Rose & Thorn: Becky/Seth

Chapter 1

Most athletes had pre-game rituals, and even though many people—inside and outside the world of sports—didn't consider professional wrestling a true sport, wrestlers were no different. Becky Lynch knew she wouldn't be wrestling right away at NXT, but she wanted to be in fighting form. Her ring name had been finalized along with most of her gimmick—which meant she was going to have to work on her Irish jig—and she wanted to both celebrate and relax.

Sex was one of her favourite ways to do both, and finding a partner usually wasn't a challenge. She was in Florida now, though, not back home in Ireland or even in her beloved Los Angeles, where she knew enough of the scene to feel comfortable with a random hook-up. So she did what she often did when she was unsure or needed advice, something she had done since she was fifteen years old: she called Finn. He was already in NXT—and was almost on his way to one of WWE's main rosters, RAW or SmackDown—and she definitely knew more about the area than she did. "Hey, Finn, I have a question," she said the second he answered his phone.

"I don't even get a Fergal? My poor shattered heart," Finn laughed. He had been Becky's first wrestling trainer—and then more, later on—and they remained close friends through all the years, travelling the world separately to hone their craft. "What's up? Isn't your first day at NXT tomorrow? You should be getting some rest. I know you won't be on television right away, but—"

"I can't sleep. It's too early and... I have too much energy," Becky replied, gripping her phone so tightly its case squeaked.

The exasperation in Finn's voice was palpable. "You're asking me to recommend a hook-up for you?"

"You know the scene here better than I do," Becky insisted. "I'm not asking you; I know you've got a girlfriend now and I would never mess with that." She hadn't met Finn's girlfriend yet, but he practically glowed whenever he talked about her. "But if there's anyone you know who's trustworthy...."

"Most of the people I know over here are wrestlers, Rebecca, and you said you didn't want to get involved with wrestlers anymore, remember?" Then Finn chuckled. "I didn't mean to ruin you for all other wrestlers, I promise."

"Or maybe after you, I just decided wrestlers weren't worth the trouble," Becky retorted with a hearty chuckle. Finn would know she was joking, of course; of all her exes, he was the only one she was still friends with.

"I do set a very high standard." Then Finn sighed. "There's no one I know off-hand who doesn't have a girlfriend, but there's a club you could try. It's called Rose & Thorn. It's basically for celebrities and the wealthy to sleep around."

Becky glanced around at her tiny apartment. She had borrowed some money from her parents so she could get settled before starting at NXT, but there was no way she would be considered wealthy or a celebrity. "Not sure I qualify for either."

"I'll vouch for you. My girlfriend's cousin teaches dominatrix lessons there and she follows wrestling, so she knows what NXT is." After a moment, Finn added, "If you don't mind having a pick-up time, I could drop you off and pick you up after. We were going to have a late dinner and then go to a movie, so you'd have a few hours...."

A few hours was better than nothing. Becky knew sex clubs were hit and miss, no matter how stringent their screening process was. "Sure. Is there... like a dress code or anything?" She had sold a lot of her belongings to finance her trip to the States, so most of her remaining clothes were casual.

"You'll be fine," Finn told her. "Okay, can you be ready in about twenty minutes? I'll call her cousin and see if she's on shift tonight."

"Thanks, Finn. You're the best." After she hung up, Becky went over to her closet. She wasn't really the clubbing type, so she didn't have a lot to choose from. She settled on a simple black dress she had brought along at her mother's insistence; Annette said it was simple and elegant, and that it never hurt to have a dress on hand. After peeling off her leggings and t-shirt, she shimmied into the dress and then hunted for shoes to go with it. The best little black dress in the world wouldn't be able to work its magic if it was worn with a pair of ratty sneakers. The only heels she could find were modest and rather plain, but she doubted most people who went to Rose & Thorn spent much time looking at other people's footwear. There wasn't much she could do with her hair in twenty minutes—or at all, to be brutally honest; it just wasn't her forte—but she figured the same logic applied: anyone that fixated on her shoes or hair wasn't anyone she would be interested in anyway.