"That fucking prick." Valentina sighed under her breath as she approached the building indicated on her Google maps. "That stupid, idiotic, dumbass, fucking... cunt."
Valentina clutched her phone and the note as hard as she could without breaking them. It was lunchtime, she had to hastily get a friend to cover her shift at the hospital and drive to some run down back end of Jacksonville, all because of a note.
'Come to the following address, your husband has gotten himself in a world of trouble and will need you to bail him out.'
There was still a little bit of blood on the paper where it had once been wrapped around a tooth, knocked from its owner to show the notetaker meant business.
But Valentina wasn't mad at whoever had posted this note through her letterbox, she was mad at her husband Geoff and the endless ways he found to fuck up, and she was mad at herself and the endless ways she protected and enabled him.
She arrived at a big building in a run down industrial area, she knew she was at the right place because it was the only derelict building that had 2 security guards on the door. As she approached the huge men held their fingers to their ears, receiving instructions from an unseen watcher.
They didn't say a word, they just opened the door, letting Valentina see a long corridor leading past a ticket booth and down some stairs. There were no other ways to go so she proceeded down the path she had been bidden.
Valentina descended into the bowels of the building, the corridor zigging and zagging as it descended, before opening up into a huge underground sports arena. All around her were stands and chairs, enough capacity to hold a couple thousand people. And in the centre, a ring with a single chair, the bloodied husk of Geoff tied in place with arena lights on him for dramatic effect.
"Geoff!" Valentina screamed, rushing to the ring to untie him. Geoff looked up and tried to gurgle some words of warning but it was too late as some powerful people lept out from the shadows to hold her back. Then, on the stage, emerged a tall blonde woman with A-line cut hair, parted on the side in a way Valentina didn't think anyone did any more for fear of being labelled a Karen.
"Aww, honey. I'm sorry we had to shock you like this, but we have to have a little chat and we needed a bit of drama to keep you mindful of the stakes." The woman announced in a maliciously friendly southern drawl as she hopped out of the ring and took Valentina aside. With the help of her strong shadowy accomplices she led Valentina through a door marked 'staff only' and into an office squirrelled away backstage.
"What do you want?" Valentina asked dejectedly.
"Honey please, let's be civil about this and have introductions first. My name is Maribelle Sawyer, president, CEO, and all round girl in charge of TWW, that's the establishment you are currently situated in and the organisation your husband currently owes so much money to." Maribelle explained. While she had said she was making introductions, no space was given to Valentina to reply as the monologue continued.
"You see Mrs. Peck, I assume Y'all share a last name, your husband is quite the fan and we do appreciate his patronage. What we don't appreciate is him losing bets on matches with dough he don't have. Now he's in the hole to us for, and I'm rounding here because that's a perk of owning the betting shops, about $50k."
Valentina clasped her head in her hands, everyone told her Geoff was a fuck-up, she should have left him when he was fired for stealing sacks of oregano from his job at Olive Garden to sell to teens who couldn't tell it wasn't weed. Maybe the wake-up call should have been when he took her inheritance from her grandmother and invested it in a mobile hot tub business that immediately went bankrupt after the driver drowned on the I-95. But she had always stuck by him and now she was being asked to settle a gambling debt that was more than she earned in a year.
"He lost fifty grand betting on underground boxing?" Valentina exclaimed in shock.
"Oh dear, sorry, I forget a lot of outsiders haven't heard of TWW. TWW stands for Total Women's Wrestling. We're an underground pro-wrestling organisation." Maribelle corrected.
"Pro-wrestling? Is that the one that's fake?"
"We prefer scripted." Maribelle corrected.
"My husband lost fifty grand betting on an athletic soap opera? Betting in shops owned by the people who write the script?" Valentina processed.
"That's the long and short of it. I'm afraid your husband ain't exactly got a bright filament burning in that bulb of his." Maribelle joked while Valentina only felt more panic rising up in her. "Now we ain't monsters, in fact I reckon we're doing you a favour taking him off your hands and keeping him out of trouble until his debt is paid off, but if he can't pay off his bets, well... let's just say he has a lot of friends at the betting shop who know he's in a lot of debt and I don't want them thinking we're forgiving types."
"We have a rainy day fund but it's only a grand." Valentina replied.
"You wanna bet it?" Maribelle cheekily suggested, chuckling to herself. "Just joking. No, we think we could make something good out of this arrangement. Now Geoff knows how lucky he is to have you as Mrs. Peck. He told us all so much about you in his betting days, how you tried to make a go of acting before becoming a nurse, how you went to the state finals in gymnastics at high school. Then we saw some pictures of you on his phone, pictures he didn't share willingly but really should have password protected, and wowee you still have a hell of a body on you. How would you like to be a star?"