Chapter 10 – Bruised Egos
By Evilution
Tentatively, Paris approached Shane, who was sitting at the back of the bus, and waited for him to hang up his phone.
"What can I do for you, Paris?" he asked, politely.
"Umm…I kind of didn't know that we had three days off and I didn't make any plans to go anywhere, so I don't have a plane ticket…"
"I already took care of it," Shane replied. "I figured you didn't know, so I arranged for you to go with Chris and Trish. And you don't need a plane ticket—we're driving to New Orleans."
"Oh, well, I can pay you back when I get my first paycheck."
Shane laughed. "That won't be necessary. Travel and hotel go through the company."
"Even for days off?"
"The RAW stars are going to be making personal appearances, so it's taken care of. Don't worry so much, Paris. I'll let you know if you need to worry, OK?"
Paris nodded. "By the way, when do we get paid?"
"Every Friday—I hand out paychecks at the Friday house show, which is in Tallahassee, Florida this week."
"Cool—thanks."
"Oh, Paris?" Shane went on.
"Yeah?"
"What was that little scene in front of the hotel about?"
"You saw that?"
"I see everything. Fighting isn't allowed, you know."
"I know, Shane, and I'm sorry," Paris said, nervously. "But it wasn't my fault—she threw a water bottle at me, just ask Trish and Chris. It was just…"
Shane put his hand up and stopped the continuing dialogue.
"Just don't let it happen again. Sarah's a first class troublemaker—she'll try to hook you every chance she gets."
"If she's such a troublemaker, why don't you fire her?" Paris told him, somewhat imperiously. "That's what my dad does with uppity employees."
Shane smiled. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stay mad at Paris, even when she sounded every bit the spoiled brat Danny had said she was, even when her voice took on that demanding tone of the very wealthy. Shane always recognized that tone, being guilty of using it himself on occasion.
"Look, Paris," he said. "You do your job and let me do mine, OK? I'm not ignorant when it comes to Miss Sarah and neither is Mike, her supervisor."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"It's OK," he interrupted. "One more thing—what's the story with you and Randy Orton?"
Paris blinked, surprised. Now, it was her turn to be slightly annoyed. Shane may be her boss, but she really didn't think that her personal life was his concern.
"I'm sorry, but I missed the part about that being any of your business, Shane."
"I'm making it by business because you happen to be my responsibility, missy."
"We're just friends," she insisted, rolling her eyes.
"You always kiss your friends?" Shane prodded.
"Maybe I do," Paris retorted. "You want me to go kiss Trish?"
"Maybe later," Shane replied, nonchalantly. "A piece of advice, Paris—you're a pretty girl. I'd hate to see you get warts from kissing toads."
"Didn't you ever read fairytales, Shane?" she countered. "Some toads turn into princes."
Shane chuckled at her sassiness. "Just be careful and remember what we talked about yesterday, OK? This is the WWE, not 'Once upon a time,' and last I checked, Randy Orton was no prince."
"Point taken," Paris replied. "So are you going to New Orleans, too?"
"Well, I usually go back to headquarters in Stamford to catch up on stuff, but because of my feud with Kane, yes, I'm going, too."
"You don't sound too happy about it."
Shane rubbed his eyes. "It's nothing. It's just that I like to stay close to home if I can—my wife's expecting."
"Oh, congratulations," Paris said, surprised. She never would have guessed Shane was married. He had the mischievous gleam of a consummate playboy in his eyes. "When's she due?"
"February 7."
"That's so awesome—I love babies."
Shane smiled. "Most people do—until they're faced with no sleep and endless crying."
"Don't forget smelly diapers, lots of spit up, and no sex from your wife," Shawn Michaels put in from across the aisle.
"And no drinking or going out," Steve Austin added.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Thanks for reminding me, guys," Shane stated, dryly.
"Oh, come on—it won't be that bad," Paris encouraged, shooting Shawn and Steve a quelling look. The only time she had ever seen Shane look uneasy was right at that moment when he spoke about his unborn child. Shawn and Steve definitely weren't helping.
"To be young again," Shawn said as he glanced at Steve, his voice a mixture of wistfulness and sarcasm.
"Obviously, you've never sat up all damn night rocking a screaming baby," Steve told her.
"Well, no," Paris replied. "But that's no reason to scare the beejeesus out of him." She pointed at Shane. "Look at him—he's all wound up now—as if it's not nerve-wracking enough being an expectant father. You two better just back off of my god brother or…or…"
"Or what?" Steve snorted as Shawn eyed her jovially, pleasantly surprised with her mother hen attitude toward Shane.
"You'll have to deal with me," Paris declared, putting her hands on her hips and sticking her chest out impudently.
Shawn laughed as he and Steve both gave Paris an admiring yet amused once-over.
"OK, OK, we'll leave the little bastard alone," Steve grunted. "After all, we wouldn't want you to have another meltdown like you did in the parking lot."
"Good," Paris said as she turned to Shane. "Now, I want you to put away those papers and that cell phone and relax until we get to New Orleans—got it?"
Shane held up his hands in surrender. "Got it," he said. "What's with the concern?"
Paris sighed. "I don't need my boss being stressed out, because I'm new and that's stressful enough, so when you're stressed, it freaks me out even more."
"Point well taken," Shane conceded. "But I can't miss any calls, so since you're a coordinator and Jericho doesn't appear to need you right now, you can field my calls during the drive, OK?" He handed Paris his cell phone.
"No problem," she said with a smile. As she headed back to the front of the bus, she noticed that Shane had stretched his legs out and seemed to be trying to relax. She also noticed that the only available seat happened to be right next to Rob Van Dam. Great, she thought, I'm sure I'm just his most favorite person in the world right now. Paris took a deep breath and wiped her hands on her jeans as she approached the empty seat.
"Mind if I sit down?" she asked, cheerfully.
Rob shrugged noncommittally and then, went back to staring out the window. Paris rolled her eyes impatiently and sat down, being careful to sit as far away as possible from Rob. She glanced across the aisle, hoping to strike up a conversation with Trish, but Trish was checking her messages and Chris was talking on his phone. Paris looked toward the back of the bus, thinking she might be able to talk to Amy, but Amy was having what appeared to be a very intense discussion with Matt. In fact, Matt looked downright angry and Paris could have sworn Amy was on the verge of tears had her eyes not been hidden by dark glasses. Indeed, everyone seemed to be doing their own thing. Paris had no choice but to take another deep breath and turn tentatively toward Rob.
"Umm…Rob?"
"Yeah?" His golden-hazel eyes flickered over her casually, showing no emotion whatsoever.
"Look, I'm really sorry about that little outburst last night. I mean I'd had quite a bit to drink and I guess I get a little sensitive when people make a big deal about my age. So I'm twenty—it's just a number. Anyway, I'm sorry."
Rob shook his head in disbelief. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
"What?" she replied, somewhat taken aback.
"I mean you sit here and apologize to me for the one thing that didn't piss me off last night. I fact, your 'little outburst,' as you call it, was rather charming in a sophomoric sort of way."
"So then what are you so pissed off about?" Paris demanded.
"Do you really have to ask?" he shot back.
"Yeah, I guess I do!"
"How was your evening with Randy Orton? You two seemed awfully cozy earlier. I guess I have to wonder what really did happen last night. Maybe Sarah was on to something—is that why she struck such a nerve with you?"
"Are you quite finished?" Paris practically shouted, halting his tirade.
Rob didn't respond, but continued to glare at her.
"Because if you are," Paris went on. "Let me just say this—I'm sorry if I ignored you at the bar, but you started it! You and Chris and Matt were more interested in playing pool than you were in us, so we just found our entertainment elsewhere. I'm sorry if I made a bad impression, but you didn't exactly sweep me off my feet either!"
"Oh, and Randy Orton did?" Rob questioned.
"He was really nice," Paris stated, pointedly.
"Yeah, well, the only time Randy Orton is 'nice' to a girl is when he wants something, and I think we all know what he wants."
"Hmm, same thing I heard about you."
"Fuck Amy and her fucking gossip!" Rob hissed in a low voice, not wanting Matt to overhear. By the looks of Matt and Amy this morning, Rob definitely didn't want to raise Matt's hackles any more than they already were.
Paris' mouth fell open slightly at his caustic tone as she glanced quickly back at Amy and Matt, making sure they hadn't overheard.
"That was pretty goddamn rude!" she whispered.
"Yeah, well, I guess I'm kind of a rude guy!"
"Clearly!"
"Look, Paris," Rob began in a more even tone. "It's cool if you like Randy Orton, OK? I suppose he's more your age anyway. I just figured that we could go out and have a good time—I mean the way you were flirting with me in the locker room and everything. I apologize about the pool game, but that's just how us guys are. Trish and Amy deal with it, so I guess I thought you would, too."
Paris sighed, examining her perfectly manicured nails. "Well, Amy obviously didn't deal with it very well and Trish wasn't too happy either in case you didn't notice, but I guess if disrespecting your girlfriend is the thing to do…"
"It's not like that."
"Oh, really? Then, how is it, Rob? If you guys want to do your own thing, why did you even invite us along? Trish said that we could have easily done a girls night out, but Chris and Matt never allow that—they always want the girls to go with them! Why, if you guys were just going to ignore us?"
"Probably because Chris and Matt know that most women, like Amy, for example, and apparently, you, too, have a little problem with controlling your alcohol consumption. So you end up getting drunk and stupid and losing all semblance of what it means to be a lady and you end up with someone like Randy Orton, or worse, Paul Levesque! Next thing you know, you're the flavor of the week, which is exactly where you're headed."
"Is that so?" Paris replied, her violet eyes flashing.
"That's a fact!"
"Well, I guess that means that you and I have nothing left to say. But know this, I flirted with you because I thought you were cute and nice and maybe we could have a good time, but apparently, I was sadly mistaken."
"Apparently, you were," Rob retorted, instantly regretting how rude he was being to her, but he couldn't help it. Something about her just pushed every one of his buttons.
However, he didn't have long to ruminate about it because Paris hastily grabbed her things and stormed off toward Matt and Amy. She must have asked Matt to switch seats with her because when Rob glanced back at her, she was sitting with Amy and Matt was making his way toward Rob's seat.
"So what was that all about?" Matt asked, sitting down.
"She's a bitch—that's what it was about," Rob stated, bitterly. "I mean—come on, Matt—she practically threw herself at me in the locker room and mind you, I'm buck-naked to boot! Then, she acts like the whole debacle at the club was our fault! And then, no offense or anything, but Amy keeps telling her lies about me from the old ECW days!"
"Yeah, well, far be it from me to try to make heads or tails of what Amy does these days," Matt said, equally bitter.
"You guys are having problems?" Rob asked, concerned.
"I know she's hiding something from me. She says she got drunk last night and doesn't remember anything."
"And you don't believe her?"
"Oh, I believe her—I'd just like to know exactly what it is that she doesn't remember."
"I suppose you could ask Evolution," Rob suggested.
"I'd rather poke a white-hot needle in my eye than talk to those fucks. Did Paris say anything?"
"In case you didn't notice, Paris and I don't exactly have what you'd call an intimate friendship."
"Yeah, I did notice that," Matt stated, disgusted. "I also couldn't help but notice Randy Orton's tongue stuck down her throat."
"And you know that little prick is only after one thing," Rob commented. "Just my luck, he's probably gonna get it, too."
"Fuck her—if you ask me, you can do better."
"You don't like her, do you?"
"I don't know her well enough to not like her," Matt said. "But let's just say that I'm not as enthralled with her as everyone else seems to be. She's spoiled, shallow, and if she wants to spread her legs for Evolution, then you're better off without her."
"I guess you're right."
"Of course, I'm not saying that you still shouldn't try to nail her…"
"Come on, Matt!"
"I'm serious, man! I mean Paris looks like she could be a pretty hot piece of ass. We've all thought it, even Jeff, and I'm not even sure he likes girls sometimes. You know Randy Orton's thinking it, if he doesn't know already. I say get what you want from her and then, treat her like she treated you."
Rob glanced warily at his friend. "Jeez, Matt—when did you get so cold?"
"Call it what you want, but I don't get hurt. You know something? I bet you haven't been laid once since your divorce. I think it's time you started thinking about
R-V-D and stop worrying about these fucking chicks and their stupid feelings. I mean I pretty much just told Amy that I was sick of her shit and if she didn't like it, don't let the door hit her in the ass on the way out."
Rob's gaze drifted back to Amy and Paris, who had been joined by Trish, and all three of them were deep in conversation. Amy had removed her sunglasses and was trying to drop Visine in her bloodshot eyes as the bus lurched slightly. Secretly, Rob thought Matt was full of shit where Amy was concerned. As far as Matt telling Amy how it was gonna be, knowing Amy like he did, Rob highly doubted that Amy would take that kind of crap off Matt, especially with so many guys more than willing to go out with her. Nevertheless, Matt had a point. Princess Paris did need to be taken down a notch or two. Maybe he'd show her that he didn't appreciate being thrown over for that arrogant little Evolution fuck. Maybe if he gave her a good shagging, she'd stop being such a spoiled bitch. Rob stroked his chin thoughtfully, lost in notions of revenge. Maybe Paris needed to be Van Daminated.
Meanwhile, toward the back of the bus, Paris was now sitting in the window seat next to Amy, having grown weary of Rob's attitude and asking Matt to trade seats with her. Matt didn't act too thrilled with her suggestion, but he complied nonetheless, he himself needing a breather from Amy and her drama. Trish had squeezed into the booth as well and the girls were quietly discussing the recent events.
"So, fuckette," Amy joked to Paris. "What was up with that kiss this morning? What exactly happened last night between you and young Mr. Orton?"
"We just kissed," Paris said in a low voice. "Unlike you and one Mr. Batista, who were all over each other."
Amy closed her eyes and sighed, trying to remember the previous night. She knew that she had spent most of the evening with Batista, but it was the specifics that were a bit blurred.
"OK, just give it to me straight—how bad was I?" Amy asked.
"Well, you two were all over each other at the club and you were kissing him," Trish whispered. "And then, in the limo, you had your head on his lap and then, he kissed you goodnight at the hotel."
"And what did I do?" Amy urged.
Trish shrugged. "You just hugged him, but I couldn't hear what you said."
Amy shook her head. "I knew something happened and that I liked it."
"So do you like him?" Paris queried. "Batista, I mean."
"I don't know," Amy replied. "I mean he's definitely hot. He's got a great body and I love how intense he is, but I'm still with Matt."
"That's easily remedied," Trish suggested, quietly. She didn't want to be the one to recommend to Amy that she should break up with Matt, but she hated seeing Amy get hurt and Matt had been acting like a real jerk lately. Even Chris had agreed with that assessment.
"Amy, I hate to say this," Paris began. "But if Matt treats you the way he treated you last night…"
"Which he does," Trish interrupted.
"Then, you're better off without him," Paris concluded. "I mean I'm not saying that you have to go hook up with Batista right away or anything, but at least you'd be away from all the drama."
"It was obvious he wanted to talk to you this morning, but Matt was there," Trish said.
"I don't think Matt likes me," Paris added.
"He hasn't said anything," Amy told her.
"I can just tell," Paris replied. "I don't know what it is—he just rubs me the wrong way. Funny, I don't get the same vibe from Jeff."
"Jeff's nothing like Matt," Trish stated. "Jeff's really deep and sensitive—he writes poetry and stuff. I think Matt wants everyone to see him as a leader and when we don't, he gets frustrated and tries to act like he's better or something. We can't help it though—everyone in our group of friends kind of looks to Chris as the leader and sometimes Shawn Michaels. I think Matt resents all of us a little—and then, there's the whole him being on SmackDown thing and we're all on RAW."
"See, Amy," Paris said. "You don't even travel on the same roster—it's not like you even get to see him that often."
"I know," Amy replied, sobbing a little. "I think that's why we've grown apart. He just told me a while ago that I better get my head out of my ass or I can hit the road."
Paris glared at the back of Matt's head as he leaned and spoke to Rob. "I'd be telling his funky ass to hit the road," she said.
"He said that?" Trish exclaimed, incredulous.
Amy nodded.
"Well, I agree with Paris. You don't deserve to be treated like that."
"I know, Trish, but I feel obligated to make it work—you know, because we've been together for so long."
"Screw that," Trish shot back with a dismissive wave of her hand. "That excuse runs along the same lines as 'He said he was sorry and he'd never do it again' or 'She only gave me a blowjob so it's not really cheating.'"
Paris and Amy both laughed at Trish's bluntness, but deep down, Amy knew her friends were right. She knew that she was at the end of the road when it came to Matt Hardy. They both deserved the chance to move on and be happy. Suddenly, Paris was interrupted by Shane's cell phone ringing and Trish nodded knowingly at Amy as she rose and went back to join Jericho. As much as Amy loved gossiping with her friends, she was glad that the conversation was prematurely ended. She definitely had a lot to think about.
A couple hours later, they arrived in New Orleans and checked into their hotel. Once again, Paris was rooming with Chris and Trish. Matt and Jeff managed to secure a rental car and went to the arena for the SmackDown taping while the rest of the RAW superstars, including Paris, Shane, and one other coordinator, who was working for Shawn and Steve, had a quick lunch and then, headed over to the convention center for the trade show. The place was absolutely packed and Shane told Paris to stick close to Chris, Trish, or Amy. Luckily for her, her three friends were able to get adjoining autograph tables. Chris gave her his cell phone to field calls while he visited with fans and Paris offered to take Trish and Amy's phones, too, so they wouldn't be disturbed. She put each of the phones on vibrate and clipped them onto different areas of her jeans so she could tell which was which. Chris told her it was safe to wander around and look at the attractions if she chose to. Paris left her purse with Trish and headed off in search of interesting displays, preferably one that served sodas or something.
After wandering for several minutes, Paris migrated toward a display where some tattoo and piercing artists were set up. Tattoos fascinated her. She saw tattoos as the embodiment of artistic creativity and intricate attention to detail. The guy behind the table tried to convince her to get into his chair, but Paris declined, insisting that she was only looking. It wasn't like she needed another tattoo—she already had seven of them, as well as thirteen piercings to boot. Another artist was working on an immense tattoo on some guy's back. All of Paris' tattoos were relatively small except for one on her lower back, which was an intricate combination of flowers, butterflies, and black tribal.
"Thinking about a tattoo, Paris?" a voice drawled.
Paris turned and noticed Rob Van Dam standing next to her.
"Oh, are you speaking to me now?" she retorted, immediately on the defensive.
Rob's jaw twitched. So she was going to bust his balls about it? OK, he'd play along, he thought, putting an insincere yet convincing smile on his face.
"Listen, about that—I owe you an apology. You were just trying to apologize to me and my 'bruised ego,' as you called it, got the better of me. I was a jerk and I'm sorry."
Paris eyed him suspiciously. "What's the catch?"
Damn her, he thought.
"No catch," he replied, innocently. "I just had some time to think on the ride and actually, it was Matt who changed my mind."
"Matt?" Paris said with surprise, her attention reverting back to her earlier assessment that Matt wasn't too fond of her.
"Yeah, he told me to just chalk the whole evening up to alcohol and misunderstandings," Rob explained, trying to sound nonchalant. "That's kind of what he did with Amy."
Unbeknownst to Rob, Paris had a slightly different outlook on how Matt handled last night's situation with Amy, but she held her peace.
"So do you accept my apology?" Rob urged, his cheek dimpling as he smiled.
"On one condition…"
Great, what now? Did she want him to beg?
"Name it."
"Stop making jokes about my age. Like I said on the bus, it's just a number."
"Agreed," he told her. I'll try to forget she's only twenty when I'm banging her brains out, Rob told himself, smiling inwardly.
"Then, I accept," Paris replied.
"So back to that tattoo—what are you gonna get?"
"Oh, I was just looking. I already have seven of them anyway."
"Seven?" Rob exclaimed, casually checking her out. He wondered where they all were.
Paris nodded, laughing. "I have two on my right leg, two on my left foot, a little butterfly on my left arm, a little fairy on my right upper back, and a big tribal thingy on my lower back. How bout you?"
"I have a yin/yang on my leg and another yin/yang/sun/moon thing on my back."
"The beetle on my left foot—his body is a yin/yang."
"Cool—you should get another one. I'll hold your hand if you want."
"I better not," she smiled, shaking her head.
"How about a piercing then?"
Paris shook her head again. "I already have thirteen of those and besides, I'm kind of on a budget—at least until payday."
Rob raised his eyebrows. "And where, pray tell, are all those piercings at?"
"I have nine in my ears," she said, ticking off the numbers on her fingers. "Then, there's my belly button, my nose, my tongue, and umm…one other one."
Rob's mind raced—where was her other piercing? He had to find out.
"Come on—you can tell me," he prodded. "Paris, do you have a 'below the waist' piercing?"
Paris blushed furiously. "Oh, no—not that! My friend—well, ex-friend—Amanda, has that pierced. Mine's on my left nipple," she said, quietly, practically whispering the word 'nipple.'
Rob's eyes goggled before he could help himself. "Vertical or horizontal?"
"Vertical—it has a little dolphin hanging off of it."
"Let me see."
"Forget it—I barely know you."
"Come on—it's not a sexual thing. Its just curiosity."
"Rob, I'm not going to flash my tit right here in front of everyone!" she protested.
"These guys have seen it all before," Rob replied, indicating the tattoo artists.
"No."
"So let's go into one of the bathrooms."
"Forget it!"
"Come on, Paris!"
"No, and that's my final answer, Regis!"
Rob shrugged, disappointed, as they began to walk towards another display. "I guess I'll just have to get you liquored up."
"Good luck," Paris replied, sarcastically. She made up her mind that she liked Rob despite their earlier tiff and even though he was a little cocky, but the jury was still out on her opinion of Matt Hardy. She definitely didn't care for how he treated Amy.
There were so many people at the trade show that it ended up lasting until well into the early evening. Shawn Michaels had procured Shane McMahon's rented SUV with hopes of seeing Stephanie later, so after a quick dinner and a change of clothes, Amy, Paris, and Shane Helms decided to go to the SmackDown taping with Shawn. Trish, Chris, Jay, and Rob begged off, deciding to go out since they really didn't have any desire to go hang out in the SmackDown locker room. Paris would have like to stay at the hotel and get a good night's sleep considering she had been up so late the night before, but Amy looked so crushed that no one wanted to go see Matt wrestle that Paris felt sorry for her and ended up going along. In the end, Trish caved in and went along as well.
Because of all the hemming and hawing over who was going to go, it turned out they were about half an hour late and of course, this pissed Matt off to no end. He snapped at them when they arrived, ranting and raving about how inconsiderate they were. After he finished yelling at them, he stomped off, muttering something about everyone else's career being more important than his. Naturally, Amy went running after him, but his behavior only served to reinforce Paris' earlier opinion of him. Shane Helms' friend and Matt's partner, Shannon Moore, explained after Matt's exit that the reason he was in such a snit was because their match had been pulled off of SmackDown and the writers were sticking them on some show called Velocity once again. Had Amy and the others been any later, they would have missed Matt's match entirely since the Velocity matches were taped at the beginning of the show.
After Matt and Amy's disappearance, Paris and Trish hung out in the locker room and visited with some of the divas while Shane went and hung out with Shannon, and Shawn chatted with Chris Benoit, Eddie Guerrero, and a huge guy who was called Big Show. Trish had just introduced Paris to Torrie Wilson and Dawn Marie when she heard Matt's music echoing through the backstage area. Excusing herself, Trish grabbed Paris, explaining that they had better go watch Matt wrestle lest he find something else to be mad at Amy about. Paris could have named quite a few things she would have rather done than watch Matt wrestle, but she followed Trish nevertheless as they made their way to the monitor area where Amy and Shane were observing the match intently. At the end of the match, which Matt and Shannon won, Paris had to admit that Matt was a gifted performer, but his obvious talents did nothing to dismiss her animosity towards him for his treatment of Amy and his apparent immaturity where their relationship was concerned.
After the match, Matt wanted to leave as soon as he and Shannon had gotten cleaned up and changed, so while they were doing that, Trish took Paris to meet Stephanie McMahon. On the way to the general manager's office, Trish pointed out Brock Lesnar to Paris. Paris had been remotely curious about what kind of man would have sex with that bitch, Sarah, and after seeing Brock, she told Trish that she must have been right about him being drunk or temporarily retarded because he was definitely far above Sarah's standards with his amazing body and handsome baby face.
The girls turned down a long corridor and approached a room that said 'General Manager' on the door. Trish knocked and a few seconds later, Stephanie McMahon answered, her pretty face breaking into a huge smile when she saw Trish.
"Trish! Oh my God, what are you doing here?" she shrieked, enveloping the smaller woman in a huge hug.
"We were doing autographs over at the trade center," Trish said, returning Stephanie's hug. "We just stopped by to see Matt wrestle."
"So Amy's here, too?"
"Yes, among other people," Trish stated, pointedly.
"I know—Jeff's here, too. Isn't it great that he's coming back?"
"Forget Jeff," Trish said, arching her eyebrow. "I'm talking about other people—one other person in particular."
Stephanie looked confused for a moment and then, when realization dawned on her, her beautiful blue eyes got as wide as saucers.
"Shawn's here, isn't he?" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement over the thought of seeing her fiancée.
Trish nodded. "He's down the hallway talking to Benoit and some others. He said he knew you were busy with the show, so he didn't want to distract you. We're planning on meeting up with Chris and Jay and the others later—how soon can you get out of here?"
"I'm stuck till the end of the show," Steph explained. "But call me so I can meet you, OK? Who's your friend, Trish?" she asked, glancing at Paris.
"Oh, Steph, I'm sorry—this is why I came looking for you in the first place. This is Paris Ocean—your dad just hired her as a coordinator on RAW and I wanted to introduce her to you."
"Nice to meet you," Stephanie replied, politely, as she shook Paris' outstretched hand. "Did you say your last name is Ocean?"
Paris nodded, but before she could respond, Stephanie squealed with delight once again. This woman was obviously quite exuberant, Paris thought.
"Oh my God—you're Danny's little girl!" the general manager shouted as she pulled Paris into a tight hug. "I haven't seen you since you were practically a baby! Let me look at you! God, you're just as gorgeous as your mother!"
"You know me?" Paris replied, surprised.
"Of course, I do, but you probably don't remember me. Our families used to spend alternating summers in Lake Tahoe and Martha's Vineyards, but we kind of lost touch when you started school."
Paris stared hard at Stephanie, trying to recognize any shred of familiarity. She vaguely recalled a skinny girl with brown pigtails chasing her down the beach when she was barely more than a toddler, both of them giggling hysterically. Could it really be the same girl?
"Oh my God!" Paris exclaimed. "We used to have so much fun! I don't remember a lot of it, but you always got stuck babysitting me."
"I didn't mind," Stephanie laughed. "You were so cute and it made me feel grown-up—you know, being given the responsibility and everything. So my dad gave you a job?"
"Well, he's kind of doing it as a favor to my dad," Paris explained. "My dad thinks I need to learn the value of money and the meaning of hard work."
Steph rolled her eyes. "Lovely," she replied, dryly. "My dad pulled that on me a couple times, too. It didn't work—I still spend money like it grows on trees."
Paris laughed. "Sounds like me. God, Steph, I can't believe we're seeing each other again. You look great!"
Stephanie began to respond, but suddenly, her pager went off. She glanced at it, her brows furrowing in concentration.
"I'm sorry, Paris—I have to go handle this."
"What's going on?" Trish asked.
"Sable's throwing a fit in wardrobe again. I swear to God, Trish, if I could fire that bitch…she's been unbearable ever since she started dating Brock."
"Sable's dating Brock?" Trish exclaimed. "Tammy's gonna flip!"
Paris remembered Shane mentioning someone named Sable and how she tried to sue the WWE for sexual harassment, but ended up coming back when her movie career didn't pan out.
"I thought she was over him," Steph remarked. "Besides, I heard she was dating Matt Morgan."
Apparently, Stephanie knew this Tammy person as well, Paris thought.
"They've just gone out a couple of times—nothing serious," Trish stated. "She's over Brock and everything—its just…Sable? What the hell is he thinking?"
"Obviously with the wrong head," Stephanie retorted.
"Apparently so," Trish added in agreement as Paris giggled quietly. "Any possibility of Katie getting on in wardrobe? She misses John so much."
Steph sighed. "I know, but nothing's opened yet." Once again, her pager went off shrilly. "I gotta go—if you see Katie, tell her that if Sable pisses Olga off one more time, maybe she'll quit. Paris, are you gonna be here a while?"
"I think Amy and Matt want to leave right away, but I'll be in town until Friday."
"Good because I want to get together—we have a lot of catching up to do. Are you going out tonight?"
Paris shrugged. "I'm pretty wiped out from last night. I might just turn in early."
"And I should spend some time with Shawn. How about lunch tomorrow?"
"I'd love to."
"Great, if I can't find you, I'll just ring Jericho," she called as she hurried down the hallway. "Oh, Trish, you and Amy come to, OK?"
Trish didn't have a chance to answer because Stephanie had already disappeared around a corner, the clicking of her heels echoing behind her.
Trish smiled. "Typical Stephanie—always on the go. Vince usually keeps her hopping, but she loves it. She's so much more organized than Shane."
Paris snorted. "A freaking anthill is more organized than Shane, but he does put out a good show."
Trish glanced at her watch. "We better hook up with the others before Matt has another meltdown."
Paris rolled her eyes, but turned to follow Trish nonetheless. She could have cared less whether Matt had a meltdown or not. As the evening wore on, more than anything, Paris just wanted to go to sleep, the late hours from the previous night taking their toll.
Trish and Paris made their way back to the monitor area and began looking around for Matt, Jeff, and Amy. Jeff caught their attention and immediately, approached them, looking tense. Matt and Amy were nowhere to be found.
"Are you guys ready to go?" Jeff asked.
"Where're Matt and Amy?" Trish asked.
"They went back to the hotel," Jeff explained. "When you guys disappeared, we didn't know where you were and Amy wanted to wait, but Matt got all pissed off."
"Quel surprise," Paris replied, sarcastically.
"God, what's his problem?" Trish exclaimed.
Jeff shrugged, smiling apologetically. "I guess he's just been under a lot of pressure lately. Anyhoo, Shane's taking off with Shannon and Shawn's gonna wait for Steph and ride with her, so he told us we could take the SUV back to the hotel. Chris just called me—him and Van Dam and Jay are gonna meet us in the lobby so we can decide what we wanna do."
The girls nodded as they waved goodbye to a few people and then, followed Jeff out to the garage. Matt and Amy had already taken the rental car that Matt and Jeff had arrived in, so Trish led them over to the SUV that she, Paris, Amy, Shane, and Shawn had arrived in. Jeff drove and Paris settled into the back seat, secretly plotting the things she would like to say to Matt if he ever had the nerve to get in her face. Amy, in her opinion, deserved so much more.
The arena wasn't very far from the hotel, so within minutes, Jeff pulled up in front of the lobby where Chris, Rob, and Jay were waiting.
"I take it my brother's not going," Jeff commented as the guys approached the vehicle.
"I called and he said that him and Amy needed some alone time," Chris explained, eyebrows raised.
Trish nodded knowingly as Paris yawned loudly, stretching her arms.
"So what's the plan?" Jeff questioned.
Chris glanced around rather dispassionately. "I don't know," he replied. "There doesn't seem to be much going on tonight. I suppose we could just cruise down Bourbon Street. The locals keep saying it's gonna pick up tomorrow night."
"In that case, I think I'll take a rain check," Paris declared, climbing out of the SUV. "I'm exhausted. I think I'll just go to bed if you guys don't mind."
Chris, Jeff, and Jay nodded in understanding, but Trish and Rob looked clearly disappointed—Trish because she would be minus the female companionship for the evening and Rob because his plot to seduce Paris was going to have to be put on the back burner for now.
"Are you sure you don't want to go out?" Trish asked, hoping Paris would change her mind.
"I'm sure," Paris replied. "I have to get up early—I have all that luggage to go through and I have to find some way to ship it home. Plus, I'm supposed to have lunch with Stephanie tomorrow. I just need a good night's sleep."
The superstars all nodded and bid Paris goodnight as she made her way into the hotel. Once she got upstairs and got ready for bed, Paris discovered, much to her annoyance, that she couldn't sleep. So she got up and began going through her luggage. When she finished an hour later, she had managed to eliminate a suitcase and a carryon. Most of what she was shipping home consisted of dress clothes and shoes. She had reduced her shoe wardrobe down to only seven pairs, which included her black Doc Martin boots, her tan Pradas, two pairs of tennis shoes, some flat brown sandals, a pair of black dress shoes, and her favorite silver Manolo Blahnik sandals. She kept all of her casual clothes and a few dressy outfits for going out. Her largest suitcase opened on both sides—one side being a shallower compartment that she packed her shoes in, and the other, she used to store all of her clothes. The smaller items, such as undergarments, bathing suits, socks, and belts, she packed in her largest carryon along with her hair dryer, airbrush, flattening iron, camera, journal, and jewelry. The rest of her personal items all fit in her makeup case where they belonged. Glancing around the room, she couldn't believe how much she had gotten rid of. At last, she was tired. Putting the rest of her things away, Paris turned off the lights and sank into bed. She vaguely heard Chris and Trish come in about an hour later and immediately go to bed. Her last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were to wonder what Randy was doing and wishing he could be there to help her enjoy the Big Easy.
Please review—Boring chapter, but had to lay some groundwork. Ta ta.
-----Evilution