Cara Frost is hired by the WWE as a backstage assistant. She keeps to herself and does what she is told; nobody has a problem with her. At least until a bet is made… Shannon Moore x OC
Cara sat by the stage manager's office, ready for a boring task. She stuck to herself and that's the way she liked it. People asked too many questions and many of those questions she didn't want to answer. Her hand instinctively clutched her left arm. Why did it hurt when she thought about it?
"Damn reflexes." Cara mumbled as she glanced at her watch. The show would begin in an hour. She pinned back her dark hair with two pins.
"Ms. Frost. Please deliver these scripts to the men's locker room." A stage manger ordered her, dropping a box on the floor beside her.
"Ok." She tucked the box under her arm and walked the short distance to the men's locker room. She knocked loudly on the door, calling through the wood, "Everyone decent?" She heard an approving yell and opened the door. She walked to the center table and dropped the box loudly. "Here are your scripts. Fight nice." She gave them a small smile before walking out. As the door closed behind her, she heard the scramble to get their scripts. She shook her head and continued back the office. As she resumed her spot in her usual chair, the back of her neck tingled with apprehension. Cara glanced around; Glen Jacobs was walking towards her. She relaxed; everybody felt a bit uneasy around Glen. His size and his attitude in the ring were intimidating and it just lingered. Cara collapsed in her chair and pulled out small pad of paper she always kept in her back pocket. It was a small habit of hers; she would write to release her feelings, her aggressions, or her personal thoughts. When she would get back to the hotel, she would rip the pages she used and toss them in her journal. It was a way to keep her journal safe and still have a way to vent her emotions. She started to write her emotions onto the paper so they wouldn't show on her face.
MEANWHILE
"Hey guys," Jamie Noble called the men still lounging around the locker room before the show. "Who do you think would be the first one to nail that stage assistant?" Several guys grinned, a few others looked disgusted, and a few others still didn't heed the question.
"Are you suggesting starting a wager?" Chris Mordetzky asked. Jamie nodded, a sick smile crossing his face. "All right, name the terms. What does the winner get from the rest of us?" Chris leaned back in his chair.
"How 'bout a beating from every other guy here?" Brett Major chimed in. Jamie gave him a glare but continued thinking.
"How about the winner gets two hundred dollars from everybody who chips in?" Chris suggested. Jamie nodded.
"But it's got to be something more than money? I say, whoever wins gets two hundred bucks from everybody involved, and we'll get the writers to challenge for Alvin's US Championship." Jamie added. Chris nodded.
"Ok, now who's in?" Chris asked. Several people threw money down on the table. Even Alvin tossed in his share. "Now we need a money keeper, somebody who won't lose it or steal it."
"Wait up; we might still have a contender. How about it, Shannon? Care for a wager? First one to nail that assistant that delivers the scripts gets all the money here and a shot for Alvin's US Championship." Shannon came out the showers, vigorously drying his hair with a towel.
"No, Noble. I'm not taking some stupid bet for sex." Shannon tossed the towel in his gym bag and started lacing up his wrestling boots under his pants.
"Come on. She's young, hot, sexy, and perfect for you." Noble taunted. Shannon shook his head.
"Don't bother, Jamie. He probably already has a plan to nail her. He's just waiting for it." Chris laughed. Shannon stood and glared at Chris. "Ooh, somebody's a little sensitive. What are you defending your own personal bitch?" Chris stood and glared back at Shannon.
"You think that woman is just some trophy? Some notch to stick in your belt?" Shannon glowered at all the men in the locker room. "You ought to be ashamed for thinking that woman is nothing more than a one night stand." Shannon finished lacing his boots and stormed from the locker room. He needed to find her.
Cara finished her thoughts and stuck the pad back in her pocket. It was good to have a few minutes to clear her head.
"CARA!!" James, the head stage manager yelled. He was a brash man but he demanded the same of everyone, even Cara. "We found another script. Go give this to Shannon Moore." James forced the script into her hands and shoved her down the hall. Cara tried to ignore the memory that came to mind with the shove and walked back to the men's locker room. She was about to turn the corner into the hall for the men's locker room when she was knocked off her feet by someone coming the opposite way.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry." Somebody's voice said as she was gently helped to her feet. Cara held onto the script until she saw who had helped her. Shannon Moore himself was standing in front of her; his hands were gently holding her arms. "Are you ok? You look like you hit the ground hard." Shannon asked concerned. He looked at her hands, what she had hit the ground with. Cara instinctively pulled back, her habits returning. "Is something wrong?" Shannon asked. Cara shook her head, tugging the long sleeve of her sweater down more over her hand. She felt the script in her other hand and held it out for him.
"I was supposed to give this to you. Your script got separated from everybody else's." Cara tried to keep the tone of her voice professional but many memories were coming to the front of her mind. Shannon took the script but he looked concerned.
"By the way, you may want to stop delivering to the men's locker room. They have a bet going with you and I think you don't want part of it." Shannon warned.
"I'll handle myself, thank you. Good bye." Cara tried to be polite and turned away. She hurried down the hall, keeping her sleeves pulled well down. Shannon was confused; he sighed and walked towards the garage.
So, what do you think? Please hit that pretty purple button that says 'review'
EW;)