Lunch

Amy had dialed the number that shone from her cell phone screen exactly one time before. That was back when she first received it. It was in a locker room in the Friction Arena after a particularly one-sided fight, one that left Amy with a guilty conscience and a healthy sense of concern for the other fighter. But things wrapped up just fine; Amy offered to buy the other girl lunch, to listen to her story; they traded numbers, and the two parted on good terms. Amy had high hopes for the relationship; the girl, who had been suspicious and hostile when they first met, seemed receptive to further interaction both at the end of their match and in the locker room afterwards.

Rachel Carin never called. Amy had picked up each incoming call with a glimmer of anticipation every day for a week, but it was never the number she was hoping to see. She was disappointed, but she accepted it. Rachel was an adult, and, if she didn’t want to talk about it, then she didn’t have to talk about it. Amy had no right to force the issue, so, slowly, Amy gave in to the other thoughts and concerns demanding her attention.

But Rachel proved to be a hard woman to forget. Amy didn’t watch too much television, and even less AFW Friction, but, twice since their encounter, Amy happened to catch a show with Rachel on the fight card. Both times, Rachel was utterly outmatched and dominated by her opponents, either brutalized beyond what anyone should ever have to suffer, or sexually humiliated in full view of a rabid, depraved crowd. In the second match, the announcer saw fit to refer to a match Rachel had against Killer King in Tension. Did Amy dare look? She did so dare. She found the match in a recent archive online, a handicap Tension match with a similarly dainty girl against the infamous piece of shit. It was a slaughter. Rachel and her partner threw low blows, chair shots, coordinated double teams, everything they had at the 300-pound wrestler, and still ended the night facedown, stripped bottomless, and manually violated. It was hard to watch. But watch she did, right through to the end. It made Amy want to throw up.

So Amy found herself reconsidering her initial reluctance to take the first step. It could very well be that Rachel was okay with how her matches went, that public beatdowns and degradation scratched an itch for her that only the AFW could scratch (Amy had a feeling that plenty on the roster were here for that precise purpose). But Amy had a hunch that that wasn’t the case, both from her own match with Rachel and the ones that she caught on broadcast. She’d just seen that girl cry too many times, and seemingly without an ounce of pleasure in those tears. Whatever the case, she knew that her conscience wouldn’t settle until she had a talk with Rachel.

She called the number. She could stand being called a busybody; she needed to make sure.

The Kyoto resident was in Tokyo for the day, and she came armed with a list of interesting sounding restaurants to suggest in case Rachel didn’t have a preference. She’d also prepared a list of places that she wanted to visit if lunch fell through; contingency plans, as any good traveler must know how to make. Both lists sat in quiet suspense on her phone; it was Rachel’s availability that would determine which of the two fulfilled its destiny today.

Beneath all of the empty beer bottles and discarded underwear that littered the floor of her apartment, Rachel barely managed to find her phone in time before it stopped ringing. Sure, she could have left it unanswered, but just because she led a carefree lifestyle didn't mean she wanted to look like she didn't care. Besides, if there was a chance of money being involved, she definitely didn't want to miss it, and there seemed to be a lot of calls like that since she got to Japan.

Still, she probably wouldn't have found it if she hadn't remembered placing it next to her winning bottle in the drinking contest she held with her roomate, Alex, the previous night. While she could have a terrible time with names and dates, stuff like that seemed to come to the forefront no matter the hangover.

Scrambling over and straightening her posture to clear up her voice, she took a deep breath before answering. "Um, yes? Hello?"

It rang and rang. Then, at the last possible second, an uncertain voice with a touch of grogginess answered the phone. “Hey! It’s Amy. Did I wake you?” She waited. Then, “I’m in town today, and I wanted to see if you were free to go get that lunch I promised you.”

Amy.... Amy, Amy, Amy. Who was.... oh, right! Blonde chick, perky little thing. Maybe the one wrestler Rachel met in this league who wasn't always on the receiving end and still not a total monster. The whole conversation the two had after their match came flooding back. "Oh man, I totally forgot! Yeah, that sounds awesome," she half-groaned as she stomach grumbled in agreement. "Um, where should I meet you? I don't know my way around town so it's definitely your pick."

Where should they meet? Tokyo was a big town. Amy checked her watch. "How do you feel about ramen? There's a shop I've been meaning to check out one stop after the Friction Arena station: you get the chewy noodles, lots of pork fat in hot soup..." then Amy trusted her instincts and took a leap of faith: "...great for soaking up alcohol. If you're into it, we can meet at that station in an hour or so."

Well, looked like Rachel was as transparent as a.... transparent thing. Metaphors and hangovers don't mix. Either way, it certainly sounded tasty enough for her, and fortunately not too far either. "Yeah, sounds great. See you there."

Roughly an hour later, she was standing in front of a little noodle shop with a name she couldn't read. It hadn't occurred to her until she was a good way there that she didn't actually know where they were meeting. Ramen places were actually more common than she was expecting, but this was the one place the locals were raving about, and she had passed it more than once on her way to the arena, so she had a good feeling this was the place. She took a peek inside to see if Amy was around before leaning against the wall outside so she'd spot her when she got there.

Amy wore high-waisted cuffed khaki shorts with a skinny leather braided belt. Her shirt was light and light gray, good for warm weather, and her blazer was long and navy, good for cold weather. It was a nice outfit. Maybe a little much for a ramen bar, but this was Tokyo, and she wanted to look the part.

Just after an hour had elapsed, Amy arrived at the station. Rachel wasn't around, but Amy could see her from the elevated platform, leaning patiently against a wall. Amy put a hurry in her step out of the station. "Hey!" Amy waved as she drew near. "Sorry I'm late. A guy..." This was a bad excuse, Amy realized. "I let a guy hit on me so I could play with his dog." She nodded toward the door. "Shall we go in?"

They were lucky- a couple was leaving just as they entered. Once the space had been cleaned, the two girls were seated. Amy just asked for ramen- she figured that the man behind the bar would give her whatever the shop was known for. "I'm surprised you were able to find this place. The whole street is lousy with ramen shops."

Rachel cocked an eyebrow as she chuckled. "I'm surprised I was able to find it myself, actually. Wouldn't have been the first time I would have been waiting in front of the wrong place indefinitely. I mean, it'd have been the first time it was all on accident, but still." Her demeanor faded a little for the moment, and she picked up a menu to mask it. It was a pointless gesture, she could barely read a word of it, but she was always bad with small talk, and something about this meeting felt uncomfortable to her right off the bat. not so much her usual "get out now" kind of bad vibe, but... she couldn't help but feel she was being a downer. Then again, that could be her depression talking, but that didn't make it feel much better.

"So, uh," she stammered, "I guess I don't really know much about you, outside the whole wrestling thing." She felt like she needed to take the initiative on some level, after being invited out to lunch and everything. "Do you, like, do anything else? Er, I mean, like... another job or something?" she was really failing at her words here, hopefully Amy wouldn't take offense to how she'd phrased it.

So the reticence she'd seen in the ring was more than just pre-fight jitters. That was fine, though; from what she'd seen of Rachel's behavior, this was nothing unexpected. Amy let the quiet settle for a moment, allowing Rachel the opportunity to pretend to peruse the menu. Then she started to speak, just before the silence got awkward.

"Wh-" But Rachel spoke first, surprising her. Amy blinked but put on a warm smile soon after. She appreciated the initiative- that can't have been easy for a shy person, and she wanted Rachel to feel that that sort of behavior was welcome, even encouraged. "Mmm... yes and no. I don't have another job right now, but I'm not looking to fight professionally forever, either. I'm only a pro-wrestler for as long as I'm in Japan- it's a way for me to earn spending money while I'm here. I'm usually an English teacher while I'm traveling, but the AFW pays so much better. And it's way more fun, too." A harried server swung by with two cups and a pot full of green tea. Amy lifted the pot as she spoke. "How about you? I know it's weird to hear coming from me, but you don't look like your standard pro-wrestler." Then Amy turned her head to meet Rachel's eyes, raising a questioning eyebrow- tea? she offered wordlessly.

Rachel winced for a second at the last comment thrown in there; clearly the two girls had very different ideas of "fun." She nodded at the offer as she let out a long sigh. Why she had come to the AFW was not something she had really talked to anyone about, the only people she trusted already knew. But, being here, invited out to lunch by this girl that she fought against, that said something, and she felt like she could trust Amy. It also helped that they both spoke English, she she could talk about something like this without worrying about eavesdroppers.

"Well... it's like this. I, uh, back home, I didn't always hang with the right crowd, you know? And... one thing led to another, and I started spending a lot of money, mostly on dirtbag boyfriends. Eventually I was out of cash, and I needed to borrow some to pay the bills, but I didn't go to a bank. I should have, in retrospect, but I didn't have the best credit, and honestly I was kind of embarrassed about the whole thing, didn't want to go to any sort of 'civilized establishment.' So what do I do? I go to one of my ex's and his idiot friends, and ask for some money. These guys were in with some bad people, and I mean like bad, and now I owed them money. The ex who lent me the money in the first place, Dave, found a flyer for this league, and he said I was tough enough to do something like this. And I mean, I guess they told him that if I was over here collecting the money with this wrestling thing, I could take as much time as I needed."

Rachel looked up at Amy again, since she had subconsciously looked down as she spoke. "Heh... sorry. Didn't mean to drop my whole life story on you."