September 4, 2000

"Did you see the new girl last week? She's smoking hot."

I looked up from my computer screen, where my eyes have been glued for the last hour and a half. Kurt Angle was standing on the other side of my desk, leaned over my desk with his arms spread like he was ready to be searched. He was still in his red, white, and blue ring gear. I couldn't stop myself from making an irritated face at his presence. Kurt Angle is a strange duck, and that often gets overlooked back here because of his Olympic pedigree and gold medal credentials. Dad signed him to the company last summer, but he officially made his WWF TV debut last November at Survivor Series. Since then, he's quickly found his place as one of my father's favorite talents. It's not hard to see why; everyone who meets him in the ring can hardly believe he's been professional for under two years. I've gotten to know him because of his friendship with my father and my sister Stephanie, but there's something about him I just don't trust. Hunter doesn't trust him either, which puts me at ease. At least I'm not insane.

"I met her when she stopped by Vince's to sign her contract," I told him coolly, returning my gaze to the computer. It's a strange thing back here, but my father insists that Stephanie and I call him Vince at work. We can refer to him as our father or Dad onscreen, but behind the scenes, he's strictly Vince.

Since she debuted, aside from a few small things here and there, I haven't had a chance to talk with Rinoa much. I've been trying to find every excuse I can to run into her during the course of the night, but I haven't been able to talk to her for more than a few seconds at a time. Earlier in the night, I had to break up a fight with her and Stephanie that left both of us battered when Stephanie started slapping at the two of us.

"What's she like? I haven't had a chance to talk with her. I should find a reason. A girl like that..." Kurt trailed off, and I was thankful for that. I didn't want him to finish the thought. I've barely spoken to her since her contract signing, I don't have her contact information, and she's considered off-limits because she's a talent, and yet here I am red-hot with jealousy at the idea of her with someone like Kurt. I wouldn't say it to his face, but the thought of that makes my skin crawl in the worst possible way.

I looked at the article in front of me on the computer, at the layout with a bunch of photographs and the other window full of text. I've been chugging coffee like it's water all night, and about half an hour ago I passed the point of having a migraine, but I'm stuck here until everything is done. My father wants this article about Rinoa's debut and her alliance with Chris Jericho up by midnight tonight on the site, and the clock is ticking quickly. I can't seem to settle on a great picture or get the article edited in such a way that I would be happy with. Normally I work well under pressure – I'm convinced it's a special genetic trait handed down through the generations in this family – but tonight the words don't want to flow and I can't make up my mind. Add to it the fact that I'm meeting Rinoa after the show, and I feel the time crunch more than I humanly should.

"I heard you got to put your hands on her tonight..." Kurt trailed off.

"Is there a reason you're here needling me, Kurt?" I asked, unable to keep my irritation with him in check. Kurt straightened his posture and took a step back, both hands up at chest level.

"Take it easy, bro. I'm just asking about her because you've been seen with her more than anyone here."

"I don't know anything about her, other than she was in WCW and she's friends with the Radicalz."

"You think she's seeing anyone?" he asked.

"I don't know. Probably." My tone was strained. It never crossed my mind that Rinoa could have a boyfriend waiting for her at home, but the thought of it depressed me. I wondered what kind of type of man she would go for, or if she even dated within the business. I could definitely see her with a clean-cut, do-gooder type like Kurt, but the thought of the two of them being anything remotely close to an item made me feel queasy.

"You're right. A girl like that? No way she's ever on the market for long."

"Can we do this some other time, Kurt? I'm kind of on a tight deadline tonight."

"Well, jeez Louise, Shane. You should have just said so. I'll see you around tonight. If I get any updates, I'll pass them your way." I shrugged and Kurt left. I let out a loud sigh of irritation and tried to focus on my work. Every part of me wanted to get out of my chair and go get another cup of coffee, but with the constant moving up and down, all I was doing was wasting time. I looked at the article and the picture files and tried not to scream at the frustration I felt. It looked like a mess; like I was no closer to the finish line than I was two hours ago.

"Hey, Shane. You okay? You look tense."

"I am tense." I looked up, the rant dying on my lips at the sight of Trish Stratus in front of me. She was still dressed in her manager's uniform of a mini skirt and a halter top that pushed everything up high. Trish joined us in April, a transplant from Toronto, Ontario, Canada. My father is smitten with her, and I'm pretty sure that she knows it. It's kind of an open secret that my father has a thing for blondes. "Sorry...I've got a big deadline coming up, and..."

"And you have to meet Rinoa after the show," Trish finished. I shot her a look, my suspicion dying when I remembered the way they had been interacting. Rinoa and Trish seemed to be the best of friends, the two of them clicking almost instantly. She grabbed a chair and sat down beside me. "So what's the problem?"

"The article is a mess, and I can't even pick a couple pictures to use of her in here."

"Do you have any top contenders?" she asked, leaning forward, resting her head on her hand.

"Well..." I pulled up a picture from her debut. "I like this one because the light really flatters the face and the shine on her gear, but I like this one..." I pulled up the other picture. "Because it brings out the shine in her eyes."

I could feel Trish's eyes burning into me, but I chose to ignore it. "Give a guy a hand? You've probably got a better eye for this than I do."

"I'd go with this one because you are right – the light really flatters her. But I didn't know you were into photography," she teased. I shrugged.

"When you stare at photos all day, you start noticing things." I knew there was more that she wanted to say, but I was thankful I didn't have to hear it.

"I'd also go with this one of her and Chris together after their match. "This one in particular. That is a genuine smile. That's the kind you can't fake. She's so happy to be working with Chris again."

"She's mentioned that a few times," I told Trish with a laugh. "I guess they go back a long way."

"They do. She said he's the reason she got signed."

"He is," I confirmed. "I mean, I think she would have made her way here eventually, but Chris was pretty aggressive about getting her here as soon as possible." We fell quiet as I set up two of the three pictures I needed on the article. "You've probably seen her since the segment. How is her face doing?"

"Still pretty red. Your sister hit her pretty hard. But she's tough." I nodded. There was some wild stuff on her tryout tape, video of her doing things that make me wonder how she's not scarred and mutilated. "For the last picture, I'd say go with this one..." She pulled up a promotional picture Rinoa had taken on her first night, a picture to be used for posters and promotional stills. It was a beautiful picture; the way the light bounced off her eyes made the irises look ringed. "You can tell she's so happy to be here. You can't fake a smile like that."

"There really is something about her smile that's infectious," I agreed. Trish nodded.

"Anyway. I'm going to go. Now that half the work is done, just focus on that article."

"Did she say anything about meeting up tonight?"

"No. She's just been icing her face and watching the show."

"Thanks, Trish. I appreciate the help."

"Don't mention it." She looked at me, and I locked eyes with her. For a moment I thought she wanted to say something, but instead, she offered me a quick wave and left. I went back to the article, desperate to finish before the clock struck midnight. I didn't want anything to stop me from going out with Rinoa at the end of the night. At a quarter to midnight, I finally accepted it for what it was and set it up to post at midnight. I hoped that Rinoa was going to be happy with the article and the pictures that were chosen. Instead of driving myself crazy with second thoughts, however, I slid my jacket on and rushed to the parking lot to meet Rinoa. After everything with Stephanie tonight, I was sure she didn't want to go out and have a jolly time with them. I was hoping that maybe I could talk her into going with me one on one so I could get to know her better. I'm still not sure what it is about her that I've been so drawn to since I saw her tryout tape, but all I want to do is know her. After that, I don't know how or where things are going to go.

I found Rinoa loading her bags into her car. "Hey, Noa. Are you ready for some cheesecake tonight? Don't think I forgot." I wanted to tell her that I've been looking forward to it all night, but I could only imagine how she would react. She shut the trunk of her car and turned to me, her green eyes narrowing at the sight of my face. She reached out and ran her fingers over the bruising on my face. I'll never forget how it felt, like a thunderbolt mixed with some residual pain. When I winced, she pulled back.

"I'm sorry. Wow, she really got you good, didn't she?"

"Perk of being in the family. You have any siblings?" I asked. She shook her head.

"Nope. I'm an only child. It looks like I didn't miss out on a lot of the fun and excitement."

"You're lucky. I love Steph, but on nights like this..." I trailed off before I let my thoughts die with a loud sigh. I smiled. "I'm driving the red Mustang over there. It might be the best idea for you to follow me in your car." She nodded, and we separated to our vehicles. Once again, I found myself trying not to be giddy like a teenager in her presence. It astounds me that she came in with no ego, no demands, and only with nothing but compassion for the people around her. I touched the swelling by my eye; it was like I could still feel her fingers.

Inside the car, I turned the key in the ignition and was instantly met with the loud refrain of "I Wish". I looked over at Rinoa, who was grinning in the other car, and I suddenly didn't feel so embarrassed about my music choice. She gave me enough space to drive past first, and she followed behind me. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't pissed about Stephanie putting her hands on me, but at the end of the night it got me some alone time with Rinoa, so it's not all bad.