heart•less
adj.

1. Devoid of compassion or feeling; pitiless.
2. Archaic. Devoid of courage or enthusiasm; spiritless.


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It was one of those days you only ever see at the end of summer, when the sky is cloudless and the sun envelopes your bare skin but the warmth is fresh, one of those days when all that surrounds you is either the warm sea breeze or the smell of fresh cut grass. Days like these where the reason Kendell loved staying in the Hamptons. As much as she was a city girl through and through her heart stayed beside the sea. She lay beside the pool at the back of her three million dollar plus Southampton home, one of the benefits of her father’s untimely death. Sliding her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose she lay back in the sun lounger, her ivory white skin now kissed by the color of a summer tan. She took a deep breath and let out a slight groan, every time she came home she did the same thing, she indulged in the attractive nightlife which at the time always seemed like a great idea but after twelve hours of partying through the night and four hours sleep which could only be described as semi-comatose she wondered why she hadn't stayed in bed with a book or at least continued to drink until she was numb.

The large black Chanel sunglasses covered her bloodshot eyes, which had sunken into her ivory skin like hollow footprints in the snow. She had pulled her long, mahogany hair back in elastic away from her face, she was always irritable when she had been drinking heavily the night before and even a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes drove her to the edge of sanity. With a deep breath she reached for the apple-tini sitting on the small table beside her, there was only one way to get rid of a hangover and that was to start again.

Her hangover haze was interrupted when the silhouette of a girl standing over her blocked out the heat of the morning sun. She continued to keep her eyes closed beneath her dark sunglasses but let out and unimpressed sigh.

Kendell Smith: “José, can’t you see I’m trying to relax after a busy week, shouldn’t you be over the other side of the garden trimming the bushes or something, I don’t pay you three dollars an hour to block out the sun.”

Girl: “Guess again Miss Luciano.”

She recognized the voice immediately and slid the sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, her bright blue eyes blood shot and staring up at the girl over the rim of the glasses. Her face, although already unimpressed, turned stern and cold.

Kendell Smith: “I thought when I sent you and your mother packing when the estate was declared mine. Isn’t this trespassing?”

Brooke Scott: “Relax Kendell, your maid let me in. Living in the manor you’re accustomed to I see, slaves and all.”

Kendell Smith: “Not that I have to explain myself to you Brooke, but I’ll have you know I pay my Mexican staff well, especially considering they barely speak English. Slave labor? Hardly. I’m more like the Mother Theresa of the Hamptons.”

She said it so matter of fact that Brooke couldn’t help but laugh. She would never change. She had such a high opinion of herself that even when she was being politically incorrect she turned it around to make herself look like a saint. Brooke knew exactly what she was however, after all this used to be her home aswell until Kendell had made sure she got thrown out on her ass.

Kendell Smith: “So what has you here? If you’ve come to beg me to take you back in I’ve already told you numerous times I am not, nor never was, interested in anything about you your mother. I don’t need a family so don’t try to play that card with me, your mother already failed.”

Brooke Scott: “I’d rather pull out my own pubic hair with a tweezers than live with you again Kendell.”

Kendell pushed the sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose and took another sip of her drink lying back in the chair and allowing the sun to beat down on her bare skin.

Brooke Scott: “A bit early to be drinking don’t you think? I guess it’s true what they say, ‘Like mother like daughter’.”

Keeping her calm and ignoring her ignorant comment she replied apathetically.

Kendell Smith: “So are you going to continue blocking my sun and trying to anger me with your stupid yet over zealous remarks or are you going to give me this so called ‘news’. As you can probably tell I am not in the frame of mind for lounging around with my ugly step sister.”

With a grin on her tanned face she pulled up another sun lounger and took a seat, tossing a large brown envelope in her direction.

Kendell Smith: “And this is?”

Brooke Scott: “It's information on you.”

Kendell Smith: “I thought we’d agreed that you would stay out of my business Brooke.”

Brooke Scott: “I get bored easily and you know how much I like to watch you smile.. Or squirm… I can’t exactly remember which one it was.”

Kendell pushed herself up on the lounger sliding the sunglasses into her hair and beginning to peel open the envelope. Brooke finally had her attention. She flicked through the contents, all pages of information and photographs.

Brooke Scott: “On a lighter note may I ask why you are stepping into the ring after so long, it’s been moths since you actually wrestled.”

Kendell Smith: “Because I love my job. That and I want to wipe the smug grin for Curt Evans’ face.”

Brooke Scott: “You really don’t like this guy then no?”

Kendell Smith: “It’s not about personal vendetta Brooke it’s about giving the crowd what they want and the crowd want to see Kendell Smith in the ring.”

Brooke Scott: “Bull shit, it’s at least in part about personal vendetta, the man has done nothing but get under your skin since you took his belt.”

Kendell Smith: “I’m professional…”

Brooke Scott: “Excuse me?”

Kendell Smith: “Ok, ok, I can’t lie I am some what looking forward to kicking his ass. It has been a long time since I have stepped into the ring and even longer since I actually looked forward to it. Not to mention the fact that I know I can kick his ass. Besides without sounding politically incorrect I think he may be a little retarded.”

Brooke Scott: “You be a politically incorrect? Never.”

Kendell Smith: “I sense your sarcasm so I will leave our adult discussion at that.”

She turned her attention back to the envelope and began to flick through the information again.

Kendell Smith: “So may I ask why you have brought me information on myself.”

Brooke Scott: “I thought I’d get it to you before somebody else did. After all I couldn’t possibly see my information on my big sister fall in to the wrong hands now could I?”

She said it with a snigger. A woman spurned always had an ulterior motive. It was unlike Brooke to even come around these parts anymore let alone come around to do her a favor. She raised an eyebrow looking in her direction and then looked down at the sheets of paper and photographs again.

And there was her answer. Staring back at her from the page was a black and white picture with a time and date underneath it and the doctor’s office from where it came. Brooke looked at Kendell’s face turn pail with a satisfied grin across her pretty youthful face.

Kendell Smith: “Where did you get this?…”

Brooke Scott: “I didn’t know you where going to be a mommy Kendell? But where’s the bump? Surely you should be showing now after five months of pregnancy.”

She shot her a look, her blue eyes like daggers piercing through her but she just laughed as she watched the flames of rage build up in her pools of light blue. She hadn’t told anybody, she had kept it to herself in hopes that it would all go away, that one day she would wake up and realize it had all been a bad dream but here it was in front of her, here was her dirty little secret staring straight back at her and about to be revealed to the World. Brooke’s words brought her back to reality.

Kendell Smith: “What the hell? Are you stalking me or something?”

She threw the envelope and pictures back at Brooke with a grunt, sliding the sunglasses back down over her eyes and acting like she was fazed by her feeble attempt to get under her skin.

Kendell Smith: “I don’t care what you have to show me, that picture has nothing to do with me.”

A lie. It had everything to do with her. Unlike her step sister she liked to keep her past in the past. She had moved on, she had grown up and she didn’t need photos of a scan to bring back memories of the mistakes she had made.

Kendell Smith: “You need to get a job or something and stop making up shit about my personal life. I don’t know where you got the picture but it’s obviously a fake.”

Another lie of course she wouldn’t give Brooke the satisfaction of knowing that, although she was sure her lie was written all over her face. She was a good liar, she had to be, but when her cage got rattled she tended to get flustered and her cheeks would redden, a dead give away that something had rubbed her the wrong way.

She tried not to look taken aback by it but her mind ran a hundred miles a minute, memories came flooding back to her. She shook her head as if trying to shake away feelings, shake away her past. Of course it wouldn’t work so she turned to the one thing that usually helped her forget her past, alcohol. She brought the glass to her lips, aware of the fact that the color had drained from her face, and also aware of the silence between her and her ex husband but still unable to think of anything to say.

Brooke couldn’t remove the grin from her face as she watched her step sister squirm on the sun lounger but as much as she loved the look on her face, and loved to see her hurt even a fraction she felt a pang of guilt.

Kendell pushed herself up from the sun lounger and got to her feet, slipping them into a pair of sandals, which lay beside where she had been sitting. Without saying a word to Brooke, she turned and walked along the white stone, past the swimming pool and towards the glass patio door, which led into the kitchen of the huge house. Confused by her sudden exit, Brooke watched her walk away before rising to her feet and following Kendell inside. The kitchen itself was huge and furnished with a beech wooden effect. It was obviously used very little, spotless stainless steel pots and pans hung unused over the kitchen counter and not one utensil was out of place. Kendell bent down in front of the fridge, her long legs tucked underneath her, her slight frame accentuated by a hint of muscle that rippled under her skin, it was hard to believe that something so beautiful could be so ugly on the inside.

Brooke Scott: "Did I hit a nerve Miss Luciano.. Sorry I mean Smith?"

She turned and looked up at her over her shoulder holding up a large bottle for her to see.

Kendell Smith: "Not at all Miss, I simply decided it was time to drink something a little stronger after all it's almost..."

She looked up at the clock hanging above the dining room table.

Kendell Smith: "1pm!? My God is this day never ending. Well I guess there's no harm in starting early after all it's a Saturday."

Brooke Scott: "It's Sunday...."

Kendell Smith: "Meh… to-may-to tomato."

She stood up from the fridge, stumbling slightly and exposing just how much she had actually drank in the space of a couple of hours. She regained her balance by gripping on the edge of the fridge and smiled at Brooke as if nothing had happened before bringing the large bottle of whiskey to her lips and drinking from the bottle.

Brooke Scott: "You gotta be fucking kidding me..."

Kendell Smith: "Psh, don't fucking judge me. You come around to my house, pulling up shit I don’t need to be remembering without even giving me a reason."

Brooke Scott: "Does Icon know?"

Kendell Smith "Does Icon know what?"

Brooke Scott: “That he was going to be the father of your child.”

She knew what she was doing, she knew she would hurt her with her comments, she could see the hurt in Kendell’s blue eyes, so when she lunged forward at her and grabbed her by the throat she wasn’t really surprised. Kendell held her against the fridge door, almost knocking it to the side. Her hate filled eyes burnt into Brooke as she stared at her with her jaw clenched. Brooke coughed a bit, losing her breath from the impact. As if in slow motion the glass bottle Kendell had been holding hit the tiling causing it to shatter and sending the alcohol spilling across the floor at their feet. Kendell flinched slightly feeling shards of glass hit her bare legs. And then she laughed.

Brooke Scott: “He doesn’t know does she? Aww poor poor Kendell, knocked up and all alone, what would daddy have said?”

Her laughter ringing in Kendell’s ears only made her angrier. She would have loved to crush the girl who was single handedly bringing her to the edge of sanity and she did it on purpose and as Kendell held her against the fridge, watching her eyes mock her and listening to the belittling sound of her laughter all she could think about was tightening her grip.

Brooke Scott: “I find it hilarious.”

She coughed again, continuing to laugh but struggling to catch her breath.

Kendell Smith: “Is this how you get yourself off now Brooke? Coming around here to piss me off? What do you want? Is it money, I’ll write you a damned cheque.”

Brooke Scott: “I… I want…I want to see the look on your face”

Kendell Smith: “Aww… well isn’t that sweet, I’m flattered really I am but let me tell you a secret.”

As she loosened her grip on Brooke’s throat she leaned forward, just enough so she could hear her whisper.

Kendell Smith: “I don’t care.”

Kendell tightened her grip on Brooke’s throat again, stopping her from laughing as she coughed and struggled to regain her breath. She slammed her against the fridge once more before retracting her hand, still shaking with anger as she watched Brooke gasp in the air surrounding them.

Kendell Smith: “Pathetic. All this because you are the bastard spawn of a whore and a random cock. My father saw through those blonde curls of yours and that’s why you didn’t get a penny.”

Brooke Scott: “Maybe, but it’s still better than the story you carry around with you. You have nobody, nobody on this planet who cares whether you live or die; in fact the only people who care that you’re around are those who are on your payroll. So drown yourself in alcohol, do us all a favor.”

Brooke scoffed, turning away from Kendell as she raised her hand to the red mark on her throat, rubbing it and flinching as her own delicate touch came into contact with the raw flesh. Kendell watched Brooke walked out of the kitchen nursing her wounds.

The confrontation was finished with the sound of the front door to the house slamming behind him. She leaned against the fridge, silent, her mouth opened slightly as reality sunk in like claws through soft flesh. She slid down the fridge and onto the floor, surrounded by shards of glass and a puddle of sour smelling whiskey. She looked down at her legs. Tiny streams of blood trickled down her shins where the glass had hit her but it wasn’t the burning pain in her leg that brought the tears to her eyes. Had she consciously made a decision to become this person? Was this whom she had set out to become? What had happened to the young girl with the World at her feet, the young girl who actually cared what happened next, when had her World turned on its axis?

She looked up from her leg, wet mascara staining her pink cheeks as the tears rushed down over her face, gathered at her chin and dropping to the floor to mix with the alcohol and blood. This wasn’t who she was, she didn’t sit around in kitchen’s crying over spilt milk but this whole situation, it turned her into someone she thought had died a long time ago.

She raised her hand to her face and wiped away the tears with a sniffle, moving to the side so that she could pull open the door to the fridge. From it she pulled out another bottle of whiskey. With shaking hands she unscrewed the top and tossed it across the kitchen floor raising the bottle to her mouth and downing as much as she could in one sip. She let out a sigh and leaned her head back against the fridge, closing her eyes.


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Kendell sat back in the chair, bringing the cigarette to her scarlet mouth and inhaling before letting the smoke drift from her parted lips slowly as she did she stared straight ahead at the hotel room wall. Only the moonlight slipping through the window illuminated the room as it sent a ray of silver dancing across one side of her face and glistening off her dark hair. She gently tapped her long red finger nails off the arm of the leather chair while tapping the ash from her cigarette with the other hand.

Kendell Smith: “I’ve been through more in my youth than most go through in a life time. I’ve seen the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I’ve had my life success and I’ve had my career success but unlike many a wrestler I won’t sit here and tell you of all the belts I’ve won and then spout some hypocrisy about how the game doesn’t defy me as a person. I won’t bore you with unimportant details like ‘five years ago I won a trophy for eating so many hot dogs in an hour’. I’m not you Curt Evans. I’m not going to sit and discuss with you belts I’ve won in other insignificant wrestling federations which nobody cares about, and why? Because nobody cares that’s why.”

Kendell spoke low, almost in a whisper. She brought the cigarette to her lips again and inhaled. Shifting her weight gently, she continued to tap her nails softly on the arm of the chair.

Kendell Smith: “And much like those other federations you are as insignificant and boring. Who wants to hear a man talk for hours about himself and how great he is? I certainly don’t, especially when you have done nothing in my eyes to prove the greatness you continue to associate with yourself. Sure you’ve won a few belts and you’re the current Universal Champion but where was your competition? Where was the determination in others who wanted the belt? They where midcarders, can you honestly say that you’re opponents where champion material? I couldn’t see it that night at Midsummer Nightmare as I watched closely all I could see where numerous mediocre wrestlers dukeing it out for a belt they didn’t deserve and the best of a bad bunch being given the title ‘Champion’.”

The glow of the cigarette pierced through the darkened hotel room as it gradually burnt between Kendell’s fingers. The silver light of the moon caught her bright blue eyes which looked steely and cold as she continued to speak in monotone and stare ahead of her whilst doing so.

Kendell Smith: “Questioning someone else’s mentality, bravo, it proves you are even more pathetic than I could have originally fathomed. Accusing me of being jealous proves that things are being looked at in black and white, but there is always a grey area. I grew up with wealth, with material possessions other children only dreamed about I have no idea what jealousy feels like. I have never once been refused what I wanted, what I desired. I’m the woman that clicks her fingers and has exactly what she wants, when she wants and how she wants it and nothing has ever stood in my way of that. Once I have my mind set on something then it’s mine, no questions asked. Men, women, money, success, you name it and I can have it. So tell me, what is it I have to be jealous of? I have it all and whilst I might not have the Universal belt yet, even that is just a matter of time.”

Her laughter cut through the darkness almost sinisterly the opposite of the monotone voice she had spoke in just moments before.

Kendell Smith: “Coked up druggie? Is that really the best you can do? Name calling, I didn’t realise we where back in the playground Mr. Evan’s, does this mean you’re going to pull my pigtails and push me down? Of course it’s the kind of behaviour I’d expect from an ignorant nobody like yourself, questioning my in ring UWF win loss record. Well maybe it would have suited you to look at the facts before speaking, to listen instead of ranting on and on speaking over confidently. In my last stint in UWF I was unbeaten until I lost the title to Icon, haven’t you also lost to Icon giving you very little basis to judge me for the same fate. I have never once claimed that this time around I will be better than I was before I left, as frankly I was extremely good up until I left, I have however said that over my time away my determination and my thirst for success has grown and built up almost to boiling point so much so that I want let backstage antics interfere in who I am. If beating me is all you care about Mr. Evan’s then your life as empty as that scull of yours. You will never be the wrestler I am, you will never be the person I am. The fake apathy you hide behind won’t protect you, it won’t make you stronger. You’re like a scared child behind your steroid enhanced façade Mr. Evan’s and you can deny it all you want or make yourself feel more secure by pointing out my short comings. I know I’m not perfect, I know my in ring performance is not flawless but we both know I am still one step ahead of you. You can call me washed up and you can imply that I was a transitional champion all you want but I held that title a lot longer than a week, which is more that can be said for yourself after this coming Tuesday night. I may have taken your belt last week Mr. Evan’s but this week I’ll also take your pride.”