Offer
Jillian stood backstage, waiting for her theme song "Sliced Bread" to emit from the arena speakers. She took the free moment to stretch her arms and legs, the tips of her fingers touching her toes as she bent over.
"Good luck, Jillian. Don't make the people's ears bleed with your singing," Melina taunted with a smirk.
The bleached blonde diva stood up straight and stepped closer to the Latina.
"I think it's you that will need the luck, Melina," Jillian retorted, emphasizing her opponent's name.
The flexible diva laughed, the conceited smirk still plastered on her face.
"See you out there, Jillian." Melina tapped the blonde's shoulder and skipped her way out to the arena.
Jillian heard the roar of the crowd as Melina's music hit. Melina was popular. She always got the male attention and since becoming nicer, she had made friends with the divas, too. Jillian folded her arms against her buxom chest. She was not jealous. She had looks, talent, and the personality. She was ten times the woman Melina ever was. So why did she feel an empty space inside her heart, like a void that wasn't filled?
She heard "Sliced Bread" being blared through the arena and she forced the thought out of her head. She needed to concentrate on her match. She could not afford another loss. Vince would surely cut back her screen time even more; she was barely wrestling as it was. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the curtains and began walking down the ramp, ignoring the jeers from the hostile crowd. She fluffed her platinum blond hair, smiling at the audience who waved signs of "Melina is sexy" and "Marry me Melina." The blonde resisted the overwhelming urge to roll her blue eyes. America definitely lacked good taste. She walked up the steps and entered the ring, pointing to Melina with an arrogant smirk. The Latina simply smirked back with the same cockiness and leaned back against the turnbuckle. Jillian grabbed the microphone from Lillian's hand much to the announcer's dismay.
"Hello Detroit!" Jillian greeted the crowd who booed rudely. She ignored their reaction and continued on. "I'm going to perform my new hit single 'Hot Girl' right here on Raw," she announced much to the crowd's displeasure. She cleared her throat and began singing, "Ohhhhh I'm a hot girl. You want a piece of me. I'm a hot girl. You can't have me…" She was cut off when she felt a fist ram painfully into her back. The audience cheered as Melina slammed the blonde's head onto the turnbuckle. The Latina proceeded to kick Jillian in the midsection several times before throwing her onto the mat. The singing diva groaned painfully, holding her sore back with her hand. Melina pulled Jillian up by her blond hair and executed a ddt, bringing the diva's head straight into the mat. The blonde saw stars as Melina rolled her up for the pin. Only when she saw Lillian hold up the Latina's hand in victory did she realize that she had loss.
Jillian rolled under the ring, holding her head excruciatingly as she walked up the ramp. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the boos and laughter from the crowd. She knew what they thought. The word pathetic popped into her mind. The Latina made mince meat out of her in less than five minutes. Her career was over—but had it ever began? That was the question in her mind as she walked into the women's locker room and slipped into a black leather jacket. Grabbing her duffel bag and keys, she walked out of the arena and climbed into her Jaguar. There was a house show tomorrow in Columbus. Most of the Raw roster would be heading back to the hotel by now to get a good night's sleep before their flight. But Jillian wasn't wrestling. No, apparently to Vince, she was not even worthy of a non-televised event. She stuck her key into the ignition, the roar of the engine indicating that her car was in working order. Jillian sighed and tapped her manicured nails on the steering wheel. She knew where she wanted to go.
She raised the glass to her lips, the alcoholic liquid causing a burning sensation as it slid down her throat. She was not much of a drinker and it showed as she began feeling a little woozy after two shots of Vodka. Jillian surveyed her surroundings, not putting down the drink in her hand. Nobody from the Raw roster was present and she was glad. That last thing she needed that moment was for a wrestler to taunt her on her loss or stagnant career.
"One margarita," a deep voice ordered.
Jillian turned her attention to the owner of the voice, squinting to make out the figure in the dark room. Sharp, chiseled chin…short, brown hair…piercing blue eyes. Her eyes widened as her mind registered who the man was. Randy Orton. What was he doing here? The blonde rolled her eyes at the thought. It was a bar; of course he was here for the same reason everyone else was here—he wanted a drink.
Watching him take a swig of his margarita, Jillian couldn't help but feel jealous of the Legend Killer. He was despised by the entire roster, with the exception of his team mates, just like her. But the difference was he was on top while she was at the bottom of the diva barrel. Even Maria had more air time than her. Heck, Candice was the WWE women's champion once. It made her furious that she had more talent than those two bimbos combined but she was on a losing streak. It was official—she had lost her mojo. In OVW, she was a big fish in a small pond. In the WWE, she was a small fish in a big pond. She ordered another shot of Vodka, determined to forget all her troubles for the night.
"You think you can handle another shot?"
She whirled around and stared into the most hypnotizing blue eyes she had ever seen. The Legend Killer had an amused smirk on his face as he watched her with her mouth agape. Jillian quickly closed her mouth and put on a confident face. "What's it to you?" she asked coolly, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Randy shrugged and sat down next to the blonde. Jillian narrowed her eyes at him but turned her attention towards the bartender when he handed her, her drink. She groaned as the burning liquid slid down her throat. She then knew her limit was three shots. She heard the man next to her chuckle and she glared at him.
"What are you laughing at?" she snapped. He did not respond and simply lifted his glass to his lips. Slugging down the rest of her drink, she slammed the glass onto the table, putting her head onto her arm.
"Raw was awesome tonight," she heard someone say. Her eyes traveled sideways but she did not turn her head.
"I know. Did you see how Melina give Jillian a beat down? That was classic," another person laughed.
Jillian's cheeks burned with humiliation and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She plopped several bills down on the table and grabbed her purse, stumbling out of her stool. She was woozy and her balance was affected by the alcohol. Someone brushed past her and she felt herself fall sideways. Strong arms kept her from collapsing onto the ground, saving her from further embarrassment. She turned around to look at her savior. Randy stared at her, a neutral expression on his handsome features.
"Ummm…thanks." She did not know what else to say to the cold man. "Well…bye." She turned towards the exit of the bar and staggered out of the room.
In her drunken state it was incredibly difficult to locate her vehicle and the darkness did not help. "Where the hell is my car?" she asked, frustrated. She dug around in her purse for her keys and pressed the alarm button. When she heard a loud beeping noise, she grinned. "There you are," she murmured in satisfaction. She walked to her prized Jaguar and was about to stick her key into her door when a voice interrupted her.
"You shouldn't drive after drinking."
She sighed, rolling her eyes. Not again. Whirling around, she plastered a smile on her face. "Why thank you, officer. But how else am I supposed to get back to the hotel? Walk ten miles?" she asked sarcastically.
Randy looked behind him. "I have a car. You can ride with me," he said coolly.
She gave him a pointed look. "You drank too," she stated bluntly. He was such a hypocrite. But a sexy one.
Randy smirked at her comment. "I had one sip of margarita. You had three shots. I think I win this argument."
She raised a brow at him. "I wasn't aware we were having one. Now if you excuse me, I have to get back. I have a house show tomorrow." Which I'm not in. She felt the bitterness consume her and it made her headache even worse. She stuck her car key into the door and turned it roughly, hearing a click sound come from her door. She yanked open the door, hitting a SUV behind her. Her eyes widened at the huge dent her car made. "Fuck," she cursed, slapping a hand to her forehead. She fumbled around in her purse for a pen and notepad and scribbled down her insurance information, placing the piece of paper on the SUV's windshield. "DUI—denting under the influence, that's a first," she muttered. She noticed that the Legend Killer had a smirk on his lips, looking at her in amusement. Trust him to catch her in all of her humiliating moments. "Not a word to anyone on the roster," she hissed and climbed into her Jaguar.
Despite her drunken state, she made it back to the hotel in one peace. Thank god, she thought. She went inside the lobby and saw Santino and Beth. Santino said something to the Glamazon and Beth smiled. Beth was as evil as they came yet she found someone who loved and appreciated her. Jillian felt bitterness consume her again and she didn't even acknowledge her occasional tag partner. The blonde strolled to the elevators and pressed the up arrow. When the doors opened, she stepped inside, leaning back against the metal rail. The elevator doors opened with a ding and she made her way to her room. She frowned as she forgot her room number. Was it 476? Or was it 746? She felt her headache return and she vowed never to get drunk again. She reached room 476 and slid her card through the slot. The light flashed red and Jillian sighed in annoyance. She slid her card again and again the light flashed red. "What the fuck?" She stared at her card, examining it. Was it defected? Great, this must be Pick on Jillian Day.
"Why are you standing in front of my room?"
Jillian turned around and saw that Randy was looking at her as if she was mentally unstable. His words then registered in her head. "Your room?" Damn, her room was 746. Her face turned red with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I forgot." Good excuse, Jillian. She saw him smirk and he walked up to the door, sliding his card into the slot. She watched as the tiny hole turned green and he twisted the handle. "Well, I'm gonna go." She was about to head back to the elevators when a hand shot out to grab her wrist.
"Do you want to come in?" His voice was deep and cool.
She stiffened. "I'm not Kelly," the blonde replied coldly. Who did he think she was? She was not a cheap slut like Kelly, Maria, Candice…the list went on and on.
He chuckled at her retort. "Yeah you're not. Kelly didn't take this long to come to my room."
Her face twisted in disgust. Jillian knew that she wasn't the nicest diva around but she had morals and integrity, at least on some level. Randy Orton was nothing but a ruthless womanizer who probably kept a notebook of all the women he scored. "That's just another reason why I'm better than the slut," Jillian responded.
The tall brunette smirked. "You probably can't handle me anyways," he said cockily.
Jillian narrowed her eyes, folding her arms against her chest. "Excuse me? I can handle anyone."
"Prove it," he challenged, staring at her intensely, his blue eyes boring a hole into her aching head. Damn that alcohol.
"Fine, I will." She stalked up to the Legend Killer and grabbed the back of his head, bringing his face down to her level. She captured his lips in hers, sticking her tongue in between his lips. He tasted of margarita which made her grab his collar, pulling him closer. His taste was addicting and she couldn't get enough. She heard the sound of the handle turning and she felt him walk backwards. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she kissed him harder, pouring out all of her pent up bitterness and anger. He rotated so that his back was facing the door. She felt herself being lowered onto the soft mattress. Randy pulled himself from her lips and took off his shirt, throwing the material onto the floor. Her heart stopped at the sight of his muscular chest and rock hard abs. It had been a long time since she had a man and she was aroused, to say the least. He leaned down to kiss her again and she moaned. When the alcohol wore off in the morning, she would regret this. But at the moment, she did not care about anything except the feel of his heated body on hers.
Jillian opened her eyes slowly and sat up. At the sound of light snoring, she snapped her head to the side. Her eyes widened at a sight of a man in her bed. It wasn't a dream. "Oh my god," she groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. She scrambled out of the bed and slipped into the previous night's clothes. Looking around the room, she finally spotted her bag and was about to leave when a voice made her pause.
"Going somewhere?"
She closed her eyes at the sound of his velvety smooth voice, the same voice which seduced her into bed last night. She turned to face the naked man, his bare chest half covered by the hotel blanket.
"I'm going to save you the trouble of rejecting me on live television. It was one night, Randy. And frankly, it wasn't all that memorable," she mimicked his exact words to Kelly. His eyes darkened and she gulped. Randy Orton was the only man who could look intimidating and sexy at the same time. Immediately, he got up from the bed, the blanket falling softly onto the carpet. Her gaze trailed down his body and she felt her cheeks burn. Stop acting like a hormonal teenager girl, Jillian. She felt her chin being lifted and steel blue eyes stared into her gray-blue orbs.
"Your screams last night indicated that last night was memorable," he said lowly, his eyes filled with lust and desire.
His husky tone sent shivers down her spine. The man knew exactly what to do to get women into bed. But she would not make that mistake. Not again anyway. She pulled herself from his intense gaze and turned towards the door.
"You can leave or you can stay…and hear my offer," he said behind her.
Curiosity drove her to turn back. "I'm listening," she replied coolly.
Randy walked up to her, his tall stature hovering over her petite figure. "I'm offering you a spot in my group, Legacy. You can be a valet and even occasionally wrestle if you want."
She folded her arms against her chest. "I'm not a second generation wrestler," she said bluntly. Wasn't that the rule of being in Legacy, hence the name?
He smirked. "I'm the leader and I make up the rules. Listen," he began seriously, "I know that your career hasn't been going the way you want it to. Vince is barely putting you in matches when everyone can see that you can wrestle better than Maria, Kelly, Candice, Michelle, and all of the diva search bimbos."
His words hit home. She was better than them but no one cared. They only cared about big boobs and firm asses. "What's your point?" she asked coldly.
"If you join Legacy, I will make sure you get your chance at the Women's Championship."
The thought of winning the prestigious title made the offer deliciously tempting. It was always her dream to be the women's champion, to have gold around her waist. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "How do I know you won't use me like you did Kelly?"
The corner of his lips curved into a soft smile, not an arrogant smirk but a genuine smile. "I told Kelly I liked her…I never told you that." He stepped closer to her, his face a mere few inches from hers. "With Kelly, I had to lie because she was good and she would have never slept with a lowlife like me if I said I only wanted a good lay. With you, I don't have to lie, because we're the same," he finished, gazing intently at her.
"I'm not like you," she whispered, not sure if she was convincing him or herself.
He smirked. "We're more alike than you think. We want the same things and we're not afraid to step on toes to get them. People hate us…because they don't understand. I was where you are once. When I got kicked out of Evolution and lost my world title to Triple H at the Royal Rumble, I was barely in the main event picture anymore. I lost to the Undertaker, got my ankle broken by Kurt Angle, it wasn't a good time," he reminisced, his brows furrowing at the unpleasant memories.
"At least you held the title," Jillian muttered bitterly. How could Randy compare himself to her? She would give her left arm to be where he was.
"And you will too," he said seriously. "Look, Jillian. You're a good wrestler. You can't sing, but no one has it all," he remarked with a grin.
She put her hands on her hips. "Hey, I can sing. Haven't you heard my hit single 'Sliced Bread'?" She began singing the lyrics of her theme song, not noticing that he was covering his ears with his hands.
"You're really making me regret my offer," he mumbled.
She stopped singing and looked at him, her expression now serious. "I'm going to have to think about it." He nodded.
"Take your time." His gaze never left hers.
She turned and twisted the door handle, leaving the hotel room. She pressed the elevator button, waiting for the doors to open. She didn't know if she would take his offer. She went down the valet route before, when she managed JBL before leaving to have a career in singles. The good that did me. Despite her lack of success, she was independent and she liked that. The elevator doors opened and she stepped in, watching the floors descend second by second. "Still, it's nice to have someone who understands," she murmured, feeling a lot better than she had yesterday.