Chapter Four

"Yeah, you just missed out on a little game Stephanie has come up with," Stacy, completely clueless as to what was actually going on, spoke up cheerfully. Trish ground her teeth, but somehow managed to force out a big, phony smile that didn't exactly clear away the thunderclouds from her eyes. Her words aimed at the guilty-looking head of the booking department, Trish gritted out, "So sorry I missed that, but I'm sure I got the main gist of it." Stephanie cringed, avoiding eye contact with the furious blonde, as, fake smile still plastered on her face, Trish requested in a sugary sweet voice, "Excuse me, Steph, but do you think I can talk to you...alone?"
Stephanie shot a desperate look at the other divas, but, unaware of the real situation and the fact that their boss might soon be booking the shows on a (albeit quite fancy) hospital bed, they simply returned her panicked look with innocent smiles.
"Um...why do you need to see me alone?" Stephanie stammered lamely. "I mean, if there's anything you want to say, I think you should say it out in the open...where there's witnesses and everything."

"Well, if you are going to talk to Steph, I'm afraid you're going to have to do it after the house show," Lita's voice blessedly spoke up, interrupting just as the murderous-looking Trish was about to tear into a hapless Stephanie. "Me and you still have to go over our match, remember?"
Stephanie was so relieved, she could have fainted right then and there. But not before taking Lita with her by engulfing the sultry, flame-haired diva in a lung-crushing bear hug of immense gratitude.
"That's right," Stephanie said quickly, as Trish ground her teeth. "And we certainly don't want to disappoint the audience, now do we?"
Trish gave her a look, as if to say she might have escaped for now, but she couldn't avoid the confrontation forever, before managing to squeeze out, tight-lipped, "I'll see you after the match, then," and stalking out of the room, slamming the door shut with a clang. Stacy winced, before speaking up, "Gee, what's with her?"
"Oh, you know, Matt stood her up for a date," Stephanie said knowingly, making a face as she plucked at the first excuse that came to mind. Stacy looked sympathetic.
"In that case, I can't blame Trish one bit for being upset," the pretty blonde said, before returning to brushing her hair.

Stephanie rounded the corners, glancing worriedly at her watch as she realized that the house show had already ended an hour earlier, which meant that Trish was free to "have a chat with her". Or, in other words, beat the living crap out of her. The striking brunette hurriedly increased her speed, making a beeline toward the men's locker room, knowing that it was safe for her to burst in since Hunter was surely the only one left...before promptly smacking rather unceremoniously right into a closed door.
"Oof!" Stephanie winced, as she absently rubbed her sore forehead. Irritated, the woman known to the public as the Billion Dollar Princess frowned, before grabbing the doorknob and twisting it hard.
"Damn it!" she growled to herself, realizing that the room was locked, and would offer no temporary sanctuary from a certain furious Canadian diva. Stephanie wasn't sure she wanted to dwell on that particular thought for long, and resorted to the only thing she had left: she started banging childishly on the locker room doors, yelling, "Hunter, I know you're in there! Hurry up!" A long stretch of silence answered her shouts, before Hunter, his dark blonde hair hanging against his face in wet locks and with a towel wrapped hastily around his waist, reluctantly cracked open the door a few inches.
"Jeez, Steph, I know you don't like to be kept waiting, but can't you at least wait until I'm done showering?" Hunter grumbled, tightening his towel in case someone should round the corner and see more of him than was appropriate. Stephanie knew that she couldn't exactly tell him the real reason as to why she was in such a hurry to get the hell out of the arena, so she quickly fired off an automatic apology, before stammering lamely, "Well, um, don't take too long, 'kay? I'll...um, I'll be waiting for you in the car," adding under her breath, "Where it's safe."
Hunter arched an eyebrow.
"Since when were you so anxious to leave?" he wanted to know, absently brushing a stray lock of wet blonde hair away from his eyes while using his other hand to keep his towel around his waist and not at his knees.
"Since I've become a wanted woman by Canadian authority," Stephanie quipped, knowing that her boyfriend had no idea just how true her words were. She didn't have time to hang around any longer, and quickly mumbled a good-bye, before rushing off to the parking area.

So far, so good. Trish was nowhere in sight, and Stephanie was almost out of the arena...
"Hey, there, Princess," a dismayingly familiar voice spoke up sarcastically. "Mind if we have a quick chat?"
Stephanie cringed, already knowing who had uttered those words as she slowly--very slowly--turned around to meet the speaker.
"Hi, Trish," she stammered nervously, tucking a strand of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. "Um...I don't think there's really anything to talk about; I mean, granted, there were a few botched up spots, but hey, that's what house shows are for, working out the chinks before the bouts are played out on live TV and everything..." Stephanie had to bite her lower lip to keep from babbling. Trish, meanwhile, continued to wear what looked like an almost sadistic smirk to the stunning brunette, as she gritted out through clenched teeth, "Just drop it, Steph! We both know I'm not here to talk about my match with Lita."
"Well, then, I really have no idea what you're talking about--" Stephanie stammered lamely, furiously avoiding eye contact. Trish made an impatient noise deep down her throat, as she apparently tired of playing mind games with Stephanie and instead burst out, "What the hell were you doing? You might as well have just announced on WWF.com, Trish Stratus Is Breaking Up With Matt Hardy To Chase After Creed Frontman Scott Stapp--which, by the way, is not true--and asked the readers to e-mail in their advice to Dear Stephanie!"
Stephanie cringed under her blonde friend's scathing verbal assault.
"I know, I know, I did an awful, horrible, terrible thing, and I'm really sorry about it," she squeaked out a rush of apologies, before batting the McMahon puppy eyes and adding, "I was only trying to help."
Trish was silent, which Stephanie took as a sign to continue.
"Besides," she went on, starting to regain her confidence, "you heard what the other divas had to say. Your chances with Scott aren't exactly that terrible, especially since you two could be neighbors."
Trish opened her mouth, about to reply, then seemed to change her mind and hesitated, remaining silent while her friend rambled on.
"And, your relationship with Matt is going nowhere--over the last three months, you two have barely spent, what, four days together?" Stephanie arched her eyebrows questioningly.
"Seven," Trish spoke up defensively, but her attempt to cover for her slowly degenerating relationship was more half-hearted than anything.
"Same difference." Stephanie brushed aside her minor error. "And anyway, just think of how cute you would look on the arm of Scott--especially at the Grammy's or something like that."
Not even meaning to, Trish smiled in spite of herself at a mental image of herself and Scott, together, before quickly realizing what she had just done and turning her dreamy smile into a stern frown.
"Still, it's not right for me to be fantasizing about a rock star when my relationship with Matt is still salvageable," she ground out stubbornly...except this time, she sounded almost as though she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else that there was a possibility for a future with Matt Hardy.
"Okay, if that's what you want," Stephanie backed off, raising her arms as if to say, You win.
"That's what I want," Trish retorted firmly, her voice betraying her by quivering on the last note.
"Just to let you know, though, you and Scott would be perfect for each other," Stephanie added, as she prepared to leave. "Stacy and Torrie think so, too."
Trish zeroed in on the Stacy and Torrie comment, and snapped up in alarm.
"What do you mean, Stacy and Torrie think so, too?" she demanded dangerously, as Stephanie began to look uneasy, realizing that she'd just made a slip-up.
"Um, I guess I accidentally kind of told Stacy about the whole thing with Scott, and Stacy always tells Torrie everything, and vice versa, since they're best friends," Stephanie finally admitted. Trish looked like she didn't know whether to wring Stephanie's neck or wish to disappear down a crack in the floor--or both.
"Stephanie, how could you--!" she began to lament.
"Hey, that's only two people who know, and at least they will fully support your decision if you do decide to break up with Matt and pursue a relationship with Scott," Stephanie hastened to assure. An icy stretch of silence followed her words, until she could take the deafening silence no longer, and ventured to squeak out, "So, are you gonna?"
"Am I gonna what?" Trish demanded irritably.
"You know, pursue a relationship with Scott?" Stephanie asked. Trish glared at her.
"I might think about it," she finally admitted, tight-lipped. Smoothing down her shining gold locks, the blonde bombshell added, "In the meantime, however, I'm afraid I'm going to be occupied with something else."
Stephanie's eyebrows shot up.
"With what?" she wanted to know.
"Well, if you must know," Trish began in that maddening tone of voice, "I have a date tonight."
Before Stephanie could object and voice her thoughts on that particular piece of news, she quickly added, "With Matt. You know, my boyfriend whom I haven't broken up with? Which, by the way, makes it eight days together out of a possible ninety...Hey, it could be worse." And with that, Trish breezed out the door and toward the parking lot in search of Matt Hardy, leaving an openmouthed Stephanie staring after her.

Trish and Matt were seated at a cozy table for two in a dark corner of a charming local seafood restaurant, enjoying a candlelit dinner and some time together for a change.
"I'm really glad you gave me a second chance after Raw earlier this week," Matt was saying, looking as handsome as ever with his long, dark hair freshly washed and combed down. Trish took a sip of champagne, before managing a genuine smile and saying, "Hey, I understand. I mean, just because we're a couple doesn't give me the right to take time away from your friends."
Matt burst into a grin at her words.
"Trish, you're the most wonderful woman I've ever had the luck of dating," he said, and Trish began to feel a burst of hope for her waning relationship, as she leaned back in her seat and gazed at her boyfriend. He was a great guy. Granted, he often had more teenyboppers dangling on his arms than she cared to remember--but then again, it wasn't as if she wasn't exactly without her own admirers. And besides, at least Matt's screaming female fans didn't make wolf calls whenever he walked down the ramp, or scream such flattering comments as, "Show us your boobs!"

And anyway, if Matt, as a wrestler, already had a hoard of female admirers, Trish could only imagine how many women lusted after rock star Scott. Trish shook her head abruptly at the sudden change in topic. She hadn't even realized that, for the past five minutes, she'd been paying zero attention to her boyfriend, and had instead lost herself in her own thoughts. Besides, how had she suddenly switched gears from Matt to Scott, anyway? However, now that the subject had been changed to the rock frontman, anyway, Trish suddenly realized that Matt Hardy's long, dark locks very subtly reminded her of Scott's own shoulder-length chestnut hair. Granted, the only thing the two had in common was the fact that they both had long hair...which would, in turn, link Matt and Scott to Chris Jericho, Rob Van Dam, and Jeff Hardy, amongst the many other attractive men who sported long hair. But now that the comparison had been brought up between Scott and Matt, Trish realized that, in the dim light, if she squinted a little--or a lot--and sort of mentally cut off an inch or two from Matt's long, dark locks, she could sort of visualize Scott sitting there, smiling sweetly at her from across the table.
"...so, what do you think?" Matt was saying. Trish blinked, realizing that she'd spaced out again.
"Trish?" Matt asked, hints of worry beginning to surface on his voice. Trish shook her head to clear it of its previous thoughts, before clearing her throat and raising her eyes to meet Matt's.
"Yeah?" she asked, quickly realizing that making eye contact with her boyfriend at the particular moment hadn't exactly been the best of ideas.
"Trish, are you all right?" Matt asked, looking concerned at the state of quiet distraction his girlfriend had seemingly sunken into.
"Yeah, I'm all right," Trish stammered guiltily, trying to clear away mental images of a romantic dinner with Scott replacing Matt as the charming date sitting across from her. "Just a little sore from all the bumps I took in the ring."
"Oh, okay then." Matt still sounded uncertain. "If you're sure you're fine..."
"Of course I'm fine," Trish said, then made the biggest mistake of the evening by uttering the words that would send her relationship crashing down around her. "Don't worry about me; I'm perfectly fine, Scott."
"Scott?!"