In the midnight hour:
She couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe she'd done it again. After everything everyone had told her. After Maria, God help the silly red haired Barbie, had sat her down and explained as sweetly as she could , that Dave was by no means sticking to his promise & had she ever noticed he got kind of violent when he was angry? That was kind of like asking did she notice it got dark at night.
So she'd put aside the images of his violence, all too familiar and disturbing, that presented themselves like unwanted guests at a dinner party. And she'd listened to Maria when all she'd wanted to do was slam her head into the bench seat. "I hate to be the one to tell you this Kat but..." and then she'd proceeded to tell the entire story with such a measure of glee that you just knew she was salivating over every word. But right then Kat had only been focused on the content. Dave wasn't sticking to his promise.
And his promise wasn't some massive save the cheerleader, save the world kind of gig. Far from it. All he'd had to do, wait for it...was keep it in his pants. That was it.
6 months ago, Dave had approached her ringside while she bounced on her heels and shouted encouragement at Morrison. He'd ignored her request that he back off while she watched to see what Cena was about to do and instead that tanned forehead had wrinkled in lines, eyes crinkling as he sweetly, so sweetly, flirted. And Kat had fallen for it hook, line and stinking sinker.
One month ago, she'd caught him red handed with one of the Divas. Some new rookie they'd bumped up from OVW that couldn't even tie her own shoelaces. But she had ugh...talent...in all the right places. Kat had been walking back from a match, wiping her face with a towel, pushed the door open and found him and her and yeah..the picture got kind of ugly after that. She'd screamed, stormed, used every swearword she knew in her native Russian and threatened to castrate the 39 year old superstar. Dave had come quietly. After he came loudly, if you get the drift. Promised he'd never so much look at another woman. And now Maria was telling her that not only was Dave looking, he was touching, feeling and was probably in the training room right now.
Kat stood up, abruptly. She felt like her head was about to explode. She couldn't take this again. Not the whole locker room knowing it had happened again. What was so wrong with her that Dave had to go somewhere else? She swore viciously and left the room, walking aimlessly down the hallway. It wasn't like she was the diminutive blonde beauty Trish Stratus had been, but then she wasn't exactly Luna either. Kat, short for Katerina, was Russian born and bred, having come to the US for college. She was 5'7, with raven black hair and emerald eyes. She was pale, she was kinda the wrong side of curvy and she didnt go in for the whole look at my ass, not my assets wrestling a lot of the Divas did. Most of them were tanned, gorgeous, had long bleached blonde hair and wore hot pink outfits. Kat wasn't and didn't. Truth be told, she hated the whole set up. Having to parade in bras and panty matches and be told that was wrestling.
Maybe, she thought as she continued the aimless walk, maybe it was time to follow through on the suggestion her friend AJ (as in Styles, from his independent travelling days back in the USSR) had put to her. Leave WWE. Come to TNA. Where the Knockouts actually know what a knock out punch is. Where Tara, formerly Victoria bless her, had gone. Where she'd captured the womens' title the first night and was currently enjoying a reign like no other. Kat watched the show sometimes on late night tv. Watched ODB and Taylor Wilde tear the place up. Watched hurricaranas and swantons with wide eyes. But WWE was home, kind of. It was where she'd first come. It was where most of her friends were. It was where her boyfriend was...if he was still that.
Sure enough, she found herself at the very room Maria had told her about. Cursing herself for being stupid enough to check, Kat rested her head against the door. From inside came the unmistakable sound of Dave's voice, his deep voice playful. It knotted her insides and even though she knew what she'd see, she pushed open the door.
Right in front of her was Rosa Mendes. The expertly foiled hair loose and in rippling curls down a tanned back. The glossy hair was moving steadily up and down as Kat looked. Dave's hands were flat on the back of her head, fisting his hands through the curls and winding his voice round in that playing kind of voice Kat loved.
Right. Well. Maria was telling the truth at least. Kat was silent as Dave did the talking for all of them. Her heart felt like someone had walked on it in stilettos. Like it had been thrown down in the gutter and had a whole convoy run it over. It hurt so badly she brought a hand to her chest, holding herself just over her ribcage in actual pain. If she'd thought it hurt bad the first time, this was a thousand times worse. All Kat wanted to do was fall right there and cry. But she wouldn't. She wouldn't give Dave the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt her once more. Because then he'd come creeping and she didn't trust herself enough not to give in when she saw his eyes. As she thought about what to do, Dave ended her train of thought by glancing upwards. Something in his mind telling him to look up, he did so, catching sight of Kat stood in the doorway, holding her ribs with a white, shocked look on her face. Holy Mother of ....
In his defence...aw crap. He had no defence and he knew it. "K...." he started, shoving Rosa backwards roughly. She fell over on her ass and Kat couldn't even laugh. Dave moved away from the woman, grabbed at a towel to cover himself up, didnt even turn back to look at Rosa as he followed Kat out into the hallway. "K please! Calm down. Come back in here and let me..." She ignored him, walking as fast as she could down the hallway. She was going to lose it and lose it badly. And she didnt need Dave to be around to see her heart break one more time over him.
Kat walked straight into the lean, lithe muscle leaning against the doorway, watching her. "Sorry" she mumbled, placing a hand on the glass behind whoever it was to try and push through. Just let me get to the carpark...to my car. Let me close the door and then I'll let it go. I just need to get there. The thought ran through over and over until she realised the person in front of the door wasn't moving an inch. If anything they were blocking her path. "I really need to get through" she told them, the Russian accent coming through heavy now she was upset.
"You're just going to run off?" Kat looked up sharply, straight at Randy Orton. His eyes were a dead blue, his face impassive. All 6 foot 5 of him was leant against the door now, tattooed, muscled arms folded over. The way he had them made the t shirt he had on rise just a little over the dark denim jeans he was wearing. A Cartier glittered on his left wrist. His dark hair was wet, if she looked close enough she could see the water where he'd got out the shower in a hurry. But she failed to take in any of that properly as she stood there and folded her own arms. "Who the hell are you to tell me?" Randy shrugged, "Listen lady, I don't give a crap what you do. But you're weak if you run off now. Everyone will know. And everyone will know you hurt so bad you had to run off" Kat wanted to slap the smug, arrogant face in front of her. All she wanted was to run. To resign from WWE now, take up with TNA and maybe come back in 5 years when Dave had retired. "I do hurt" she snapped, placing her hand on the glass door once more. "Please tell me you didnt see what happened?" she added, lifting her head to meet his. Randy's chin was just above her head when she lifted it and she met the steady look in his eyes. "Dave came running out with his fat ass showing , it wasn't hard to guess" he pointed out. Kat wanted to cry right then. Every reminder hurt. Looking down at her bracelet, the one he'd given her last week, hurt. Randy mentioning his name, hurt. All she wanted to do was get out. "Please" she said, attempting to duck under his arm and leave. Randy shifted his arm so she was stuck and she glared at him. "Listen asshole, you can lecture me all you want about my relationship later, okay? But I want out right now and you're blocking me" she warned, frowning.
Randy snorted, "I'm scared. Truly. You're gonna turn around, go back in the locker room, get dressed, go out there and have your match Kat. Then when you're done, you're gonna have that backstage interview with Josh. Then you'll do a little wave to the camera and a kiss like you do every single show. Then you can leave" he told her. Kat was stunned for a moment. He knew her entire schedule. Even knew what she did when she left each Monday night. More importantly, why was he telling her what to do? It threw her off track enough to ask, "Why?" Randy rolled his eyes like she was having problems hearing and said clearly, "Do what the hell you want". He left her then, leaving the door wide open, stepping back into his own locker room and closing the door in her face.
Kat stood looking at the exit, the carpark just beyond it. She could turn up the heat in the car and cry right there, head against the glass. Trouble was, it wasn't what she wanted anymore. Her hair was already done, her ring bag back in her room and her boots already laced up.