Chapter 1: WrestleMania X-Seven
WrestleMania week is unlike anything I've ever experienced, in all my years of being a professional wrestler.
For the past week, myself and the company I work for – the World Wrestling Federation – have set up shop in Houston, Texas, taking part in fan festivals and wall-to-wall media days, all to build anticipation for WrestleMania X-Seven at the Reliant Astrodome. For the second time in the event's illustrious history, the show is being headlined by Stone Cold Steve Austin and The Rock, two future Hall of Fame contenders. Kurt Angle is facing Chris Benoit, and that match is threatening to steal the show from everyone. It's a little disappointing that I'm not wrestling, defending or challenging for a championship at WrestleMania; instead, I'm managing my best friend Chris Jericho in a match against the new Commissioner, William Regal, a sour British man who took over when Mick Foley was unceremoniously fired last month. As disappointed as I am, though, it's hard for the feeling to stick; being a part of WrestleMania itself is an incredible experience. I spent my entire day yesterday signing autographs at the Axxess festival; my wrists still hurt.
I arrived at the stadium on WrestleMania Sunday – April 1, 2001 – with a smile on my face and pep in my step. I dressed casually in blue jeans, a white button-down shirt and a tan blazer, with chunky chocolate heeled ankle boots. I stopped to interact with the crowd, with a few of the fans telling me that they were horrified that William Regal had me put through a table at the hands of the Dudley Boys three weeks ago. Some asked how I was feeling, and I promised them that I was okay. I didn't stay long; I still had to go in, find out where I was in the lineup, meet with Chris, and get ready. There were also some interviews I had to do for the local news stations. Chris wasn't lying when he told me that WrestleMania week was the craziest week of the year for a WWF Superstar.
Walking through the bowels of the stadium, I stopped and greeted everyone with a smile and a handshake, dragging my burgundy suitcase behind me. The electricity in the air was infectious; amidst the chaos, there was this eerie sense of calm, like everyone had been through it before.
The match card was located by Gorilla, and I saw that Chris, William, and I were going to be opening the show. Some people would be upset by that, but I've always seen the opening slot as a chance to set the tone for the evening. Selfishly, it also gave me a chance to clean up right after and find a place to enjoy the show. With a nod, I turned away from the match card and continued down the concrete path, looking for the Divas locker room. I spotted Chyna getting her hair curled, dressed in a shimmering magenta outfit. She is challenging Ivory for the Women's Championship tonight. When she saw me, her eyes narrowed, but I still greeted her with a smile. She still doesn't like me, for reasons I'm not sure I comprehend. It's an open secret that she is on her way out the door; her current contract negotiations aren't going the way everyone had hoped. There's a bit more to it, thanks to the marriage between Stephanie and Chyna's ex-boyfriend Hunter, but there's also the fact that neither side can agree on the numbers. It's too bad; despite our differences, she's been a big deal for our division.
I turned a corner and walked down the hallway, scanning doors, looking for the words FEMALE TALENT. While my head was turned, a door opened behind me and I was grabbed by the crook of the arm and dragged backwards. "Hey -" I started, but my bag and I were pulled into the locker room. There was an initial swell of panic that it was Kurt Angle, but when I wheeled on him, I found myself pressed between the door and the body of my boyfriend, Shane McMahon. His mouth was on mine immediately, giving me an urgent kiss, as if it had been months since we'd seen each other, instead of a couple of days. It was a searing kiss that left my hands shaking. I fell into it immediately, and he took that as a cue to deepen the kiss, our tongues working in tandem. He pulled back and I sucked in a breath.
"Jesus, you scared me," I chastised.
"Sorry. I needed one for luck," he told me sheepishly, leaning in to kiss my forehead. I looked up at him, into his emotive brown eyes, and I gave him the most reassuring smile I could muster.
"Are you nervous?" I asked. He still had me pinned between the door and his body. He made no effort to move.
"A little. I mean, it's not every day I get to have a street fight with my father." Shane said the f-word as if it were the dirtiest word in the English language. I had to bite back a giggle at the tone of his voice. There wasn't anything really to laugh about here; this has been a situation brewing for months.
Late last year, Vince announced to the world that he was having an extramarital affair with my best friend, Trish Stratus. The resulting chaos caused Vince's long-suffering wife Linda to suffer a nervous breakdown. Instead of focusing on the health and well-being of his wife, Vince had Linda committed. For the past five months, he's kept her sedated, in a catatonic state. For the past few months, Shane has been seething and devastated. A couple months ago, he decided it was time to end his self-imposed on-camera exile and go after his father. For the past three months, I've been watching Vince say the worst things to his son, everything from never forgiving Linda for birthing him, to openly expressing joy at the idea of beating him "like I did when you were a child". It's been horrifying, but Shane has handled all of this with such strength. I'm in awe of him.
Two weeks ago, Shane proved that he's a more measured in doling out vengeance. He pulled the rug out from under his father, announcing to everyone that he had purchased WCW, my previous place of employment, from under Vince. The look on Vince's face had been priceless; he had been planning to sign the deal at WrestleMania. Shane had gone down to Nitro in Orlando and made the announcement. I wished I was with him, but I was at Raw. Nobody believed that I didn't know about it, but I didn't.
"Your family is here tonight?" he asked. I nodded.
"They are, and they are dying to meet you." He cocked an eyebrow.
"Have you told them...?"
"No. I haven't told anyone. You never know who could slip up." He nodded.
After our kiss in the middle of Times Square on New Years, Shane and I found ourselves stuck having a really awkward conversation about where we stood. We both know it's going to be disastrous for me career-wise if Vince finds out, and the blow-back from the locker room could be even worse. The two of us went over every possible outcome and came to the decision to keep everything under wraps for now. I'm still in the phase where I think sneaking around is kind of hot, stealing kisses and embraces here and there. People are still suspicious about the two of us, so we try to be as careful as we can. We try not to be seen together too much back here.
"You're managing Chris tonight?" he asked. I nodded. "Are you nervous?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
"You'll do fine out there."
"I really hate to cut this short, Shane, but I've got to go find Chris," I told him.
"Do I get another kiss before you leave?" he asked.
"Of course." I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought him down to meet my height, my mouth covering his. It was a long, deep kiss, and I had to pull back when I felt him stirring against my hip. He looked almost indignant.
"You call that a kiss?" he teased.
"I could always stop by your room later and give you a real one," I teased with a wink. He groaned.
"You're bad." He backed away from me so I could leave. I blew him a kiss on the way out, smiling when he caught it. I shut the door behind me and continued on my way to find the women's locker room. I got about six feet away from Shane's locker room when I heard an all-too-familiar voice calling after me.
"Rinoa! Rinoa, wait up!"
My shoulder slumped. At this point, it's almost an involuntary response. I turned to see the beaming face of Kurt Angle, already dressed in his singlet, his short brown hair already wet. My wishes for him to find a new girlfriend in the New Year apparently fell on deaf ears, because he's still after me. In the past few months, it feels like he's getting more aggressive. The fact that he always seems to be right behind me when I leave Shane has me paranoid that he's spying on me. At the very least, he's stalking me.
"Hello, Kurt," I greeted, my tone tight but cordial. "Good luck against Chris Benoit tonight."
"We're going to steal the show tonight, oh, it's true. It's damn true," he told me. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, but he's probably right. As much as I despise the man in front of me, I'd be an idiot if I completely dismissed him. He's one of the best wrestlers we have on the roster, a legitimate gold medallist in the 1996 Olympics, the only Olympic amateur wrestler to go pro.
He leaned against the wall. "I couldn't help but notice you leaving Shane's locker room again," he mentioned coolly, cocking his head back in the direction we both came from. I shrugged, not at all surprised to know that he was spying on me yet again.
"Just wishing him good luck tonight." It's starting to surprise me how easily the lies roll off my tongue now. I'm not sure how much I like that part of things. "He's had a rough couple of months, so I wanted to wish him good luck."
"Do I get a good luck kiss, too?" he asked. I visibly shuddered. "I bet he got one."
"You're such a pig," I blurted. He looked surprised, and so did I, I imagine. "I need to go and see Chris. Good luck. I think you're going to need it."
I turned on my heels to leave. He reached out to grab me, but he missed. Desperate to put as much distance between him and me, my strides down the hallway were brisk. Up ahead, a locker room door opened, and I was relieved to see Chris poke his head out. He spotted me and stood outside the locker room, glaring at Kurt. I gave up looking for the women's locker room and walked into Chris's space. He looked out at Kurt for a few seconds more before shutting the door behind us.
"Is that ass-clown still bothering you?" Chris asked.
"Yeah, but what else is new there?" I asked with a sigh.
"I don't like the way he looks at you, Noa," he confided.
"I don't, either, and he's getting weirder and weirder every time I see him, it feels like," I confessed. "Shane said he's flashing on some serious heavy weather ahead with that guy, and I don't want to believe that, but I can feel it."
"How is Shane tonight? I know you've seen him already."
I nodded. "He's nervous. Stressed. You know, all those great emotions that come with having a street fight with your father at WrestleMania." Chris nodded, but we both had no idea how that really felt.
"I heard a rumour tonight that Trish is bringing Linda here to use as a distraction."
"What? You're kidding." I felt so disgusted. "You're kidding me, right?"
"It's just what I've heard. I don't know if it's true. If I see anything, though, I'll keep you posted."
"Thanks. I'd love to give Shane the head's up." Vince has been so out of control the past few months, and it hasn't just ended with Shane. His treatment of my best friend has been even worse. He's made her strip down to her underwear and crawl in the middle of the ring barking like a dog. He's had Stephanie and Commissioner Regal assault her. I reached into my bag and started pulling out my clothing. Chris shot me a look. "What?"
He picked up the glittering silver shift dress. "You're wearing this out there?"
"What's wrong with it? It matches you."
"Yeah, but you call that a dress?"
"Oh, God, Chris. You're not my dad," I said with a laugh. I had a pair of black heels to complete the look.
"It's so short, though..."
"I'm going to get changed."
"You'll look beautiful in it, though. You always look beautiful," he told me. "It's why I hang out with you."
"Oh. Here I thought it was for my sparkling personality," I threw back over my shoulder as I walked into his shower area to change.
"I guess it's a little bit of that, too." I shook my head and rounded the corner so I could get changed. I moved quickly because I didn't know if Eddie and the guys were going to run in on us. When I came back out, I just had to put my heels on. Chris shook his head in disapproval. "I feel like I shouldn't let you wear that."
"Oh, it's fine."
"If you take a bump, everyone is gonna see your goods."
"You think I'm that crazy?" I lifted the skirt up to show I was wearing trunks underneath. "A lady is always prepared, Chris. Nobody is seeing the goods. Not with my parents in the front row."
"Good point."
"Come on. I'll take you to hair and makeup. I don't want Kurt grabbing onto you again." He picked up his Intercontinental Championship and I fastened it around his waist. He extended his arm to me. "Are you ready?"
"I was born ready," I told him. We linked arms and left together. It's his second WrestleMania, his first coming in as a defending champion. It's my first WrestleMania, and even though I'm not Women's Champion or competing, I'm still thankful that I get to spend my first one with my best friend.
William Regal was already standing in the ring, glowering at Chris as he walked onto the stage. He stood to the side and held his arm out, and I took that as a cue to walk onto the stage, returning Regal's angry expression with a glare of my own. Earlier in the afternoon, after my hair and makeup were done, I went and looked out at the empty stands, at the super long ramp. Now, hours later, filled with people, it feels so surreal and incredible. I've never seen so many people. I know that Mark – Undertaker – has to be looking forward to riding his motorcycle down the super long ramp later on in the night. It was almost like it was made for him.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered wildly. I thought I was going to faint in front of 67,925 people. Chris, as if he could sense the stage fright, linked arms with me and together we walked down the ramp. The flash of the cameras was incredible; I could barely see three inches in front of me. At the bottom of the ramp, I gently unwrapped my arm from his.
"Go get him, Tiger," I told him with a grin. I looked over at William and scowled. Chris got on the rope and preened for the crowd before he got inside the ring. Taking my place at ringside, I brushed off the obscene comments I heard from a few guys behind me in the front row, keeping my focus on Chris and his title defence in the ring.
It's William's hope that he can take Chris down a peg. He hates Chris's "belligerent behaviour". I cringed the week that Chris decided to urinate in William's tea. I made a mental note to myself to never accept a drink from Chris ever again. Even though William has been terrible to me, a cost of my friendship with Chris, I still didn't wish that on him. He accused me of knowing; I had no idea. I couldn't convince him, though, and so I ended up going through a table.
The match came to an end when Chris hit his Lionsault on William, getting the three count and retaining his title. Chris rolled out of the ring right away, forcing the referee to run around the ring to hand him his belt. I was under Chris's arm, slapping his chest in jubilation while William seethed in the ring. I took Chris's arm and raised it high, the championship dangling from his other hand.
Once we got backstage, I couldn't keep the smile off my face. Tears brimmed in my eyes, but I managed to hold them back. Chris and I separated almost right away; he had to go do a photo shoot for the website. I wanted to go find Shane and let him know about the rumours regarding Trish and Linda. Walking through the backstage area, I spotted Bradshaw and Faarooq in their makeshift APA office, smoking cigars and drinking beer with Jacqueline. Later on in the night, the APA has a match against the male members of Right to Censor, also tag-teaming with former ECW Champion Tazz. Bradshaw was loudly ranting about the importance of the Astrodome and WrestleMania.
"This is WrestleMania!" he bellowed. "Hearts are gonna be broke. Legends are gonna be made. Egos will be shattered, and asses are going to be kicked. We got a match!" With a clean sweep, the beer, poker chips and playing cards on the table were swept off. I couldn't help but smile. The joy and electricity felt so contagious.
An hour and a half later, I learned that Chris's rumours had been true. Stephanie had gone down to the ring with her father, dressed in a black jumpsuit with Daddy's Little Girl emblazoned on the back in glitter, her thick, long brown hair crimped and wild. She slapped Shane, enraged that he would dare fight his father.
When Shane thought he had his father laid out on the commentator's table dead to rights, he went for his patented Leap of Faith elbow drop. Stephanie scouted it and pulled her father out of the way, leaving Shane out cold. I watched at the interview monitor, biting my lower lip and trying to keep myself composed. It was then that I saw Trish wheel Linda down to the ring.
Trish rushed to the aid of her boss/lover, trying her best to soothe him. Then, she surprised all of us by slapping him. I couldn't contain my excitement; it was long overdue. Stephanie took that as her cue to attack Trish, then attack special referee Mick Foley for intervening. Mick was going to dole out some sweet justice to Stephanie, but Trish took over, forcing Stephanie to flee on foot with Trish in hot pursuit.
Vince, realizing Linda was now at ringside, decided to shove her into the ring and force her to watch him beat Shane within an inch of his life. I felt sick to my stomach watching Vince handle Linda so roughly. When Mick tried to intervene, Vince assaulted Mick with a chair. Meanwhile, Shane was still stirring at ringside, still lying on the deconstructed table. Vince left the ring and dragged Shane back into the ring. I winced as Vince hit Shane with garbage cans. As if she could read my thoughts, Lita leaned over and put a hand on my shoulder.
As he went to hit Shane with his third garbage can, Lita and I audibly gasped as Linda stood up from her chair. The cameras went wild, the flashes creating almost a strobe light effect. Shane, on his knees and exhausted, pointed behind Vince. The garbage can still raised over his head, Vince turned to look into the bemused face of his long-suffering wife. Linda said something to her husband before pulling her foot back and kicking Vince in the testicles. With an assist from Mick and a Coast to Coast, Shane defeated his father. I openly cheered.
"I've gotta go," I told Lita. She understood. I grabbed a bag of ice on my way to Gorilla.
He came through the curtain, sweaty, exhausted, and victorious. His right eye was swollen from a well-placed punch from his father. Underneath his right arm was Linda. Mick was behind Shane, giving him a slap on the back and congratulating him on a job well done. Shane was too exhausted to be celebrating.
Shane hugged Linda closer to him. "Congratulations, Boy Wonder," I told him with a grin. "I noticed your eye is a little swollen, so I thought this might help you out."
"Thank you. You're always a step ahead," Shane told me, taking the ice pack from me. I saw the way Linda was looking between the two of us but said nothing. I turned my attention to Linda.
"Hello, Mrs. McMahon. It's great seeing you up and about. How are you feeling?"
"Better than I have the past few months," she told me. We walked downstairs into the backstage area. Shane was holding the ice pack to his face. Mick was gone. We walked towards Shane's locker room. "I'm proud of you, Shane."
"Thanks, Mom." We walked into the locker room. Linda sat down on the leather couch.
"Thank you for looking out for my son."
"Oh...I..."
"How long have you two been together?"
I looked at Shane, wide-eyed. Shane looked just as shocked. "Mom..."
"Come off it, you two. It's obvious. Your father has no idea, does he?" Linda asked. Shane nodded.
"Do we really have to go through this right now, Mom? You've been through a lot..." Shane reminded her.
"Oh, Shane, I'm fine. But if you two are together, I want to know some things."
"Can you advertise that any louder, Mom? We're trying to keep it under wraps right now."
"How long have you two been...?"
"Three months," Shane answered. She looked sceptical, but she accepted it.
"Whose idea was this to keep it a secret?"
"It was both of us," Shane told her. "We both know Dad is going to be pissed, and we know he's suspicious. But Noa's worked hard to get here, and I don't want to see her career tainted for this. So we are just going to keep it on the low for now. We're just seeing where it goes."
"Shane..."
"We know the risks," I told her.
"Who else knows?" Linda asked.
"Just you. I haven't even told Chris, and he's my best friend. I tell him everything."
"Can we please keep it quiet for now?" Shane pleaded.
"Of course. You two just be careful." We nodded.
"It's why we're keeping it quiet."
"Good." She stood. "I have to go speak with your father, Shane. I'll see you later." He nodded, and I moved to the side so she could leave the room. When she was gone, I moved to Shane, moving the ice pack from his face and gingerly running my finger along the red lump.
"Jesus, he got you good," I commented. He caught my hand with his free hand and kissed my fingers. "Great job out there. I knew you were going to get it done tonight."
"I gotta ask you about that dress..."
"Don't tell me it's too short. I had to hear it all from Chris."
"No. I like it. Is it new? You should wear it more often." I laughed.
"It is new. I think if I wear it again, though, Chris is going to have me fitted with a chastity belt." Shane laughed.
"That's too bad." He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss.
"Are you ready to meet my parents? No pressure," I cracked.
"I am. But I'm nervous."
"They'll like you."
"And if they don't?"
"They will. Relax." I pulled away from him. "I need to go get cleaned up and changed. I'll see you after the show."
"I'll see you then." With another quick kiss, I left him to catch his breath. The fact that Linda knows about the two of us has me a little worried, but with every passing day, I find myself ready to handle the consequences.