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"You're completely out of hand, Stephanie!" Vince slammed his palm against the tabletop in his hotel suite as a means of getting his point across, evoking an involuntary jump out of both Shane and Stephanie. Of all characteristics used to label Vince, timid would never be one of them. His blazing temperament was a quality that had unquestionably been passed down to Stephanie long before she made her grand entrance into the world, but she was reigning her umbrage in for the evening because, for once, she wasn't in the mood to lock horns.

"Oh my gosh, it was a joke," she rolled her eyes and descended further into the couch cushions while Vince's eyes burned a hole through her.

Absent were the days when she was the apple of her daddy's eye, and Stephanie missed that aspect of their relationship more than she let on. It was her natural instinct to thirst for love, support, and acceptance from her parents, and while she knew they held her dear, it didn't ache any less to recognize she wasn't making them proud. Vince wouldn't have come down on her like a hammer on a nail if he didn't care which direction her life forked out in but, by that same token, he didn't register that his participation in an objective chat with Stephanie would have been abundantly more effective than raising his voice. As soon as the tiniest bit of discord invaded his otherwise relaxed timbre, she wanted nothing more than to tune him out, because she didn't want or need a lecture.

All Stephanie craved was encouragement.

"How dare you make light of this!" he hissed.

"Dad!" she screeched, as Shane winced and rubbed his now-damaged ear from his spot beside her on the couch. "It was freakin' Mardi Gras, okay? Yes, I flashed some people and got some beads - - big whoop! Why can't you just get over it?"

"I want you out of my sight right now," Vince barked. "Go take a walk, go down to the hotel café, do anything as long as it's away from me for at least the next hour."

"Dad..." Shane interjected in a warning tone.

He was often privy to disagreements between his father and sister, and this occasion proved to not be any exception. No matter how many arguments he survived, it never grew any easier to watch two people he loved butting heads, and Linda apparently shared the same sentiments, as she had retreated to the bedroom the second they arrived at the hotel room. The general consensus among the family was that Linda underestimated the commandeering power of her voice, if only she would allow it be heard, but she appeared more content to place all responsibility of serious discussions solely into Vince's hands. The main issue that formed from that was Stephanie was an explosive firecracker of a young woman, and Vince was past the point of being fed up with her.

She was a free spirit and had embodied that description her entire life, but Stephanie was growing older and after reaching her early 20's, Vince was looking to put more responsibilities into her capable hands, in terms of the family business. He wouldn't be willing to take that extra step if he couldn't trust her judgment, and that was the way in which everything seemed to be shaping up. Stephanie was unpredictable at best, reckless at worst, and Vince searched for even the slightest shred of accountability in her, but it wasn't readily on display. The ideals that were typical of being young and immature remained a part of Stephanie's daily displays, but with each year that passed, that type of behavior from her grew less acceptable and more damaging.

Ever since they were children, she and Shane fantasized about what life would be like once they took control of the company as a dynamic sibling duo. While they had their spats in their younger days, they had grown to be incredibly close friends, and the truth was that Shane wanted to see his sister do well. He wanted Stephanie to live up to the extensive potential he knew resided within her, but some sort of emotional blockage wouldn't allow her to move past her teenage glory days of partying and skirting around all obligations. Stephanie's actions ran deeper than they appeared to at face value, and if anybody could dig in and suction the truth out, it would be Shane.

"Out, Stephanie!" Vince bellowed as he pointed his index finger towards the door.

"Fine," she shrugged while simultaneously rising from the couch.

"Dad, come on, let's just talk to her. She doesn't need to be kicked out of the room just because of what she did," Shane intervened, always wanting to play the part of peacemaker, though it rarely worked. Vince turned all attention of his blistering glare on Shane, his hands curled around the ends of the armrests as he squeezed with every bit of his might. His knuckles were turning white, and since he was only seconds from blowing his proverbial lid, Shane rethought his previous argument and decided it might be a reasonable suggestion for Stephanie to leave.

"I need my space from you so I don't say or do something I'll regret," Vince's words were spoken for Stephanie, although he voiced them while staring Shane down. If he so much as glanced in Stephanie's direction he would fly off the handle, so he was trying to protect both her and himself. "Go take a walk and come back later."

"I'll just spend the night in someone else's room," Stephanie shot back as she picked her bag up where she had left it near the door. In anticipation of Vince not being so lenient with her, she hadn't bothered unpacking and had left her belongings right beside the door for when the time came that he inevitably kicked her to the curb. The origin of that evening's animosity had formed after she carelessly let it slip at Raw earlier that night that she had earned Mardi Gras beads the week before while enjoying the festivities in New Orleans, and when Vince caught wind of it, he had seen red - - bright red - - scarlet.

"Whose room?" Vince grilled, and Shane was glad for his father's line of questioning, because he had been wondering the very same thing. Over the course of her first two years working for the WWF, Stephanie had made plenty of friends, and there was no doubt she would be able to call one of the guys or gals from work, who would be more than willing to let her crash in their dwelling.

"I don't know. I can go see Paul and Trish, Amy and Matt, or maybe I'll just go hang out with Chris. At least he'd be happy to see me," she tossed over her shoulder just as she reached the door and placed her hand on the cool knob.

"That's not such a bad idea," Vince responded, and when Stephanie turned back, she spied him leaning forward in his seat and returning her unwavering gaze. "You know something, I think you need him in your life. You're getting older, and a stable relationship with a grounded and responsible guy like Chris might be just the thing you need to pull yourself out of this childish rut."

"Well, yeah, but you mean someone like Chris," Shane pointed out as his brow furrowed with worry. "She can't date a wrestler, right?"

"Of course not, no," Vince shook his head. "I meant someone like Chris."

There were few men who worked for Vince that he would have been elated to see his daughter involved with, but Chris was the exception to that general rule. Whether Stephanie noticed or not, there were occasions when he tried to prod her in that direction, even enacting subliminal messaging in his conversations with her as a tactic to make her see what was right in front of her. The irony of it all was that Vince had been the one to instate the rule that Stephanie wasn't to date any of the wrestlers, but he also hadn't anticipated coming across anyone he thought had the potential to be such a stable figure in his daughter's life. From the moment Chris had dropped in at Vince's home to sign his first WWF contract, the chairman saw something special in him.

There was a quiet confidence to Chris but, above that, he maintained a genuine compassion for people, which was challenging to find in recent times. It wasn't until Stephanie formed a friendship with Chris that Vince noticed a lull in her normally frenzied behavior whenever he was around, and if Chris became a mainstay in Stephanie's life, Vince could only imagine what an improvement he might see in her then. The idea to play matchmaker had occurred to him on more than one occasion, but he was trying to steer clear of that, so as not to be hypocritical about the fact that he'd been the one to tell Stephanie not to date any of the wrestlers to begin with. Yet, there was always room to deviate from the norm, and a situation that dire called for it.

"Yeah, just someone who has the same qualities," Shane echoed, and without another word, Stephanie slipped out the door.

It shut behind her with an echoing clink, and she released a breath she'd been unconsciously holding onto. Every time she took part in something her father felt devalued her in some way, he always went on about how she needed Chris, not realizing it was pure torture for him to push her towards someone he claimed was off-limits. Chris encompassed every aspect of her dream guy, but it had been instilled in Stephanie from a young age that she would be doing herself a disservice to become involved with any of her father's wrestlers. It was simply taboo and something she didn't want to prowl around in, although she went against her father's wishes in almost every other regard, so it would make perfect sense to wave off his warnings.

In fact, he most likely expected her to.

Chris had always been a good friend, from the very first day they met, and was everything Stephanie mused to have in a boyfriend someday, but it was a forbidden love. That wasn't to say she loved him yet but, with time, Stephanie hadn't a single doubt she could get there someday. She came to an abrupt stop in front of the room Paul and Trish were sharing with one another, having started dating the year before, and raised her hand to knock before deciding against it. There was only one person she was in the mood to pay a visit to and spend the night with, so she dashed down to the second to last door from the band of elevators and knocked.

The door opened a crack and an instantaneous grin spread on her face when she heard his voice, "Who is it?"

"It's me," she laughed.

"Me who?"

"Stephanie, you dork."

"I was gonna let you in, but you called me a name, so I don't want you here anymore. Bye-bye," the door creaked shut for a few seconds, and Stephanie brought her right hand to her mouth to stifle a snicker.

"Chris..." she sang, and a second later, the door was open and he was standing beside it, beaming at her. "Can I spend the night with you?"

"Ooh, so it's like that?" he raised his eyebrows and began shimmying towards her in a coyly carnal manner.

"Stop it, weirdo," Stephanie swatted at his arm and stepped around him to get into the room.

Her eyes flew straight to the bed, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't invited a ring rat up to the room with him. Chris was a handsome man, very sought after by the ladies, and a part of her dreaded when the time would arrive that he would be taken. Even if she couldn't be with him, Stephanie didn't have a strong enough heart to be able to see him with someone else and not be at least a smidgen hurt by it. She had laid claim on him while they weren't even dating, but then again, she had always been possessive in nature.

Chris closed the door behind her, and just as she was dropping her bag to the ground, he placed a delicate hand on the small of her back and led her to his couch. They took a seat next to one another and he studied her like a book, expecting an explanation as to why she was there. Then again, word of Stephanie's boob-flashing had made the rounds at work, and despite the fact that Chris always made it a point to stay out of the gossip, she was fairly certain he had heard about what she had done. With the formation of that thought, her hand unconsciously slid up her shirt, as she used her arm to shield her breasts, and Chris bit back a smirk.

"I wasn't looking," he claimed.

"At what?" Stephanie asked, still unaware of what she was doing. Chris tilted his head in the direction of her arm-covered chest and she turned soft pink, then crimson, as she lowered her arm and shifted away from him. Chris's hand came down on her wrist a second later, and she melted - - like butter in a scorching skillet - - under his skillful touch as he rubbed up and down her arm.

"I meant I wasn't looking at your breasts, but I heard the pervs at Mardi Gras got a full view."

"Oh, yeah..." Stephanie trailed off as she fiddled with her hands as a means of distraction. There wasn't anything all that engaging about staring at her fingers, but it prevented her from having to look Chris in the eye in light of the injustice she had done to herself. Nobody would ever respect Stephanie if she wasn't willing to respect herself, and Chris obviously felt the same way, as his next words proved.

"I'm not judging you, I'm really not, but why would you do something like that?" he asked. Stephanie shrugged her shoulders without looking up at him, and he dropped his hand from her arm. "You can talk to me about this stuff. I would never go behind your back and tell anyone what you've said to me in confidence."

"I know, but it's really hard to explain."

"Well just try."

"I wanted, like, I think I like it when people notice me, even if the reason they're noticing me isn't something good. I knew it was wrong to go around flashing people, plus, people have cameras and they could take my picture and plaster it everywhere. I don't know what I was thinking, but it felt good at the time. Guys were whistling at me, girls were envious of me, and it was nice to feel pretty."

"I can understand that, in a roundabout sort of way," Chris added as he sank down in his seat. "Life is different for women than it is for men, but I think anyone can relate to that feeling of wanting people to notice you. The part I can't wrap my mind around is why someone like you, as beautiful and articulate as you are, would think you have to lower yourself to that kind of thing just to get people to give you a second glance. If you put your focus into working hard at the shows and practicing your scenes before it's time to tape them for TV, everyone would be in awe of you."

"You don't understand though," she shook her head, still staring downward.

"Then make me understand."

Stephanie spied a room service menu across the way and grabbed the corner of it that was hanging off the table. She trailed her index finger around the edges while perusing her options under the dessert category, and upon discovering the choice of cheesecake, her eyes met Chris's with a wanting gleam. "Wanna share some cheesecake?"

"I'm not that hungry, but I'm sure I could get a small piece of cheesecake down. We'll order in a minute," he promised before grabbing the menu out of her hand and placing it back down on the table. "You know, Vince told me how you had to be carried home by your friends a few weeks back when you had too much to drink and also about last month when you went home with that guy you met at a club and didn't even know. He could have really hurt you if he'd been a bad guy, Stephanie. Why do you do this stuff?"

His eyes bore into hers like laser beams, and that was when she first became unsettled. Whenever Chris grew serious with her, behaving as if he possessed some sort of extended view straight into her soul, it became alarming for Stephanie. She trusted Chris, so that wasn't her point of distress, but some things were meant to be kept secret, and she couldn't do that when he was so persistent in analyzing her like she was a calculus book and he was a college student who had finals the next morning. Yet, that prompted the question as to why her inner feelings were so dissatisfying she felt the need to hide them from someone who had been her friend as long as Chris had.

Whenever someone presented her with a question she didn't readily have an appropriate answer to, Stephanie did other things to occupy herself. She didn't want to confront Chris's piercing stare or his hard-hitting questions, because it would force her to face demons she wasn't yet ready to overcome. So, through the power of a classic blend of denial and evasion, she began removing her shoes, working the knot out of the laces as slowly as she could without making her intentions too obvious, and kicked them off. Left in her socks, she rose from the couch and strutted away from Chris.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," she answered without looking back. The door creaked when she pushed it open, and Stephanie felt along the tiled wall blindly for the light switch, turning it on and bathing the room in illumination. She stepped inside and was just about to shut the door when Chris's shoe slipped in the door frame and stopped her. "Chris?" she pulled back to find him leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, though the expression on his face was one of great concern rather than ire.

"Your family and I worry a lot about you."

"You don't need to."

"You're one of the best friends I've got, so I do," he responded, leaning his head against the door frame. "I wish you would let me see all of you."

"You should have come to Mardi Gras and you would have," she chuckled humorlessly, which only earned a disapproving head-shaking from Chris.

"That's not funny, and you know it's not how I meant that."

"Sorry. I said it without thinking."

"I think you act a lot without thinking, and being spontaneous is cool and all, but it can also be dangerous," Chris pointed out before releasing a heaving breath and accepting that he probably wasn't going to get much out of her. "All right, I'll order the cheesecake while you use the bathroom, but I really hope you'll think about what I said. I'm always here if you need to talk, and I wish you would take me up on that offer. Tonight is a perfect opportunity for that."

"I will. I'll be right out," Stephanie said, at which he nodded his understanding and shuffled back towards the couch in his suite. After shutting the bathroom door and turning the lock, Stephanie pursed her lips and gazed into the mirror before realizing it forced her to see herself.

She averted her eyes.