Confused would be the understatement of the century. Randy pounded his feet into the treadmill beside her, earphones in and zoned out completely as he ran. Adaen could usually do the same, but her mind was occupied. Daniel had not been responding much to phone calls or texts, and Adaen was starting to feel like an idiot for trying. When he did respond to her, it was short and half-hearted; the phone calls were only answered when he had an excuse to get out of talking to her. She hadn't done anything to deserve it, and last night when she finally got a hold of him to confront him about his attitude he said they could talk tonight when she flew in for Raw.
She pulled out her headphones and pressed the stop button with more force than necessary, leaning over the treadmill bars for a second before lifting herself up and off the treadmill. She headed angrily toward the weight machines, picking an incline bench press in between a group of laughing meatheads and began piling on the weights. They all turned to watch her, silent and observant as she pushed the bar up with ease. Randy made his way over, careful to meet the eyes of each man and shunning them away as Adaen lifted the hefty bar for another set of 10. He reached between the bar and her arm and yanked out one of her headphones.
"Angry?" he asked, a raised brow accompanying it. She put the bar down and sat up, pushing him back a little.
"Just leave it, Randal," she replied sharply. He nodded, taking a couple steps back and letting her get up.
"Our flight leaves soon, so finish it up. I'm gonna hit the showers," she added, feeling her stomach do an anxious twist at the thought of the too long flight she was about to take to Texas. On top of her inevitable talk with Daniel, they also had a match tonight against Sheamus and Eve.
Adaen stood in the shower until the water ran cold. And then, she stayed for a few moments to shock her head out of her spiraled thinking. What exactly had she done to justify this kind of attitude? Daniel had never treated her like this before. She'd felt a connection with him, she'd trusted him, and now he was acting as though she'd caught some kind of contagious disease. Anger flashed over her as she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself and quickly changing into a pair of sweats and tank top; her flight attire. When she picked up her phone, she mulled it over in her hands a few times before she unlocked the screen and pressed on Daniel's name. It rang three times before he picked up.
"Hey Adaen, when're you flying in?" Punk asked. Adaen resisted the urge to punch the locker in front of her.
"I'll be there in a few hours, Phil. Is Dragon avoiding me for any reason in particular?"
"Avoiding you? He's in the ring sparring right now. Has he not been talking to you?"
"Not really. I'm starting to think I've done something, but I don't know what."
"He hasn't said anything to me, but I'll find out. He's stepping out; I'll text you in a bit."
"Thanks, Phil," she hung up, letting anxiety fall over her in place of all the frustration. If Phil couldn't figure out what was wrong, she was going to be in for a long and merciless flight.
Daniel stepped out of the ring, leaping from the apron to the ground and meeting Punk at the bench where their gear was.
"Adaen just called," Punk said, handing Daniel his towel and phone.
"Okay," Daniel responded quietly, wiping his face down.
"Okay? You spend weeks fawning over this girl, now she's yours, and now you're not talking to her? You're being a real dick right now, Bryan. What's your deal?"
It wasn't often Punk ever called Daniel by his given name, and it alerted Daniel to the seriousness of Punk's words.
"I just, found out about some things that I didn't like," Daniel admitted, looking at Punk sternly.
"From who? You can't trust the rumor mill around here, you know that."
"It wasn't from a reliable source, so I asked him for proof. They'll be here any minute," Daniel answered, pulling on a shirt and turning to the opening door.
"Miz? You got your intel from Mikey Mizanin? Really?" Punk asked incredulously as Miz made his way through the door. The man that accompanied him was one Punk vaguely recognized. They made their way across the training room towards him and Daniel, who offered his hand to the man Punk felt more and more familiar with as he looked on.
"Bryan Danielson," Daniel said, shaking the man's hand.
"Jesse Neal," Jesse answered, recounting his firm shake.
"So… I flew Jesse out here for you, Danny. Ask away," Miz said, folding his arms and keeping his eyes trained on Punk. Punk watched his longtime friend carefully as Daniel thought, scratching the side of his beard in a familiar tell of his own nervousness.
"What's his name?" Daniel asked finally. Jesse's brow raised a little, but he didn't seem incredibly surprised or confused. Not near as much as Punk was. Daniel shook his head, his frustration spilling out of his previously well-kept stone-face.
"What the hell is going on here, exactly?" Punk finally broke his silence, drawing Jesse and Miz's attention to him.
"You don't know, Philly? Well, I'll fill you in. This is Jesse Neal, a TNA competitor who trained alongside Miss Adaen Orton. And had a child with her."
Adaen was lacing her boots. Her attire tonight was not of her own choosing but she supposed it would do. The zebra print shorts and sport top combo, racy and laced up along the sides with pink ribbon. She stared at her reflection, her tan set in so as to look natural; the small peek of abdominal muscles under her skin; the long and carefully maintained hair, deep conditioned and bleached every two weeks. How long had it taken her to become this? To get to the place where $500 ring attire was handed to her every night? Where $300 hair appointments were fronted by her day job? Where the only thing she had to do a couple nights a week was wrestle? It hadn't been as easy as anyone thought. Not fighting tooth in nail to go against the wishes of everyone, and after that to crawl from out of Randy's shadow. It had been painstaking, painful. The darkest times, away from all of her family, living alone; they had nearly made her come running home with her tail between her legs, nearly made her feel like her dreams weren't even worth it.
The people she's surrounded herself with had both kept her sane and nearly destroyed her. The legends that took an extra day in the area to show her a couple new moves. Jeff and Matt Hardy, Chris Masters, Billy Kidman, Lita, and countless others she owed her entire career to. All of those people who built her up, and it had taken only one to put her back down. One smile from across the gym, one or two well-placed conversations, and one night when she'd stayed behind to clean up and…
She shook the thoughts from her mind, and looked at herself again in the mirror, sweeping her bangs from her eye and smiling. She had become a beautiful swan from an ugly duckling, a Diva, a superstar; from the shadow of Randy Orton. The people that brought her up had mattered so much more than anyone to her, they had always meant more than all the bad things. Her career was going to matter more than Daniel if it had to, though it hurt her to think about. It had mattered more than Jesse and everything he'd done, and she was surely not going to let…
"So, were you ever going to tell me about Cassidy?"
That was not the name she'd wanted for him. She wanted his name to be more unique. She'd named him Cassidy because Cassidy had been a good enough name for her, a name she wouldn't have to hear too often because the sound grated on her straight through the tissue and bone right into her heart. Daniel stood firmly in the mirror behind her, his arms crossed as though he had anything to truly be angry about. Adaen wasn't sure why she wasn't. Because she'd spent too much time being angry about this, or maybe she'd just been able to bury it adequately enough to get by.
"There's nothing to tell. And it really isn't any of your business," she replied, crossing over the bench and meeting him head on.
"You having a son is my business if you want to be with me," he shot back. Adaen felt her eye twitch a little. This sentence in itself meant he knew nothing of which he spoke. A knock at the door kept Adaen from decking him right then and there.
"Ah, just the woman and… her hip attachment I wanted to see," Leo stepped into the room, basking in the tension like a black hole to all light.
"Why are you dressed out?" he added, looking at Adaen as though she were in gym sweats and an old shirt.
"What exactly do you mean?" she countered. He smirked.
"You're not wrestling tonight. Eve got injured yesterday, she can't compete. You're Sheamus and Daniel's special guest referee. And this, is a title match," the way he spoke was so matter-of-fact, it was as though he'd been reminding them of this for weeks. He reached into the pocket of his blazer, tossing a small bag to her she could see striped clothing through.
"This, darling Adaen, is what you should be wearing this evening. Good luck tonight, Danny. Roster's getting a little tight, might need to cut some loose ends on it if you can't get the job done," he patted Daniel's shoulder before leaving the room, a wide smile on his face. Adaen threw the attire down on the bench, her face now blatantly livid.
"Get the fuck out, Daniel," she spoke with great finality, pointing out the door.
"You're kidding. You're the one keeping secrets here, and I just want to hear it from you. You're really mad at me for wanting to know the truth?"
The truth? There was nothing to tell. Nothing she wanted to talk about and nothing he deserved to know.
"I don't owe you anything. Get out! Get the fuck out!" she shouted, losing it completely. She went to the door and pulled it open, waiting for him to step through it. He hesitated, looking as though he wasn't serious anymore, that he hadn't expected this from her.
"Sister? Is there something going on? I just saw Leo coming from…," Randy was in the doorway now, in his new shirt and trunks. He looked Daniel up and down, surveying the scene quickly.
"Move, Randal. Daniel is leaving," Adaen said, keeping her eyes on Daniel. Randy stepped aside, his face beginning to turn to a match of Adaen's.
"Do it of your own free will while you can," Randy added, watching Daniel finally decide to pass through the door; two Ortons staring him down was a decision-maker if there ever was one. Randy grabbed the door handle quickly from Adaen and shut the door behind him.
"Talk," he said, watching her turn and pick up the small shorts and tight midriff tank top she was to be wearing tonight.
"Somebody told Daniel about… about Cassidy," against her greatest attempts to hold it back, her voice caught in her throat, because the name scratched on her from the inside out just to say. Randy's face fell and he looked away, putting his fist to the wall.
"I'm sorry, Adaen. I don't know how anyone could've found out."
"Well, they all know now, don't they? And now, I'm the referee in a title match between two people I can't stand. In this outfit," she held up the skimpy referee gear, her fist closed so tightly her knuckles were white.
"You get out too. I don't want to talk and I certainly don't want to be late for my wonderful modeling career to finally begin," she opened the door, motioning for him to leave too.
"I'll be ringside," he said sternly, stepping through the door. She slammed it shut behind him, clicking the lock into place and throwing her fist into the vanity mirror. It cracked cleanly through the middle and, feeling a little satisfied by this, Adaen began to ready herself for the worst match of her life. It was a guarantee that whoever had let this out into the light was going to get theirs. Adaen would make sure of it.
