Natalie Landry

"Hey. Is this seat taken?"

I looked beside me, at the empty bar stool. Shane stood behind it, a warm smile on his face and his black coat slung over his arm. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt and black slacks, the top two buttons undone to let everyone know that he was no longer on executive duty. I shook my head to tell him the seat was free and he slid into it, shooting me a warm and friendly smile. The bartender approached us and he ordered two kamikazes and asked for a menu. Before I got the job with WWE, I had no idea about kamikaze drinks. Since becoming Shane's assistant, I've received a crash course; it's his weapon of choice.

It's a rainy night tonight in Cameron, North Carolina. Raw finished about an hour and a half ago, and everyone is quickly trying to find something to eat, head to the next town, or sneak in some sleep before leaving for the next town in the morning. I opted to go with the latter, and I was surprised to find Shane was taking that approach as well. To be honest, I didn't think anyone in the McMahon family slept; all they ever seem to do is work.

The bartender returned, sliding the drinks to Shane. He slid one of the kamikazes over to me and grabbed the menu. I thanked him for the drink and took a sip. It was my plan to have a quick glass of wine before heading up to my room to sleep, but Shane's presence told me that I was going to be down here for a while.

I didn't have much of a chance to talk with Shane tonight. It was one of those nights where Vince was on a tear, needing Shane and Stephanie at every turn. So I was pretty much left to my own devices tonight, trying to organize all of Shane's thoughts about overhauling the company website and proofreading some confidential things. I had my radio on the entire night, but Shane had nothing to say. Vince can be something of a dictator, but nobody can handle that side of Vince better than his children.

"How was your night? Sorry I missed you before you left," Shane offered. I shrugged.

"It's fine. I know it was a busy night for you tonight." He nodded, his face darkening. I know that out of him and his sister, Vince is the hardest on Shane. It's not in question whether Vince loves his kids; I know he does. But at work, it's like they have to work twice as hard to earn half the respect of the other guys. Shane's mentioned on occasion that Vince never wanted him on camera, and didn't really want him behind the scenes, either. But Shane and Stephanie have been part of the company since they were kids. There was no way they wouldn't get as involved as they are. There's a weird dynamic between father and son that I couldn't begin to explain, but every now and then I can see it take its toll on Shane.

"Have you heard from her at all?" I asked. Shane shook his head. I nodded. "I haven't, either. I hoped she would phone."

"She's probably busy, what with the funeral and all the legal loose ends," Shane said with a sigh and a tight smile. The bartender returned and Shane ordered two more kamikazes and an order of mozzarella sticks and deep fried pickles. I shot him a look. "Have you ever had deep fried pickles?" he asked.

"No, I can't say that I have."

"There was this bar I used to go to once a week back in college with the guys. The deep fried pickles kind of remind me of that," he confessed. He took a big sip of his drink. "I know you're worried about her, Natalie, but she'll call when she's ready."

"I know. I feel a bit better knowing that Randy is up there with her," I admitted. "He sent me a message the other night telling me not to worry, that she's okay, but I think he's just trying to make me feel better. I can't see her being okay right now. I'd probably feel a lot better if I could just talk to her directly."

"She's probably not ready to talk yet. We'll get a chance to see her when she comes back," Shane said. I nodded. We fell silent. I took a mozzarella stick. "Speaking of tough times...how have you been...with everything?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I'm surviving. Some days hurt worse than others," I confessed. "I'm trying to keep a low profile. It's not easy when, you know, he's everywhere. But I'll get over it." I took a big sip of my drink. "Enough about me, though. What is your game plan for tonight?"

"Eat, shower and sleep, in that order. Who are you riding out with tomorrow?"

"Nobody. I usually travel with Jessa. What about you?"

"I usually ride alone. Do you want to ride with me tomorrow? We can go over some of the stuff you did tonight, since I didn't get a chance to see or talk over it with you." I thought about it for a few moments and then nodded.

"Yeah. I guess we could do that. What time do you want to head out?"

"Probably six or so. Give us a chance to sleep in a bit," Shane said with a laugh. I had to smile at that; we're on the road so much that just after the crack of dawn constitutes sleeping in.

"Good. No hangovers tonight," I chastised gently.

"I'm not looking for one. Just looking for a few good drinks, some good food and some good company," Shane said, winking at me. I felt myself blush. I had to look away from him, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ears. I finished my drink and then reached into my purse for my wallet. "What are you doing?"

"Paying for my drinks," I told him. "I'm going to go and get some sleep."

"Put your wallet away. Your money's no good here," he told me. I shot him a look.

"Shane..."

"No arguments. I crashed your alone time. It's the least I can do. Go get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." With a defeated sigh, I put away my wallet. There's no winning an argument with Shane McMahon; I swear his last name is Irish for "stubborn". I nodded.

"Thank you."

"Don't even worry about it. I'll see you in the morning. You're buying the coffee."

"Sounds good. Have a good night." We said our goodbyes and I left the bar. Walking across the lobby, I got in the elevator and went up to the third floor. I was alone quite a bit of the time with John, but these days I feel more alone than ever. I got off the elevator and walked down the hall to my room, relieved that I didn't run into him. I don't even know if he's staying here, but running into him has been a huge fear of mine since I made an idiot of myself during our split. I had cried, I had begged him not to leave, but he had.

Sliding my key card into the door, my plan was a shower and sleep. I dropped my purse on the desk in the room and went to my bag for my pajamas before making a beeline to the bathroom. I stayed in the shower for twenty minutes, enjoying the feel of the hot water. I was even more exhausted than I thought possible when I got out. Crawling into bed, I turned off the lights and turned on the TV, but I fell asleep quickly.