A/N: Nobody reviewed my first chapter. I'm very disappointed in you. But I can take it in stride, I can be pretty tolerant, and all you people who read and didn't review, enjoy chapter 2.
Jacinta had always avoided divas like the plague. A load of sluts, the lot of the, whose only brain function was to be provocative on television, in her opinion. The only exception was Trish Stratus. Before she got into 'the business,' she was going to go to med school, so they could discuss things and use big words.
In the triple threat match in front of them—Jacinta, Mama, and Abuela—the aforementioned Trish had just hit Mickie with Stratusfaction, one of her finishing moves. Mickie was caught up in writhing in pain and Trish was caught up in gloating. Neither noticed the third diva, Crystal, ascending to the top rope. Jacinta was disappointed in them. In Trish, at least.
"Come on, Trish!" she yelled.
Abuela gave Jacinta her patented Icy Majestic Glare. "Must you make my hearing deteriorate further?" she asked, even though her ears were in as good of shape as they had been when she was 25.
Jacinta knew the reason Abuela was so irritable was that she didn't like wrestling and was only there to support her grandson and expected everyone else to have the same attitude—after all, the matriarch is always right. "I'm going for a walk," Jacinta said to Mama.
"Okay," she replied absently, not really hearing what her daughter had said. Mama would never admit it, especially around Abuela, but she was a closet WWE fan, and not just because her son was a part of it. She was really enjoying WrestleMania 22, and not paying the closest attention to her surroundings.
Rey's immediate family had backstage passes as well as excellent seats, courtesy of Vince McMahon—who has more money than God. "Frippery," is what Abuela has to say about the passes, Mr. McMahon, and money in general. But Jacinta decided to use hers and hobnob with some of the guys before she spontaneously combusted from stifling her enthusiasm.
As she walked out, out of the corner of her eye she saw Crystal do some kind of—probably Spanish-sounding—flying move on Trish, the current Women's Champion.
Crystal was still walking toward the locker room. She wanted to at least bandage herself up a little before she had to go back out there—and before she saw someone who would care that half her forehead was caked with coagulated blood. The new Women's Champion kept her eyes on the ground. She thought that if she were studying the floor, no one significant would recognize her. This was futile, as her style—and title belt, which she would keep to NYR, when she would lose to whatever chick won RAW Diva Search that year—were unmistakable.
Crystal was so concentrated on the floor tiling that she didn't even notice the man in front of her until she ran right into him. "Oh, sorry," she muttered, not looking up. With her luck it would be the Boogeyman, or worse—JBL. She stepped to the side to open hallway so she could continue the locker room.
The man—whoever he was—sidestepped with her. Crystal inwardly rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood for one of those things where she wanted to get around him and he wanted to get around her, but they just kept bobbing around for fifty years. She looked up to express this to him. She looked into his eyes…
…and just about fainted. She was staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes. They were the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen. Even better, they were attached to the most gorgeous man she had ever seen—no point in having beautiful eyes if the rest of you looks like something the cat coughed up. And what's more, this gorgeous man was her man, Randy Orton.
Randy smirked. "You can't get away from me that easily."
Crystal tried to sidestep again. No! she thought. I look horrible!
Randy grinned. He knew Crystal well enough to know why she was trying to escape, and he let her. He thought she was beautiful all the time, but he knew she had other ideas.
Jacinta was wandering around vaguely, completely lost and confused. She had seen plenty of her friends, and most of them knew where Rey was. So the problem wasn't them, it was her. Her issues with directions were only surpassed by her issues with commands.
But she was in luck. A charming girl in a habit was helping her out. Samantha, she had given her name as.
"So are you a nun?" Jacinta asked, broaching the subject of why Samantha was wearing a habit.
"Oh, no," Samantha said, smiling. "Former nun."
"Former?"
"Have you seen Sound of Music?"
Jacinta nodded.
Samantha winked. "I was that kind of nun. Except it was skiing, not rolling on a hillside."
"That's…cool…" Jacinta didn't really know how to respond to this.
"Not really. My parents disowned me after I left the convent."
Jacinta blinked. "You seem very optimistic…" She wouldn't be optimistic if Mama disowned her.
"Well, that's why I'm here."
"I'm not following you." Samantha's statement had Jacinta even more confused than the backstage of the arena.
"Well, I know Randy still loves me."
"Randy…Orton?" The Legend Killer was the only Randy Jacinta could think of that would be backstage at WrestleMania 22.
"Yeah. We were engaged once."
"Oh, you're that Samantha." Hearing Randy rhapsodize about her when they were together and threaten to kill himself when she left was more than enough to make Jacinta hat her with a fiery passion.
They chatted a little more, but Jacinta was soured on the former nun. Her nose was too big, anyway.
Samantha glanced at her watch. "Oh," she said, reading the time. "I don't want to just leave you, but I've got someone I have to meet."
"Oh, that's fine." Jacinta didn't really mind being rid of Samantha's presence.
Samantha looked relieved that Jacinta wasn't taking offense, but she could have been faking too. "All right. Just take the first right and the second left, and it's the third door on the left." She walked off, habit swishing.
Crystal had scraped the mass of dark red crap off her face, revealing the wound, which was surprisingly small, and had already stopped bleeding. The fans had been surprised when she had gotten busted open—Mr. McMahon didn't think divas bleeding all over the place was very attractive, but Mickie's character had had one of her psycho episodes and used a chair.
Crystal rubbed some kind of antibacterial something into her wound and then opened her makeup bag.
