Post by Tayler Parks on Oct 21, 2020 7:26:35 GMT -5
Seattle. The Showbox. Tuesday, October 13.
The smell of vape clouds and the murmur of a socially distanced crowd set the backdrop. An afternoon rain subsided just long enough for a crowd of eager fans to “pack” The Showbox. The fliers around the building are plastered with “Rescheduled” or “Cancelled” stickers, a sad display of the “new normal” in the world today. Four local bands are on the bill tonight in an attempt to revitalize the Seattle music scene and save the struggling venue.
Standing about 10 pods back from the front door is Tayler Parks. She stands above most women, at 5’8, she definitely fits in with the crowd. Wearing a studded leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and combat boots, she stands with her arms crossed and earbuds in, closed off from the rest of the crowd.
A former Seattle musician, Tayler knows this life all too well. She has been going to concerts and events in the northwest for the better part of 25 years. She’s stood in front of many venues as a fan, ready to pack the buildings for various events. Seeing the posters for cancelled concerts, roller derby events, and wrestling events, her eyes show the disappointment of a year in entertainment lost.
The crowd stirs, chanting “Let us in,” repeatedly. Some advance towards the door, but most maintain their distance. Security approaches the front door and within seconds, the line pushes at Tayler’s back, their eagerness clearly showing. The man behind Tayler puts his hand on her back and starts to push her towards the door.
“Touch me again and you’ll lose that hand.”
Her stern warning does little to stop him. She hadn’t even turned around and he hadn’t even flinched. He stood several inches taller and was significantly heavier, with long, scraggly black hair, and he showed his moxie by not heeding Tayler’s warning.
“I said, ‘Touch me again and you’ll lose that hand.”
She turns this time. He moves his hand but continues to try to walk forward, taking a step to the left to move around Tayler. She steps right, back into his path, and takes her mask off.
“What makes you think you can put your hands on me? The door isn’t even open yet, moron. And when they do open them, don’t you think I’ll move too?”
He stammers, evading the strong display of the woman confidently standing in front of him. She shrugs her shoulders, trying to goad him into a response, but a guy off to the side interjects.
“Wait, you’re Tayler Parks, right? Wow, we’re huge fans.”
The smaller guy does little to divert her attention as she responds.
“I appreciate that, but what I don’t appreciate is your friend here thinking he can just push me like that.”
“He didn’t mean anything by that. Right Clint?”
The guy shrugs, before adding, “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
His friend just shakes his head. He steps forward to get in between them.
“Please, Ms. Parks. He’s sorry. He’s just an asshole. He doesn’t know who you are, otherwise he’d have never done it.”
“Like that makes it any better, right? But it’s fine. Just don’t do anything like that again man.”
With the situation seemingly resolved, Tayler turns back around and puts her mask on. The doors still haven’t opened, but a brief glance at her iPhone shows that they should open any minute. The friend, who has gotten Clint to step back and keep his hands to himself, approaches to Tayler’s right side.
“Uh, Ms. Parks...”
“It’s Tayler. Call me Tayler. And you are...?”
“Mark. Tayler, like I said, I’m a huge fan. I haven't seen you wrestle lately. Is that just pandemic related or have you retired?”
She takes the mask back down.
“It’s pandemic related. The company I was working with closed down for good, the owner sold his ring. I don’t know what’s going on with my career at this point, but I have no interest in retiring right now. Just need to find a new place to kick some ass.”
Mark takes his mask off.
“Well I don’t know if you’ve heard of them, but there’s a pay per view tonight from a group called Pro Wrestling Syndicate. They’re doing some really great stuff, I think you could do great work.”
“I liked it better when the marks were just in the seats... But I do appreciate it. I have no way to get in touch with them.”
“Trust me, you’re big enough up here, they probably know you. I’m sure if you Tweeted at someone, you could get a call.”
She turns slightly, pondering what Mark has just told her. Within seconds, she gives him a hasty “Thanks,” and abandons her spot in line. She trudges past the rest of the line and towards the parking garage. She pulls out her iPhone and opens Safari. She types in “PWS pay per view” and sees the ads for Dishonored, the show Mark told her about. She glances at the time. 4:30. She picks up the pace, the trudge turning into a bit of a jog. The parking garage in the distance feels like miles away for Tayler, one of the obstacles in her way from continuing her dream.
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Seattle. Sky View Apartments. Wednesday, October 14.
Her iPhone vibrates nearly off the nightstand. Tayler, in a cocoon of pillows and blankets, rolls over to catch her device before it falls and shatters. By the time her eyes adjust, she has missed the call. She slams her head back down, ready to fall back asleep. The faintest daylight peaks through the blackout curtains. Seconds later, she gets another alert. A voicemail. A couple taps on her device later and she’s got it on speaker and is listening.
“Hi Tayler, this is *unintelligible name* with PWS: Apex. We’re just finishing up here in Las Vegas after a wild night last night. Appreciate the feedback by the way. Nice to know where gaining some fans. Reason for the call today is about you mentioning you wanted to come work for us. If that’s still the case, feel free to give me a call back at this number. I think we can make that work. I just hope you know what
you’re getting yourself into. This isn’t the Seattle indies, you know. Either way, just let me know.”
She hangs up and springs out of bed. Frantically tapping buttons on her phone, she redials the number she’d missed the call from.
“Yes, this is Tayler returning your call.”
A pause. Not a long pause. A slight smile creeps over her face.
“Yessir. Yes. Yeah, I’ve been out of work for some time now, what with the pandemic and all. Yeah. I know, it sucks.”
The smile has grown. She’s got the phone pressed to her ear with one hand and the other has her hair pulled back, her hand resting on the top of her head. She has started pacing as the conversation continues.
“Nope, my main company closed for good, so I’m out of work for now. Nope, no contracts. Nothing keeping me here.”
She starts jumping up and down, almost giddy, an unexpected reaction from someone who was nearly fighting with someone outside a concert just a few hours ago.
“Wait, I thought you guys were in Vegas. OOOH, I gotcha. Yeah, no problem. Next Tuesday? I mean, I’m probably a bit rusty, but if you think... oh. Okay. Yeah, that works. I’ll be ready.”
She sets the phone down for a second after turning it back on speaker.
“I don’t think I have to tell you what an opportunity this is for you, Tayler. We have heard of you for a while and we’re excited to bring you in. Don’t disappoint us.”
She sets the phone down on her kitchen table and leans down over it.
“Don't worry about me. I'll see you in New York.”
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The smell of vape clouds and the murmur of a socially distanced crowd set the backdrop. An afternoon rain subsided just long enough for a crowd of eager fans to “pack” The Showbox. The fliers around the building are plastered with “Rescheduled” or “Cancelled” stickers, a sad display of the “new normal” in the world today. Four local bands are on the bill tonight in an attempt to revitalize the Seattle music scene and save the struggling venue.
Standing about 10 pods back from the front door is Tayler Parks. She stands above most women, at 5’8, she definitely fits in with the crowd. Wearing a studded leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and combat boots, she stands with her arms crossed and earbuds in, closed off from the rest of the crowd.
A former Seattle musician, Tayler knows this life all too well. She has been going to concerts and events in the northwest for the better part of 25 years. She’s stood in front of many venues as a fan, ready to pack the buildings for various events. Seeing the posters for cancelled concerts, roller derby events, and wrestling events, her eyes show the disappointment of a year in entertainment lost.
The crowd stirs, chanting “Let us in,” repeatedly. Some advance towards the door, but most maintain their distance. Security approaches the front door and within seconds, the line pushes at Tayler’s back, their eagerness clearly showing. The man behind Tayler puts his hand on her back and starts to push her towards the door.
“Touch me again and you’ll lose that hand.”
Her stern warning does little to stop him. She hadn’t even turned around and he hadn’t even flinched. He stood several inches taller and was significantly heavier, with long, scraggly black hair, and he showed his moxie by not heeding Tayler’s warning.
“I said, ‘Touch me again and you’ll lose that hand.”
She turns this time. He moves his hand but continues to try to walk forward, taking a step to the left to move around Tayler. She steps right, back into his path, and takes her mask off.
“What makes you think you can put your hands on me? The door isn’t even open yet, moron. And when they do open them, don’t you think I’ll move too?”
He stammers, evading the strong display of the woman confidently standing in front of him. She shrugs her shoulders, trying to goad him into a response, but a guy off to the side interjects.
“Wait, you’re Tayler Parks, right? Wow, we’re huge fans.”
The smaller guy does little to divert her attention as she responds.
“I appreciate that, but what I don’t appreciate is your friend here thinking he can just push me like that.”
“He didn’t mean anything by that. Right Clint?”
The guy shrugs, before adding, “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
His friend just shakes his head. He steps forward to get in between them.
“Please, Ms. Parks. He’s sorry. He’s just an asshole. He doesn’t know who you are, otherwise he’d have never done it.”
“Like that makes it any better, right? But it’s fine. Just don’t do anything like that again man.”
With the situation seemingly resolved, Tayler turns back around and puts her mask on. The doors still haven’t opened, but a brief glance at her iPhone shows that they should open any minute. The friend, who has gotten Clint to step back and keep his hands to himself, approaches to Tayler’s right side.
“Uh, Ms. Parks...”
“It’s Tayler. Call me Tayler. And you are...?”
“Mark. Tayler, like I said, I’m a huge fan. I haven't seen you wrestle lately. Is that just pandemic related or have you retired?”
She takes the mask back down.
“It’s pandemic related. The company I was working with closed down for good, the owner sold his ring. I don’t know what’s going on with my career at this point, but I have no interest in retiring right now. Just need to find a new place to kick some ass.”
Mark takes his mask off.
“Well I don’t know if you’ve heard of them, but there’s a pay per view tonight from a group called Pro Wrestling Syndicate. They’re doing some really great stuff, I think you could do great work.”
“I liked it better when the marks were just in the seats... But I do appreciate it. I have no way to get in touch with them.”
“Trust me, you’re big enough up here, they probably know you. I’m sure if you Tweeted at someone, you could get a call.”
She turns slightly, pondering what Mark has just told her. Within seconds, she gives him a hasty “Thanks,” and abandons her spot in line. She trudges past the rest of the line and towards the parking garage. She pulls out her iPhone and opens Safari. She types in “PWS pay per view” and sees the ads for Dishonored, the show Mark told her about. She glances at the time. 4:30. She picks up the pace, the trudge turning into a bit of a jog. The parking garage in the distance feels like miles away for Tayler, one of the obstacles in her way from continuing her dream.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Seattle. Sky View Apartments. Wednesday, October 14.
Her iPhone vibrates nearly off the nightstand. Tayler, in a cocoon of pillows and blankets, rolls over to catch her device before it falls and shatters. By the time her eyes adjust, she has missed the call. She slams her head back down, ready to fall back asleep. The faintest daylight peaks through the blackout curtains. Seconds later, she gets another alert. A voicemail. A couple taps on her device later and she’s got it on speaker and is listening.
“Hi Tayler, this is *unintelligible name* with PWS: Apex. We’re just finishing up here in Las Vegas after a wild night last night. Appreciate the feedback by the way. Nice to know where gaining some fans. Reason for the call today is about you mentioning you wanted to come work for us. If that’s still the case, feel free to give me a call back at this number. I think we can make that work. I just hope you know what
you’re getting yourself into. This isn’t the Seattle indies, you know. Either way, just let me know.”
She hangs up and springs out of bed. Frantically tapping buttons on her phone, she redials the number she’d missed the call from.
“Yes, this is Tayler returning your call.”
A pause. Not a long pause. A slight smile creeps over her face.
“Yessir. Yes. Yeah, I’ve been out of work for some time now, what with the pandemic and all. Yeah. I know, it sucks.”
The smile has grown. She’s got the phone pressed to her ear with one hand and the other has her hair pulled back, her hand resting on the top of her head. She has started pacing as the conversation continues.
“Nope, my main company closed for good, so I’m out of work for now. Nope, no contracts. Nothing keeping me here.”
She starts jumping up and down, almost giddy, an unexpected reaction from someone who was nearly fighting with someone outside a concert just a few hours ago.
“Wait, I thought you guys were in Vegas. OOOH, I gotcha. Yeah, no problem. Next Tuesday? I mean, I’m probably a bit rusty, but if you think... oh. Okay. Yeah, that works. I’ll be ready.”
She sets the phone down for a second after turning it back on speaker.
“I don’t think I have to tell you what an opportunity this is for you, Tayler. We have heard of you for a while and we’re excited to bring you in. Don’t disappoint us.”
She sets the phone down on her kitchen table and leans down over it.
“Don't worry about me. I'll see you in New York.”
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