint to the front of the walkway.
Eva and Sasha are so consumed in making their grand entrance, they don’t see us coming.
I grab Sasha’s perfectly styled blonde waves, and Jazz grabs Eva’s hair.
The two of them scream, caught off guard by our assault and struggle as we lead them to the ring.
The crowd is already on their feet, screaming and cheering.
We simultaneously slam Eva and Sasha’s heads into the side of the ring three times.
The Glam Girls are dazed and dizzy as we toss them into the ring, under the bottom rope.
The two roll in, Eva sprawled on her back, and Sasha on her stomach.
In practiced synchroneity, Jazz and I scale the ring and stand atop opposite corners, and jump off, prepared to land on our glamorous targets.
Unfortunately, for our faces, Eva and Sasha roll away at the perfect moment.
An audible “OOOOmmmph” falls over the crowd, as Jazz and I hit the floor with a loud thump.
Sasha targets me, and Eva goes for Jazz.
In a traditional tag-team match, one athlete from each team must stay outside the ring.
The loophole around this is if both athletes from each team are in the ring at the same time, then there’s no penalty.
I stay on the ground, slow to get up. Behind me, Eva and Sasha double-team Jazz.
Jazz manages to get away from them and flings herself against the ropes to tackle them down.
Her plan goes horribly wrong when they catch her, each one taking an arm and slamming her face down onto the floor of the ring.
Fueled by fury, I charge to her defense and clothesline Eva, sending her flying against the ropes.
Sasha is quick to jump on my back and I fall backwards, letting her take the brunt of the hit.
She groans and rolls around, selling perfectly how painful that landing should feel.
I finish her off by kicking her side, causing her to roll out of the ring.
I help Jazz up from the floor on the opposite end of the ring before Eva can fully come to and make a move.
Jazz climbs the ropes, standing on the top corner, and mounts my shoulders.
Just as Eva stumbles into the middle of the ring, Jazz flies off my shoulders and takes down Eva with a heavy, loud crash onto the floor.
Eva writhes on the floor while Jazz and I share a double high-five.
We egg the crowd on, telling them to get louder for us as Jazz walks over to win the match for us by getting Eva in a pin.
I stand behind her, letting Jazz win the match for us.
She gets Eva in a pin, laying atop Eva sideways.
Mike, the ref, slams his hand down once.
Then twice. Just before he hits the floor for a three count, I’m sent flying to the ground, a loud scream of surprise leaving my lips.
Eva manages to throw Jazz off at the same time.
I look over my shoulder and find Sasha standing over me with an aluminum chair in her hands. Payback’s a bitch.
I’m slumped against the ropes, unable to get up to help Jazz. Sasha grabs the back of Jazz’s hair, bringing her to her feet. Jazz thrashes, but Eva’s got Jazz’s arm pinned behind her back. Sasha throws a kick into Jazz’s stomach and Jazz falls to her knees.
Eva and Sasha laugh at Jazz. I make my move to get up and put an end to this. I can’t let them win. I catapult myself across the ring using the ropes and I’m met with the wrong side of aluminum…again!
This time, Eva managed to pick up the same chair that Sasha smashed me with.
Only this time, I’m hit face first. We practiced this move over two dozen times.
We were close to cutting it out of the match entirely when we couldn’t get the timing, or the sell just right.
Sue me, I was hesitant about getting hit in the face with a chair.
And Eva was holding back how hard she hit me with the chair, too.
We finally got it down, and I’m so glad we kept it in.
This move is showing that us women wrestlers can be just as brutal and physical as the men.
I fall backwards, knocked out—from an audience members’ perspective. Jazz is at the mercy of Sasha and Eva. Sasha holds Jazz’s arms behind her back, and Jazz calls out to me, but I’m out cold, unable to help her. Eva struts up and down the ring, reaches into her cleavage and pulls out…something.
She kneels in front of Jazz and holds her palm open in front of Jazz. Eva takes a deep breath in then blows a fistful of pink glitter into Jazz’s face. Jazz suddenly stills, her eyes blown wide and her jaw slack.
Sasha releases Jazz’s arms, and all the fight has left her. She’s like a lifeless doll. Sasha takes down Jazz’s ponytail, letting her dark brown hair cascade around her face in soft waves. Eva takes out a tube of lipstick and paints Jazz’s nude lips with a bright, bold pink.
The commentators can be heard all throughout the arena. “It looks like they’ve got Jazz under some kind of…glamour spell!”
“I think you’re right, Dave! Jazz is totally under the command of the Glam Squad.”
Sasha struts over to me and hits me with an elbow drop.
Eva’s next with a fist drop right to my head.
I’m outmatched and outnumbered. Jazz, still in her stupor, makes her way over to me.
Eva and Sasha cheer Jazz on, calling her over to my limp form, sprawled on the floor of the ring.
The ref watches as Jazz saunters over to me.
She scales to the top of the rope, faces the crowd, blowing kisses at them with her new perky attitude.
She blows one last kiss before pushing off into moonsault—a backflip off the ropes—and she lands square on my chest, with perfect timing and execution. I let out one last gasp, showing all the air and fight has been knocked out of me.
Jazz pins me down and Mike, our ref, comes alongside us.
“Best match ever, ladies! Let’s finish it strong!” He slams his hand down once.
“Great match, Marg,” Jazz whispers to me.”
Mike slams his hand down a second time.
“Love ya, bitch,” I mumble as she holds me down for one final second.
The third and final slap of his hand on the ring floor denotes the end of the match.
Jazz jumps off me and joins Sasha and Eva at the front of the ring. Eva snatches the microphone.
“Let me be the first to introduce the Glam Squad’s newest member—Jazz Fresco!”
The crowd cheers and boos, loving and hating the outcome of this match. The Glam Squad has Jazz under their spell, and I’m left alone, defeated in the corner.
I jump off the stage, grab a second microphone from the commentators’ table, and shout, “This isn’t over Glam Squad! Our feud is far from over!”
Jazz snags the mic from Eva. “Don’t hate us cause you ain’t us, Wild. You were right to be part of Below Zero because you don’t have what it takes to be number one!”
The crowd continues screaming and cheering as the three of them strut off the stage, Demi Lovato's song, ‘Sorry, Not Sorry’ booms throughout the arena. I pick myself up and do my walk of shame behind the curtains, smiling because the crowd has no idea what we have in store for them next.