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Chapter Two

AURORA

E very bit of my energy is focused on getting in the zone as I sit in the rundown locker room of the venue that C1W is using tonight. It’s not much better than the locker room of a high school gym, which I’ve wrestled in those countless times. However, it’s a step above the Porta Potty that we had to use to change in at the fairgrounds last fall.

The tile floor has seen better days. The white is permanently brown at this point, scratched and peeling in spots. What was once probably grass green paint on the wall is faded—and also peeling from years of humid showers. The lighting is a gross orange color, and I had to do my makeup in the car so I wouldn’t look like a clown.

That’s not my gimmick.

I kick my foot up on the faded white bench across from me, checking the laces on my boots and making sure they’re tight. No one wants to lose a shoe during a match.

Wrestling is a performance. When I go out there, I’m not the Aurora that everybody knows. I become Aurora Dawn. Corny? Maybe. But Aurora Dawn is a badass who doesn’t take shit—who’ll kick ass with a smile on her face.

The locker room door opens and someone enters. I pay them no mind as I kick up my other boot, checking the laces on that one too. I can’t hear anything. Wireless headphones are in my ears, blaring music from my pre-show hype playlist. My head bobs along to the beat.

“Rory!” I barely hear someone call out to me, but I don’t acknowledge them. Not at first; not until they plop down on the bench next to me.

With an eye roll and a sigh, I pop out one of my earbuds, rolling it between my fingers. “Is there something that you need, Kai?” I ask.

Kai grins over at me. He knows better than to bother me before a match, so this has to be important. His black hair is slicked back perfectly. I can smell his ocean-scented body wash as he sits next to me, propping his feet up on the bench across from us, mimicking my posture.

“Have you seen how Jules has been killing it lately?” he asks, clearly gushing over her. He has always been a little in love with her.

My eyes drop from Kai’s face and down to the earbud in my hand. Jules got signed to GRW a couple of months ago, and she’s been killing it. Making a huge impact on screen, touted as one of the company’s best signings in years. Evidently, she got scouted at some West Coast indie show by Weston Hext. Everyone knows Weston Hext; he’s a legend. A veteran in the industry, Hext is one of the first indie guys to make it.

Jealousy washes over me. It happens. Every time another person gets that coveted contract, envy squeezes my heart and makes me want to throw up. When will it be my time? I’ve been chasing it since I turned eighteen. Working during the day and busting my ass at night, living off Ramen for weeks at a time because indie wrestling doesn’t pay shit. You put your body—and sometimes your life—on the line for a hundred bucks, and if you’re lucky, the promoter will buy you some booze and ask you to come back. C1W is one of the better indies, and that’s not by much.

Jules is good. I can’t deny that. It’s not like she isn’t as talented as they say. It’s not like she doesn’t deserve it. But I deserve it too.

“Mm,” is the best response that I can muster right now. I take another second, swallow down some of those feelings, and finally produce more words. “That’s awesome.”

“Mmhm,” Kai agrees. His dark eyes are on me, and I can feel him trying to read me, trying to pick up exactly how I’m feeling. He’s so annoying when he does that. “I also heard something else interesting.”

I sigh. I don’t want to hear another story about someone else achieving the very dream that I’m working my ass off for. I push one of my boots off the bench, bringing my knee up to my chest. “All right, hit me.” I’m prepared for whatever it is this time.

“Alex told me that Theodore Abrams is going to be here tonight.”

That…was not what I was expecting. Theodore is the biggest name to come from C1W. He’s the person that Paul, the booker and owner, built the entire promotion around. It’s not hard to see why. He’s everything that a wrestler should be. He can talk like no other; he can wrestle circles around most people. He understands the business in a way that a lot of the newer generation doesn’t.

He got signed by GRW when he was twenty-four, and for the last three years, he’s been killing it on weekly TV. He’s currently world champion, which says a lot about how he’s valued.

I’ve never met him, but from what I hear, he’s a fucking prick. He doesn’t just play a heel, a bad guy, on TV. He lives the gimmick. While there’s a separation between the character I play and who I am outside of the ring, that doesn’t exist for Theodore. He’s the biggest piece of shit on screen, and if he’s even half as bad offscreen? Christ.

“What? Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I assume because it’s our big anniversary show.”

“He hasn’t shown up since he got signed.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the photos that leaked? Maybe he wants some good press?”

I snort. Theodore’s involved in a cheating scandal. He’s been very public about his engagement to his girlfriend, name-dropping her in promos and talking about how he bagged the ‘finest piece of ass,’ which feels like the grossest way to talk about your fiancée. This morning, photos of him with some blonde leaked on social media and it’s lighting up the internet wrestling communities. Considering scandals in the wrestling business, cheating is basically nothing. It’s not a career ruiner. It’s not a reason to get canceled. It happens.

“I don’t think he’s showing up just because he got caught with his dick in some blonde.”

“Language, Rory,” Kai laughs. “Probably not. I kind of assumed that since he cut promos about banging rats after the show, he was actually doing it. I don’t think anyone is surprised that he cheated on his girl.”

Unable to help it, I wince. I hate the term ‘rats’. It’s so misogynistic. Wrestlers don’t have to sleep with female fans who shoot their shots; they actively choose to.

Noticing my wince, he shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I know you hate that word. It’s—”

“—If you say ‘locker room culture,’ I’m going to smack you.”

Female wrestlers aren’t new. We’ve been around since the beginning. We’re finally beginning to be viewed as more than sex objects. Gone are the days of bra and panty matches. But ‘locker room culture’ still prevails from time to time. Some of the old guard are stuck in their ways. They don’t want to move into a future where women are booked equally to them.

“Anyway,” Kai says, slapping his palms down on his thighs. He’s dressed in his gear for tonight. Instead of tights or trucks, he wears fight shorts. They’re white with red detailing. His name, ‘Kaito’, is written in red down the side of one of his thighs. He’s shirtless, but I’m so used to being around shirtless men that I don’t blink twice at his washboard abs. “Maybe Theodore will give good feedback to Nathan.”

Nathan Thorpe is the owner of GRW. By all accounts, he’s a cool dude. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him. I’m sure if I had, I’d be signed by now. I know I have everything it takes. I just need a chance.

I scoff. “ Please . If Theodore is as much of an asshole as everyone says he is, do you really think that he’s going to give positive feedback about anyone? He’s probably one of those assholes who believes everyone who gets signed is another person taking money from him.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugs. “I mean, it worked for Jules.”

“Hext isn’t a huge douchebag.”

Kai chuckles and stands up, stretching. His tanned skin looks even darker in the gross orange lighting. His brown eyes look down at me, and he gives me that signature sideways smile, full of boyish charm. “I need to go find Alex and talk about some spots for my match tonight. You good? You need anything?”

“Just waiting for Sammy to get here so we can walk through our spots.”

“She’s always late, isn’t she?”

“Fucking always.” I sigh. God, I need her to show up. If she no-shows, I will find her, and I will strangle her.

Kai is wrong. There’s no way that Theodore Abrams is going to walk away impressed tonight. He’s going to walk in here with some snooty attitude, like he’s better than us, like he wasn’t once one of us working our asses off to reach a goal.

But, in the slim chance that I have, I’m going to make sure that Theodore walks away with a whole lot to tell Nathan.

Particularly about me.