Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, 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.
CHAPTER 36
"Where's Beth? I need Beth," I grabbed onto the first PA I saw when I walked into the gorilla. He nodded and got on this walkie immediately. I was still frozen, waiting to find out where my surrogate conscious was at the moment.
"Don't worry guys, I'll walk with her." I heard Randy behind me, and before I could argue, I was being whisked away to the bowels of the arena. We ducked into a locker room; Randy locked the door behind him, then walked the room and bathroom to ensure no one else had inhabited his lair.
"Did that just happen?" I was near tears again as my bottom lip quivered faster; damn I hated days when I felt like the Lifetime Movie Network. This whole experience had been exhausting, and now the man I loved wanted nothing to do with me for a reason that was beyond any logic that I knew of. I hadn't done anything malicious to John to cause this situation for him; Vince was vindictive, and John's temper probably got the best of him in every possible way. I was utterly stunned.
Randy threw his bag back down on the chair next to me, rifling through it for a moment, then extending his hand to me with a pair of his sweat pants and a t-shirt. "I know you probably hate that dress, so change. I'm going to hit the head, and then we can get you out of here." Randy walked into the bathroom with some shorts and a shirt, shutting the door behind him. I tried to quickly get the dress undone, but I was failing miserably. The zipper was fleshed tight against the middle part of my back. Thank you, Janine and management, for dressing me in spandex. I wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to anything other than being annoyed by my dress, never noticing that Randy had reappeared from the bathroom until I felt his hands on my back and the zipper moving down. I shimmied out of the dress once undone, and into the pants and shirt he had so sweetly provided. It was, of course, 3 sizes too large for me, as Janine really was correct in her assessment that worrying had been one the best diets I'd ever put myself on.
"Thank you." It was the only thing I could muster at the moment. Randy nodded as he sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall, facing me as I tried to park on the nearest folding chair. "Son of a –," there was a loud thud as I crashed to the floor. He snorted as he tried to keep the laughter inside. "Thanks, asshole."
His snicker was the only noise in the room. The silence when he stopped was deafening.
"Where is he, Randy? I can't leave like this…" I couldn't imagine why John would have every done anything that would jeopardize his career like this. I also liked to believe that I mattered enough that he would never want to hurt me.
"He's probably getting checked out with the docs. I bet he's going to be taken to the airport once he's done." I nodded, and as I did, the tears finally began to fall down my face in a steady stream. Randy popped up from his seat, crossing the room quickly, and hoisted me up against his chest, wrapping his thick arms around me. It was a glimpse of the old Randy – the man who was my most staunch ally and unfailingly loyal. The man he was prior to his indiscretion. I was letting my anger and sadness go, tears streaming from my eyes full force, as Randy, and his shirt, absorbed the wrath. After a few moments, as my crying began to subside, he spoke softly, "Why don't I walk you over so you can do what you need to, and we will head to the hotel?"
I nodded. "That's fine. I don't know what will happen about my stuff, though." My statement didn't seem to phase Randy – he simply packed up his bag and led me out of the room. I followed behind him quietly, all alone with my thoughts. What did I do to John to get him in this much trouble? Is this salvageable? Am I going to be all alone again? What had I done to deserve this? Was this even my fault to begin with?
I never seemed to notice how long we had been wandering until I walked through a door behind Randy, and found John sitting on the edge of a trainer's table. His voice jarred me back to the moment as Randy rubbed his face and leaned up against the door frame. "I should have fucking known it. I lose out on my spot around here, and no sooner am I even on the way out and you're with him. Fuck me!" John was yelling so loudly that several support staff stopped in their tracks outside the door. Randy kicked the door closed as he stalked inside the room further, coming closer to the action.
"John, I didn't do anything. I don't know what is causing this, but please stop…" My voice cracked as I tried to hold my composure.
"Stop playing the fucking victim, Drea. This whole mess is your fault; I mean, all you had to do was keep your mouth shut. As far as you and I are concerned, it's done – I won't be with a cheating, manipulative bitch again. You never loved me, you just loved what you could get from me, didn't you?" My resolve was shrinking down with every dig he threw at me. John continued to berate me under his breath, but loud enough for both Randy and I to hear. Randy's teeth ground together and the growl that was emanating from his chest echoed in the training room.
"John, I realize this is not what you envisioned, but I don't believe it is my fault at all. I had no idea about anything that was going on with your match tonight, and I surely wouldn't ever want something for you that made you as miserable as you seem right now. John, I love you – I've been honest, loyal, and I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you." I took a step toward him.
John leaned back before he popped off the table, wandering away from me across the room. "Loyal. Honest. Didn't know anything. And," John turned to face me, his eyes pointed and his glare intense, "I call bullshit. Drea, you're bad news. I should have known what to expect when you started up with this one, and now I'm paying the price for my own stupidity in allowing you to attach yourself to me. We're done. Have fun being reprising your role as his next in a long line of mistakes; you're just his type – whore."
I couldn't move. John just called me a whore after he broke up with me. "I'm sorry…you…feel-" I dropped to my knees, tucking my head into my hands as I screeched out loud. There was no gentle easing into this round of tears – I ran into it like Snooki would an open bar.
Randy stomped over and shoved John back into the wall with a loud thud. "Seriously? You are a fucking asshole! What the fuck is your problem? How dare you say anything like that to her? She's treated you like fucking gold, and that's what you call her? I knew I should have bashed your fucking skull in!"
John pushed himself off the wall, wavering slightly as he did. "Of course you'd bail in, Orton – why be alone when you can pick up a cheap piece of ass?" John charged at Randy, shoving his arms into Randy's chest, shoving him hard back against the door frame.
"Watch your fucking mouth, you spineless son of a bitch. I'll make sure you get a permanent vacation if you don't." Randy was no longer yelling which sent chills up my spine. I sniffled loudly as I leaned up, watching the two of them come nose to nose.
"What's wrong, Randall? Think this will help get you laid with my newest ex? Go ahead, I know you've been on the field before; let's face it, you definitely couldn't have been the first, and I know you'll not be the last."
I quietly stood up, walking over to where the OK Corral stare-down was happening near the door. I softly laid my hand on Randy's arm, and he quietly backed away enough to allow my body to tuck between his and John's. I stared at John; I studied his face for a moment, attempting to register any form of human decency or care for me. He squinted like he couldn't understand what was going on. I acted. I reached my hand back and cracked it across his cheek as hard as I could muster at that point; the sound resonated around the concrete walls as John stared off in the direction I had sent his jaw flying. "John, I hope you find whatever it is you need in this life, but never again even think my name. I'm done with this, and quite frankly, right now, I could care less if you wander from this arena into oncoming traffic. I hope you live the rest of your life alone, wondering about why you cannot let anyone in and why you always end up by yourself."
John said nothing, I was afraid to let out my breath, but Randy held lightly onto my shoulders. "Drea, come on. We should get you back to the hotel to rest and eat." John opened his mouth, but was interrupted. "You are never going to be good enough for her, douche bag. Let it go, and wallow in your life as a fucking failure." John said nothing else, and we left quietly.
Randy pulled me to him, holding me close while petting the back of my hair softly as we left John standing in the room, his hand on his now red hand-printed jaw. I wandered next to him, lost in my own personal hell, as he walked us to the parking lot exit. The only stop was to ask one of the female PA to locate my bags and have them brought to the hotel.
As people started staring at my puffy face and runny make-up, Randy stopped to pull the hood of my borrowed sweatshirt up and over my face as camouflage. I clung to his hand with both of mine until he pulled me against his side again, his arm over my shoulder. I was walked to his rental and deposited inside.
The ride to the hotel was silent, and he never asked where my room was, but took me straight to his own. The door opened and he deposited the bag in the chair across from the bed – without anyone else to really worry with, he stayed in the most basic of accommodations these days apparently. I quietly walked over, pulled back the covers, and curled into a ball in his bed.
"What can I get for you to eat, Drea? Burger? Chicken?" Randy thumbed through the restaurant menu quickly at the desk area near the TV stand.
"I'm really okay, but thank you." I knew it wasn't going to work as an answer the moment it left my lips. Randy had always been someone who refused to let people wallow in pity without at least making sure they were fed. He also was much more educated in my habits than others, and he knew that a hungry Drea was one of the most deadly to be around.
"You need to eat." He picked up the phone immediately. "Yes, hi. I'm in room 625, and I need to have some food sent up please. Uh, give me the bacon cheeseburger with fries, that fried chicken salad with ranch, and two grilled chicken breast plates with steamed vegetables for both, tons of extra ranch, and," Randy gave me a sideways glance, "send up about half a cheesecake with strawberries, chocolate and caramel sauce. Yes ma'am, charge it to my room. Yes ma'am, I've got proof I'm me. Thanks." He hung up the phone, closed the menu, and sat down on the foot of the bed.
"Half a cheesecake? Did someone die and I wasn't informed?"
"Who says it's all for you? I may not give you a single bite." The TV flicked on to a random channel as Randy wandered the room, moving his things from one chair to the other. It was pretty obvious that other than his ordering of enough calories to make Jillian Michaels have a heart attack, he had no idea what to do with himself in this situation. Luckily, he only had to kill a few minutes before there was a knock at the door and his order was wheeled in the room. He gave the young bell hop several bills, thanked him quietly, and locked the door after him.
Randy threw up as many pillows as he could find against the headboard on the other side of the bed where I was not curled into a tight little ball. All the platters, silverware, and condiments were then arranged in front of him. He looked as happy with himself as a kid unleashed in the Hershey factory without supervision. I couldn't help be watch him with a smirk on my face as I turned over and backed myself to a seated position next to him. The corner of his mouth gently nudged upward, and he handed me a fork, then the remote.
Randy said nothing while eating, and he didn't even claim a plate strictly for himself. I was granted access to anything I decided to stab and shove in my mouth, and he never bitched once when I made him watch re-runs of whatever Challenge MTV was showing at this hour. Randy must have really thought I was in horrible shape – this was something that I was sure no one would believe. I'm not sure I really believed it myself, and I was right here.
"Good thing you weren't hungry, Drea. Hate to see what would be left if you were." There was only some french fry remnants and empty containers of ranch dressing left. "If I go get the cheesecake, are you going to at least let me pull my hand back before you pounce on it?"
"Ha, ha." Randy climbed off the bed to retrieve the dessert, and even offered me the first bites as he sat back down. He must have really felt bad for me, not that I minded. He got me cheesecake. Who says men can't be trained to know the appropriate response to certain stimuli?
"Thanks for dinner." I snuggled down under the covers as Randy finished off the single piece of cheesecake I hadn't devoured. He smiled back as he cleared off the make-shift table, right before he turned off the lights. In the glow of the TV screen, I saw him shed his t-shirt stained with my make-up streaks before I felt his weight roll onto the other side of the bed.
There was silence for a couple minutes, then Randy huffed. "Drea, he's a dick. You're not any of those things he said – don't believe him for a second." I couldn't respond for fear I would start with the water works again, and I was pretty well cried out for the evening at this point. Randy must have felt like I was holding back for some other reason. "I can take you to a different room and drop you off if you want; I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Just let me know."
Who was this sensitive man parading around as the Randy I knew? He had defended my honor, let me drip snot on his shirt while crying, fed me like I was a starved sumo wrestler, and now he was offering to put me in a different hotel room if I didn't feel okay laying where I was. I think it pushed me over the edge in the state I was currently in…I rolled over, facing him, and grabbed onto his arm. When I spoke, it was so soft that a whisper would have had to ask me to repeat myself. "I can't believe that it happened like this, but thank you for being here for me, Randy. I'm good right here for right now if you're fine with me staying." With that, I rolled over, laying my head onto his chest, snuggling in the crook of his arm.
"Sure you can. I'm going to be right here until you tell me to leave." And with that, Randy curled his arm against my back as he grabbed the remote to change the channel and kissed my forehead. "Get some sleep, baby."