Title: Let Go (Beauty in the Breakdown)

Author: LilyBella

Genre: Drama/Romance/Friendship

Rating: M/R for language and graphic sex (both heterosexual and homosexual [male/male and female/female])

Disclaimer: I don't know or own Adam Copeland, Jeff Hardy or any other real-life wrestler or diva who may appear in this work of fiction. I do, however, own my original characters and the overall story. This story takes place outside of kayfabe and any mentions of any wrestler or diva's family life is completely fabricated down to the names of their family members as I do not feel comfortable writing about people who did not put themselves in the spotlight.

Chapter Length: 7,496 words

Summary: They say life is what you make it. Jeff Hardy is about to teach Isabella Martinez how true that is. This story takes place during the 2001 Invasion angle and features Adam "Edge" Copeland, Jeff Hardy, and an original character with appearances by Chris Jericho, Matt Hardy, Amy "Lita" Dumas, and others.

Chapter One
It's been a long day, always…

Isabella still remembered the day she realized what she wanted to be when she grew up. The memory was slightly hazy around the edges, little details missing that she wished she could still recall, but the general idea and feelings were still there. It'd been August 29, 1988, a detail she only knew today because of how famous that event was and continued to become, and she'd been crammed in tight with a group of her cousins on the worn brown leather sofa in their grandparents living room, their attention focused completely on the television before them. The first ever SummerSlam was playing on the screen, an event her cousins had been looking forward to for days, and the first wrestling show Isabella had ever watched.

It'd only taken one match for Isabella to understand why her cousins had been so excited. The characters, the moves, and even the crowds had fascinated her. She couldn't believe some of the things she'd watched that day, and all before the main event even started. Once it had, she'd been lost for good. It was Macho Man Randy Savage and Hulk Hogan vs. Ted DiBiase and Andre the Giant and while she couldn't have understood the magnitude of the stars on the television screen before her, the match captivated her all the same. And it wasn't just the awesome size of Andre the Giant, or the way Macho Man flew off the top rope for his flying elbow, or Ted DiBiase's weasel ways, or even the incredible magnetism of Hulk Hogan that had forced her from her spot on the couch to the floor directly in front of the TV. No, what really captured her attention and imagination was the petite and demure woman who'd stood in the Mega-Powers corner, the one who cheered when they were winning and looked so upset whenever the Mega-Bucks managed to steal the upper hand, the 'secret weapon' that helped Macho Man and Hulk win the match.

Miss Elizabeth.

Miss Elizabeth had it all, as far as Isabella was concerned. She was beautiful and glamorous and she knew and cheered on the two best wrestlers in the whole world (or at least the two wrestlers Isabella was sure had to be the best at the age of seven). It was when Isabella saw Miss Elizabeth at SummerSlam that night when she knew; when she realized what she wanted to do more than anything in the whole wide world when she grew up. She wanted to be Miss Elizabeth. She wanted to wear pretty dresses and walk down to the ring with her man. She wanted to help him win matches and then raise his hand high in the air after the one, two, three. Isabella couldn't imagine a more perfect life.

It had taken thirteen years and a whole lot of hard work, but there she was, pacing one of the many deserted corridors of the Compaq Center in San Jose, California, awaiting her own SummerSlam debut. Isabella was now the World Wrestling Federation's 'Isabel' (Isabella was too 'ethnic' for the sweet, wholesome 'All-American' girl she was originally portrayed as, a gimmick that still amused her and friends seeing as she was Latina and spent more years in Mexico and Canada than the US), or 'Izzie, the Princess of Awesomeness' depending on who you asked. 'Isabel' couldn't claim to be Miss Elizabeth---nobody but Elizabeth Hulette herself ever could, of course---but then, Isabella had stopped wanting to be Miss Elizabeth years ago. As time went on and wrestling changed, Isabella's dream had changed with it. She'd no longer wanted to be a beautiful but rather helpless woman who only occasionally showed her feisty side. She'd wanted to be in the middle of the action. She'd wanted to be a professional wrestler.

It hadn't been an easy thing to do, getting into the wrestling business. It had taken her five and a half years of hard training, working on the independent scene, and some damn good luck, but she'd made it and she'd done so with a sense of pride. She was one of the few women who could say it hadn't just been her looks that landed her a job in the WWF; it had been her skill as a professional wrestler.

Not that anybody would know it from watching her these days, Isabella thought bitterly. She'd been in the WWF for just about a year now and in that time, she'd only wrestled in her own matches a handful of times. They'd been good matches as far as most people were concerned. Fast-paced with great aerial moves that had the crowd on their feet, but that didn't change the fact that most of her work consisted of playing lapdog to Edge and Christian, the tag team Isabel managed. She'd get them water, shine their boots, carry their bags---Izzie was the perfect little flunky.

Or at least she had been. Things were constantly changing in the WWF and her character was a prime example of that. In the eleven months she'd been with the company, she'd gone through three significant character changes. She'd started out as the heel character of a 'Lolita', more commonly referred to as the mini-Lita or the Lita-clone, a smaller and younger version of Lita, a member of Team Extreme, whom Edge and Christian had been feuding with at the time. A red-haired Isabella would come out to the ring dressed in baggy pants with her thong showing and fishnet tops just like Lolita's counterpart, perform a few high-flying moves on the fan-favorite Lita, or even one of the Hardy Boyz themselves and then retreat with Edge and Christian. Following that angle, Isabella became 'Isabel' the utterly clueless and incredibly devoted All-American girl Edge and Christian had tricked into playing the Lita-clone. That's when her days as a lackey started. She took Edge and Christian's verbal (and occasionally physical) abuse, threw herself into harm's way to protect them and never received a single 'thanks' for her trouble. It was when she later turned heel, obtaining Jeff Hardy's sympathy, trust, and friendship only to betray him for Edge and Christian's gain, and making a habit of bashing their opponents over the head with steel chair, that 'Isabel' had been shortened to 'Izzie'. Izzie's duties as Edge and Christian's virtual servant, however, only lessened slightly.

Things were different these days, though. Things were very different. Edge and Christian had gone from hated heels to fan favorites. Or Edge had, at any rate. Christian was still a bad guy in most people's eyes. He was jealous of the success his brother had achieved as a singles star, he was angry no one gave him the respect he believed he deserved, and he found a sick pleasure in playing mind games with the gullible Izzie, constantly trying to cause problems in the relationship she shared with Edge. All of this was leading to one thing: the break-up of Edge and Christian. And according to Adam and Jay---otherwise known as Edge and Christian---and the reason she was hiding out in an empty corridor when she should've been getting ready to go to the ring, that break-up was officially taking place in two weeks.

Two weeks.

Isabella forced down the lump that lodged in her throat at the thought. She didn't know why she found the news so shocking. The break-up of Edge and Christian had been in the plans for months. It was inevitable. Adam and Jay had done everything they could do as a tag team and they were both anxious to give a singles run a try. It was just everyone had been talking about the break-up for so long now only to push it back again and again every time they came close to actually doing it, Isabella had started to think, or maybe she'd just hoped, that it wouldn't happen at all. It was a selfish wish and she hated herself for having it. She owed such a huge part of her career to Adam and Jay and she wanted them to succeed. She wanted them to be happy. She just couldn't help but think their success and their happiness stood a good chance of ruining hers.

With a heavy sigh, Isabella ran her fingers through her once perfectly combed hair. She wondered briefly what Vince or Stephanie would say if she showed up right before she was to accompany Adam to the ring with a rat's nest for hair, but that small inkling of concern faded away into more anxiety over her job.

What would happen to her once the Edge and Christian storyline finished for good? Edge went face, Christian went heel, but what about Isabel, the naïve little girl who was stuck in-between? Isabella didn't know. Adam and Jay didn't know. Hell, the writers didn't even know, not really, but they weren't worried. Not when they had the two most obvious angles in the world to choose from; slut her up and stick her with Christian or keep her the same ridiculous ditzy girl she'd always been and finally start the romance they'd been hinting at for months with Edge.

Neither option was very appealing. The thought of kissing Jay, as much as Isabella liked him as friend, made her a bit sick to her stomach and having Izzie and Edge ride off into the sunset together was so cliché it made her nearly as ill as the first option. Besides, sticking her with Edge meant her character would stay exactly the same. Izzie would grow stale and what happened to stale characters? They were forgot about and eventually released from the company.

So, those were her choices. If she even had any choice at all when it was all said and done. Chances were Adam and Jay would get more say on what happened next to her character than she did, and if that were the case, she had no doubt what would happen next. Adam would never approve of her taking on a slutty image or of her kissing Jay even if they were only acting.

"God," Isabella whispered, resting her head against the cool cinderblock wall and closing her eyes as a few tears fell from her eyes. "What the hell am I going to do?"

She couldn't talk to any of the writers, like they'd ever take her seriously without Adam or Jay with her. She couldn't talk to Adam or Jay; she'd never be able to admit to them how much anxiety she had over something that would better their careers. Aside from them, the only other friends she had within the company were Amy and Chris, but even calling them 'friends' felt like a stretch sometimes. They were more like acquaintances and they were too close to Adam anyway. Anything she told them, they'd tell him or they'd tell her to tell him. This wasn't something her family or Nic and Em could help her with either. They'd never be able to understand.

She was stuck.

When she'd been a little girl, watching SummerSlam with her cousins and thinking about how she wanted to grow up to be like Miss Elizabeth, to live in this world, she never thought she'd spend her first SummerSlam crying alone in an empty corridor. She never thought that after less than a year in the WWF, the company she'd wanted to be in more than any other, her job would be in jeopardy. She never thought her life would be like this; that her dream would turn out to be a nightmare.

"Bella…" Isabella straightened up quickly at the sound of Adam's voice echoing down the corridor. Sniffing, she wiped her eyes hoping her eyeliner hadn't run or that it was obvious she'd been crying. She smoothed her hair down, straightened her leather vest, and forced back her emotions before walking down the hall toward the voice just as Adam rounded the corner already dressed in his wrestling gear.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

He sounded more worried than angry. Typical Adam. Isabella sometimes wished he would get pissed off at her. It would've made it easier to get angry with him.

"My mom called. I was trying to find a place with good reception." The lie came easily and she shrugged her shoulders, hoping Adam wouldn't realize her cell phone wasn't with her.

He didn't.

"Oh, did she say anything about me?" he asked, puffing out his chest and buffing his nails on his t-shirt---one of the few pieces of Trio of Awesomeness merchandise available---feigning nonchalance.

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she said you need to get over yourself and that you looked ridiculous wearing that hideous bright red Hawaiian shirt and sandals with socks in those pictures we sent her."

"Hey! My red Hawaiian shirt fucking rocks, man. And there's nothing wrong with wearing sandals with socks!" Adam cried in mock outrage.

"Yeah," Isabella laughed and patted him on the chest as she walked passed him on her way back to main backstage area. "Keep telling yourself that, buddy."

"I don't have the time to debate this," Adam said, pushing ahead of her and grabbing her arm to pull her along behind him. "My match is up next."

The time had come. His match was next. Her SummerSlam debut was next. She just hoped like hell that it wouldn't be her last SummerSlam, too.

"Damn Barbie, move out the way already!"

Isabella barely managed to stop a grimace from forming on her face as a dull throbbing pain started in her right shoulder after Tori's shove rammed her hard against the edge of the wall dividing the changing area and the bathroom in the women's locker room. She stared in shock at the woman, who at 5'9 had at least seven inches and 40 pounds on Isabella's own rather petite frame, as she took up the spot Isabella had occupied only seconds ago. "You've been hogging the mirror all night!"

Pretty amazing feat that, Isabella thought in disbelief, seeing as how she hadn't even been in the locker room a whole ten minutes.

"I don't know why you even bother, to tell you the truth," Tori went on as she tossed her hair and checked her overdone make-up. "I mean, just look at you," she said, turning to face Isabella and eyeing her from head to toe. Isabella inwardly cringed at what Tori was seeing: pale blue three-quarter sleeve button up shirt, black pencil skirt, and neatly shined ballerina Mary-Jane's. She looked liked she just stepped out of fucking Gap Ad; it even nauseated her most days.

"What are you even wearing?" she asked, gesturing wildly at her. "Got a meeting with your book club later? Gotta rush off to discuss the imagery and symbolism in the latest Harry Potter book? What?"

Isabella felt her checks heating up and her earlobes start to burn. She could hear Lisa, Nora, and Jacqueline snickering in the background. Torrie and Stacy, the two newest WWF divas and who, incidentally, still didn't get half the amount of crap she did, looked on pityingly.

"Or wait," Tori straightened up and looked down at Isabella, twisting a piece of her dirty blonde hair around her finger and biting her lower lip in an expression of mock innocence that looked utterly ridiculous on her prematurely aged face. "Does Adam like your little goody two-shoes librarian style? He always was kinda kinky, from what I remember," Tori laughed, derisively. "Does he get off on 'defiling' you every night? Does he like to think he's stealing your innocence?" She snorted, "What little of it you have left, anyway."

"Oh, damn!" Jacqueline shouted before her, Lisa, and Nora's cackling grew louder. Tears stung Isabella's eyes; her ears started ringing. God, she hated Tori. She fucking hated her. She wanted to scream at her; tell Tori that at least Adam still wanted her when he'd been over Tori's ugly ass in all of one week. She wanted to say that she might've dress liked a 'prude', but at least she didn't look like a slut and go to great lengths to live up to that image.

Isabella didn't say that, of course. If the lump that lodged itself in her throat at the start of Tori's taunts didn't stop her, knowing how much worse her life in the locker room could be sure as hell did. Instead, Isabella did what she always did when Tori's attitude became too much. She turned around, grabbed her bag (already packed and ready to go, thank God), and left the room to Tori's contemptuous voice saying, "Aww, I think I hurt the wittle baby's feelings." And even more laughter following it.

Isabella clenched her jaw and fists as she walked toward the exit of the arena. SummerSlam had ended an hour before and after spending most of the show and forty minutes after with Adam and Jay, and whoever else they happened to have around, she'd parted ways with them to change before they'd head back to the hotel together. Now she wished she'd waited until she made it back to her room to get out Izzie's skintight maroon-colored snakeskin pants and black leather vest. Her day had been bad enough; she didn't need Tori to make things worse.

And what was Tori even doing at SummerSlam? She didn't make an appearance and she sure as hell hadn't had a match. Tori hadn't appeared on WWF TV since March. She wasn't even working dark matches or house shows anymore. It was like she attended all these events just to make Isabella's life a living hell and Isabella was so sick of her bullshit, but there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it. Just like there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop the Edge and Christian break-up, or the fact that Adam would ask that Izzie remain with Edge, or the fact that everything she'd worked so hard for the last six years would likely be over by the next.

When Isabella finally reached the heavy metal door with the bright green 'EXIT' sign above it, she pushed it open and sighed with relief at the effect the cool night air had on her fevered skin. She took in a deep breath, hoping the red blotches marring her pale skin would fade quickly and wished, not for the first time, that she were blessed with the naturally tanned skin of her parents instead of the rather fair coloring of her grandparents. It would make the effects of embarrassing confrontations like the one she'd just had with Tori so much easier to hide.

Thankfully, Adam, Jay, and Chris didn't appear to be outside waiting for her. She still had time to calm down, something she was finding harder and harder to do these days. It had been different in the beginning. When she'd been the new girl and all the girls gave her shit, it was expected and Isabella didn't let it get to her. She knew she had to prove herself if she wanted to get any respect. To think that once upon a time, Isabella had actually thought she'd done that.

It'd been a little under a year ago when they called her up to play 'Lolita'.

"It's just a gag gimmick," they'd told her. "It'll last a couple of weeks. A month tops."

That month ended up being two and half and during that time, Isabella did everything she could to make a good impression. Backstage, she kept her head down and her mouth shut as expected of rookies, especially female ones, but she worked her ass off in the ring. She never missed a spot, took bumps from the Hardy's that made some of the boys cringe, and pulled off a match against Amy's 'Lita' character that had the fans on their feet like it was E&C and the Hardy Boyz battling it out in the ring instead of their respective girls. That night should've been her first and final match and when it was over Isabella received nothing but positive reviews from everyone in the back for everything she'd done during her time there and Isabella thought that had been it. That she'd actually done it. That she'd proven herself not only to the agents, but to the superstars and other divas.

But nobody could have expected what happened next.

"We've decided to run with it," Jim Ross had said during their appointment to discuss the next step in her career.

"Run with it?" Isabella hadn't understood. 'Run with what?' she'd thought. Run with her? Run with the Lita-Clone? Run far, far away with the developmental deal they all but guaranteed her still in their hands?

"Vince likes the reaction this story's been receiving and you really even things up between Team Extreme and Edge and Christian," he'd explained. "They've got lots of idea. They think it can go far."

Isabella didn't do much thinking when JR pulled out that two-year contract, but by the next Monday, she sure wished she had. As far as the other superstars and divas were concerned, it was one thing for Isabella to get a developmental contract after her run as Lolita, it was quite another for her to be handed a spot after less than two and a half years on the indy circuit. The backlash against her had been major just as Adam and Jay had warned her it would be once she told them they offered her a major deal, and Isabella was the first to admit that she'd handled the situation all wrong. Instead of walking into the arena with her head held high and going out of her way to make an effort with people, she continued on with her head down, mouth shut approach, and took to hanging out with Adam, Jay, and Amy whom she'd become better acquainted with thanks to the angle that had them working so closely together.

All that approach did was get her labeled a stuck-up bitch and add fuel to the rumors she hadn't known were circling around back then that she'd fucked Adam to get the doors open to the WWF, and then fucked someone higher up to land herself the contract. Of course, the fact that people thought she was screwing not only Adam, but possibly someone else with a lot more pull meant that the boys never fucked with her even if they didn't like her or the fact that she was with the company. Besides, her spot had little bearing on any of their careers. These days, unless they were working with Adam or Jay and therefore her, most of them seemed to forget she even existed.

The girls were the ones who had the real problem with her and they had no qualms showing it. Stiff shots in the ring, vandalizing or stealing her things, and then there had been Joanie. Joanie had been the absolute worse. When she was being forced out of the company earlier in the year, she thought she'd take Isabella down with her by trying to set her up as the culprit of a series of thefts that had taken place in the locker room over several weeks, culminating in the stealing one of 'Taker's prized possessions. If Isabella hadn't noticed Adam's bracelet, a bracelet she'd given to him years ago as a 'thank you' for training her, in Joanie's bag, Isabella didn't even want to think about where she'd be right now. As it was, she thanked God that she'd gone to Stephanie McMahon, one of the few people in the company who actually seemed to like Isabella (and who completely loathed Joanie), when she had and that they'd caught Joanie in the act of planting the evidence in Isabella's things.

Thinking back on it now, Tori's silly little taunts and her clique's cackling laughter were child's play compare to what she'd gone through in the past, but Isabella was still so sick of it all. She thought they'd be a bit tired of it as well seeing as how they were all so much older than she was. They were supposed to be more mature. But then, the locker room was so much like high school it was no wonder Tori and her little hyenas had difficulty acting their age. Isabella only wished they'd leave her out of it.

Checking her watch, Isabella noted it was nearing nine-thirty. She leaned back against the arena wall wondering what was taking Adam and Jay so long. She wanted to go back to the hotel, fall into bed, and forget about her problems for a while. She was contemplating going back into the arena to look for them when the door slammed open and raucous laughter filled the air. Adam and Jay had finally arrived, followed by Matt, Jeff, Amy, Chris, Andrew, and Rhyno.

"Hey, dollface!" Chris shouted when he saw her. "What'cha doin' out here all by your lonesome?"

"Waiting," Isabella answered, forcing a smile as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, trying to become as small as possible under the glances now coming her way.

Adam, always ready to come to her rescue, threw his arm over her shoulders his 6 foot 5, 200 plus pound body completely dwarfing her rather slight frame. "Were you out here long?" he asked, bending his head so he was speaking almost directly in her ear.

Isabella shook her head, hiding as much of herself as she could, her presence quickly fading from the group's thoughts. She kept her head down, watching the pavement as they slowly made their way toward the parking lot, the group chatting around her.

"So are you guys gonna hit this club with us tonight or not?" Matt asked as they reached his, Jeff, and Amy's rental.

"Yeah, definitely," Jay replied, heading to the driver's side of their own rental parked next to Team Extreme's. Chris climbed into the passenger seat as Adam opened the back door and waited for her to get in before sliding in beside her.

"We'll meet you there after we drop Bella off at the hotel," Adam told them, slamming the door behind him.

There were no arguments over that statement. There had been a time when Adam's friends tried to get to know Isabella and would ask her to go out with them after shows. But, Isabella being Isabella managed to make a mess of that, too. She had a hard time getting to know new people, it'd been a problem for her ever since she was a kid, and large groups of people certainly didn't make it any easier. She'd get shy and awkward and if someone really backed her into a corner, it resulted in her becoming a sarcastic bitch who alienated people in a matter of seconds. It wasn't cute. Hell, it wasn't even her, really; it just happened. Adam being Adam knew this of course and he was quick to make excuses for her. "She's not even 21 yet," he'd say and that was true enough---Isabella wouldn't turn 21 until December---but then she hardly needed an ID when she was going out with a group of good-looking semi-famous people so it turned out that clubs, bars, and parties in general "just weren't her scene." It wasn't nearly as true as the former, but it stuck.

How unfortunate for her.

Staying at the hotel night after night was fine in the beginning. Enough people were pissed about her permanent position in the company that she didn't feel like going out much and Adam used to stay in with her so she had all the company she wanted. It took a month and a half before he eventually abandoned her to return to the club scene and Isabella learned quickly enough that sitting alone in hotel rooms became real boring, real fast. She missed going out and dancing all night. She missed having fun, having a life, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Adam she wanted to go out with them. Mostly because she knew Adam didn't want her to go out with them.

They were friends, best friends even, but Adam saw her too much like a sister (a younger, naïve sister) to ever want to go out partying with her. At least, that's what Isabella figured. It would be too hard for him to pick up his big breasted ditz (or hard bodied twink, if he were in that kind of mood) of the night with her hanging around. Not that Isabella was supposed to know about any ditz or twink (especially not the twinks) that Adam brought back to his room nearly every night. He sheltered Isabella from his love life (or rather, his sex life) to the point where it was almost comical. Dates were never brought back to the house they shared in Tampa (no matter how many times he'd gone out on them), sex was never discussed in front of her (try it and you were likely to be smacked upside the head), and every one-night stand was in and out of his hotel room before Isabella ever had the chance to see them (too bad she still had to hear them).

Nobody talked on the drive back to the hotel. There was no way the guys could say what they planned on getting up to tonight, not around her 'delicate' ears and they were too wound up to be interested in anything she had to say. Not that she did have anything, to say that is. The stereo, blaring out Adam's Fuel CD, was the only sound heard in the car aside from the rhythmic tapping of Jay's fingers against the steering wheel. The three men had an air of anticipation around them, the kind they always did after a good show. Chris' head swayed to the music, Jay rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen some tension and Adam, he sat motionless, his head resting back against the seat staring up at the ceiling with that look on his face. The look that said he was ready to go out, get drunk, and get laid.

The air suddenly felt oppressive to Isabella. She itched to get out of the car, to get away from the three men who occupied it, to be somewhere where she didn't have to think about what she'd be missing out on tonight and every other night. She sighed with relief when Jay rolled the car into an empty parking space close to the entrance of the hotel, the noise drawing Adam's attention back to her.

"Come on, I'll walk you to your room," he smiled at her and opened the car door before reaching for her gym bag which lay at her feet. Isabella grabbed it before he could, opening the door at her side.

"I'm a big girl, Adam. I can make it to my room on my own."

A look of hurt confusion crossed Adam's face at her curt reply; he reached for her hand. "I know you can. Are you ok, Bella? You seem angry."

Isabella rubbed her forehead and shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Are you sure? I can stay in with you tonight, if you want," he offered.

That caught both Chris and Jay's attention. "Dude!" they both exclaimed, turning in their seats to look at them. Adam ignored his two friends, his attention focused solely on her, but Isabella saw the pleading looks Jay and Chris threw her way. They knew Adam was serious. Isabella knew Adam was serious. If she said 'stay,' he would. He'd be disappointed he wasn't going to fuck anyone that night, but he'd still stay. Isabella found that knowledge strangely comforting.

"It's fine," she said. "I've got a book I've wanted to start, so I'm probably just gonna read for a bit before going to sleep. You go have fun."

"Are you sure?" Adam face showed his relief that she was letting him off the hook and Isabella mustered up a small smile for him.

"Positive."

"Do you want me to walk you in?" he asked, making to step out of the car.

"No. Just go. I'll see you guys tomorrow," she chuckled a bit at his persistence and he smiled widely at her before placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Set a wake-up call for my room at eight, would you?" he asked, brushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear before she stepped out of the car, out of his reach.

"Of course," she nodded, slamming the door closed. "Night, guys!"

The guys called their good-byes as she made her way into the hotel. She thanked God for the nearly empty lobby as the automatic doors opened to grant her entrance. Usually a couple of fans would sit around different hotels waiting to catch a glimpse their favorite superstars, but they must not have thought to stake out the one she and the guys were staying in. Making her way over to the far wall, she waited for the elevator to arrive. When she stepped inside seconds later, she saw that the rental car holding Adam, Jay, and Chris was only now slowly pulling out of the parking lot. She gave them a small wave before the doors closed, shaking her head. How typical. She insisted Adam didn't walk her back to her room, so he settled on watching her through the windows as long as he could manage. What, did he think a wild bear would maul her or that a prison escapee would attempt to kidnap her during her fifteen-step journey to the elevator?

When the doors opened on the sixth floor, Isabella slowly trekked her way down the corridor to her room, fishing for her room key in the pockets of bag. She slid her card through slot on her door, once, twice, waiting for the green light to appear and glowered when the red light continued wink at her. She hated these damn card keys. What the hell was wrong with the regular old-fashioned metal keys people had been using for hundreds of years? She kicked the door half-heartedly and once again attempted to get her door open. There was a soft snick as lock opened and the small light briefly flashed green as she pushed open the door.

Kicking the door closed, Isabella tossed her bag onto her bed and began removing the ridiculously restrictive clothes she was wearing. Shedding away Isabel, shedding away Izzie, shedding away even Bella, the girl Adam knew so very well. Piling her hair high into a messy ponytail, Isabella walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and remove her contacts (blue, to make her naturally blue eyes appear even more vivid on screen) and replaced them with her thick black framed glasses. They made her look like such a nerd; she loved them to pieces. Heading back into the main room, Isabella settled herself against the headboard wearing nothing but her bra and panties, and called up the front desk to ask for a wake-up call for both her and Adam's rooms, her hand digging into the very bottom of her bag. Underneath the Stephen King novels and Jemima J by Jane Green, she found her most recent purchases, the latest releases in the new Harlequin's trash novel series, Blaze.

A good, smut filled book was exactly what Isabella needed after the day she'd had. She'd only just opened the book, careful not to crease the spine too much, when her cell phone began to ring. Stifling her irritation, Isabella dropped the book beside her and once again rummaged through her bag trying to find the annoying little thing, which turned out to be deep inside Izzie's black leather knee-high boots. Checking the caller-id, Isabella groaned when she saw the number it displayed. Taking a deep, calming breath, Isabella reluctantly answered.

"Hello, mother."

"Hello, daughter," her mother mocked on the other end of the phone. "What's wrong? Something's bothering you, I can tell."

"Nothing's wrong," Isabella answered, rolling her eyes as she flicked on the television and settled in to watch Cheaters. Conversations with her mother were never short and it was always nice to have something mindless to entertain herself with as she listened with half an ear to her mother's gossiping and unsolicited advice on everything from Isabella's clothes and hair to her career and love life (her non-existent love life).

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Isa!" her mother scolded and Isabella forced herself not to roll them again. Her mother always seemed to have this strange psychic ability when it came to her. Isabella didn't question it. She never received any straight answers from her mother anyway. "Now, tell mommy what's wrong."

"It's nothing. I had a long day. I'm just tired." Annoyed more like, but there was no way she was going to tell her mother that.

"Oh? What'd you do?"

Isabella explained briefly about flying in from Tampa for the show, and the appearance she made with Edge who won the Intercontinental belt, not that her mom knew the IC title from the women's one, but she was still plenty happy for Adam.

"Oh, how wonderful! Is Adam there? Tell him 'congratulations' and that I love his red shirt. I'm thinking of buying one for your father."

Just the idea of her father in that awful Hawaiian shirt was enough to make Isabella grimace. She hoped her mother never managed to get her hands on one. Her father loved her mother too much to deny her anything and he'd wear such an awful garment simply because she bought it for him, never mind that it was probably one of the ugliest shirts ever made.

"Ugh, mom! Papi would look awful! Anyone would. I plan on burning Adam's when he's not looking."

"I'm going to have to tell Adam to keep an eye on you then. I think it's adorable. Is Adam there? Can I talk to him?"

"No, he went out with some of the guys." There was no point in lying to her mother; she always managed to find out the truth somehow.

"Oh," her mother replied, feigning nonchalance. "Where'd they go?"

Isabella winced as she answered. "Just some club downtown, I think."

"Hmm, I see." Isabella could picture her mother's face, still wrinkle-free at forty-five, her dark eyebrows raised and her lips turned down in a frown. "And why didn't you go with him?"

"I already told you, I'm tired."

"Hmm." Her mother didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, and Isabella held her breath, daring to hope her mother would actual let the subject drop. "Well, then, just send him my love when you see him again, would you?"

"Of course," Isabella sighed in relief. Maybe her luck was finally turning around. Maybe she'd finally get some peace tonight.

"I talked to my friend, Julio, the other day, did I tell you?" her mother started. "He was telling me about a wonderful new screenplay his friend Alfonso just finished. Lots of big studios are interested in it, you know, and he told me there was a part in it that would be perfect for you, if you were interested. I told him to send me a copy and I'll give it to you the next time we see each other."

Or maybe not. Isabella dug the palms of her hands against her eyes underneath her glasses, groining in frustration. No matter how many times she told her mother that she didn't want to become an actress and that wrestling, no matter what her mother thought, wasn't something she'd eventually grow out of, her mother insisted on talking to her friends in the industry, getting scripts and landing auditions for a career Isabella had no intentions of pursuing.

"Mom, I told you---" she started.

"I know, I know," her mother cut off. "Wrestling is your dream; it's what you always wanted to do. I get it, but mija, let's face, wrestling is making you miserable. You're father told me what you said, about how they don't take you seriously, and that they make you do such humiliating things and it's true. I've seen it. It's awful, some of the things they've made you do. Acting like some ridiculous little servant girl without a thought in her head. I can't stand it. That's why I don't watch. I can't stand seeing my daughter treated that way. It hurts."

For the second time that night, Isabella felt her face heating and her ears start to ring. A lump lodged in her throat as her eyes rapidly watered and tears began to spill over. It was one thing for her to have issues with her character, it was quite another for her mom to say something like that to her. She remained quiet for several seconds, trying to get her emotions back in check. "It's not that bad anymore," she forced out, heavily. "Things have gotten better and you'd know that if you bothered to watch a show in the last six months."

It was true, too. Things had gotten much better for her onscreen character over the last few months. She no longer 'fetched' Edge and Christian water, or shined their boots, or carried their bags. She no longer had to endure disgusting and degrading sexual innuendo thrown at her in nearly every one of her scenes. These days, she may have still been a ditz, but she was a member of the team. Onscreen, she was fine. It was off-screen that she was having problems. It was off-screen where her job was in jeopardy, but Isabella wasn't at the point where she wanted to quit. She didn't think she'd ever reach that point, no matter what her mother thought or wanted. Besides, Isabella didn't doubt for a second that if she were to pursue acting and took on a role where her character was treated the same way her wrestling character was that her mother wouldn't be so much 'hurt' as she would be proud. Wrestling simply wasn't an appropriate or respectable career choice in her mother's opinion, at least not for her only daughter, and she'd do just about anything to get Isabella to quit, even play on her feelings when she was already obviously upset.

"Isa, I ju---" her mother started, but Isabella wasn't in the mood to hear anything else.

"Mom, I'm going to bed. Tell papi and AJ I love them, alright?" And with that, she hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bedside table. Reaching for the book that still lay beside her, Isabella tried to get into the story, but found she just couldn't concentrate.

"How fucking typical," she muttered to herself, throwing the book back into her bag and turning on her side to watch the television screen. Cheaters was nearly over, but Cops would be on next. How lovely. Yet another night spent watching the most entertaining of America's trailer trash community, wasn't she lucky?

Isabella had only just turned off the TV for the night and was settling more comfortably under the covers, waiting for sleep to claim her when she heard it: the gentle thud of a closing door followed by the muffled sounds of laughter coming through the thin hotel walls.

"Shh." It was easy to make out Adam's voice in the complete silence of her room. "Be quiet."

"I am being quiet!" the girl's indignant voice all but shouted, followed by Adam's rumbling laughter.

"Shh! I don't wan---" Whatever Adam meant to say next fell into a deep moan as the girl giggled impishly. "Oh, fuck!"

Wide-awake once again, Isabella irritably flipped the lights back on and rolled out of bed. She growled under her breath as she made her way to the closet and began searching the smaller of the two suitcases she'd left at the hotel earlier in the day looking for her disc man. Hearing Adam fucking some little tramp was the last thing she needed right now. It hurt enough when she was having a good day; she couldn't handle it tonight.

"Fuck, yes!" Adam's voice again. Reaching into the front pocket of her carry on, Isabella pulled out the metallic blue CD player and covered her ears with her large DJ-style headphones before making her way back under the covers. Pressing the small, silver 'PLAY' button, Isabella tried to relax as Rob Thomas' voice filled her head, luring her to fitful sleep.

Reach down your hand in your pocket/Pull out some hope for me/It's been a long day, always, ain't that right/And no Lord, your hand won't stop it/Just keep you trembling/It's been a long day, always, ain't that right…