by Ric Flair
Brittany called Riki that evening and asked him if she needed to pick me up. He said, “No, everything is okay.” Later that week, we left for Hilton Head to celebrate my sister’s wedding and to visit Riki’s mother, who lived there. I felt sick from everything that had happened, and faced with so much day-to-day uncertainty, I didn’t eat for that entire week. That trip was just another example of how people were fooled into thinking everything was fine. Outside appearances seemed normal. No one knew that I continued to sink deeper into my own hell with no way out.
After Megan’s wedding, the gun incident was forgotten. That spring was dedicated to my graduating from NC State, finalizing wedding plans, and moving back to Charlotte. I was driven to forge ahead and put the pieces of this twisted puzzle together at any cost.
I spent my days on the computer, picking out every detail for our wedding. For some reason, I was determined to continue this charade—that I was leading the life I always wanted, that everything was wonderful, and that, above all else, I knew what was right for me. I wasn’t going to fail. I failed at volleyball, and maybe I was trying to tell the world that I was going to change Riki and that he was going to be committed to me. I was going to pin down the charismatic playboy. I was going to be his everything. He was going to settle down with me. Why was this so important? Why did I feel that there was some prize for accomplishing this? I’m also not sure why I thought things were going to improve with Riki, especially given our history. The more time went on, the worse the abuse became. I chose to ignore that fact.
Graduating from college nine days before my wedding was sheer hysteria. I remember graduation at NC State like I just returned my cap and gown. It was another rare occasion when my family was together: my parents, Reider, Megan, her husband, and their daughter, Morgan. The night before, we went down the road from my apartment to my favorite Chinese restaurant. My sister and I both wore yellow dresses, and Morgan was attached to Reider the entire night.
The dress I wore to graduation was in NC State Wolfpack red. My family was proud of me. The person who was the proudest was my brother. The whole weekend, Reider told me how happy he was for me and how much he loved me. While we didn’t talk about it, I felt that Reider secretly wanted the same thing for himself. Or maybe I wanted that for him? My brother was so intelligent and personable. I always envisioned him shining in a college setting. I wish he could’ve enjoyed the full college experience. It was difficult for him, because sometimes people who were supposed to be his friends criticized him for not taking that road. But Reider chose a career path that he felt required a different type of education. He wanted to dedicate himself to learning the sport and art of professional wrestling. Despite his battle with addiction, my brother was steadfast in getting better and achieving his dream: to be a WWE Superstar.
Once the music played and the class of 2010 filled the auditorium, I was overcome with a sense of pride. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long while. And this time, unlike my high school graduation, my family’s presence made it truly special. I remember my name being called and walking to the stage. Earning that diploma was an important accomplishment. I took pictures in my cap and gown with everyone outside the auditorium. I can still feel Reider’s arm around me as we looked at each other and smiled before my mom took pictures of us.
As graduation came to an end, I had my to-do list for the wedding running in the back of my mind. It was like a ticker with sports scores going in a continuous loop on the bottom of a TV screen. After a year-and-a-half engagement, my wedding was just days away.
I came home to Charlotte the week after graduation for the big day. Riki and I stayed with the three dogs at his mom’s house. I went back and forth between her house and my mom’s. It seemed like just as I was about to sit down for the first time, there was something else to pull together or drop off. I also went to see friends and family who were in town for the big day.
When it came to picking things out for the wedding, I wasn’t worried about cost. I guess that’s what happens when you’re not paying for it. My mom and I went to try on my wedding dress for the final time at Nitsa’s at Phillips Place. Once I saw the dress from the designer Amsale, I had to have it. It was the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn. It was sweetheart cut, all lace. No matter what it cost or what it was going to take, my mom was going to get me that dress. I can remember her helping the lady pick out the most beautiful brooch for the center of the dress. The veil looked like something made for a princess. The earrings we chose were just as elegant. My mom said I looked absolutely stunning. I was overwhelmed with the dress and how much I loved it. My mom had a lot of fun helping me with everything.
The flowers I picked out were also important to me. I wanted exquisite pastel flowers with a Southern elegance. They had to be regal and majestic too, and that’s what I got. When I think back to my wedding day, regardless of how things turned out, I’ll always be proud of those flowers. My mom and I also enjoyed selecting the wedding cake. I wanted a classic, off-white, three-tier cake.
The night before the rehearsal dinner, we all went to McCormick & Schmick’s for dinner. I didn’t eat much, because I was worried about how I was going to look in my dress. I got fitted for it in the fall of 2009. The next night, my parents hosted the rehearsal dinner at Brio. The entire dinner was a collection of all my favorite Italian dishes. There were centerpieces made of peacock feathers on every table.
I went from table to table seeing my relatives and Riki’s side of the family. At no point did I take a moment for myself, and at no point did Riki say, “Can I get you something? Would you like something to eat or drink?” As I write this, I should’ve realized that I didn’t have a handle on what was important, nor did I fully grasp everything my parents had done for me. I was basically putting on a show.
Was it selfish of me to ask my parents to pay for all this? My stomach turned when I stopped to think about the meaning of everything. I should never have been in a relationship with this person. I felt that this was the expected next step because Riki and I had been together so long. Then there was the external perception, based on appearance, that we were the perfect couple. It was all smoke, mirrors, and illusions, enhanced by designer clothes.
Even if I were in a healthy relationship, this was not the time to get married: neither of us had jobs lined up; we did not have a place to live; and without the money my father gave us as a wedding gift, the only thing we hung our hat on was that we were moving back to Charlotte. It didn’t matter. I was getting married. That was it.
Why was I so consumed with pleasing Riki and everyone else around me? Why was it always about other people’s perceptions and expectations? Why didn’t I listen to Zahn? Why was I hell-bent on pretending to be something I wasn’t? And the question I couldn’t stop asking myself: What was I going to do with my life now that I’d graduated from college?
I graduated from NC State with a degree in interpersonal and public communications. What was I going to do with that? My dad sent me to a contact at ESPN to see if they had any opportunities. Any internship or entry-level, full-time position required moving to Bristol, Connecticut. I appreciated the thought, but that didn’t interest me. Even in the achievement of graduating from a school with the reputation of NC State, I didn’t see myself as anything more than Riki’s fiancé. How could that be, given all I did to get to NC State and everything it took to see it through and graduate with a degree?
Riki was unsure about what he was going to do. He graduated from UNC–Chapel Hill, which looked amazing on paper and sounded even more impressive in conversation, but what was he going to do with that? All that took a backseat. The big day had arrived.
On the day of the wedding, I stopped in my tracks when I saw the wreaths hanging outside Myers Park United Methodist Church. They were absolutely stunning. I handpicked every detail from the church to the reception venue, the invitations, the bouquets, down to the gardenias the men wore on the lapels on their tuxedos.
/> I remember kissing my mom, dad, and grandmommy in the back room of the church before they walked me to the entrance.
I can still see all the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and my parents at the front of the church. One of my favorite memories is high-fiving my two nieces and my little cousin Katie.
I became the most headstrong I ever was in painting this false portrait of true love and the most creative in convincing myself of why this wedding should happen. I lived a lie but felt I had gone too far to turn back.
My dad was ready to walk me down the aisle. The music began, and I heard everyone get up from their seats at the same time. Deep down, I knew my father was not supposed to walk me down this aisle and give me away to someone like Riki. I felt beautiful but not real. It was like I was playing a role. It didn’t feel like my wedding day. How could it? At that point, I thought about my terrifying relationship, but I wanted to have a fancy wedding. I wanted the appearance of glamour and perfection. On the inside, I was torn and broken. What people didn’t realize was on that day they saw a girl who was lost.
A clear moment from the reception was the first dance with my dad. The song “Butterfly Kisses” was my dad’s favorite song as long as I could remember.1
That night, my parents had something special planned for Riki and me. A limo took us from the Morehead Inn, where the reception had been, to another hotel where a lot of our friends were staying. My mom had these big white robes made for Riki and me with “Mr. and Mrs. Johnson” sewn on them in red cursive. I wore mine over to my mom’s the next morning as I said goodbye and thank you to my relatives before they left.
And just like that, it was over. College graduation, my wedding, and honeymoon were now referred to in the past tense. One thing we did get arranged was where we were going to live, at least temporarily.
As I set up bowls for the dogs in the kitchen, reality set in. We had a few more boxes to unpack. Riki’s mom bought a house in Charlotte with inheritance money from Riki’s father. She was moving and said we could live in her old house, which was fully furnished. We didn’t have all the details figured out, but the plan was to start working and pay his mom rent every month to cover the living expenses. Being back in Charlotte was going to be the best thing for me.
While the idea of living in his mother’s vacant house sounded good in theory, moving into the house and getting situated wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Riki’s siblings were both in college. They came and went through the house as they pleased. I understood that; it belonged to their mother. She was very gracious, supportive, and helpful during our relationship, but still, I felt like I was in a home that wasn’t mine. My name wasn’t on the deed. I didn’t like this setup, but at the time, I had no choice.
I missed the feeling of being in my own place, picking colors I liked and decorating, creating a home that I could say was my own. I wanted that with the man I was going to start building my life with. But there were three women that I knew of in his life: his mom, his sister, and me. His mother depended on him a great deal. I know that Riki continued to feel an increasing pressure to be the parental figure for his brother and sister.
When I put our dishes away in the kitchen cabinet, I asked myself again, Why did I do this? Not that this should matter, but it’s not like everyone I knew was getting married and having kids, and I was thirty and single. The more I thought about it, the more this marriage didn’t make sense.
Those last two months were another example of when things were good, they were good enough for me to wonder, Maybe this is the turning point? In my damaged mind, I thought getting married was going to make our relationship better. I would soon learn that, like our living arrangement, this was temporary and that things were going to escalate and become more terrifying than I could have ever imagined.
When I thought about finding a job, I thought about doing something I did practically my whole life: physical fitness. I thought that with all my years of working with a personal trainer and my athletic background, becoming a trainer could be the way to go. Before I graduated from NC State, I ordered all the required material to become certified as an ACE personal trainer.
Once I passed the exam, I contacted a trainer who had worked at my dad’s gym years earlier. He now owned two private studios in perfect locations: the South Park and Ballantyne sections of Charlotte. I told him that I had graduated from NC State and had my ACE. I interviewed with him, and a few days later, I started work.
The first two weeks, I took the term shadowing to new heights. I was at my boss’s side learning the ins and outs of what I needed to do as an employee and what I needed to do to develop a clientele. This was an exciting career opportunity. It was great to be in a gym again every day. Right away, I fell in love with my job. I poured every hour of the day into my work. I started to build a clientele. Personal training packages were expensive. Most of my clients consisted of established professionals who ranged in age from their late thirties to their sixties. They considered fitness an investment. They wanted to be held accountable when it came to going to the gym and taking care of themselves. Soon those clients recommended me to their friends and work colleagues. My calendar filled up fast—it was fantastic!
I found this work rewarding because I could see the positive results my clients achieved from our work together. I loved motivating people and having a positive impact on their lives. I made good money too.
Over the next two years, I developed close friendships with many of them, and I opened up to some of them about my personal life and my relationship with Riki. I began to emerge from my isolation. I started to see myself as a real person again. I could feel myself growing as an individual. I started to contact my family more often.
I was happy that my clients learned so much from me. They’ll never know how much I learned from them. I continued to build my personal training business out of this studio. Not one minute of it felt like work. Plus, my job at Ciarla Fitness was going to set Riki and me up financially.
Between the friends Riki made at Providence Day and UNC, he had a lot of connections. He reached out to a friend we knew from high school about a possible job in sales.
Soon after we moved into his mom’s house, the “good times” we enjoyed the previous few months were gone.
Riki and I had been fighting through text messages, and he said he wanted a divorce. He took his manipulative theatrics to a new high and emailed me divorce information. When he got home, I tried to sort out what was going on. I don’t know what the argument stemmed from. I remember it was in the afternoon because of the way the sun shone through the front windows.
We were in the kitchen arguing, and he threw a plate at me. My heart pounded. I ran behind the kitchen counter. I put the table between us hoping that would give me time to get out of the room and let things calm down. Riki picked up a chair at the other end and launched it at me with both hands. He missed. He picked up another and threw it the same way. I bolted out of the way. That chair broke when it hit the wall. I ran for the staircase. He caught up to me. I was on my back and felt him over me. That’s when I knew it wasn’t over.
On instinct, I put my forearms over my face. Riki started swinging at me like we were in a street fight. Over his screams, I could hear his fists hit my arms. I managed to block most of the punches, but one shot got me in the ribs. I began to gasp for air, but he didn’t stop. I finally bucked him off and made it to the upstairs bathroom. I locked the door and tried to regulate my breathing. I can’t recall the moments that followed. The next thing I remember is running to the car and leaving. I tried to focus on driving. I tried to fend off a full-blown panic attack. I should’ve gone to the emergency room. At that moment, I was stripped of all my emotions. I was empty.
Later that night, I returned to the house. My side hurt so badly that I could barely sit up. It was excruciating. I had to lean on my other side to move from a seated or reclining position. I felt like everything inside me was torn. I went to the doctor and got an X-ray. The doct
or told me that I had torn cartilage between my ribs and that my ribs were bruised. He prescribed anti-inflammatories. I could barely move for two weeks.
I hid this episode from everyone in my life. I just let my ribs heal and made it through the rest of the summer.
Around that time, I spoke with Reider about living with us. I thought I could set him on a career path so he could earn money and pursue wrestling on the independent circuit. Like me, my brother had worked with physical trainers most of his life. With Reider’s athletic background, his knowledge of nutrition and fitness, and his personality, I thought he would be a fantastic personal trainer. I spoke to the owner of Ciarla Fitness about hiring him to work at the SouthPark studio. My boss was all for it.
From my brother’s first day of work, he was off to a great start. He quickly built a clientele because of his outgoing, friendly personality and his love of helping people. Reider was a great motivator. His knowledge of training naturally came through every time he spoke about fitness. He excelled when it came to working with people. After a few weeks, my boss told me how many compliments he had received about Reider from the staff and the clients.
At this point, Reider had been in a couple of rehab facilities. One of the other reasons I wanted him to live with me was that I thought if he felt good about the work he was doing and had the ability to continue wrestling, he’d keep moving in a positive direction. As his work at Ciarla continued to be well received, I thought he was on his path to beating addiction and that he’d never look back. Until Riki said something to me during one of our arguments.
Riki told me that my brother was not clean. “Things” were going on in the house. At first I didn’t believe him because, one, my brother was doing so well and looked like he was in a strong place mentally and physically, and two, I thought that Riki wanted to spite me and find another way to hurt me. After some time went by, I realized that Riki had told the truth. Then I made another discovery. While I was at work, Riki and my brother were using together behind my back. Reider didn’t like Riki. While he wasn’t aware of all the details, he knew that Riki had been abusive toward me in the past. For them to be using drugs together meant that Reider was still battling his illness and needed the kind of help I couldn’t provide.2