Chapter 29 Margeaux
MARGEAUX
I’ve never been swarmed by so many fans before. After our tag-team match, we barely had time to rehydrate and re-touch our make-up.
“Margeaux! I love you!” One fan screams.
“Can I have your autograph?!”
“Margeaux! Take a selfie with me, please!”
I’ve always enjoyed attention. Whether I want it, or not, attention finds me. I’m tall. I’m loud. I don’t shy away from the cameras. I find the light and revel under its warmth. I love it.
And I think it was finally made clear to my fans, my fellow athletes, the match directors, network executives, and anyone else, that I was born to be a star.
I may not have won the match tonight. I lost. I was betrayed.
I was abandoned. And the crowd’s response was to cheer for me, tell me not to give up. I won’t.
I love this life. I love the fans. I love that I’m inspiring the next generation of badass women. Young girls who are learning to stick up for themselves. Speak up when life is unfair. And fight for yourself when no one else will.
I’ve made mistakes. I’ve had moments of weakness that I’ll forever carry with me. But I embody a symbol of strength and power for these young women cheering for me and my friends. Do I wish that terrible night with Alumni Brian never happened? Everyday.
Where would I be if that night never happened?
Would I continue to be blissfully unaware of how scary the world can be?
I got my dose of reality, and it shaped me into the superstar that I am today.
I’m shaking the hands of my fans, hoping that they are receiving the strength I’m passing onto them.
Moments like this make all the awful moments worth it.
“Thank you, everyone!” I shout, holding my hands up overhead. Eva, Sasha, and Jazz stand off to the side, continuing to sell the deep rivalry between us.
I jog out of sight, to our staging areas, and changing rooms. I collapse on a small couch in our shared locker room, exhaling heavily, letting the highs from tonight fully sink in.
“Marg! That match was perfection!” Jazz comes in, the door slamming open behind her.
“Unreal!” Sasha says coming in next.
“Next level! This was our best work to date!” Eva says, all smiles. “How’s your face? Was the chair shot okay?” she asks, looking a little worried at my face.
I laugh, framing my face with my hands. “You can’t hurt steel, Eves. That was great,” I say.
The three of them join me on the couch, which is too small for all of us to fit comfortably. We’re still sweaty, but none of us care. Tonight’s match-up was legendary. Dahlia comes into the locker room next, already applauding us.
“Nothing but praise for you ladies tonight. We’ll do a formal debrief and review tomorrow afternoon.
Enjoy the rest of the night and sleep in tomorrow.
You ladies should be proud of how you performed tonight.
” She lets her eyes stay on me a little longer, sending me a silent congratulatory message.
Does this mean I’m getting a permanent contract? !
Jazz is on her feet in a flash. “You heard her! It’s time to celebrate, ladies. Tits up! Let’s drink up!”
“Shots, ladies!” Sasha brings over a small tray with two rounds of shots for each of us.
I examine the tray for a second, hesitating before I take a drink.
I haven’t been a big drinker since that alumni night my freshman year.
This night is just too good not to celebrate.
And I’m with my girls, who definitely won’t leave me to fend for myself.
I pick up two of the shots, toast with the girls and we drink up.
“Maggie?!” I hear a familiar voice from behind me. It’s hard to discern who it is over the loud music and the two shots of vodka working its way into my system.
I whip around, still holding an empty shot glass in each hand. My jaw slackens and my stomach flips, threatening to let all the vodka I just swallowed come back up.
“B-Becca?”
“Oh my gosh! I hardly recognized you. What are you doing in these parts?” she asks, giving me a hug like we’ve never stopped being best friends. I don’t hug her back, keeping my arms out to the side, stunned.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, feeling like my world is spinning on a different axis.
“I moved here after graduation. I’ve been working as a corporate recruiter the last few years. You’d know that if you still had your social media accounts,” she says with the same smile I remember from back in college.
“Who’s your friend, Marg?” Jazz comes up beside me, and I’ve never been so grateful for her presence.
Becca iced me out after I quit the team. She was the one who stopped being my friend. Has she forgotten all that? Has enough time passed that she dropped whatever grudge she was holding against me?
“Jazz, this is Becca. We played volleyball together in college,” I say.
“Hi! I’m Becca!” Becca extends her slender hand out to Jazz, her smile never cracking.
Jazz, being bubbly and still riding the high from our match, gladly shakes Becca’s hand.
“I’m Jazz. I’m Marg’s teammate…Well, former teammate,” Jazz teases, knocking her elbow into my ribs and winking at me.
I smirk down at her, knowing the inside joke, but Becca’s clearly none-the-wiser.
“Ha. Still ditching teammates. Guess some things never change.” Becca may think she mumbled that just low enough for the music to drown out her words, but I heard her. Loud and fucking clear.
“Well, it was really cool bumping into you, Becca. Maybe I’ll see you around again.”
“For sure. Maybe we can grab lunch or something. Catch up.”
I nod, with little intention to reach out to Becca. I think it’s best if my past stays in the past.
As we turn back to Sasha and Eva, Jazz shouts, “Did Dr. Jon Jacob text you?!”
Oh shoot! I’ve been so preoccupied with everything I haven’t even turned my phone back on. The moment my home screen powers up, my phone vibrates and buzzes with dozens of unchecked notifications. Missed calls. Voicemails. E-mails. Text messages. Voice memos. Social media updates.
I quickly sift through everything, looking for Jon’s name. I find one text from him that he must have sent right after the match finished. I feel my entire body get warm.
“You got it. You got it bad!” Jazz sings the Usher song horribly off key, but I break out in laughter all the same.
I really do.
“Ohhh. I know that kinda look. Who is it?” Sasha asks, her blue eyes slightly glazed from all the alcohol.
“Some hot doctor she met out in Paramount!” Jazz says.
“Jazz!” I shove her. Then turn my attention back to my phone, rereading the quick text from Jon.
“What? It’s true. Look at you. Drooling over a text message,” Jazz chimes in again.
“Girl, if he’s able to make you smile like that, don’t lose him,” Sasha says.
“We’re just talking,” I downplay.
“And riding faces,” Jazz scoffs.
“Jazz!”
“What? It’s true,” she repeats, holding her hands out in the shape of a heart.
I can’t be mad at her for speaking the truth.
“Alright. Enough talk about this,” I say, turning my phone off and stuffing it back in my bag. “Time to dance!”
I get no arguments from the girls, and Eva is the first to take another shot and lead us out to the crowded and loud dance floor.