Caroline O'Hara Burchill versus Cross Recoba

And we’re back! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, the Cross Recoba that makes the PAW world go round has returned! To commemorate this PAW decided that rather than putting me at the bottom of the rankings I should be in the Top 10….still next to mime artists from France - Marcel Marceaux is me - but I digress.

That wasn’t the only thing to happen last week, we had an intrusion on my victory party by none other than Jack Nomad and the Goodwill Psychopaths - thanks, I’ve always wanted to know what would happen if East German Shotputters were to hit you, how long would you stay down?

That was painful, I’m not even going to lie, but where they went beyond all humane forms of punishment was in making me listen to the grating sound that I seem to hear every time Jack Nomad opens his mouth. If you want to find out what that sounds like all you have to do is turn on your stereo as loud as it will go, then point the speakers at each other and marvel at what white noise really can sound like.

I’ve got plans for the trio of Nomad and his hounds, are you surprised? Alternatively, I could just leave Calvin Harris to go and finish the job for me but, let’s get real - he could fall into a barrel of tits and come out sucking his thumb…

---

The blonde hair in her hand wasn’t natural, the roots were showing revealing that Belle was a brunette, it was an odd thing to notice in the chaos but Recoba had come to realise that tiny details tended to be worth noting.


He racked his brain to work out if he’d seen this kind of trouble in the establishment before and came up empty. The general clientele that frequented these places were no issue and where they were it was a safe bet that substance abuse played a part, normally alcohol, cocaine, or both.

The bruising around her eyes had tipped Cross off to the broken nose, her hands obscuring the bottom half of her face. The make-up that had been applied that morning now ran down her face as the tears provided a current to guide them.
He walked back to his office – in part to gather his thoughts, although the ice bucket that sat on his desk would be useful right now. He tried to make sense of the situation; his only role at the brothel was to intervene when this sort of thing happened, but why was Joanna waving it off like it was nothing? Why was Joanna so dismissive of the incident? At this point there were more questions than answers but, again, Cross had learnt a long time ago that this was pretty natural.

He grabbed his pack of Lucky Strikes and the ice bucket and went to go back to Belle’s room; standing in his way was Joanna.

“I’ve got this” the firmness of Joanna’s words were evident, he’d heard this tone used on undesirable visitors. What was it she said a few minutes ago? It was the third time this week?

“Last time I checked the boxing gym was three blocks down from here. I know you’ve been in this game a lot longer than I have but how can we continue to operate if we let clients get away with this? How many girls are going to come and work here if word gets out about this?”

Joanna’s face soured, while the two had never had a cross word between them she very much carried herself as the proprietor of the place.

“Do you know the key to this ‘game’, Cross? The customer is king, it’s not different to selling a condo or a stereo…” her words were delivered in an even tone devoid of any emotion.

“Where are the other two girls from this week?” Recoba matched her tone, he couldn’t have Costello pull him up on this, he’d be running coffee orders to men he was used to sending to get his own caffeine fix if this wasn’t handled correctly.

Joanna let out an audible huff; she lit a cigarette, her hands calm and steady.

“They’re off for the rest of the week.”

Irritatingly, for Cross, this was something that seemed to convenient but he had no recourse to challenge it – his role was pretty much to be an enforcer, the rotas and roster management fell squarely on the shoulders of Joanna. Cross only had one real card to play on this matter, whether it would give him the answer he wanted was something he couldn’t predict.

“So, it happened before…to two girls…who are not due back in for another four days? Do we always give them a double-weekend off?” Recoba had to admit he wasn’t au fait with the working times or days of working girls, nor did he particularly pay attention to who was meant to be in and not in.

“Caju had booked the week off in advance; Liz hasn’t been able to sort out childcare for the week.” Joanna reeled off the reasons without pause or hesitance. Now Cross returned an audible sigh, he felt the ice bucket in his hand getting warmer and wetter.

“Can I just get this to Belle? She’s going to need an emergency room trip and we’re going to need a story.”


Joanna stood aside and made a ‘be my guest’ gesture.

“Thanks…” Cross’ words were tinged with sarcasm, surely a former whore would be more hurried to help a girl in the same trade.

---

Which leaves me to focus on my match this week. After showing the PAW matchmakers what happens when they put me in the ring with a female who gives up a 100 pounds and half a foot in height to me...they’ve put me in the ring with a female who gives up a hundred pounds and half a foot in height to me. Kids, if you want an easy job - check the PAW website and you too can repeat the same booking structure week in, week out.

I could just tell you all to refer to my comments about Summer and apply them to Burchill, but that would be disrespectful - after all, Princess Caroline is different to everyone else.

She’s rich…..

She thinks the fans are idiots....

She has a history of mental problems…

She’s entitled….

As you can see, she is quite the special snowflake, for she truly is unique – after all, she is The Immaculate One.

Perhaps that’s not the most fitting name though, how’s that record looking? I see you finally broke even on your record, nothing like a few losses to make a nickname seem like a bad joke is there? But, it wasn’t your fault, it never is, is it? After all, you are the royalty of PAW, and we, we mere mortals, we’re just in awe of the megalomaniac that we see before us.

Maybe I’m being unfair, you did beat Hayden…finally, well done, you deserve it…I’m being sincere, because – when we’re being truthful – I wouldn’t want to unbalance your mental state. It’s most likely what you’re used to because what kind of royalty doesn’t have a court – and by court I mean sycophants.

Is it because you don’t have the fans? I know your thoughts on them, I found them enlightening in the same way that I found my four year old nephew telling me cows eat grass enlightening. He gets away with such vapid commentary because he has the folly of youth on his side, what’s your excuse?

Could it be that you’ve lived your life in a bubble? I suppose it’s only natural, you were a wunderkind – ballet, lacrosse or anything else you seemed to turn your hand to. Did no-one tell you that you should continue to grow? That people get bored of things that don’t change real quick? Or were they too busy answering your every demand and question with a yes?

Maybe the root of your less than stellar record is down to something more in keeping with the industry – remember when people thought your brash and controversial comments were fresh? I’m willing to bet you grew lazy, you sat back on your laurels a bit – don’t worry – you’re only human.

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Recoba walked past the Madame of the house and entered Belle’s room once more, shutting the door, he didn’t want the conversation to leave the room even if the CCTV would capture the movements.

Belle remained hunched over; in the time it had taken to return he noticed she’d moved to the bed. He walked to her dresser and grabbed a tissue from the box that sat in front of the mirror, wrapping the ice cubes inside before passing it to her. Her hands trembled as she took it from him and placed it on the bridge of her nose.

“Belle, I need you to tell me everything, and I mean everything, that you know about the guy who did this to you. I’m not leaving this room until I know if he manscapes, that’s the level of detail I need from you…”

Recoba’s words were firm, the information needed to be gathered, it needed to be processed, and it needed to make sense. The girl returned his words with a distinctly unalluring cough, he pulled a cigarette from the pack and handed it to her.

“I’m on your side, Belle…I just can’t do anything until I know the whole story….”

---

Am I speaking too plainly? Am I disrespecting the crown? Can you take it? I don’t want to rush to conclusions but how have you taken knowing you face me? I wouldn’t want to send you into another year long sabbatical, beating you is fine, but I’d almost not be able to admire myself in the mirror if I were the one to make you break down…again.
Let’s get our house in order here before the bell. You’re down on weight, down on height, you’re hardly the reason people are going to tune in, really? But, don’t get me wrong – congratulations again on the first win in PAW you did all by yourself – that’s a big achievement…

Has that mental state of yours hampered you? What was it you said a few weeks back? The main event scene is where you belong? Do you even hear yourself sometimes? Did I miss a memo? Did I miss one of your matches or something? Do you know a good barometer for being in the main event? Try being injured and STILL they want you in front of the camera – how many times did you have that offer during your little holiday with R.P. McMurphy? How about returning and stealing the headlines from the main event itself? When was the last time you did that?

Am I getting into your head? Maybe this is the wake-up call you need; I could be the best friend you ever make here because currently you’re circling the drain. How will the Queen cope if she gets another loss? How will she claim to be the best? It’s already a fairly sketchy statement, could your PAW career deal with a win-ratio of forty percent? In most jobs that’d get you a nice pink slip (I say nice because you strike me as the kind of girl who demanded everything to be pink as a child), but what about at PAW? Maybe you’ll get a call from Munin to come meet her, she’s a sweetheart really, but how do you think she lets people go?

Maybe I’ll ask her when I turn up to the next show adding you to the list of people who thought they could hang with me.
I’m a gentleman though, so I’ll extend the courtesy of explaining my confidence – for someone who has multiple game-plans it seems that all your moves revolve around kicks. You’re giving up a distinct reach advantage, you can’t outmuscle me, so you throw a kick, I catch it…I wonder how creative I’ll be just ebbing away at it each time? Are you going to risk a snap suplex with such a disadvantage? I’ll give you a two syllable warning…Ranhei.

I’ll put my parting statement into words you might be able to relate to. I think they’re from an ancient Greek philosopher…
You come at the King, you better not miss

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The waitress approached Cross and Joe and refilled their coffee. She sent a scowl in Recoba’s direction as he proceeded on with the fifth cigarette of their stop in the very much non-smoking diner, her efforts were in vain – the PAW superstar was trying to blow smoke rings through one another.

Joe’s face was a mixture of fear and excitement, the journalist questioned whether or not this was the conclusion to the story, he still had no clue as to why he was involved, who they were targeting, or more importantly – why the issue was a big deal to the Illinois native.

“Cross…” The muckracker’s words seemed to go unnoticed as Recoba casually flicked his cigarette over the side of the booth.

“CROSS!” This time the words brought our narrator back into the real world. His face and voice dropped.

“What?”

“Is this all you’re giving me to go on?”


Recoba’s expression betrayed a man who had taken to toying with his prey, the suspense being as much of an amusement to him as it was an irritant to his victim.

“No, but are you beginning to get a picture?”

“No! Who is this guy? Is he even the guy?” the journalist in Joe wanted the truth, the desperation in Joe needed the truth.

“Patience, Joe, the whole point about this dance of ours is to have patience…”