NaNoWriMo Story Snippets

3. Flirting, part 3

Becky knew what it was like to be at the bottom or, even worse, so deep into obscurity that the bottom would have felt like the Olympic podium. So when Dana Brooke came to her for advice, she didn't mind in the least. She knew what Dana was feeling. She knew what Dana had done to get to WWE. And yet in the current climate of Vince seeming to favour every blonde wrestler in the women's locker room, Dana had somehow missed that wave of good fortune too. It was frustrating and demoralizing and if Becky could help another woman out of that rut, particularly one who was talented and deserved so much better, she was willing to help.

Dana had got permission from the McMahons to arrive at the arena early and practice in the ring, so Becky made a point of arriving early as well, though she was wearing workout gear rather than her ring attire. "So what do you want to work on?" she asked. She found that tended to work better as a spark than bringing up suggestions, because in Becky's typically blunt way, she often brought up things that the other person didn't even consider an issue, which made everything that followed awkward.

"Everything?" Dana's laugh was bright and brittle. Becky knew the self-deprecation well too: she had always figured if she insulted herself first, then anything anyone else said about the matter wouldn't sting as much. It wasn't the best theory, and it didn't always work in practice either. "Um. How about ring presence? I know it's not really something you can teach, but when you come out, you always look so confident. So many people kept telling me to do flexing poses, but it feels really overdone now."

"I don't know. I kinda liked your flip kick thing. It looked really athletic, and that's your niche. In NXT, Dusty always used to tell us to play to our strengths." Becky sat on the top turnbuckle as she thought. "Maybe do sort of like Mr. Perfect used to, posing between moves. You know, do a dropkick, then pose. If Creative wants to make you a heel, it will look cocky; if they keep you a face, it's like an affirmation—yeah, I did that."

Dana sighed. "See, that's what I don't get. How do you make yeah, I did that not seem cocky?" Suddenly Dana brightened up and Becky figured she had an epiphany, but she turned to see Seth Rollins approaching the ring, still in his street clothes. "Hey, Seth! What's up?"

"Not much, not much." Seth rolled under the bottom rope and sprang to his face. Damn showoff. "I was talking to Renee and she said you were out here practicing, so I thought I'd come watch, if that's okay. Your matches are really improving."

And just like that, it was like Becky no longer existed. All the questions Dana had been asking her were now aimed at Seth—aimed at him from arm's length or closer, so they couldn't fail to hit. "You really think so? That means so much to me, really. Those last few matches you've had with AJ Styles have been incredible. I'd love to put on a match like that."

"You'll definitely to make sure your stamina is up," Seth advised. "And it helps if you have a good opponent. It's all about ebb and flow. You want someone whose style is similar to yours, but not identical. Look at Rey Mysterio. Sure, it's a goddamn clinic when he goes against someone like Sin Cara, but you really get to appreciate the lucha style more when he's going against someone like Randy Orton."

Becky tried to slide off the turnbuckle as gently as she could, but Dana saw the ropes vibrate out of the corner of her eye and turned to her—quite reluctantly, Becky noticed. "What do you think, Becky?" Dana asked. Becky gave her an ounce of credit: she at least tore her eyes away from Seth's chest long enough to acknowledge her existence.

Feigning ignorance, Becky pulled her phone out of her pocket. She had debated whether to bring it to the ring, but it would be a handy out now. "Sorry. I just got a text from my brother. It's about my dad. I really should call before my match. . . ."

"Oh. I'm so sorry. Of course." Dana didn't ask for a raincheque; she barely even budged an inch from Seth's side. "See you later."

"Yeah." Becky hopped down from the apron and started to stride up the ramp, but she was still close enough to the ring to catch snippets of Dana and Seth's conversation; Seth was talking about her body language, the stiffness of her shoulders and the lack of sway in her hips.

"Watch it, Rollins," she muttered to herself, pocketing her phone, "or you're going to get a stiff kiss to the mouth." Becky nearly tripped over her own feet at the top of the ramp when she heard herself. "Fist. Stiff FIST." She curled both hands into fists as she headed backstage just to remind herself.