Page 9

9

The night goes smoother than I expected. A few of the wrestlers drop by with tight muscles or minor aches, but nothing too serious. No major injuries. Just the typical wear and tear of people who throw their bodies into the ring for a living. Honestly, I'm surprised there weren't more injuries. By the time I’m packing up my things, I feel a quiet sense of accomplishment. I survived my first night, and it wasn’t half bad. In fact, it was pretty freaking amazing. I feel this sense of confidence I haven’t felt in a really long time. And man does it feel good.

Back at the hotel, I settle into the stiff but oddly comforting chair by the desk. I boot up my laptop and start organizing my notes from the day. Each wrestler who came to see me gets a profile—a few details about what we worked on, what I need to keep an eye on. Things I noticed, as well as personality quirks. It helps me keep things straight in my mind and build a history. Soon enough I should have a profile for all of them.

Jason Bell had some quad tightness, but nothing major.

Kyle "The Killer" Jenkins... I try not to think about that encounter, though my mind keeps drifting back to it. More specifically, it drifts back to when Ryan walked in. I can still see the way his eyes darkened when he spotted Kyle—the tension in his jaw, the way he practically stormed out after asking for Stephen. He seemed... upset.

Maybe it was just the rivalry between him and Kyle. I’ve heard they’ve got history, but there was something else—something about the way he looked at me. It was like he didn’t want me there, like my presence in that room, in that building, was bothering him.

I shake my head, pushing the thought aside. “Stop overanalyzing, Natalie,” I mutter to myself, typing a few more notes into my computer. There’s no use dwelling on something that probably means nothing. Besides, I’ve got work to do. I do my best to focus on my notes, filling in the profiles for the wrestlers I met with today. I even Google photos of them and add them to my notes; it will help me get familiar with everyone.

But then... I pause.

My fingers hover over the keys as my thoughts drift back to Kyle and Ryan. There was something personal in that tension, something that went beyond the typical in-ring rivalry. And I can’t ignore the curiosity itching at the back of my mind.

Before I know it, my fingers are typing into the search bar:

“Ryan Pierce vs. Kyle Jenkins feud UXW”

Instantly, pages of results flood the screen. Articles, videos, interviews—years of history laid out in front of me.

The first video catches my attention:

“Ryan Pierce calls out Kyle Jenkins – Indie Circuit, 2017”

I click, and the grainy footage fills my screen. The crowd is small but rowdy, the kind of intimate chaos you only get in the indie scene. The ring is old, the ropes frayed, and the lights are dim, but there’s no mistaking Ryan’s presence as he paces the mat, mic in hand.

His voice is raw, filled with venom. “Kyle Jenkins, you spineless son of a bitch. You can sneak attack me from behind, but you’ll never outrun me. You’re a coward, and the next time we share this ring, I’m breaking you in half.”

The crowd explodes, but what sends a shiver down my spine is the look in Ryan’s eyes—dark, intense, and filled with something far deeper than professional rivalry.

I click another video, a promo from Kyle, his signature smirk front and center:

“Ryan Pierce likes to act like the tough guy, but when the stakes get real, he always folds. You’ll never be me, Ryan. You’ll always be chasing my shadow.”

The arrogance in Kyle’s voice makes my skin crawl.

I fall down the rabbit hole, watching match after match—the chair shots, the ambushes, the bloody wars. And every time, it’s more than just competition. It's personal. Deeply personal. There are moments where the punches feel too real, where the hatred bleeds through every move.

Finally, I open an article titled “Inside the Ryan Pierce & Kyle Jenkins Feud – From the Indie Circuits to UXW” .

The article details years of clashes—starting from their early days wrestling for scraps, sharing locker rooms and long road trips... until it all went south. A falling out. A betrayal.

Jenkins and Pierce were once allies—tag partners dominating the indie scene. But in 2018, everything changed when Jenkins turned on Pierce mid-match, costing him the regional title. The rivalry that erupted from that night has never cooled, burning through every promotion they’ve fought in since. Now, under the UXW banner, their war is more heated than ever.

My heart races as I close the laptop, my screen going dark. The tension between them... it’s years deep. A wound that never healed.

And now, somehow, I’m in the middle of it.

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly. Suddenly, everything feels heavier—the air, the room, the job I signed up for. This isn’t just wrestling. It’s history. It’s personal. And if I’m not careful, I might get caught in the crossfire.

The next day, I arrive at the arena earlier than I need to, partly because I want to get a head start on setting up my space, and partly because I don’t know how to sit still. The hotel feels like a cage, and I need to get out of there before I go crazy. My temporary office is small but functional. I take a moment to rearrange things—move the massage table a little closer to the window, set up my oils, get the diffuser going, turn on the towel warmer, and arrange the rest of my equipment in a way that feels more... me, and not so clinical. I light a scented candle and dim the lights just a bit. I prop my laptop open on the counter and get it ready to add any new information as the day goes on.

Once everything’s set up, I still have time to kill before the first wave of talent arrives. The arena is a maze of backstage corridors and equipment. I take my coffee cup and decide to explore a little, eventually wandering toward the cafeteria. As soon as I step in, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and food hits me. They have all the healthy options, salads with grilled chicken, fruit cups, every kind of protein shake imaginable, typical things athletes eat. My stomach growls, suddenly realizing how hungry I am.

I spot Ryan instantly. It’s like a magnet, that pulls me straight to him. He’s sitting at a table with Travis Moreno, I only know who he is from studying my UXW roster, both of them engrossed in conversation. He has his long hair tied back in a bun. He’s wearing one of his own t-shirts, the blue logo stretching from the size of his muscular chest. My stomach does a weird flip, but I tell myself to ignore it. It’s fine. I’m about to wave when our eyes meet from across the room, and for a second, I swear something shifts in his expression. His brows furrow, his gaze sharpens—then, just like that, he looks away. He doesn’t give me a second glance.

I stand there, mid-wave, my hand freezing in midair as he turns his back to me. My chest tightens, and the room suddenly feels a little smaller. What the hell? I thought everything was fine. But the way he just deliberately avoided me makes it clear that something’s off. Maybe it’s all in my head, but... it doesn’t feel that way. Did I do something to piss Ryan Pierce off?

I sigh, lowering my hand and walking over to refill my coffee, my appetite suddenly vanishing into thin air. A few other wrestlers and crew members are scattered around, chatting, reviewing notes for tonight's show, but I don’t feel like lingering. I head back to my office, clutching my coffee like it’s some kind of lifeline.

Once I’m back in my space, I sit down at my desk, trying to push the encounter from my mind. Focus on the job, Natalie. Ryan Pierce is just another wrestler—one of many I’ll be working with. He’s no different, no matter how magnetic he is or how confusing he’s been acting. Just because he is the first person I met here does not mean that the two of us have to be friends. He was simply doing his job, he has no obligation to be nice to me.

I don’t have long to dwell on it because soon enough, my first client of the day arrives—Chrissy Simms. I’ve seen her on TV before, but she’s even more striking in person. Her platinum blonde hair cascades down her back, almost reaching her waist, and her frame is tiny but perfectly lean, with muscles that are deceptively strong. She’s the kind of person who could light up a room without trying.

“Natalie!” she exclaims, her voice full of warmth and energy as she bursts into the room. “I’ve heard all about you. Welcome to UXW!”

I smile, instantly feeling at ease around her larger-than-life personality. “Thanks. It’s been great so far.” She is the first person to welcome me so warmly, everyone else has been straight to business, Chrissy makes me feel human, and I am so grateful.

Chrissy hops up onto the massage table, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she tells me about her previous injury. “Rotator cuff,” she says, rolling her shoulder slightly. “It flares up every now and then, and Stephen thought you might be able to help. I need to be at a hundred percent tonight, and I trust him, so if he says you’re good, I’m all in.”

I nod, grateful for the distraction. “We’ll get you sorted. Let’s start slow and see how the muscle reacts. If you feel any discomfort, let me know.” I smile softly at her.

As I work on Chrissy’s shoulder, I let myself get lost in the rhythm of the massage. It’s what I’m good at, and I feel a sense of calm as my hands move expertly across her skin, kneading the tension away. She chatters on, telling me about her match later tonight, her plans for the future, and how much she loves working for UXW. It’s nice, having someone so welcoming and open on a day when my thoughts keep drifting toward less pleasant things—like Ryan.

He’s been friendly enough in the past, so what’s changed in the last day? I don’t think I did anything to offend him. Before we came to Boston, everything seemed fine, but now... it’s like he’d rather avoid me altogether. And I can’t shake the feeling that I did something wrong, even though I can’t pinpoint what that could be.

Chrissy sighs with satisfaction as I finish up, her shoulder feeling noticeably looser. “You’re a miracle worker,” she says with a grin. “I’ll definitely be coming back.”

“Glad I could help,” I reply, smiling despite the knot of confusion still twisting in my chest.

As she leaves, I take a deep breath, trying to remind myself that everything will work out. It’s only my second day, and I’m already proving myself. I can do this. I busy myself creating a file for Chrissy on my computer. I do my best to keep busy, but it’s not easy.