Post by Admin on Oct 19, 2022 3:24:13 GMT
“(Yawning) Oh, Alanis, what a horrible sleep.”
Tamika Strader didn’t sleep very because of everything that has been happening in her life; Meghan dying of cancer, the rift between the Vees, also fairly certain The Stalker had returned, and the attacks on Strader Incorporated. Tamika was sure the attacks were coming from within the company but hasn’t been able to narrow it down. It was even worse when Meghan casually asked how it was going and all the ways Tamika had to ensure she didn’t venture off to the London head office. Plus, out of a foolish sense of pride for her family and all their accomplishments, she was granted a shot at OCW’s TransAtlantic title, which her niece had brought to prominence, holding it for a record-setting 176 days. The Matriarch wasn’t far behind on her 127 days as Craze Champion, but if she was being honest with herself? She truly understands her father and sister’s drive to win singles titles now. Tamika tasted something Meghan was never able to do, and it made her want more.
Tag Team titles are about teamwork. Any tag team worth its salt needs to trust each other one hundred percent, or it’ll fall apart. It was also about wanting it for your partner’s sake as much as your own. Singles titles were about wanting it for yourself, a purely selfish goal. Tamika isn’t greedy, or at least she never used to be. She would be lying if she said it was just for the honour Veronica gave the championship she was taking on Sahara for. It was just as much for herself now, and it was personal from the slander slung her way.
“I better get up,” she mumbles to herself. A loud groan escapes her throat as she clutches her back. “Why does my back hurt so mu–WHERE DID THESE COME FROM?!”
Her eyes widen as she looks down to see the change in her chest. Her hands come over her mouth when she turns around to see what she would imagine looks like the backside of Thaddeus Duke, lightly snoring. Quietly, Tamika steps out of bed and sneaks away in search of a bathroom. Finally, she finds one, and it’s very posh. When she looks in the mirror, her heart jumps up in her throat.
“What in the blue hell?! Why do I look like Sahara?!”
“Because you are Sahara, for the moment anyway.”
Tamika looked in the mirror to see her father sitting on the porcelain throne dressed like she always remembered him: snakeskin cowboy boots, faded blue jeans, a Bandido’s t-shirt under his denim Bandido kutte. His greying dirty blonde hair is slicked back, and the Strader Sneer is etched into his five o’clock shadowed face. At this point, Tamika isn’t even surprised that her dad is here with her; he had been watching over her since she found his soul wandering the earthly plane back on Milftown Island, where John Travolta had crash-landed in the sea near the shoreline.
“Daddy, what’s going on here? Why am I in Sahara’s body?” she asks, and the freaked-out tone of Tamika’s voice isn’t lost on the 6’10 father of the Matriarch. Tamika looks into the mirror into Sahara’s eyes, pulling her cheeks down and looking up her nostrils which makes her old man laugh. With a handful of blonde hair, she pulls it up, and her eyes go wide. “Bottled blonde! I knew it!”
“Look at that, already learning. This sweetheart, is an exercise,” he replies, reaching into his kutte and pulling out a soft pack of Marlboro Reds. Tapping the pack against his hand, a cigarette pops loose that Scott pulls out with his pearly whites. “Out of all my children, you are the most empathetic. You have always had a unique ability to put on someone else’s shoes. For whatever reason, you haven’t been able to do that with Sahara, but I am guessing it’s because you don’t want to do anything to relate to Mrs. Duke. So, I’m gonna help ya put on that Triple-F bra of hers.”
Tamika frowns, weirded out to see Sahara’s face frowning back at her in the mirror. A loud sigh escapes her throat.
“Why would I want to relate to this woman in any way? She and her twink-like husband have done nothing but slander our family name when we did absolutely nothing to them. In fact, if it wasn’t for me and Megz, Thad wouldn’t even have had a company to buy,” she retorted, “and we never did anything like they did with the TransAtlantic championship.”
“See, sweetheart, you need to walk a mile in her - - -”
“Don’t say tits,” she interrupts. Scott gives a sheepish grin.
“- - stilettos. Why did she do that? Besides that Alexander kid kidnapping their son, why did she let her husband do what he did?”
Before Tamika can reply, Frankie plows through the bathroom door with a big smile. Tamika’s heart fills with warmth. Children are a soft spot in Tamika’s heart, case in point? Baby Bash.
“Mom! You are up! Are you ready?” he asks, the adrenaline from excitement running through him.
“Ready for what, sweetheart?”
“GameStop! You promised that you’d take me!”
Tamika’s smile widens as listening to the little man reminds her of Lil’Scottie, her son with ex-husband Simon Kalis. Unlike Tamika’s own father, she and Meghan had made a point of their children not being involved in the world of professional wrestling. She squats down to look the little boy in the eyes. Tamika had always made a point of going down to a child's level, to look in their eyes like an adult would with another adult.
“Ok, sweetheart. Let Aun—er, mom, have a shower,” she tells him, and in her mind she says to herself, “I have to wash your dad off of me.”
The little man's eyes light right up, hugging who he thinks is his mom and rushes out. Tamika shakes her newly blonde hair out of her face and sighs, but she is smiling, at least.
“Reminds you of my grandson, don’t it?”
“It’s hard to believe they have such a well-adjusted young man when the two of them act like they do.”
“And that’s the point, kiddo,” Scott says, letting out a cloud of blue secondhand smoke. Tamika rolls her eyes at him.
“Sure, whatever you say, daddy.”
A little while later…
Tamika as Sahara found herself in the bureau of Manhattan, looking over her shoulder as she was sure someone was following her.
“Ok, Frankie is back at the penthouse with Thad. It was difficult getting out of there without a chaperone. I didn’t realize Lauren had been abducted this past summer, but to be fair, I did my best not to think about the Dukes.”
“Sahara” told her “husband” that she didn’t need a bodyguard, that she wouldn’t be abducted again and promised to take Mr. Pink along. Tamika had swiped the keys to Thad’s Heritage Softail and gave Mr. Pink a credit card, Sahara’s, to be specific.
“Are you sure, boss?”
Tamika knew this was out of character for Sahara, being nice to others, that is, and had to stop any thoughts something was going on. Tamika hated lying but had no idea how long she would be stuck like this. So Tamika did what she needed to do.
“Don’t make me repeat myself! I said go get some new clothes so we are ready when we find Mr. Orange and Mr. Brown! Well?” she asks, hands on her thick hips, sneering at Mr. Pink. “GO! NOW!”
“Right, sorry, ma’am! I’m going!”
Once Tamika was satisfied that he was actually gone, she got on the Harley, turned the key on and started it up, the V-Twin Milwaukee Eight 107 vibrating between her thighs.
Tamika found herself at the dock for the ferry on Staten Island to take her to Ellis Island. That’s when she noticed a large white panel van. Secretly, Tamika hoped to see “Slamm buss” spray painted on the door with Tony the Spider hanging out the driver-side door window going “hahahahahaha’ing.” She loved that guy. He deep-dived a vat of Irish Stew to pull the Craze title out from the bottom, so she didn’t have to. But it wasn’t Tony; it looked like two stereotypical Jersey goons that Tony Soprano would hire as his “garbage men''.
“Ok, time to do what Lauren could never do.”
Tamika rides up to the docks where the Staten Island Ferry boards people to take them to Ellis Island. Looking back, she sees the van park, and the lights go off. The Strader Sneer doesn’t look quite right on Sahara’s face, but that’s the last thing on her mind.
Goon One boards the Ferry with Goon Two, both men scanning the area. Tamika purposely lets the top of her blonde come into their view. Goon One points at her to Goon Two. Goon Two nods and moves left, while Goon One goes right.
“Alright, you big old buffoons, time to ditch you malakas once and for all.”
Tamika weaved through the New Yorkers on the ferry, doing her best not to be seen by the goons. Noticing a woman similar in build and hair colour, Tamika knew she could use this woman. Sliding off behind a large container that holds lifejackets in case of an accidental overboard, she watches Goon One approach the woman. Tamika looks inside the box, finds an oar, and positions herself for the right moment.
“Got you now, Mrs. Duke!” he exclaims, putting his hand on the lady’s shoulder. Like a typical New Yorker, the blonde woman turns around, slaps the goon, and storms off. Seeing the opportunity to strike, Tamika makes her move.
CRRRRRAAACKKKKKKKK!
The oar splinters from the force of the swing to the back of his head. As he stumbles forward, Tamika reaches between his legs from behind, grabbing him by the nuts, she hauls him over the side of the boat.
SPLASH!
“He’s definitely not a very nice lady and won’t be coming back anytime soon.”
Tamika wasn’t above what her dad called “justifiable homicide” when protecting herself, her family and her friends. Looking up out into the darkness of the autumn evening over the bay, her destination was in sight: Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Her “Strader-Sense” buzzed as the second goon was closing in on her position.
“Alright, time to hide. I can finish this guy off on Ellis Island. This almost makes me feel bad for Lauren, but that bitch brings it on herself.”
Tamika can see that the goon can’t see her, so ducking down, she climbs inside the box. She watches him pass by, peaking out of it like a Ninja Turtle looking up from under a manhole cover. He looks all around, trying to find her or, at the very least, his goon buddy.
“When I survive this Freaky Friday situation I have found myself in, I’m gonna smack Sahara around like a red-headed step-child. Then take that TransAtlantic title as my own. Nothing would make me happier than to take the title away from her and show Veronica. Maybe knowing it’s back in the family, she’ll wake up. She has too. For Christian, her siblings, me but most importantly, her ‘mamabear’.”
Hearing the ferry horn blast out, Tamika slips out of the equipment box and mingles in with the ferry’s passengers as the boat docks. Goon Two sees her and glares, knowing his buddy is gone and follows Tamika off the boat. Making a dash for the Statue of Liberty, Tamika looks around, planning her next move.
To Be Continued…
