Jessa Bolt

Randy and I made it back to the hotel at just after two o'clock in the morning underneath a black storm cloud. I left him in the lobby, where he was talking angrily with his father on his cellphone. After the night I had, there was no part of me that wanted to hang around and get spotted. I made a beeline to the elevator with my heels in one hand and my pretty little clutch in the other. The entire ride up to my room I struggled to compose myself. Everything had been going so well until fifteen minutes ago.

The awards show was fun. I had a great time on the red carpet with Randy, who had turned on the charm like nobody else tonight. He laid it on thick, flirting with me and the reporters. In front of everyone, I got a spin and a dip on the red carpet. He was in a great mood, a far cry from the way he usually is. I have to admit that he made the evening fun, and, true to his word, he was nothing but a gentleman all night.

After the show, I intended on coming back to the hotel for a quiet night, but Randy talked me into going to a nearby bar with him and a local rock band. Randy said he met them a few years back when he was on the road with Evolution. I had every intention of standing firm and coming back to the hotel because I had an early flight, but once he had the band pressure me, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. So I agreed to go out and have fun with the guys.

The bar was fun, an old school rock and roll joint with whiskey drinks and guitars on the wall. Randy and I took pictures with fans and signed autographs. It seemed like the perfect ending to a great night, until some drunken idiot decided to manhandle me and verbally abuse me in front of everyone in the bar. Randy was so angry that I was afraid he was going to kill the guy with his bare hands. Once the guy let go of me – not before throwing his beer in my face – I grabbed my clutch, Randy, bid the guys goodnight and got the hell out of Dodge. Vince has been working hard at repairing Randy's bad boy image; a bar brawl won't help with those efforts.

I walked into my room and dropped my shoes on the floor. I threw my clutch on the bed as I made a beeline to the bathroom, pulling bobby pins out of my hair. Once I got into the bathroom, I dropped all the pins on the counter. I took off my earrings and set them down on the counter beside the pins. Sure, going out and doing the glamorous thing is fun, but after everything I just wanted to get into my pajamas. I looked down at my right wrist, still red and chafed from where that asshole had grabbed me and yanked at me. He taunted me about Brock, a beautifully ugly reminder about how much of my personal life is out there for the fans. Some people aren't above using it to be ugly.

There was a knock at the door. I didn't have to answer it to know who was on the other side. I left the bathroom with a sigh, opening the door. He rushed me, placing his hands on my cheeks and kissing me. It was a kiss full of passion and aggression. It had the effect of knocking me completely stupid. It left me breathless. I gripped his shirt, stumbling back a step. He pulled back, reaching out to grab my arm, running his fingers over the reddened skin. "I'm so, so, so sorry about what happened tonight. Some people..." There was a slight slur in his voice; he had been enjoying himself before everything had happened. I just nodded, not wanting to say anything about it because I felt embarrassed and deflated. The guy had called me a whore because I refused to dance with him. In my defense – not that I need one to turn down someone's advances – I was having a conversation with Randy and the band when he staggered over. He was impolite, belligerent and intoxicated. I guess I shouldn't be surprised I ended up with beer in my face.

"No, it's not fine," Randy informed me angrily. "I could have killed that motherfucker if I wanted to."

I had no doubts about that. Randy's entire mood had shifted quick after the beer hit me. The band did a fantastic job of holding him back while I dealt with the initial shock of it all. It lasted for a few seconds before my main concern became getting him out of there. "You should have let me..." he started, but I shook my head.

"No," I interrupted. "What I did was save you a world-class reaming from Vince when we get back."

He was quiet for a moment before his lips curved into a smirk. "Always thinking about me, aren't you?"

"Not half as much as you think about me, I'm willing to bet." He ran a hand through my hair, ruffling it with his fingertips. Then he moved, hugging me against him, not caring that my beer soaked dress was against his clothing.

"Turn around." I looked at him oddly. "You need to get out of that dress. You had a hard enough time getting into it. I'll help."

I nodded. Turning, I stood still and let him unzip my dress. When the zipper was down all the way I felt his fingertips brush against the back of my neck, trailing down the base of my spine. I felt his breath hitch, and then I felt his lips press to the space between my shoulder blades. I felt my body get hot. I turned, flashing him the best smile I could muster while holding my dress against my chest. "Thanks. You should probably go and get some rest."

He nodded, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes that I wasn't asking him to stay. He touched my face and leaned in, giving me a soft, slow kiss that left me dizzy and second-guessing my decision to make him leave before he left. Once he was gone I took a shower – a cold one – and got into more comfortable clothing.

My phone rang while I packed. It was Shane. I answered. "What can I do for you, Shane-O?"

"I just thought I'd call and do a welfare check on my poor, tormented friends since it's been radio silence for two days now." I had to smile. "I want to hear all about your weekend with your second shadow. Drinks Monday to talk about it?" I laughed. "What?"

"I don't think I'm going to a bar for a very long time after tonight," I told him before quickly filling him in on everything that happened not even forty-five minutes ago. Shane whistled low. I could hear the disgust in his voice. "So, yeah, no partying for me for a while."

"That's fucking awful, Lightning Bolt. How did any of that shit about you and Brock make it onto the web?"

"Isn't it obvious? Someone leaked it. I'm willing to bet it was Callie."

"I'm sorry. That's embarrassing."

"Yeah, it sure is," I told him with a sigh. I sat down on the edge of the bed. "If it's any consolation, I saved your father from a PR nightmare."

"How so?"

"Randy was going to smite the fucker. Especially after he threw his beer on me. I had to drag him out of the bar."

"You should have let him smite the bastard."

"You're sounding just like Randy right now. Stop it." Shane roared with laughter.

"Well, on behalf of my father, thank you for getting him out of there."

"No problem."

"What are you doing?"

"Packing. I can get maybe four hours of sleep before I have to get to the airport. What about you? You're up early."

"Yeah. Dad wanted me to run over a few things for that presentation in Shanghai this weekend. Dad's sending Trish and Shawn with me, so this is going to be the most boring weekend ever." I laughed. Trish and Shane don't get along very well, stemming from the affair she had with Vince a few years back. Shawn's a born-again Christian who has given up the hard partying lifestyle that Shane enjoys. He really did not get the luck of the draw this time around. "I'd rather have you here than Trish. But I'll let you go. I'll see you at Raw. You have a good night and have a safe flight."

"Thanks, Shane. I'll see you Monday." We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone. After a quick scan to make sure I didn't forget anything, I lay down to get a few hours of sleep, but I found it wasn't coming to me easily. I wasn't surprised, considering the events of the night. Rolling onto my back and staring up at the ceiling, I wondered if Randy was doing the same thing. It took me an hour to fall asleep, but I only dozed, up an hour before I had to leave. Rolling over, I picked my cell phone up off the nightstand and I sent Randy a text, inviting him for breakfast if he was still awake. I wasn't all that surprised when I found out that he was awake as well and more than willing to meet with me. I got out of bed and put my hair in a high ponytail and changed into a pair of black yoga pants and a long black sweater. I could re-glam at work, but I like being comfortable on my flights. I took my suitcase down with me and checked out of my room, taking everything to the car before going back inside to meet him at the restaurant.