Chapter Two

Marianne couldn't wait to get out of the arena when Raw ended on Monday night. Things had just gotten too weird for her. It wasn't bad enough she got accosted by a duo that Torrie had informed her were named Umaga and Armando; she was also yelled at by D-Generation X for almost destroying their elaborate prank setup for the McMahon men, and she was almost spat on by Carlito, because, according to the Puerto Rican Superstar, she "wasn't cool."

Torrie slid the keycard into the door and together they entered their hotel room, Marianne dropping her guitar up against the wall as she slid her shoes off. Torrie was way ahead of her, of course, her shoes already off as she flopped down on her bed. Marianne took the other bed and produced her duffel bag from underneath. She could sense Torrie's eyes on her as she rummaged through her duffel bag for her pajamas. "What?" she asked without looking at her cousin.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that, Torrie Wilson. I know you, we're family, remember?" That prompted laughter from Torrie, laughter that she was unsure was even possible. "Now, what is it?"

"I was just wondering what John Cena wanted earlier with you..." Torrie trailed off as Marianne threw a T-shirt at her cousin.

"It was nothing. He came in while I was playing, and he asked me a couple questions about my playing. Nothing more, nothing less." She smiled. "Of course, he was all for booking it out of there once you, Candice and Victoria showed up."

"Yeah, he doesn't really care for Victoria and Candice all that much," Torrie replied. "But, as you'll soon find out, not a lot of them really care for Candice in the least." They both laughed. Life had been going so rough for Torrie, with her new house, being single all of a sudden, and having to deal with the everyday catty Diva rivalries that took place behind the cameras on Raw.

They fell silent. And it wasn't that good kind of silence. It was awkward, and it was painful. Torrie stared into her duffel bag, her eyes no doubt on something that reminded her of a life she was losing. "Want to talk about it?" Marianne inquired. Torrie's eyes snapped up to her cousin as she pulled a pink nightgown out of her bag.

"No," Torrie replied with a sad smile crossing her face. "Everything is fine," she replied. "Now, I'll order for room service and we'll have ourselves a good old fashioned girl's night. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a plan," Marianne replied. She gathered her pajamas and went into the bathroom to take a quick shower and get changed into her pajamas. When she emerged, Torrie was already changed into her pajamas, with dinner before them and the TV on. Marianne crawled under the blankets in her bed and Torrie did the same in her bed.

"I have to ask, Torrie, is there anybody I should watch out for while I'm here?"

"Melina," Torrie informed her. "Melina's really catty. She's one of those girls that you just can't trust. Don't forget that. Oh, and Randy Orton."

"You mean the guy with the smirk?"

"Yeah, him," Torrie replied. "He has a pretty bad reputation with the girls here. Just watch yourself. Otherwise, everybody's pretty good. By the way, Shawn wanted me to apologize for their behavior tonight. They had spent a few hours trying to fix up that prank, and you scared the hell out of them, that's all. They would love for you to hang out with them next week."

"Me? Hang out with D-Generation X?" Marianne almost laughed at the idea. "Yeah, because I look like I'd totally fit in with them."

"Well, you ever considered not dressing so...tomboyish?" Torrie inquired. Marianne shook her head.

"Beats the hell out of being a dummy like Candice."

"You can look good and still be smart," Torrie replied indignantly. "I'm living proof."

Marianne replied. "If I were to undergo anything, it wouldn't be at the hands where an assistant would be Candice Michelle."

"You really don't like her, do you?"

"Well, something can be said for her immeasurable talent of, 'I can do this...'" she pantomimed Candice's trademark arm swirl and the girls collapsed against their pillows, laughing, munching on dinner, watching CSI. "Aren't you happy to have talent, Torrie?" Marianne asked. Torrie laughed.

"Yes, I am," she answered. They sat around the entire night, talking about Marianne's classes, John Cena's music, the company in general, until finally it was almost three in the morning. Torrie shut off the TV and the duo got comfortable. It was going to be a long flight back to Los Angeles in the morning and so they needed to get all the rest that they could.