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Becky knew that being a wrestler had its perks. She was doing a job that she loved and had fun every night—whether it was playing the good guy or saying everything she could think of to make people hate her (this was a particularly enjoyable thing to do). Not only that, but the money wasn’t half-bad either. Of course, it wasn’t about the money at the end of the day, she wasn’t a lavish spender that drove around in limousines, private jets and ran up four-figure bills every weekend at some fancy club. That was more of a Flair mentality, which she frequently teased her girlfriend about, who always protested that the hardcore party lifestyle was limited to the male members of the Flair dynasty. Although they both agreed that riding in limousines was pretty cool.
The wrestling business did have some downsides to it. Life on the road was tough and it took her a while to get used to the frequent hotel stays as she traversed across the country, visiting city-after-city without much chance to admire it’s beauty or enjoy it’s culture. Eating out each night was expensive, and was a gamble when you didn’t know whether the Chinese two blocks away from the hotel was any good, or if the steak place was as good as Bayley’s friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s cousin said it was.
Becky missed the enjoyment of a home-cooked meal like her mother used to do every night back when she was a child. The smell of the ingredients as they mixed together in the pot, an aroma of flavors fighting together to create a wonderful scent, knowing that the taste would be even better than the smell. She didn’t admit to being a good cook, but when she was home, she practiced whenever she could.
The pair parked the car in their drive way and collected their bags from the trunk. Becky shuffled towards the front door with labored steps and fished around for her key in her pocket. After patting down every square inch of her jacket and pants, she groaned and began to empty her bag, one item of clothing at a time, until she eventually found the key hiding in a sock at the very bottom.
After squeezing all of her clothes back in to her bag, Becky pushed the key in to the lock and turned the mechanism of the latch. When she turned around to look at Charlotte, she was standing about a yard behind her, a collection of metal and key chains dangling from her hand.
“You had your keys the entire time?” Becky growled.
“Yup.”
“Couldn’t you have just said?”
“Yeah, but watching you digging around your underwear was funnier.”
Becky’s face scrunched up even more, and she spun on the spot and marched in to the house, dropping her bag on the floor about half-way to the couch, where she sunk in to one of its corners. Her face began to soften and her eyes fluttering shut, and she sighed. “I’ve missed this couch.”
Charlotte followed behind her, unable to shake away her grin. Rather than leave her bag in the middle of the floor, she continued to the bedroom, pressing her hand against the door and pushing it open, only to discover that the room had been left cluttered and messy, an obstacle course of mismatched outfits and crumpled clothes. The scene, reminiscent of one out of a disaster movie, continued to the bed, where the duvet had been left in an unkempt bundle at the bottom of the mattress.
“Becky!” She snapped, her voice never losing a decibel as it traveled through multiple doorways. From the distance, she could hear another faint groan, and eventually Becky lumbered through to the bedroom, sulking against the doorway.
“What?” She asked, like a child about to be chastised by her mother.
“Didn’t I ask you to make the bed before we left?”
“Sorry, we left in a bit of a rush.”
“No, you left in a bit of a rush. I was packed and ready to go the night before.” She reached down and picked up a sock which matched the one in the bag where Becky had found her key. “You were running about, throwing what ever you could in your bag about two minutes before we were supposed to leave.”
Becky rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine. I’ll make it just now!” She huffed out a deep breath and tugged the duvet towards all four corners of the bed, flattening it out with a heavy hand. As she picked up the pillow, she caught the sweet scent of Charlotte’s conditioner as it fluttered off the fabric, then gave a forced smile and gave it a good beating, before gently placing it back down at the top of the bed.
“Better.” Charlotte raised an eyebrow and dropped her bag on to the closest corner.
Becky dropped on to the bed, crinkling the fabric that she had just flattened. “Next you’ll be moaning at me for not doing the dishes either!”
Charlotte’s mouth opened. “What?”
“Relax, I’m kidding!”
The blonde narrowed her eyes, then turned her attention to her bag. She unzipped it and began to carefully unpack everything. “Don’t move in with Becky, Sasha said.”
Charlotte began to stack her shirts in an unsteady sculpture.
“She’s an absolute riot, Sasha said.”
Next she picked out her ring outfits, folding each one carefully.
“She’ll drive you mad, Sasha said.”
Becky snuck up next to Charlotte and gave a sudden peck on the cheek. “Mad with love.”
Charlotte swatted her away. “I think she was meaning mad like the Hulk.” Once the bag was empty, she began dividing the clothes in to various piles—ones which needed washed and ones which could be returned to their place in the dresser. “Are you not emptying your bag?”
“I’ll do it later.”
“Later as in, later tonight? Or later as in that bag is going to be sitting there two days later?”
Becky wagged her finger. “Look, I get it. You’re annoyed. You’re annoyed because Nattie beat you on Sunday, and then beat you again on Monday.” She folded her arms and shook her head. “Believe me, I’d be annoyed too—I mean, I wouldn’t have got beat by Nattie but for it to happen twice. Jeez, Charlie. You’re probably lower than Lana in the rankings right now.” She grinned, slowly retreating out of the room. She managed to disappear briefly, before leaning her head from behind the door frame “Lana!”
“Excuse me?!” Charlotte shouted, picking up some of her neatly-folded tops and tossed them at her girlfriend, who pulled her head back.
She reappeared again with the same Cheshire cat grin. “There’s no shame in thinking about retirement, I know it’s for th-”
“Get. Out!” Charlotte squealed, this time throwing a pair of purple underwear towards the door, which Becky grabbed mid-air and vanished for a final time. At times, Charlotte wanted to scream when Becky did things like this. She didn’t know whether she was more annoyed at her girlfriend or annoyed at herself for getting so wound up by her shenanigans.
She took a few moments to calm down and lowered herself on to the bed, sighing at the comfort it provided. She picked out her phone from her pocket and browsed through the various notifications that had accumulated in the last hour. A missed call from her dad—she would phone him back later. A message from Sasha asking if they wanted to meet up for coffee tomorrow—she could do with a coffee now more like. And a photo from Natalya.
“This better not be another cat picture…” She muttered, as she opened it up to see a selfie of the Canadian, gleefully displaying a playful wink and holding up a pair of fingers, one for each victory. “Lovely.” Charlotte sighed.
She fell backwards, the mattress providing a soft landing and she could feel her eyelids begin to get heavy. A nap, that’s what she needed. Twenty minutes. Or maybe forty. Yeah, an hour, that’s what she needed. But her slumber was interrupted before it could even begin.
“Charlie!” Came the voice from the hall.
She groaned in reply. “What?”
“Did you remember to water the plants?”
Charlotte jerked up, her eyes wide, and her teeth gently biting in to her bottom lip. “Ah…” She frowned, eyes shifting rapidly from side-to-side until she caught the sad sight of a thirsty plant in the corner, looking a little thinner and less green than normal. “Um… there wasn’t enough time.” She began. “We… uh… left in a rush!”