He sauntered through the black curtain after his match, the white Intercontinental Championship in one hand, the other running through his sweat-slicked black hair. It had been a hard-fought match, with a lot of near-falls, but he had narrowly escaped losing to Chris Jericho and The Miz. From his spot behind the table perched in the Gorilla, WWE Chairman and CEO Vince McMahon flashed Wade Barrett the thumbs up. He nodded, acknowledging Vince's assessment of the match before he disappeared through the black curtain and down the steps that would take him into the back area of the arena. He waved to Phil Brooks, the tattooed former WWE Champion known as CM Punk. He was talking to Paul Heyman and AJ Lee. Phil was dressed in baggy jeans and a zip-up hooded sweatshirt, a stark contrast to Heyman's suit. AJ looked like the poster child for Hot Topic, standing with her hips leaned slightly to the left, a finger curling her dark brown hair as she grinned, laughing at whatever Phil was talking about.
The locker room was a lively environment as usual, bustling with seamstresses, production assistants, cameras, writers and Superstars and Divas. Wade spotted Randy Orton, dressed in an old Viper T-shirt. His arms were crossed over his chest as he spoke sternly to Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase. Wade didn't bother acknowledging the trio. He didn't get along with Randy Orton at all. It was also considered suicide to interrupt Randy Orton while he was talking to somebody else. A repented bad boy, Randy still had a temper that was considered stuff of legend.
Several feet from Randy, Wade spotted his old friend, Drew McIntyre. He was dressed in leather pants and a bandana that held back his long light hair, filming a Backstage Fallout segment with his 3MB partners, Jinder Mahal and Heath Slater. He smirked; out of the three of them – Wade, Drew McIntyre and Sheamus – Drew had always been the wacky one. He was happy Drew finally had a chance to let his wild side out. The trio was dressed in matching leather pants, acting like ridiculous rock stars. Sunglasses covered at least half of Drew's face as he let out his best rock star scream for the camera. It took everything Wade had not to laugh and ruin the shot as he kept moving towards catering.
He spotted her with Layla El, taking a look at the Diva's shoulder. She stopped momentarily, only to sip from a water bottle. He assumed Layla had hurt himself during the botch-fest that had been her match with Tamina Snuka earlier on. He studied the girl with Layla, the new physician's assistant. Since she'd arrived in the company, there had been a lot of whispers about her, about what her life was like prior to WWE. He didn't know all of the details; nobody did and nobody dared to press her for details. Her name had been all over the papers, but it was a taboo subject backstage, especially when she was in the vicinity.
John Cena had told Wade that she was twenty-eight and her name was Serena Lords. John had tried to ask Serena out on a date, but she informed him that he wasn't her type. It had stung John, but had given Randy, Wade and Sheamus plenty of fodder. John wasn't used to being turned down.
Wade studied her. She was a pretty girl, with a well-sculpted face that was flattered by her razor-straight bangs that ended just above perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Her hair was pin-straight, parted in the middle and the color of dark coffee. Her eyes were piercing and light blue, framed by long eyelashes. She always wore small, black rectangular shaped glasses and never a stitch of makeup. Wade didn't think she needed it. Tonight she was dressed in flared black pants and a sky blue turtleneck that ended just past her hips. The sleeves ended at the crook of her arms. A small charm bracelet hung off her wrist.
"Thank you," he heard Layla say to her. "Say, the girls and I are going out for drinks and stuff tonight. Do you want to come out with us?" Wade could see the apprehension on her face, but Layla was outright ignoring it. "Come on, Serena – live a little!"
"Maybe another night," Serena told her. "I promise."
Defeated, Layla thanked Serena for working on her shoulder, grabbing her bottle of iced tea and disappearing down the hall. Serena ran a hand through her hair. She picked up her water bottle and took a sip.
"No girl's night, love?"
"Sweet Jesus!" she gasped. She jumped, stumbling, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, keeping her from going down to the floor. Wade noticed she looked like she was ready to have a heart attack. Then she broke into a half-laugh, half-sob sort of sound. Wade studied her intently. "I'm sorry. I didn't even hear you walk up."
"That's okay. Are you gonna be all right?"
"I'll be fine," she promised, but he didn't seem all that convinced.
"I don't believe we've met yet." He extended his hand for her to shake. She took it, surprised at how firm the handshake was. "Wade Barrett."
"Serena Lords. I'm working with Dr. Rios…"
"I've seen you around," he told her, grabbing himself a bottle of vitamin water. He studied her, noting that she still looked very pale. "Are you sure you're going to be all right, love? Maybe we should get you seated somewhere. Or, if you'd prefer, I could always carry you to Dr. Rios." She laughed, her cheeks turning pink.
"I'm all right. I'm working on it. Really, I am. I'm not normally so jumpy…" she assured him. He stared at her and she sighed. "I just lied to you, and I have no idea why. I'm sorry." He chuckled. She had a cute little personality. Wade knew she had survived one of the worst experiences a human being could go through. She would be reeling for a long time. He understood.
Serena studied him. He was very tall, six-foot-seven, with tattoos on both arms that had yet to be covered by a T-shirt. He had a beard. His eyes were genuine, but twinkling with a hint of mischief. She didn't know what to make of him. Even though everybody had gone out of their way to be nice to her since arriving in the WWE, Serena often wondered how much of it she was confusing for pity. She could see it in their eyes; they knew everything. In spite of her best efforts trying to run and hide, her name was in the papers, her face plastered on everything from Good Morning America to the Today show. After the trial, she had finished the last six months of her schooling and joined WWE, thankful to have a job where she couldn't be in the same place for more than a few days at a time. She felt homeless, though, like she was meant to wander like a nomad. As long as he was alive, she'd always feel him close by and the thoughts frightened her.
"Do you need to talk?" he asked, sensing the dark thoughts. She shook her head.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll be fine, Mr. Barrett, I promise."
"All right, but if you ever need an ear, love, you know you can talk to me."
"I appreciate that." She'd already heard the same speech from John Cena, Chris Jericho, Sheamus and the Shield, the trio faction consisting of Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns. She finished her water and threw the empty bottle into the recycling bin. "I probably should have said yes to Layla and her offer tonight. I'm sure everyone thinks I'm some kind of snob."
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It's not your fault if they don't understand."
"Thanks. I should get back to Ferdinand," she told him. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Barrett."
"Wade."
She smiled. "Wade. It was very nice meeting you."
"Oh, the pleasure was mine," he told her with a grin. She blushed again. He watched as she walked away, sighing as he sipped on his vitamin water. He grimaced at the taste, looking at the bottle for the flavor. "Gross." He looked up as Serena disappeared into the trainer's room. He noted that she still looked pretty faint. He could understand why; after all, she was Serena Lords, the sole survivor of the Staten Island Slasher.