Author's note: Okay, my Steven Richards muse has been running rampant lately, but he doesn't get to play that much, so I figure I'll let him. :) This story is using Jazz, Steven Richards and Victoria. Not Charlene Moore, Michael Manna, or Lisa Varon. I'm not gaining anything by writing this, yada yada yada...no Stevens were harmed in the writing of this story. Enjoy.
Okay, I admit it. I'm jealous. There, I said it. I, Jazz am jealous of that black-haired bitch Victoria. Why? Trust me, it's not because of the damn title belt. I can take that from her any time I want. I'm jealous of the way Steven follows her around, and hangs on every word she mutters, even when she's yelling at him. He looks out for her best interests, and God do I wish I was her. I used to have Steven's attention, and all I did was push him away. I didn't realize how much he meant to me until he was gone. I even remember the time he tried to kiss me in the elevator of the hotel I was staying at. He wanted to stay there too, but I made him stay at another hotel. He leaned over to kiss me and I told him to get the fuck away from me and beat him upside the head. Yet now I look at him and that bitch, and I wish I was her. The way he looks at her, not the psychotic way, but when it looks as if his whole world revolves around her and only her. You hardly ever see them apart, and when you do, it's not very long. But my jealousy isn't the only problem I have with the little bitch. I see the way she looks at him. There's no love in her eyes the way there is in Steven's. Her eyes only show contempt and abuse, the way I know my eyes were. She treats him as if he were a disease, a growth that she can't get rid of. Steven deserves better than that I didn't think he did before, but I do now. I want to give him what he deserves, no matter who I have to cross to do it.
Okay, I admit it. I'm jealous. There, I said it. I, Jazz am jealous of that black-haired bitch Victoria. Why? Trust me, it's not because of the damn title belt. I can take that from her any time I want. I'm jealous of the way Steven follows her around, and hangs on every word she mutters, even when she's yelling at him. He looks out for her best interests, and God do I wish I was her. I used to have Steven's attention, and all I did was push him away. I didn't realize how much he meant to me until he was gone. I even remember the time he tried to kiss me in the elevator of the hotel I was staying at. He wanted to stay there too, but I made him stay at another hotel. He leaned over to kiss me and I told him to get the fuck away from me and beat him upside the head. Yet now I look at him and that bitch, and I wish I was her. The way he looks at her, not the psychotic way, but when it looks as if his whole world revolves around her and only her. You hardly ever see them apart, and when you do, it's not very long. But my jealousy isn't the only problem I have with the little bitch. I see the way she looks at him. There's no love in her eyes the way there is in Steven's. Her eyes only show contempt and abuse, the way I know my eyes were. She treats him as if he were a disease, a growth that she can't get rid of. Steven deserves better than that I didn't think he did before, but I do now. I want to give him what he deserves, no matter who I have to cross to do it.