Part 1


She had sworn she would never step foot in to this building again from the moment she had gotten exactly what she wanted but with recent occurrences regarding new found family members, botched pregnancies and the return of a man she had spent her idle moments remembering she had quickly changed her tune. She sat impatiently in the waiting room, rhythmically tapping the front of her red stiletto against the left of her chair and constantly looking up at the clock which sat over the receptionist’s desk. It felt like time was moving backward in time instead of forward like it should. She wanted to this to be over and she was just about to stand up and walk away when the door opened and a familiar man stood in the door way, he looked nervous once he realised who it was which gave her a certain thrill, being in control always sent a grin across her face and she was never more in control then when she was face to face with an old conquest. She turned and extended her hand to him in greeting while the receptionist looked at them both curiously from over her think rimmed glasses, she must have been able to sense his uneasiness.

Kendell Smith: “Dr. Michael Harte, it’s good to see you again.”

Dr. Michael Harte: “As it is you, please, come in to my office.”

His hand felt clammy when she touched it, as if he was nervous about what would happen next, but he had no reason to be nervous, for once Kendell’s reasons for being here where honest. She brushed past him as she walked into his office, flashing a smile at the nosey receptionist before disappearing behind the door.

Dr. Michael Harte: “Hilda, could you cancel my three o’ clock? I could be sometime.”

Kendell could hear him speaking to his secretary in the background as she made herself comfortable on what she described as his ‘shrink chair’. She glanced over at the picture of the happy family which sat on his desk mockingly and laughed. He closed the door to his office and practically stormed across the room towards her.

Dr. Michael Harte: “What the hell are you doing here? I thought we had agreed to leave it how it ended that day. You got me to sign your contract and I started going to marriage counselling with my wife.”

Kendell Smith: “Calm down, I’m not here to blackmail you, frankly you just wouldn’t have the money I’d be after. I have no need to blackmail a man who is poorer than me.”

Dr. Michael Harte: “I don’t want any trouble.”

Kendell Smith: “A Luciano comes to visit you and you automatically assume we’re after money or here to cause trouble, tut tut Doctor Harte, I thought you knew my family conducted business a little bit more professionally than that. I’m here for the same reason every other person you’ve seen today is here. I have issues I need to discuss with a professional. Isn’t that what everybody in New York is doing nowadays? Well that and seeing Park Avenue plastic surgeon.”

The worry lines on his handsome older face seemed to lighten as he relaxed a little and took a seat beside the couch. She didn’t blame him for being worried under other circumstances she probably would be coming around to start trouble or play cat and mouse games with him for being unfaithful but she was feeling quite too selfish to make this about him, she wanted this to be about her, she need to discuss her recent going ons and who better than a perfect stranger who was terrified of her and had a medical cert in listening to peoples bullshit.

Dr. Michael Harte: “Sorry for jumping to conclusions but you have to understand where I’m coming from and the surprise I got when I saw you sitting in my waiting room.”

Kendell Smith: “Of course I understand. Every man that plays away from home lets fear control them when they come face to face with their own discretion. I mean not only could you lose your family but you could lose your license to practice, surely there’s not a medical board in New York that wouldn’t frown upon one of their psychologists screwing a crazy person on his desk. Because let’s be honest, I’m a patient with a lot of issues that you clearly took advantage of.”

Dr. Michael Harte: “And borderline psychopathic…”

Kendell Smith: “There’s not need for name calling doctor. I believe it’s a personality trait that makes me even more appealing, that and my obvious narcissism.”

She shifted her weight on the couch, making herself comfortable and putting her purse on the floor beside her. She watched him as he nervously stumbled around looking for a notepad and paper and getting ready to turn on his tape recorder before deciding it was probably best not to in case he incriminated himself even more.

Kendell Smith: “As you’re aware of Dr. Harte, I have a lot of pent up issues, issues which I’d like to put to rest, stresses I need to talk about and yet I’d rather not discuss them with somebody who knows me. That’s why I’m here, you’re my families psychologist it would be rude of me to go somewhere else now wouldn’t it.”

Dr. Michael Harte: “You need more help than I can give you.”

Kendell Smith: “I need more dick than you could give me swell doctor but that didn’t stop you from bending me over your desk in front of the picture of your wife and children.”

Dr Michael Harte: “I think you should leave…”

Kendell Smith: “This isn’t a request Dr. Harte, this is me telling you that until I decide it’s time to go you will sit there and you will listen to me pouring out my heart and then at the end of it if I still feel like I need your opinion I will ask for it but until then you will sit there with your mouth shut or I will have no problem explaining to your wife in detail how you begged me to let you stick it in my…”

Dr. Michael Harte: “Ok! Ok!”

Kendell Smith: “That’s what I thought.”

Kendell leaned to the side and began to rummage through her large and expensive Hermes purse before pulling out a packet of Marlboro and a Zippo with her initials engraved on the side of it. She sat forward slightly, straddling the ‘shrink chair’ and placing a cigarette between her moist, parted lips, smiling as she brought the Zippo to the end of the cigarette and enjoyed the nicotine entering her lungs.

Kendell Smith: “Mind if I smoke?”

Dr. Michael Harte: “Do I have a choice?”

Kendell Smith: “Good point, I like that you can sense when a question is rhetorical. You’re smarter than I give you credit for.”

She lay back on the chair, inhaling the cigarette smoke before exhaling small hoops of smoke and watching them as the gently drifted upwards before breaking away in to tiny tufts of smoke and eventually disappearing into the air. She wasn’t sure where to begin, so much had been happening in her life over the past six months which she had chosen to ignore turning her into an emotional wreck instead of the party hard girl she once was. Fortunately for her however she had once again found her roots with the help of a random man in the restrooms of a Sunset Boulevard bar.

Kendell Smith: “Hmm where do I start, do I start with the fact that I recently got knocked up by a fellow wrestler, or the realisation that I have a brother or maybe the return of the only man I have ever met that makes me fell like I’m in a John Hughes movie.”

She couldn’t help but laugh to herself. Even though she had always tried to live her live devoid of drama it seemed to follow her everywhere she went. It was as if she was destined to live her life trapped in an episode of ‘All my Children’.

Kendell Smith: “I guess we’ll start with the first thing that comes to mind. I recently found my father had a thing for fucking around on my Mother when I was younger, something I was aware of all through my childhood but I never realised he was partial to those without wealth. I guess like father like daughter, after all I’ve always been partial to a bit of rough. But as another cruel twist of fate it turns out that this so called fling resulted in a bastard child who just so happens to be somebody I know, somebody I work with, somebody I probably would have been jumping in to bed with over the coming months had I not found out when I did. You knew my father Michael he always liked to have a laugh at the expense of others. I guess making me share my inheritance was his way of getting me back for seven years of silence.”

Dr. Michael Harte: “You’re father had a lot of issues with things he had done in his past that he regretted, they never reflected on the love he felt for you.”

Kendell Smith: “Ha ha, no Michael, you misunderstand me. I’m not looking for somebody to tell me that my father loved me, I just feel like ranting about how my father gave away forty percent of my inheritance to the spawn of a fucking fling. Don’t get me wrong, if I could chose anybody in UWF out of a line up to be my brother it would probably be Kameron Chase, I mean if you knew this guy you would automatically assume he is related to me. The guy is ruthless, does anything he wants to and takes shit from nobody. It’s quite amusing to think that the closest I have to double is actually related to me. I guess that ruthless vanity is a genetic trait.”

She took another drag from her cigarette and exhaled the smoke with a sigh, consciously tapping the excess ash on the doctor’s Persian carpet. There was no questioning that Kameron was her flesh and blood, the more she thought about it the more the she realised how many signs pointed towards it. His apathy, his partying, his ruthless aggression he was definitely spawned from the same genes as she was.

Kendell Smith: “Of course having a brother is just the icing on the emotional cake because then there’s the spawn of my on mistake. Like father like daughter.”

Dr. Michael Harte: “Pregnant?... oh my God, could it have been mine?”

Kendell turned her head to face the doctor and raised her eyebrow. It was amazing the fear that set in when men heard the word ‘pregnancy’ as if she had told him she has leprosy and was going to lick his wounds.

Kendell Smith: “Please… first of all there is no way what you have in your pants could fertilise my eggs and second the timing wasn’t correct. I know who the father would have been and it wasn’t you. Didn’t I tell you not to speak unless I asked you for your opinion?”

Dr. Michael Harte: “This isn’t how this works. When you come to see a psychiatrist you sit back and tell them how you are feeling but at the same time I have to ask questions or at least lead you in a certain direction.”

Kendell Smith: “But this is hardly your average session now is it? Listen doctor, I only came here to blow off some steam before I have to step into the ring and defend my title against Ricky Stanton this Monday night and you are my escape from reality. I mean far be it for me to toot my own horn but I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose my title to somebody who isn’t worth my time of day. I mean the best this man can do is try to insult me by calling me a whore. Honestly isn’t being a whore something I pride myself on? I’m nearly sure I’ve spent the last six years basking in the fact that I have no strings attached sex. Way to point out the obvious, it’s like me turning around and calling him mediocre. Have you got an ash tray?”

The doctor sighed and passed her over an empty plate for her to put the end of her cigarette out on, which she did whilst looking at him with a content smile. Kendell stood up from the chair and walked over towards the large window which looked out onto the street of New York. She poured herself a glass of water while the doctor composed himself. He began to scribble notes down on his pad once again as she moved gracefully across his expensive, Persian rug, brushing her hand against his shoulder as she passed him making her way to the mahogany desk. She perched herself on the edge, placing the glass of water beside her.

Kendell Smith: “Getting people riled up is what I do best doctor. It’s always been a gift of mine and it’s always given me a slight edge when it came to wrestling. One of my major strengths is my apathy, the fact that a wrestler could step out in the ring and throw everything at me, call me every name under the sun and throw up my past time and time again but it would just role off me like water off a ducks back. People have asked me time and time again how come I don’t let my short temper take over when some idiotic World Champion wannabe steps up, talks bull and expects to bring me down and I give them the same answer, respect. I don’t care what these people say about me or imply about me because I don’t respect them. Only the words of people I respect cut deep to the core and those people are very few and far between and I have yet to come across somebody like that in the ring so maybe that’s why I go out there week in week out and don’t let emotion alter my frame of mind or cloud my goals. I go out with my mind on one track knowing what I want and I don’t care what others think or say about me. If I cared I’d be in the wrong game. Wrestling is a vicious, angry, bloodthirsty game and that’s why I love it.”

From the edge of the desk Kendell looked out upon the city that had raised her. The city she kept coming back to when the rest of the World felt like it would swallow her hole. She new why she loved New York, it was the only city in the World she could remain faceless. Her two loves, wrestling and New York. She sighed for a minute before she realised the doctor was watching her actually express an emotion that was neither lust nor anger.

Kendell Smith: “What’s wrong doctor, remembering the last time I had my ass on your mahogany desk?”

Dr. Michael Harte: "I...I..."

Kendell Smith: “Don’t worry doctor, I’m not about to jump you so let us get back on track. Where were we? Oh yes, my half brother, pregnancy out of wedlock and unquenchable desire for one Mr. Khristian Call…”




Part 2