LITTLE DARLIN'
Summary: Tatum has just lost her father. When his friend, Gilbert Hardy, takes her in she falls for his youngest son Jeff. Only problem is she's only twenty-one and he is taken. Or that's what she thinks.
Rating: M for adult situations, mature themes, and later chapters.
Genre: Drama/Romance/Comedy.
Pairing: JeffHardy/OC.
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the wrestlers. What is written in this story, save for what is seen on television the rest is my own creation and I only own the OC and her friends. All WWE entertainers belong to themselves and WWE. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: I promised myself I wouldn't start any new stories until I finished a few others, but I was just jumping with this idea, so I had to start it and another two; Centre Stage and Reunion of the Hardyz. So other than these three, I'm gonna start working on all my others and trying to finish a few up with the next few months, preferably Angel of Mine and Queen of Extreme will be the first two- maybe.
- - -
CHAPTER ONE
She sat in the hallway of the hospital, tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair nervously as she looked around every few minutes. Hospitals were one of the worst places in the world to her; they were cold and unwelcoming. The white halls always harsh and made her feel like she was in one of those mental institutions. She'd been in one before, when she was little. Her uncle had been admitted for paranoia and pyromania. He'd caused a fire in his room where they'd use to live and that had been the last straw for her father. The minute he'd come home from work he'd sent him packing to the nearest place possible.
Of course, he had only done it so Tatum wouldn't get hurt the next time round. Tatum Orison. That was the young woman in the baggy jeans and skull hooded jacket in the hallway. Having never known her mother, she'd grown up with her uncle and father, nothing but a tomboy.
She had been the one who picked the fights at school whenever made fun of. Her father had taught her to never let anything build up, it only made things worse. But because of that, she'd been kicked out of seven schools and told that she'd never amount to anything. Well- she was currently starting college and studying Art, Business and History.
Tatum wasn't stupid and had always done her work to the best, wanting to get away from the trailer parks that she had basically been raised in most of the time. It had paid off, even with the trouble she'd caused.
"Miss Orison?" Looking up, she found a man dressed in white standing just down the hall from her. Managing to stand up, though it was on shaky legs, she walked over to him, pulling her jacket more tighter around her.
"Yeah?" It barely came out. She didn't know what he was going to say to her, but whatever it was, she knew it wasn't going to be anything good. It hadn't been that bad of an accident. She'd gotten out of it with nothing more than a broken wrist, but the man in the other car had head injuries and her father, well he'd been pretty bad.
"There is no easy way to say this Miss Orison, your father passed away. He was bleeding internally and there was nothing we could do," he said to her softly, putting a hand on her shoulder, as if his action would comfort her.
She felt the tears stinging her eyes, but refused to break down in front of anyone. Nodding, she asked if she could see him before she left. When he led her to a room, she shuddered. It had thirteen written across the door.
As she stepped inside, Tatum asked if she could be left alone for a minute and once the door was shut, she couldn't hold back the gush of tears that fell. Dropping to the floor, she sat there and just stared at her father's now lifeless body.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she crawled over and took hold of his still bloody hand and hugged it to her chest, just sitting against the side of the bed, wishing that this was all just a bad dream and it wasn't real. Bringing his hands up to her lips, she kissed it before letting it go and standing up. He didn't look peaceful. The only time she had truly seen him sleep was when she had come home and find him asleep in the recliner in front of the television.
When the doctor came in, she only had one question on her mind; What was she going to do now?
- - -
Jeff groaned as he tried to fix his tie properly, only to fail miserably. His father stood beside him in the bathroom fixing on his own tie and Jeff quirked an eyebrow and watched his actions, mimicking them as he went.
Matt went to step into the room, only to stop and chuckle a little at the picture his father and little brother made, it was like when Jeff had first tried to learn how to shave. He went quite though when he saw the sullen look on his father's face. "You really did care 'bout him didn't ya?" Matt asked.
He nodded. "He was one of ma best mates, Matty. I had some good times with him. He wasn't always in the best position of life, but we certainly had a lot of adventures," he answered as Matt stepped up beside him. "I'm just worried 'bout his girl."
"Why, she not on a pension?" Jeff questioned.
Gil hit him across the back of the head in return. "His little girl. His daughter Tatum. She ain't got no mother and her uncle's in the loony bin, hopefully she can find somewhere to stay," he explained.
Matt pursed his lips in thought as he deftly fixed his tie. "What if she can't, dad? You could always take her in as a last favour to the poor guy. She couldn't be more of a handful than Jeff and I were."
Gil glanced at his oldest son and cracked a smile. "I'll see what she's doing first, Matty, poor girl is having a hard time already. Probably doesn't want to leave the trailer only three days after his passing."
"Never know, Dad," Jeff retorted, "She might want to leave there. After all, you said that she has no one. Sometimes even a friend could be a better than nothing."
- - -
Tatum only wanted a small funeral and out in the cemetery near where she knew her grandfather was buried, seemed to be the perfect place. As she climbed off her flaming red Yamaha, she fixed up her black baggy jeans and glanced around. A car pulled up behind her bike and she glanced around. No one else was here yet. Pulling her helmet off and her gloves, she turned around to find her father's best friend Gilbert Hardy or really the Legend Claude G. climbing out of the car, along with two other people.
With a soft smile, she met him halfway and felt a little bit of comfort from the man when he wrapped his arms around her in a large hug. "Thanks for comin' Gil," she whispered, hugging him back.
"Anything for you and old Shawn, sweetie" he said, pulling back. "How you holding up?"
"Not good. I'm just trying to process the whole thing still. It doesn't seem real. I mean, I keep thinking that any minute now I'm gonna suddenly wake up and it will all be a really, really bad nightmare," she answered.
He turned as the two with him approached. "Boys, come here. This is Tatum Orison. Shawn's girl. Tatum this is my oldest Matthew and my youngest Jeffrey," he told her, pointing to each one in turn. Matt held his hand out to her and shook it. "Wish I could say its nice to meet ya, Tatum, but under the given circumstances, I-"
"Matt, isn't always good with words," Jeff remarked and shook her hand quickly before pulling away. She knew that Gil had lost his wife when the boys had only been young, and she knew that both of them were famous wrestlers, but she didn't really mind- to her, they were simply the sons of her father's best mate.
"You should've dressed more appropriately, Tatum."
- - -
Turning around, she came face to face with her father and uncle's sister, Leslie Cummings. She had never been so inclined to hit someone as much as she did her aunt. Leslie had never liked Tatum's tomboy, roughneck style. She was married to a high profile plastic surgeon in the Hamptons and of course, her kids who were thirteen and twelve thought Tatum was nothing more than a worthless breath of air. They told her so every chance they got. And both the kids (girls) and their mother and father were dressed like they were going to a high-profile funeral. "I am dressed appropriately. Just not in the way you believe is proper, aunt," she shot back.
"Watch your tone, Tatum," Edward told her, holding a finger up to her.
"I'm not one of your spoilt little brats, uncle Ed, so don't point a finger at me and tell me what to do," Tatum said. Gil tightened his grip on Tatum's shoulders and guided her away from the four people, his boys following them. "God! Let me just rip out every little bleached blonde piece of hair from that bimbo's head and I'll be happy," she growled.
Gil chuckled in reply and Matt smiled, as did Jeff. She certainly was fiery. "Easy now, darlin'. You don't need to be worrying about them, alright, just remember what and who you are here for," he stated, rubbing her arm affectionately. She smiled softly at him and nodded.
"You're right. As you usually are."
- - -
Jeff knew it was inappropriate, but his gaze was fixed on the young woman's rear. How old was she anyway? Sixteen? Eighteen? She certainly was pretty. Their dad had always talked about Tatum, but neither of the boys had ever seen her in person. They'd been away on tour whenever she and Shawn had been over and partying with their dad.
Glancing at her face, he wondered whether her mother had been just as pretty. She didn't look like Shawn that was for sure. A nice heart-shaped face, full lips, deep brown eyes. Her hair was short and very bouncy, like something one would see in an 80s film. She was petite and compacted with a nice figure all round really. "How old is she?" he asked Matt in a whisper.
"Last night Dad said she'd just turned twenty-one," he mumbled back. Both men looked at the young woman standing with their father. She certainly didn't look twenty-one. "And be quiet, its gonna start."