Chapter Ten

John Cena

We were sitting in TGI Friday's, waiting for dinner. The hot blonde waitress was taking turns flirting between Randy and I, but wasn't getting anywhere. She was definitely giving some nasty eyes at Amberlea, who was too nervous about things to really care what some waitress was thinking.

She said she had an interview coming up with a newspaper. It was enough to put her on edge. I was trying my best to make her feel better about things, but she still wasn't very sure. Said she had a bikini spread to do for the holiday issue, which had her even more nervous.

"Ever thought about just wearing a one piece?" Randy asked her. "I mean, I'm sure you can find something stylish and Diva enough that makes you comfortable."

"You kidding? They heeled out Molly Holly and stuck her in one pieces!"

"Thanks, John," she said to me with a roll of her beautiful hazel eyes.

"Look. Just trust Trish. It'll be a joint endeavour, and she should know better than anybody about photo spreads and modelling." She nodded, but I could tell that she wasn't so happy about it. Randy wasn't offering her too much words of wisdom; just staring into his chocolate milkshake. Amberlea was sipping on a strawberry milkshake, constantly making remarks about how she shouldn't be drinking it if she wanted to look decent in a bikini. She's just being ridiculous. It's almost cute to see her so nervous though.

"Other than your nerves, life on Raw is treating you well?" I asked her. She nodded.

"Yeah. It's so crazy to think that the three of us are able to live our dreams together." She ran a hand through her streaked hair. "It's amazing." The waitress arrived with our dinner, slipping Randy a note. When she disappeared, he slid it over to Amberlea to look at, since its not really easy opening anything one handed. What a smart waitress.

Amberlea opened it. "Oh, my God, des-per-ate." She held it up for me to see. "She totally left you her number with your pasta, Randal." He cocked his eyebrow, then they both broke into snickers. I shook my head; it seemed like he was starting to warm up to her a little bit. I guess having all that time to travel without me around gave them some kind of time to bond. Amberlea hasn't said much about it, but who knows? Randy is pretty hot and cold at best with everyone. Maybe Amberlea is just warming up to it now better than she used to.

"So, do you have your rap done and your costume ready to go for the Halloween tapings?" Amberlea inquired. I nodded.

"I just need to put the finishing touches on a rap, but I have the biggest, most flamboyant, most ridiculous looking costume and wig that I could get my hands on. Figure this is the time to go big or go home." She nodded, picking at her fries. She was still stressed about the bikini shoot and the upcoming interview. No matter how much we try to get her mind off of it, it just proves impossible.

"I can't wait until this goddamn sling comes off," Randy grumbled, shoving a forkful of tortellini in his mouth. "I'm going crazy doing everything one handed."

"I know," Amberlea cooed, "It'll all be over before you know it, though. Then you'll be back on Raw as a competitor."

"Speaking of which, have you guys heard the rumblings backstage?" he asked. Amberlea and I traded bewildered glances before we shook our heads. "It sounds like this Triple H-Ric Flair pairing is going to turn into a full-fledged faction, and if the rumours are right, then they are eyeing this guy right here to be a member of their new group." Amberlea's eyes widened; I bit back the tinge of jealousy I was feeling.

"You're kidding," Amberlea breathed. "Randy, that is so awesome!"

"You really haven't heard anything, Amberlea?"

"No. I've been too busy dealing with the Diva end of stuff. If that's true, I don't know if you could get a bigger rub than that!" Did he - he just blushed. I can't believe it. In all the time that I've known him, I don't think I've ever seen him blush. I looked over at Amberlea for any hint as to why he was blushing, but I didn't see her expression any different than normal.

A big part of me was jealous to know that the best of the best in the main event on Raw wanted to do something with Randy. This could be a huge opportunity and a giant stepping stone for him. But I shook it off. After all, I could make my new gimmick work when it came down to it. I could impress everyone. Work harder, train harder, think of my next moves and how it's going to impact my career. Come up with a catchphrase, a gesture, a signature move, a finisher. Anything that could possibly set me apart. The idea of my friends and I all in the same company together was good enough; the idea of us all reigning supreme in the top of our brands and in our divisions was even better.

Randy Orton

Something flashed in John's eyes tonight, and I don't like it.

Does he think there's something going on between Amberlea and I? Is that what his problem is? He's been giving me a lot of scrutinizing looks tonight. Something's been up with him lately, but I can't quite gauge it. Maybe he's jealous that he's not on the same brand as Amberlea and I; who knows? From what I've been hearing around the backstage area, they have high hopes for him if he can carry this gimmick.

Rehab therapy is going fine; between doing that and my WWE duties, it's been enough to keep me busier than usual. I shot a glance to Amberlea, who slid the phone number back to me. Like I was going to call it. Sure, I've been on a dry spell since I've been injured, but between the rehabbing, the schedule, the light workouts and trying to squeeze in sleep, how in the hell do I make time for a ring rat? Not that I'm really into that sort of thing, by the way. I looked at Amberlea, who was obviously in a deep state of concentration, trying to gauge me like she always does. To her, I'm an enigma. Somebody she can't figure out, with something she can't quite put her finger on. She always seems eager to please me, like she thinks I hate her or something. It's weird.

John was eating some popcorn shrimp, talking about what he had planned to set himself apart from everybody on SmackDown. Talking about how he and his cousin and a few of his friends into hip hop are planning on making an album. Sometimes I wonder about Amberlea and John. Have they ever had anything more than platonic between the two of them? He seems to like her in ways that are more than fraternal. Not that I can blame him; just one look in her enormous hazel eyes is enough to make a tough guy break down. Sometimes I want to just allow myself to sit and stare at her, watch her every movement and mannerism, but I can't bring myself out to do it and look like a complete and total creeper. I wind up just staring down at the floor, which probably makes her think I'm angry at her or I don't want to see her. Trust me, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

"It's getting kind of cold out," I commented. "They seriously want to take a bikini shot with you for the holiday issue?"

"It'll be at headquarters in Stamford," she answered. "They're manufacturing everything to give the illusion that I'm playing in the snow in a bikini." I nodded. "Saves me a trip to the emergency room with pneumonia, I guess." John and I chuckled. She was still picking away at a burger, in deep reflection mode tonight. I wasn't about to ask her what she was thinking about; what business was it of mine? Sometimes it feels like the two of us walk on eggshells around each other; I can't quite come up with a good solution to fix that. Maybe one of these days.

"So, I was thinking, maybe after dinner next week, maybe we can all go out and see a movie?" John suggested. "Considering we haven't really done much than the usual routine since we've been called up."

"That sounds good by me," she replied.

"Anything good coming out?" I asked. John shrugged.

"We'll know next week," he replied. I nodded, forking the last bit of tortellini in my mouth. Amberlea still had half her burger left. I don't get why she's so nervous about posing in a bikini; she certainly has the body for it. Has the look of a model, of a Diva. She has nothing to worry about.

I eyed the phone number on the table, by my pasta. Was this going to be a normal occurrence in my life? Random women just handing me their phone numbers while they're on shift? I looked over at Amberlea, who was still picking away at her burger, deep in thought. Did she have anybody do this to her on the road, while she was out with Trish? Those two together would be sensory overload to any guy. I'm amazed nobody at the offices in Stamford have clicked onto this. Trish Stratus and Amberlea Brennan could be one of best Diva duos of all time.

Amberlea Brennan

Everybody decided to come back to my place after dinner to watch a movie. John settled beside me on one side of the couch while Randy sat beside me on the other. It had been an awkward dinner for me; I could sense something was different between John and Randy, and this my first press promotion stuff was coming up. I didn't want to mess everything up, or say or do anything that would make Vince think less of me as a Diva.

We settled on watching Evil Dead, which was cool with me - I can't believe Randy and John had never seen it. Ash Williams is the single greatest thing to happen to horror movies, period. With his Elvis Presley attitude and his chainsaw arm and his boomstick…he's just awesome.

It's always nice to have these moments with the guys. Sitting back, watching movies, just enjoying a low profile. These were the memories I was going to cherish for the rest of my life, the simple stuff to lean back on when life got too busy.

Randy and I had to leave tomorrow for Des Moines, Iowa, for a few house shows before we did Raw in Detroit, Michigan on Monday. Randy, Trish and I were all going to travel together, considering that Randy can't really drive at the moment, and it's pretty difficult to take the brunt of all the driving by myself. I love travelling with Trish anyways; she's very much into spirituality and meditation, and hearing her talk about it is just so fascinating. I'm not quite sure what Randy thinks of it; last week, he just sat in the back, staring out the window, silent for three quarters of the trip until Trish started talking to him about the rumours of him joining up with Triple H and Ric Flair.

Trish gets where I'm coming from when I tell her Randy is hard to talk to. He doesn't follow much sports; their music tastes are at different ends of the spectrum. Trish loves rap with a heavy bass line, R&B with a smooth edge, while Randy loves hard rock and heavy metal. Even though Randy and I have stuff in common, I just feel like he's so hard to approach sometimes. I wonder if he thinks it's the same with me, though I can't see that; I'm usually the first to have to start conversations and stuff with him. But I digress.

"So when does he chop off his hand?" John inquired. I stared at him, eyebrow cocked.

"Holy bloodlust, Batman," I teased. "Anyway, that doesn't happen in this film. That's Evil Dead II - Dead By Dawn." I dropped my tone of voice a few octaves in hopes of sounding ominous. In reality, I just came off sounding like a giant dork.

"What? We don't have the time to watch them both!" John's face crumpled, as though he were going to cry. I snickered.

"Well, sometime next week when we're all off again, we'll have to watch this. Maybe we'll get Army of Darkness crammed in there, too. That one's probably my favorite."

Randy shifted to get more comfortable. The poor guy has been having the worst time getting comfortable between the rehab and the sling. He's got a doctors appointment coming up soon, and from there, they're going to determine if the sling can come off and he can resume a light workout regimen. I hope for his sake that he can get rid of it all. Then he can come back to Raw and get his career back on track.