Chapter Five

"Don't worry about me," Trish told her concerned-looking boyfriend. "I'm perfectly fine, Scott."
"Scott?!" Matt's voice rose several notches, as he zoomed in on her huge slip-up, and pounced on it like a hunter moving in for the kill. "Did you just call me Scott?"
Trish blinked, dazed, as in the back of her mind she wondered why her boyfriend had been lavishing her with extravagant praise one moment, then appeared ready to pick a fight right in the middle of an intimate little restaurant the next. And then she remembered the name she'd accidentally uttered that had made said boyfriend so upset, and nearly kicked herself for her slip-up. Without meaning to, she'd been daydreaming that it was Scott rather than Matt sitting across from her, telling her she was the greatest girl in the world and all other romantic sayings. Which wasn't such a good thing to do in the first place, especially when she was supposedly trying to rebuild her crumbling relationship with Matt. But to let herself get carried away enough to actually say Scott's name out loud when referring to her boyfriend...Trish mentally wondered whether Matt would throw a temper tantrum or just quietly throw his napkin on the table and leave. Or both.
"Trish, is there someone else?" Matt was demanding, his voice rising a notch with each word he uttered, she realized in dismay.
"No, of course not!" Trish exclaimed truthfully. And it was the truth. If she really was going out with Scott, she most certainly wouldn't have been stringing Matt along like that; it just wasn't like her. Juggling two lovers at the same time wasn't something her onscreen character wouldn't think twice about doing, but the real Trish Stratus--much like the real Stephanie McMahon--was far from the conniving bitch she portrayed on WWF television programming.
"Then why did you call me Scott?" Matt wanted to know, sounding more hurt and upset than angry with her. "Do you want to go out with someone named Scott? Is that it?"
Ouch, that was certainly close to the truth. Trish internally winced. Too close.
"No, why would I want to date a Scott, when I have you?" Trish lied, ignoring the guilty voices in her head arguing that she did find herself often contemplating what a relationship with Scott Stapp would be like. She was pretty sure it wouldn't involve picking a catfight at a restaurant...unless that was something all men did when they suspected infidelity.
"Well I don't know, why would you?" Matt retorted sarcastically, throwing down his napkin and mimicking her facial expressions. Trish realized with growing dismay that more and more couples at the restaurant were turning their attentions away from their food and their conversations, and toward the battle that was sure to explode at a certain table.
"Matt, stop it!" she hissed, lowering both her head and her voice. "You're acting like a child, and you're causing a scene!"
"I don't care!" Matt growled back fiercely. "I clobber people with steel chairs for no reason for a living, and you roll around in your lingerie for a living, so I'm pretty sure we're both quite comfortable by now with weird looks from strangers!"
Trish was beginning to feel more irritated than worried, and her voice began to rise also as she snapped furiously, "What the hell do you mean I roll around in my lingerie for a living?! Granted, I may wrestle in the occasional T&A gimmick match every now and then, but that doesn't give you the right to talk about it as though I am a worthless piece of eye candy for perverted males with more raging hormones than an all-boys high school!"
"Don't try to change the subject, Trish!" Matt shot back. "This isn't about our jobs, or the fact that you're considered a sex symbol in the sports entertainment world! Unless you've suddenly made up an imaginary friend named Scott, then there must be a reason far less innocent for you to be calling me by that name!"
Trish stood up, throwing down her napkin onto the table as well with a vengeance.
"You know what," she said, a furious scowl on her features, "I don't have to take any more of this crap. I'm leaving!"
"Oh, no you're not!" Matt growled. Trish tightened her lips into a thin line.
"What is it now?" she scorned. "You want us to leave together and argue in the cab on the way to the hotel?"
"You know what, forget about you!" Matt nearly shouted. "I'm leaving this dump!" And he threw down some money onto the table and stormed out of the restaurant without a second thought, leaving Trish standing behind amidst a sea of gaping eyes and open mouths.
"Fine!" Trish yelled after her boyfriend, then turned to face the audience that herself and Matt had apparently attracted in the last couple of minutes.
"Oh, quit your staring!" she scorned, sounding more tired than anything else. "Haven't you seen a couple fighting childishly at a bistro before?!" And she slammed down enough money to cover for her half of the check, and stalked out as well, walking into the cold, rainy sidewalk to hail a taxi and return to her hotel. Alone.

Another day, another house show, Trish thought to herself, as she pulled up at the arena and reluctantly got out of her rental car. Ever since the previous night where Matt had walked out on her at the restaurant, she'd been up all night, replaying that scene over and over in her head. And she'd suddenly realized that the particular cab ride back to her hotel room following that disastrous date, much like that time after the Monday Night Raw where she'd first met Scott and subsequently gotten stood up by Matt, wouldn't mark the first time she'd returned alone from after a WWF event. She hadn't been worrying unnecessarily before. Her relationship with Matt was unraveling by the minute, and unless she didn't do something about it, said relationship would be nonexistent. But what about Scott...?

At that moment, Molly Holly, who looked like she'd been searching specifically for someone, walked up to Trish. The newly-brunette WWF diva looked particularly upset, as she walked up to her blonde friend and said sympathetically, "Trish, I heard about what happened between you and Matt last night. I hope you're okay."
"Huh?" Trish, lost in her thoughts, was confused by the words that were coming out of the petite young woman's mouth, then suddenly realized what Molly was saying and tried to brush it off like it was no big deal.
"Oh, don't worry about me," the blonde bombshell murmured, sounding far more confident than she really felt. "I'll be all right."
"Are you sure?" Molly looked uncertain. "I mean, especially after what happened between Lita and Shane Helms earlier this week...It seems as if Steph and Hunter are the only happy couple here in the World Wrestling Federation."
"Yeah, well, you know," Trish murmured. "Hey, don't worry about me. I mean, I will survive through all this."
"I know you will," Molly replied soothingly. "It's just that break ups can be so tough."
Trish was barely registering what Molly was saying, as on the tip of her tongue she'd already prepared another string of meaningless reassurement.
"Yeah, well, you know," she repeated lamely. "I mean, it's not like Matt and I weren't having problems in the first place...What?!"
"Wow, you've been hanging around Stone Cold lately, haven't you?" Molly teased. Trish shook her head violently, as if to clear it.
"What do you mean after what happened between Lita and Shane Helms and everything, break ups can be so tough?" she wanted, nearly throttling the petite brunette in her zeal as she fretted over Molly's words. The poor diva looked almost frightened by Trish's expression, as she stammered out, "Didn't you and Matt break up last night? At a restaurant or something?"
Trish let go of Molly, as realization of what had happened suddenly settled in.
"Oh, no," she moaned, and slowly sank onto the floor. Molly looked down in concern.
"Trish? Are you all right?" she asked.
"How...how did you find out about this?" Trish managed to ask weakly. Molly shrugged.
"The headlines were splashed all over every single WWF news and rumors website," she replied. Trish buried her face in the palms of her hands.
"Oh, my God, how could this have happened?" she lamented, more to herself than to Molly or anyone else who might have heard her. "How could this have happened?"
"Trish, it's okay," Molly attempted to console her. "I mean, you couldn't--and really shouldn't--have kept that break up to yourself for very long, and..."
"Molly, Matt and I never broke up last night," Trish finally said. "We had a fight at a very public place, and people who were there must have gone online and reported the whole thing, exaggerating the details and adding in speculation."
"Oh," Molly still looked confused, then, as Trish's word's sank in, realization dawned upon her face. "Oh..." Her voice trailed off knowingly.
"Yes," Trish said miserably. "And now that our 'break up' is splashed across every WWF webpage, Matt's going to think that I did that on purpose to get back at him or something, and break up with me for real!"
Molly knelt down to Trish's level, and put one hand on the miserable Canadian's shoulder.
"Trish," she asked, concern obvious in her voice, "are you going to be all right?"

Just then, Stacy Keibler bounced over to the two petite women on the floor, a sunny smile on her pretty features.
"Hi," she chirped brightly, trying to keep the happiness in her voice from seeping through as she bubbled, "I heard what happened between you and Matt, and I've got just the thing to cheer you up. Did you know that there's a Creed concert Friday night in Detroit, which is, like, practically walking distance from our house show there? Now, I know it's been sold out since, like, two months ago, but hey, if the rumors are true that halfway through the setlist Scott Stapp"--and she paused to wink--"is supposed to take his shirt off and wave it around, then believe you me, we're gonna find some way to get into that concert if it's the last thing we do...!"
"Stacy," Trish spoke up tiredly, "Matt and I never broke up."
"...And you know how he always wears lace-up crotch leather pants onstage...What?" Stacy stopped abruptly amidst her ranting about how sexy a shirtless-and-leather-clad Scott Stapp was going to look up close. Apparently, Stone Cold's infamous one-word quote was becoming quite popular in the women's locker room, as Stacy paused to collect her thoughts, before realizing what Trish had just said.
"What do you mean you and Matt didn't break up?" she whined, blinking rapidly. "I mean, it was all over the front page of every single damn WWF news site on the Internet, and..."
"She and Matt didn't break up last night; it was just a public fight which got blown way out of proportion," Molly spoke up. Stacy huffed.
"Well...great," she finally managed, plastering a great big fake smile on her face. And then an idea suddenly occurred to her, as the pretty blonde suddenly chirped, "Say, speaking of great, did you see this Rolling Stone cover of Creed?" And she whipped out a magazine from behind her back.
"See, there's Scott in the middle, wearing a sleeveless black tee and black leather pants," she bubbled happily. "Don't you just love his look? It's kind of like squeaky clean, with a dash of bad boy thrown in..."
Trish, despite her earlier miseries about her relationship woes, could not help but crack a smile, not at the Rolling Stone cover, but rather, at Stacy's antics.
"Stacy, please." She rolled her eyes. "I've got to go change now. 'Bye, Molly." And she waved. Molly echoed her farewell, and Stacy, who'd been flipping frantically through the issue of Rolling Stone to find the Creed article, dashed after her.
"But look at this picture! Doesn't that pout emphasize his perfectly kissable lips...?" she hollered out after Trish.

Trish exited the shower, a fluffy white towel wrapped tightly around her. The hard-fought match and subsequent hot shower had relaxed her enough to the point where she was slowly forgetting her mounting woes with her relationship with Matt, and just starting to enjoy her life and her work again. As she walked over to her suitcase to take out some clothes, Stacy popped out of seemingly nowhere, armed with apparently another magazine with Creed on the cover.
"Hey, Trish, check this out," the pretty blonde urged, holding up an issue of Guitar World to Trish's face. Trish looked, and had to admit that Scott looked even more handsome and soulful than she wanted to admit to herself.
"Yeah, he's a real cute guy," Trish replied, trying to make her voice as nonchalant as possible. "But then again, so are the guitarist and drummer. What's your point?"
Stacy looked horrified.
"No!" she gasped. "You mean you're falling for the other two guys?"
Trish rolled her eyes.
"Stacy, please..." she started to say, before the former cheerleader cut her off.
"Uh uh! Before you say anything else, let me tell you that one of them's married, and the other one's almost married, so they're both taken, whereas Scott's still on the market--although probably not for long," she shot in quickly. Trish arched her eyebrows.
"Well, I didn't know that before, but thanks for clueing me in," she said cheerfully.
"But look at Scott!" Stacy whined. "See how cute he looks in that cowboy hat?" And she snapped her fingers. "There you go! You wear cowboy hats, and apparently, Scott does too every now and then. Just think of how cute you two would look, wearing your cowboy hats together!"
Trish had to struggle hard to keep from laughing.
"Well, then, Scott and I would like to welcome you by saying yipper-kah-whatever to you, Stacy," she teased, and prepared to dress into her street clothes. "By the way...since when did you start subscribing to Guitar World?"
Stacy suddenly seemed fascinated by the floor tiles, as she coughed and fidgeted around, before finally squeezing out, "I stole this from Jericho--so don't tell on me, okay? Who knew Canadians could yell like banshees?" She suddenly caught Trish's look, and blushed. "I meant that in a good way. Now, if you will just pay attention to how sexy Scott looks in black..."
Trish rolled her eyes.

With the house show over and Stacy having run off to search for yet another magazine with Creed on the cover, Trish was free to leave the arena and head toward the parking lot. After the last few days, what with her bumping like mad at the hands of first Jazz, and then Lita, and with her relationship with Matt Hardy disappearing down the drain, Trish needed to indulge in room service and a warm, lily-scented bubble bath. She dug around her purse for her car keys, squinting under the harsh yellow artificial lights, her heels clicking hollowly on the cement.

"Ah hah! What do you think of this picture?"
The shrill feminine voice popped out of nowhere, so suddenly that it startled Trish enough for the blonde Canadian to let out a high-pitched shriek--one that Stephanie would have been very proud of--and nearly fling her purse at the unseen speaker.
"Well?" A grinning Stacy emerged into view, and Trish's heartbeat slowly returned to normal. As soon as it had, the blonde bombshell promptly started tearing into her fellow golden-haired diva.
"What the hell was that?" Trish yelled in a high-pitched voice. Stacy looked confused, as if she had no idea why Trish was so mad at her.
"What?" the pretty cheerleader-turned-diva wanted to know, smiling innocently. "Did I scare you?"
Trish didn't know whether she wanted to slap Stacy or slap herself in frustration, before deciding that she didn't want to hurt her hand slapping either of them, and let the incident go. Stacy, meanwhile, was looking at her expectantly, as though waiting for an answer from her fellow diva.
"Well? I didn't want to use my secret weapon, but you left me no choice," she chirped. "What do you think of this picture of Scott in some old edition of SPIN magazine?"
"Stacy, please, I already told you, I don't want to throw away my relationship with Matt to join the millions of women lusting after some sexy rock star, so if you would please just..." Trish began to say, not even bothering to look at the magazine picture. When she finally did, though, her eyes bulged out and her jaw dropped, and had she been in a Roadrunner cartoon, it would have dropped right to the floor, as all excuses for how she was really in love with Matt flew out of her brain. "...just...just...just...Give me that!"
And Trish aggressively snatched the magazine away from a triumphantly grinning Stacy and peered at every detail.
"See, I told you he looked good without his shirt on," Stacy gloated smugly. "Now, I had to dig for practically forever through Torrie's collection of SPIN to find this particular issue, so you better be grateful for all the trouble I've gone through to make you realize that the man you want really is Scott, and not Matt, and...and...and you're not listening to me one bit, are you?" Stacy pouted, placing her hands on her hips.
"Sure I am," Trish mumbled distractedly. "You were saying how Torrie likes to spin around with Matt, and I should be grateful for all the trouble you've gone through for making me realize I want a collection of Scott magazines."
Stacy huffed.
"Trish, will you quit drooling over that picture and listen to me?" she whined.

Trish, meanwhile, had tuned out Stacy's words, paying absolutely zero attention. Wow, he's gorgeous, she thought to herself, feeling like a schoolgirl with a celebrity crush all over again. And he's not just attractive, but he's also a genuinely nice, funny person, she went on silently, remembering the feature article on Creed from the Rolling Stone she'd secretly read while Stacy was away, digging through Chris Jericho's excessive collection of shiny plaid pants for the particular issue of Guitar World with a cowboy-hat-wearing Scott Stapp kneeling on the cover. And...and...and I am starting to see all the reasons Matt has for being upset with me, Trish suddenly realized. What am I doing? she thought in dismay, while in the background, Stacy's voice continued to bubble on and on. Here I am, telling myself that I can still build a relationship with Matt, and then I turn around and try to convince myself that an eight-month-long relationship is worth throwing away just to ogle a rock star. Trish shook her head, as if to clear it.
"Here you go, Stace," she said, thrusting the issue of SPIN back into a startled Stacy's hands. "You'd better give this back to Torrie."
Stacy's jaw dropped.
"You mean...my secret weapon didn't work?" she asked in a tiny voice. Trish wore a grim smile on her face.
"Oh, it worked, all right," she murmured to herself, starting to walk away to find her rental car. "In fact, it worked too well, and now I'm off to try and reconcile with Matt."
Stacy huffed.
"Fine, you do that," she grumbled. A light seemed to go off in her head moments later, though, when she uttered the words that stopped Trish dead in her tracks.
"But, in case you've forgotten," Stacy called out after the blonde Canadian's disappearing back. "Next week's Monday Night Raw is going to be held in Orlando. You know, the same city where both you and Scott Stapp live?"