Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case.

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As I walked out into the common room, I heard a conversation coming from Randy and John's room. I hated to eavesdrop, and I tried not to, but the TV wasn't on and I couldn't help but hear.

"Randy, dude – she knows. She would be stupid not to."

"Yeah, remind me to kick Matt's ass. Besides, I'm not that into her. I mean she does her job and she's not always fucking annoying. And…maybe it was just nice to have someone to be around for a reason other than I'm who am. You know. C'mon."

"Well enjoy it, whatever it happens to be. I think I'm going to hit the bar down the street, and have a steak. But at least this time, Orton, you picked a normal one. She likes cars." John laughed as I heard something whoosh through the air. "Hey, stop throwing shit!"

"Great. She's the female version of you."

"Don't knock her 'cause she's obviously better than you then." John chuckled.

Great, I was a topic of conversation. And they were laughing about me. I walked over to the couch, and curled up on one of the arms. I reached over and grabbed the remote, flicking the TV on. John came out of the room about the time I settled on watching Jersey Shore re-runs. Did I mention my love of Vinny and Snooki? As John walked over to me, I saw his nose curl up slightly at what I was watching, and then the most amusing thing happened. He started fist pumping along with the house music in the background. I thought I would pee my pants, I was laughing so hard I nearly fell off the couch.

"I'm heading out. You're welcome to join me later if you like. Apparently there are some killer clubs around town. I think Randy is going to meet Ted and Maryse to go." He walked to the desk and wrote down a note. "I left my cell number over here. Lemme know if you need anything." If the ladies back home only knew I was getting cell numbers left and right from hot dudes.

"Thanks, but I still don't know what I'll be doing tonight. If I go out, I might give you a call." John waved back as he walked out the door. I turned my attention back to the television, figuring that I would eventually see Randy appear. I was right. He came out a couple minutes later in jeans and a tshirt that looked like it would rip apart instantly if he flexed. He sat down on the other end of the couch, and snurled at my choice in television viewing.

"Don't say a word. It's one of my guilty pleasures."

"Wasn't going to say a thing. So you in for the night?" He stretched his arm out over the back of the couch as his legs jutted out. I studied his face carefully. He looked too calm, like he was trying too hard. He cleared his throat, and I came crashing back to reality.

"Well, I don't know. I guess if ya'll go out, I will probably have to go with you. Can't let my charges get into trouble without being there to help them." Randy smiled, and the look on his face was devilish. I think he had a plan.

"Go get ready then. We'll scare up some food and we can meet Ted. Apparently there are some friends of friends who own a club with a big VIP section. Now, go." He pointed back to my room.

"Well, I would love to, Mister Control Freak, but all my stuff is probably in your room. John had my suitcases. If you can bring them into my room, I can start." He sprang up and offered me a hand. I took it and he pulled me up off the couch, and then pushed me in the direction of my room. I started in, and no sooner did I have the bathroom light on, did he toss my suitcases down on my bed. "There. Now get dressed."