Chapter 41 Margeaux
MARGEAUX
I pace the ring in slow, deliberate circles.
My pulse is beating louder in my ears than the roars of the crowd.
My entrance was epic and went better than I practiced.
I should be standing in the middle of the ring, looking confident and somewhat bored with whatever challenger awaits me behind the curtain at the top of the entrance ramp.
I can’t stand still. My adrenaline is pumping like crazy through my veins, I can’t get my eyes to focus on any one face in the crowd.
All I see is a blur of screaming faces. He said he’d make it.
As the music starts filling the arena, all other thoughts are pushed out of my head. This is no time to be distracted. The music starts slow, the crowd quietens, all eyes turn to the entrance ramp. A white, silk rope is lowered from the ceiling. My fingers twitch, trying to contain my excitement.
A muscular leg, with a knee-high white boot pokes through the curtain.
The song “You Don’t Own Me,” covered by SAYGRACE, swells within the stands.
The curtains open and Jazz emerges in an all-white outfit—a complete contrast to the all-black outfits she used to wear when she was my partner.
Her dark hair hangs over her shoulders in perfect curls, rather than pulled back in a tight ponytail that would show off the shaved underside of her head.
Her make-up is light and sparkly, while mine is dark and matted.
Twisting her arms into the silk, she’s pulled up, hovering over the ground.
The crowd watches in stunned silence. While my entrance was edgy and wild, Jazz’s entrance is graceful and smooth.
She spins and hangs upside down, entrancing everyone.
She lowers down and the crowd is so loud and intense for my best friend.
I hold back tears of joy for her. Our face-off hasn’t even started yet, and I can tell this is going to be the best match of my career.
“Looks like Jazz is making a statement for all to hear,” Mike, one of the MCs says.
“100%, Mike. Below Zero is no more, and The Glam Squad has a new queen bee,” Amanda replies.
“Two former teammates. Now enemies. This face-off is going to be brutal for the fans,” Mike adds. “Looks like Jazz is out to prove who deserves the women’s championship belt.”
“Looking at Margeaux Wild tonight, Mike, I don’t think she’s going to accept anything but victory tonight.”
Jazz enters the ring and we square off. I make quick work of grabbing her behind the neck and flinging her into the ropes.
She rebounds off the ropes. I brace to clothesline her, but she jumps at the last moment and kicks sideways with both her feet, hitting me in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, and bringing me to my knees.
The crowd responds with groans and cheers.
Jazz grabs my hair, yanking my head back and delivers one.
Two. Three blows to my face. She tosses me onto my back, where I lay sprawled out, trying to refocus.
She makes quick movements to get to the top rope and faces the crowd, encouraging them to scream louder before she does a full back layout, landing perfectly on top of me where I break her fall and sell the severity of her hit.
She quickly whispers in my ear, “Doin’ okay?”
“Yea, girl. Keep going. It’s almost time for phase two,” I respond hurriedly.
She works herself into position to pin me.
It’s tough since she’s just under five and a half feet tall, but she manages to apply pressure to my upper body.
Devon, the ref, lays next to us and pounds his fist into the floor, giving the first count for the pin.
Before Devon can slam his fist down a second time, Jazz is ripped off me and tossed against the opposite corner of the ring.
“Out of nowhere, Talia Tanner has entered the ring, Mike!” Amanda shouts into her microphone.
“There’s no way she was going to let the Queen of Chaos be taken out that easily.”
Talia storms into the ring, wearing a metallic, dark blue two-piece outfit. Her usually clean makeup is a bit darker, with a matching metallic blue lipstick.
“Oh! Talia Tanner just threw Jazz out of the ring!” Mike screams. The crowd is on its feet, roaring.
Talia helps me up to my feet, and we set our sights on Jazz, who is on the ground, beside the ring, trying to get to her feet.
I jump out of the ring and grab Jazz’s hair, earning a high-pitched shriek from her as she fights against my tight grip.
I grab her cheeks with my other hand, forcing her mouth into a pout, and then send an air kiss her way before tossing her back into the ring.
She rolls and crawls for the ropes to try to pull herself up.
Talia hoists me up and we use that momentum for her to sling me across the ring, into Jazz, smushing her against the ropes.
“Ooomph! That had to hurt. Jazz is outnumbered and outmatched right now. Maybe joining The Glam Squad wasn’t the right move for her,” Amanda comments.
“Wait! Look out! Look who’s coming!” Mike shouts.
Before Talia and I get Jazz into a pin, Eva and Sasha come barreling into the ring and rip Talia away.
“The Glam Squad is here, and they will not let their newest teammate go down without a fight!” Mike says.
The five of us are in an all-out brawl in the ring.
Me and Eva are facing off while Talia’s battling against Jazz and Sasha.
The crowd is going crazy, just like we’d hoped they would.
This is a championship belt match. We have been planning this for weeks, and we’re giving everything we’ve got.
There’s no holding back, and we’re making sure everyone has a moment to shine and work the crowd in some way.
Contracts will be issued depending on how tonight’s events go, and I want all these women with me next year, and the year after.
We make each other so much better by pushing and supporting one another.
Eva tries to wrangle out of the headlock I have her in by throwing an elbow into my gut.
I stumble back, wedged in the corner of the ring.
Talia is on the other end of the ring, on her knees, with Sasha holding her arms behind her back, while Jazz delivers hits and kicks to her body.
I lunge forward and scoop Eva up, hoisting her onto my shoulder.
The crowd sees what I’m about to do, but Jazz and Sasha don’t see me coming.
Eva adjusts so that I’m holding her over my head in both hands and I launch her at Jazz.
Talia moves at the last second, just before Eva crashes into Jazz, taking Sasha down with her, like a couple of human bowling pins.
I help Talia up, our hands gripping around each other’s wrists. Jazz is the first of the trio to get to her feet, and she stumbles, getting her bearings. Time for phase three of the match.
I race over to Jazz as she’s still dazed and off balance.
I wind up for my new signature move, the chaos kick, and it lands perfectly, my boot making contact with the side of Jazz’s head—at least that’s how we sell it to the crowd—and Jazz goes flying against the ropes and flopping down to the floor.
Leaving her alone to writhe in pain, Talia and I train our sights on Eva and Sasha.
“Oh! That had to hurt. The chaos kick is a lethal move by Margeaux. I never thought I’d see the day that she would use it on her former teammate and partner, Jazz,” Mike says as Jazz continues to struggle on the ground.
“Seriously! This match is crazy. These women are relentless, and you can see the ref doesn’t know what to do. He can’t stop them,” Amanda says.
“There’s a lot of tension between these two teams. I don’t think anything can be done until one person is officially the last woman standing.”
Sasha and I are paired off, while Talia handles Eva. I manage to throw Sasha out of the ring, and Devon, our ref yells that she’s out and cannot return to the ring. The crowd gets louder, cheering, applauding, stomping their feet. The entire arena is shaking.
“Whoa! Jazz is up, and she looks pissed!” Amanda says.
Jazz shakes her head, looking like she’s waking up from a dream, or a daze.
“Amanda, I think that chaos kick from Margeaux Wild has knocked Jazz out of the glamour spell from The Glam Squad,” Mike says.
“I think you’re right, Mike. Look at her. She’s got that intense look on her face and she’s even tying her hair up like she did when she was with Margeaux on Below Zero.”
They’re one hundred percent correct. Jazz is back!
Talia and I have each of Eva’s arms pulled out to the side, the three of us leaning against the ropes, trying to out-muscle each other.
Jazz runs from the middle of the ring to the ropes on the opposite side and slingshots herself at the three of us.
The force from her slamming into us, knocks Eva and Talia out of the ring.
Devon waves his hands and shouts that Eva and Talia are out of the match.
It’s still Jazz and me; we can’t both win the match, but we’re back on the same team.
I crouch down and bend my fingers in a come-here motion.
Jazz gives me a knowing smirk, and the match is back on.
Jazz sprints for me, with the intent to tackle me out of the ring.
Using my height and strength to my advantage, I scoop her up and slam her onto her back on the floor with a loud crash.
I pin Jazz down, holding her legs up in an uncomfortable stretch.
Devon makes it to the count of two before Jazz is able to pop her shoulders off the floor and head butts me in the face.
I fall off her. Jazz is quick to scramble out of my grip and delivers two drop kicks—one to my chest and one to my stomach.
I clutch my midsection in agony. Jazz ascends the ropes, looking down on me and folds her hands into the shape of a heart over her chest. She blows me a kiss before springing off the top rope and tucking her knees into her chest, completing a double somersault before laying out on me and knocking any remaining air out of my body.
We practiced Jazz’s signature move dozens and dozens of times before we felt confident with it.
“What was that?!”
“I’d say that’s Jazz Hart’s signature move: The Hart Drop, Mike.”
“And she just dropped Margeaux Wild like a sack of potatoes, Amanda!”
“Jazz Hart has Margeaux Wild in a pin. The ref hits the floor—that’s one! That’s two! That’s three!!! Jazz Hart is your new female champion!”
Jazz’s muscles relax as Devon makes the final count.
“Holy shit! Holy shit! Did we just do that?” Jazz cries into my ear, still lying on top of me.
“Yea, girl. Now get off me and get your belt!” I tell her, giving her a big hug.
Jazz gets to her feet, and her face is flushed as she cries astonished tears of joy. Despite how much we practiced, we were prepared for Devon to let us know if the match directors called for a different outcome. I’m so glad that Jazz came out on top.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Fans of all ages! Please give your loudest round of applause for your new women’s champion: Jazz Hart!!!”
The crowd is inexplicably loud, and I’ve never felt prouder.
Jazz holds the bedazzled belt over her head, smiling the biggest smile I’ve ever seen from her.
I let my tears flow. Of course, I wish it could be me with the belt in my hands.
This sport isn’t about the wins. It’s about the message we’re sending.
It’s about the trails we’re blazing for younger girls.
Jazz takes the microphone to give her big speech.
I get to my feet and shuffle out of the ring, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.
That’s when I feel his eyes. Everyone else in the crowd is watching Jazz.
Cheering for Jazz. Jon is looking at me.
His dark eyes are filled with genuine adoration and awe.
His lips mouth the three words I never knew would have such a profound effect on me.
Proud. Of. You.