Disclaimer: No infringement is intended and I don't own the people used in this work of fiction. They belong to themselves. The company and their respective onscreen persona's belong to Vince McMahon.
---------------------------------------
Trish took a deep breath and pushed open the doors to the arena. The usual chaos and confusion of the backstage area greeted her and reminded her of all she had given up for something that crashed and burned. The marriage and normal life she had hoped for never materialized. Her husband could never accept the fact that she wasn't the type of woman who wanted to stay at home and let her husband take care of her, that she wanted a career of her own. He couldn't accept the fact that she was a beloved star in Canada and that she'd never have a private life. So after just seven months of marriage, they were over.
The ink on the divorce papers was barely dry when she scheduled this meeting with Vince, seeing this as her chance to find happiness once again. She didn't have the same nervousness that she had the first time she met with the WWE chairman. It was common knowledge in the industry that he'd jump at the chance to have her back in fold. Internet sites were constantly reporting how he had been very disappointed with the way the woman's division had declined. So the meeting was nothing more than a formality and she had no reason to be worried about.
That meant that butterflies were plaguing her stomach were there for an entirely different reason. One she tried to force herself not to think about. That effort had been futile in the end though. The damn encounter had plagued her day and night for the last ten months. Playing over and over in her head like a song that had been left on repeat.
She was sitting at the hotel bar, alone, drinking her third glass of wine in the last fifteen minutes and the ninth since she arrived fifty minutes ago. Usually, she wasn't a heavy drinker but tonight she needed the comfort it provided her with. The speculation was over and the world knew now that she was leaving the wrestling business, running away to have a life that didn't revolve around taking bumps and being the it girl for the federation. She'd miss it and the people she worked with, but if her marriage was going to work then she had to walk away. Ron deserved that much after being patient with her for so many years.
Someone sat on the stool next to her and she could faintly smell cologne. Mentally she groaned, hoping that it wasn't some sleazy guy who thought he'd be able to pick her up because she was drunk. Even though she was, they wouldn't succeed in the mission. It took a lot more than wine to make her forget that she was a taken woman. She ignored the person, not wanting to give them any opening to use horribly ridiculous pick-up lines that would make her laugh in their face.
"So, you're really retiring." The softly drawled statement betrayed the slightest hint of a southern accent.
She turned toward him and shrugged. "It's time to have some normalcy."
He took a long swallow from the glass in his hand, eyes accessing her over the rim. There was something in those fathomless green depths, some emotion that she couldn't identify.
"I want this." She stated but it lacked conviction.
"Uh-huh." The casualness in his tone belied the scrutiny of his gaze. He took another deliberate sip from his glass and continued to stare at her.
"I do." Her tone was insistent but she didn't know if she was trying to convince him or herself.
Jeff gave her a crooked grin, "I'm sure."
Her blood boiled at the patronizing tone. She gripped the stem of her wineglass tightly, knuckles turning white from the effort. "It was my choice."
He nodded, enjoying his drink one again. But those damn eyes, the ones that looked at you as if he could see all the way to your soul, never left hers.
The intense, knowing gaze was getting on her nerves. She glared back at him, resisting the urge to slap that cocky look off his face. "Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Looking at me like I'm lying!" She practically yelled, her anger getting the better of weakened control. "Because I'm not. I made the decision. No one else."
"Who thought of it?" He inquired with that damn casualness, slowly swirling the contents of his glass around.
"What?"
"Who came up with the idea that the only way to have some normalcy in your life was to walk away from the one thing you truly love?"
She felt her face flush even more but this time; it had nothing to do with the wine. How the hell did he seem to know that it had been Ron's idea and not hers? She broke eye contact and finished the rest of her beverage in one sip, providing herself with a momentary distract before she lied. "I did."
"Yeah, right."
"Why does it even matter to you?" She hissed, eyes flashing with anger. "It's not like we've been close over the last four years."
"That's true." He volleyed, "But no matter what, I still care about you and don't want to see you make the biggest mistake of your life."
"By leaving the business?"
He shook his head slowly, "No, by marrying a guy who wants you to be someone you're not."
"Ron doesn't want me to be someone I'm not." The protest fell bitterly, almost resentfully from her lips.
"He wants you to be normal Trish and you're anything but." Jeff stated flatly, as if it was something she should have known, should have come to grips with a long time ago. "And no matter how hard you try to play the role, you'll never be able to just be normal."
It was hard to tell if he meant that as a compliment or if it was a ploy to get under her skin. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't allow him and his know it all attitude to affect her or make her second guess the choices she made. "Just go away Jeff."
"If that's what you want." He got up but pinned her with one last intense look. "I figure I won't be one of the people you say goodbye to when you leave but it doesn't matter."
"Why's that?" The inquiry was made with no real interest.
"Because I'll see you again when it doesn't work out."
She watched him walk away without a backward glance, seething over what he said. Because he was wrong. Dead wrong. He wouldn't be seeing her because it was going to work out. It had to. She was giving up everything to insure that it would.
Trish shook the memory away, bristling over the fact that he had been proven right. She wanted to be able to make him eat them, to gloat over his half-assed assumptions. But obviously, she couldn't do that now. That didn't mean that he was off the hook though. Far from it. Once she saw him again, she was going to give the jerk a piece of her mind.