peach rum.

[chaos lite]

"i just wanna have it all
seeing everything i dream of
watch me rising like a phoenix
and i, i'm never gonna fall
'cause i'm harder than the rest of them
and i think i got the best of them"

aug.31.twelve.

It's Friday night in San Francisco, California, and the opening scene can be described as cluttered. Bodies are moving, swaying, and occasionally twitching eratically in response to the deafening, bass-centric music blaring from the large speakers positioned in our subject's living room. The camera pushes through several of the people, most of whom are somewhere between their late teens and late twenties.

"I know, Cass, I know. This ain't my first rodeo."

Just as our expectations are perpetrated by hopelessness, a single and mildly familiar feminine voice is targeted by the microphone.

"Music? Yeah, I just have a couple of friends ove-- Cassandra, I can barely hear you! NO, I can't turn that music down. You want me to incite a riot in my house?"

The camera is finally able to locate the owner of the voice, one half of M&M, Ms. Aubrey J. Parker. She's dressed in an extravagant form-fitting dress that is splashed with colors of red, purple, yellow, green... Her hair is long, curled, and pushed loosely behind her shoulders, bouncing a bit as she turns toward the camera, suddenly finding herself eager to end the phone call.

"Let me call you back. The camera's here! What? Ahhh, you're breaking up, I... can't... hear... you..."

And with that, Aubrey ends the phone conversation and smiles broadly up at the camera.

"Wow, a camera crew here just for me? My ego is inflated enough as it is. God... How am I supposed to fit my head out the door?

"No, seriously, seriously, come in, dear boys! Have some beer, kick off your boots, have a cigar."

Aubrey begins to guide us through the masses, leading us to the front of the living room where this event is being hosted. Obnoxiously enough, a stage is erected. A microphone stand has already been established on the stage, and the DJ continues to produce the music from his turntable, though immediately halts as Parker approaches him, leaning down momentarily to whisper in his ear.

He takes this as his cue to address the audience-- and many are already inconvenienced by the disruption.

"Party people, I hope we're all havin' a good time! Now, the music's gonna be back on momentarily, but I wanted to take a moment to re-introduce one very special little woman... Mmm mmm mmm."

Aubrey giggles and waves in a faux-bashful manner as a few cat calls emit from the crowd of partygoers.

"The lady that got this whole thing together, Aubrey J. Parker!"

Those in attendance holler and applaud for the appearance of Parker, who grins and performs a curtzee, then seconds later takes a bow, blowing kisses to the friends-- and strangers-- that continue to applaud.

Meanwhile, a camera seperate from that which had been following Parker moves to the doorway leading from the main hall. A petite woman potentially of Hispanic descent folds her arms, raising an eyebrow in annoyance as she watches Parker accept the unnecessary applause. This is only brief and we move back to the stage soon enough.

"Parker's returning to the ring on Monday night on APW Meltdown in Vancouver, holla. Now y'all party people may have noticed the camera crew that kinda crashed our soiree... But they're not here to creep. They're here because this little lady is gonna whoop some ass in three--"

"Give her the microphone!"

The wrestling fans in attendance made their presence known as they stomped their feet, bellowing an "AJP" chant, prompting the DJ to smile nervously, albeit taken aback. He turns to Aubrey and hands her the microphone. He opens his mouth to say something, but the moment it touches her hand she strides past him to the edge of the stage, grinning into the crowd of partiers.

"I want to thank everybody for coming tonight. I don't wanna take up a ridiculous amount of your time, but I'm sure all of you knew it was coming when you saw the cameras.

"I wanna address my opponents for this week: Stefan Raab and Yarmouth, the European Invasion."

The masses boo at the mention of the tag team.

"Hey, now! Let's not be like that. This isn't a time to boo, ladies, gentlemen. This is a time to rejoice because these two courageous young men are eager and willing to risk a loss going into their final appearance on this show. They're facing the team of M&M. They're facing me and Logan Alexander."

An eruption of cheers follows and the broad grin returns to Parker's face.

"And for that? I'd like to thank them."

"Let's take a shot for 'em!"

Parker seems a bit dismayed at the suggestion at first, but allows her concerned face to fall to a smile as several of the party-goers raise their glasses, cheering. It is only a few seconds before Aubrey herself is handed a shot glass, filled to the brim with a clear liquid that her nostrils can distinguish as rum. Possibly peach-flavored.

She smiles and raises the glass into the air.

"Yeah. A shot for those poor bastards."

As the room full of cheering stoners and drunks carries on with their mock-toast, the girl that the cameras observed earlier continues to look on, her face growing more annoyed at Aubrey J. Parker's antics.

"Guys, listen. Stefan Raab and Yarmouth aren't really a unit. There's nothing that they're able to do collaboratively that Logan and I can't do better, because they're makeshift-- thrown together by Stefan's desire to oppose anything and everything American, and Yarmouth's overwhelming fear of being alone.

"There will be thousands of venues that are going to sell out throughout America just so they can boo that ugly, chubby Neo Stefan. He's got stars in his eyes. And Yarmouth thinks he's coming along for the ride. Yarmouth has been conditioned to believe that he's on the same level as Raab. And to an extent, it's true. Both of them are mediocre at best in the ring. Both of them sound like children when they open their mouths. I know that. Logan knows that. You all know that.

"But Raab doesn't. He won't admit it, but he thinks he's leaps and bounds ahead of Yarmouth. The guy's already supposedly an entertainer in Germany, so what benefit is Yarmouth to him? He's not much more than a glorified bodyguard, and if recent history is any indicator, Yarmouth can’t even really promise he’ll do a good job as a protector.”

There is some murmuring at the potentially controversial statement but Parker continues with a smile.

”Like everybody else in Yarmouth’s life, ‘Killerplauze’ is going to leave him. And Yarmouth is going to get more angry. He’s going to get more unfocused and make more mistakes. Grave mistakes. And if that doesn’t happen soon, that’s alright because there are just so many moving parts. Like how the team will crumble when they realize that they don't have a ice cube's chance in hell at winning the Tag Team Championships. They'll fall apart before they even face Noble-Hart because the European Invasion isn't even gonna be able to beat us.

“Logan and I have a job when we get to Vancouver on Monday. It’s to make sure that no matter what we do not allow the European Invasion to end their run on Meltdown with a victory.”

Again, it’s our most-recent dark-haired visitor that seems to be the only person in attendance that doesn’t applaud for Parker.

”My goal is to alongside Logan, beat Euro-Invasion deeeeeeeeeecisively, leaving Diamond and Jeff with NO alternative but to name M&M the next number-one contenders against Noble-Hart! And I’m aware of the difference in stature here, guys. Unlike my opponents, I’m not totally delusional. I’ve played out the worst case scenarios in my head and over and over in my mind, I see the worst; Yarmouth getting his hands on me if I make one wrong move, or what that freak Raab would try to do with me if he caught me incapacitated.

“I can’t, and won’t let it happen. Because while I may not be able to out-brawl either of them, I know for a fact that all Logan Alexander and I have to do is present Raab with competition, and... As history has shown us, that could be enough to send him sprinting away from the ring for self-preservation.

“Raab has the desire to be famous. He wants to be recognized as one of the best, but if he can avoid doing any of the work on the way there, he will. He takes shortcuts, he loses, and then he whines. Those are three things that AJP has never done, bitches and bros. I will never say die. I fight for you guys. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Parker nods behind closed eyes, once again accepting the ovation from hundreds of her “closest friends.”

”Yes, yes, no need to thank me. Not yet. Because the threat is still very real. Euro-Invasion is gonna want to go out with bang, and if they somehow get the win over M&M, then that’s exactly what they’ll do. They don’t know we’re the greatest tag team in wrestling-- not right now. But we’ll only be a minute or so into the match before they’re able to figure it out. And suddenly, that match becomes everything. That match becomes BIGGER than the tag team title match. Because while Logan and I don’t have any gold to offer the Invasion, a win over us at least offers credibility, which is something that neither Yarmouth or Raab were able to obtain as individuals.

“With credibility comes momentum. And with momentum comes a chance, a truly marginal probability that they’re going to be able to edge out a win over the champs and take the Tag Team Titles.”

Parker shrugs.

”But those are a lot of big if’s. The reality of it is, M&M is going to pick up the win in Vancouver and Euro-Invasion is going to implode, much like Yarmouth’s personal life and much like Stefan Raab’s view on reality. It actually seems to be a bit of a trend in tag team wrestling. I mean, look at Kurt Noble’s marriage. His relationship with his friends and family. For the love of Jesus, look at Chris Hart’s fucking cranium! Everything’s destroyed. It haha--AHEM-- it HURTS me to see this.

“As a STRONG SUPPORTER of tag team wrestling, this is not what I want to witness. I want to see unity, damnit. As a matter of fact, I want everybody in here to reach out and grab the hand of another. I know you’re all a little fucked up right now, but what better time to bond with those around you? Come on. Go, go.”

With universal hesitation, the murmuring in the room continues among the masses. Parker waits patiently with her delicate hands folded in front of her. She whistles a tune akin to the Jeopardy theme song before she realizes that everybody in her field of vision has successfully linked fingers with someone else. With a grin she slowly leans forward until her mouth is just centimeters from the microphone, prepared to cut through the dead-silence.

”This is what it feels like. Appreciate. Take a picture, take a whiff, whatever, because after this moment, you can’t guarantee that you’re going be able to reach out and touch someone else again. You could fucking die or something.”

Parker giggles at the muffled mixed reactions to her comment. She bites her lip and leans even closer to the microphone.

”Now! Who wants to touch me?”

The reaction is thunderous from the party-goers. Parker can’t milk the reaction for all of its value because seconds after this statement, two hands reach out and grab her wrist, pulling her off of the stage. Parker doesn’t even bother to turn and look to see the assailant, but grins and waves innocently into the audience, who continue to cheer and holler until they can’t see her anymore. As Aubrey is dragged away, out of the room and down the corridor leading to her home office, she can hear the music resume and the DJ hop back onto the microphone.

”And now we rage until 4:00 in the morning!”

The cameras travel through the dimly lit hallway, all the way to the end until we push through a set of wooden-double doors, leading to an office area. We recognize the stranger guiding Aubrey as the same woman that entered the party late in the evening. Parker shoots her a glare at first, but her face softens when she recognizes who she is.

”Way to halt that thunder, Cassandra, goddamn. If you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve waited your turn.”

”Are you insane, Aubrey?”

”Hahahaha, no. Little blazed. Not insane. Are YOU insane? If you weren’t who you were, I’d have punched you out in front of everybody for grabbing me like that.”

”You were talking shit. That is not what we agreed you were gonna be doing this week.”

”Cass, I wasn’t aware that you were in charge of how I spent my camera time.”

”You were supposed to land in Toronto this morning to meet up with Logan and get this interview.”

”Oh my God, would you relax? I already texted him. I have a two-stop flight and since everyone’s flippin’ shit about this hurricane business, the flight got pushed back until tomorrow. I’m not going to sit on my ass and cut some boring interview by myself on a Friday night, Cass, no. OH! There’s some beer in the mini-fridge. Carona if memory serves me correctly. Can you grab me one?”

Cassandra sighs and throws a hand over her face as she listens to Aubrey.

”Aubs, I want to know how ready you are for this match.”

Aubrey looks at Cassandra in disbelief.

”Of COURSE I am! Did you hear me out there?”

”You’re downplaying how dangerous this is. Logan needs to have your back, and I thought the whole point of you going down there early was to go over the game-plan--”

”I’ve been working with Logan for two years.”

”But you’ve never had an official tag match together.”

”Pardon. We don’t need some nerdy red-shirt ringing a bell to tell us that we’re a team. He knows me better in that ring than anyone, and I’d like to think the same vice versa. Raab and Yarmouth? They don’t know what he’s capable of. They have no idea of the pain he could put them through if he caught them in a bad position.”

Cassandra smiles weakly at her longtime friend and narrows her eyes a bit, asking the question AJP knew all-along was coming.

”What happens if Yarmouth catches you in a bad position?”

Not surprisingly, Parker’s face falls just a bit, but this is only for an instant. A few seconds later, she perks up and gives Cassandra a challenging smirk.

”That’s why there’s two of us.”

”Yarmouth lost everything. You can’t stop him once he gets going. You, Logan, and I all watched those tapes, Aubs.”

Aubrey has begun making her way to the fridge in the corner of the office, retrieving a Carona from the top shelf while Cassandra continues, playing the part of the willful ignoramus to her friend’s actions.

”He could hurt you and M&M could be done before it even starts.”

”If things go our way in the ring, that’s not going to happen. I know I can outwrestle Raab, and I know I can out-think and out-class Yarmouth. It’s just what I have to do. Do you want one of these?”

Cassandra doesn’t answer, but pushes herself up.

”I just came over to make sure you were thinking clearly. What time’s the flight leave tomorrow?”

”Five o’clock.”

Cassandra nods.

”I’ll take you to the airport. I’m sure I’ll have more questions--”

”And judgments.”

”--by that time.”

She frowns slightly at Aubrey’s comment and turns to make her way out of the office. She pauses before opening the doors and turns to give her friend a curious glance.

”Why do you guys call yourselves M&M anyway?”

The silence in the room allows the two to listen to the pulsating bass and the screaming house music emitting from the living room, albeit muffled. The two are frozen in a gaze locked in silence for a few seconds before Aubrey quietly responds in a tone suggesting she’s on the verge of laughter.

”’Cause we’re so fucking sweet, Cass.”

Cassandra stands, unimpressed by the answer for a moment before offering another weak smile and turning through the double doors, intensifying the sound of the music, leaving Aubrey alone in the office. Aubrey stands with the unopened beer in her hand, allowing the pleasant smile to return to her face before she makes her way back to the party.