"It's not like you/To say
sorry/I was waiting on a different story..."
I groggily lift one eyelid and roll over, burying my face in my pillow
as Trish's radio alarm clock continues to spew out Canadian rock.
"Trish, turn down Freddy
Kreuger before I knock the damn radio out the window," I groan, although
I make no motion of ever intending to get up. Sprawled over on her own
bed with her comforter twisted and tangled into knots all over her body,
Trish yawns, not even bothering to lift her head off her pillow as she
corrects me, "It's Chad Kroeger, Lita, and don't you dare smash my Hello
Kitty memorabilia!" I mumble something under my breath, having given up
on Trish ever intending to exert the energy that it would take to reach
over, raise herself a few inches off her bed, and hit the Off button, so
I instead dive under the covers and pull the pillow over my head.
"Hey, I was wondering where
my chocolate mint went," I say to myself, as I find the missing candy that
the maids are always supposed to tuck onto your pillow. Taking one of my
hands from the edge of my pillow to underneath it, I reach over and take
the miniature sweet, unwrapping it and popping it into my mouth. The burst
of rich chocolate and mint flavor hits my tongue, giving me enough of a
sugar rush to pull my head out from under my pillow and prop myself into
a sitting position. After stretching lazily and wincing at the rays of
sunlight that suddenly invade my eyes, I step into my slippers and begin
to pad on over to the bathroom to take my daily morning shower.
"Hey, Lita--Wait!"
I pause at this sudden exclamation from Trish, who's now sat up in
bed and is wearing a thoughtful frown on her face, as though she's trying
to remember something. With my right hand already on the knob of the bathroom
door, I turn around with a questioning look on my face.
"What is it?" I ask, as
Trish absently brushes back her tousled blonde hair and tries to recall
whatever it is that's so urgent it has to interrupt my morning shower.
"I think..." Her voice trails
off and she bites down on her lower lip as she struggles to remember through
the haze of sleep. Finally she gives up and yawns, mumbling, "Never mind,
go on ahead; I'll think of it sooner or later," as her head hits the pillow.
I shrug, before opening the bathroom door. Once inside, I take off my sky
blue bathrobe and hang it on the golden hook that's on the door. I pull
my pastel pink nightgown up over my head and grab my white towel, then
reach over and pull the shower curtain aside.
Trish
I was just about to drift
off into my nice dream about sailing away on a nice white yacht named after
me with Johnny Rzeznik by my side (hey, I might be Canadian, but I sure
as hell know a great-looking American rock star when I see one!), when
I hear an ear-piercing scream coming from the direction of the hotel bathroom.
I'm not sure, but I think that sounded like Lita--after having taken voice
lessons from Stephanie, anyway.
*Crash* *Slam* *Slap*
"YOU PERVERT!"
I wince, and inadvertently wink one eye shut. Okay, that was definitely
Lita, and I've really got to talk to Steph about those voice lessons.
Before I can worry about
Stephanie, Lita rushes out of the bathroom, wearing only a skimpy white
towel which she's pulled tightly over her chest, her scarlet hair flying
behind her. She screeches to a halt (pun very much intended!) in front
of my bed, and boy, if looks could kill, then I'd have been buried five
seconds ago! I have now sat bolt upright on my bed, and looking into Lita's
furious brown eyes, I open my mouth to apologize, already needing no explanation
as I realize what I'd forgotten to tell her before she'd gone into the
bathroom to shower and change.
"Lita--" I start to say,
but the red-haired diva cuts me off.
"What the hell was
RVD doing sleeping in the bathtub, Trish?" she hollers at me, and I can
swear that my hair's been blown straight back from the force of her banshee
shriek. I manage a guilty laugh, as I reach up to arrange my messy flax
locks and try to explain.
"Um, you see, the funniest
thing happened..." My voice trails off, as I desperately wrack my brain
for the best way to explain the situation that would ensure me the least
bodily injury.
Fortunately, however, RVD
rushes out of the bathroom, sporting a black eye and, funnily enough,
two
red slap marks (I'd only heard Lita slap him once), before Lita can move
in and kill me. I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief. Whew, saved by the
bell...or, in this case, the wrestler in the Bugs Bunny pj's.
"Lita, it's not what you
think--" he tries to explain, but the furious diva whirls around and spits
out venomously, "After I'm done with Trish, I'm going to kill you,
Van Dam!" Jeez, guess what they say about redheads really is true,
talk about a temper! Then again...if I'd just stripped down to nothing
and stepped into the shower, only to find one of my male colleagues snoring
away in the bathtub, I wouldn't really be in the best of moods, either.
Keeping this in mind, I try to convince Lita that Rob and I didn't set
her up for any naughty pranks, as I remind her, "Listen, Li, remember how
RVD really needed a place to crash for the night because Jericho kicked
him out last night?" Lita takes the time to tighten her towel around her,
before grumpily blowing a strand of hair away from her eyes and muttering,
"Yeah? So what?" I breathe a sigh of relief, so far so good--she's not
eyeing any nearby sharp objects and calculating their damage capability...at
least, not yet.
"Well, I certainly couldn't
invite him to bunk down in one of our beds, and since the floor was too
cluttered with open suitcases and souvenirs, there was only one other place
for him to go...the bathroom," I nervously explain, drawing my knees up
to my chest in an effort to look as small and harmless as possible. As
for Rob--well, he's the Whole Dam Show, Mr. Monday Night, and can ward
off Lita's wrath without the need to look pitiful. I peek up at Lita from
underneath my eyelashes, and see that she's softening.
"You're not mad at me...are
you?" I squeak out in a tiny voice. Lita heaves a sigh, looking like she's
mad at herself for being unable to bring herself to kill the both of us.
"All this time away from
the ring's turning me into a spineless jellyfish," she complains, irritably
running a hand through her hair before turning around and stalking back
to the bathroom. I cringe when I hear the door slam shut, then give a sigh
of relief and lazily yawn and stretch on my bed. RVD, meanwhile, is gawking
at me like he can't believe my little performance as I flop back down into
the warm comfort of my blankets and pillows.
"You didn't happen to take
any acting lessons in high school, did you?" he asks, only half kidding
as he reaches up to absently rub his black eye (which, by the way, is now
starting to turn a rather interesting shade of purple). I shrug and grin,
playfully joking, "Hey, guys aren't the only ones who know how to use the
puppy eyes!"
Lita
I am soooo frickin' embarrassed!
Beyond embarrassed! Humiliated! And if I can think of any other similes
for the word 'embarrassed' then I sure as hell would use them! RVD had
already left the hotel room by the time I was done showering and brushing
my teeth--probably had had enough of women yelling at and slapping him
for the day--and Trish has wisely scooted into the bathroom now that I'm
done in order to avoid further provoking me. I shake my head as I towel
off my still damp blow-dried hair, before deciding on a pair of stonewashed
blue jeans and a black halter top. I quickly run a brush through my hair,
and am about to pull it back into a ponytail when I notice the glint of
car keys sitting on top of the dresser. I frown and bite down on my lip;
that's odd--Trish and I always keep the keys to the rental car we share
in one of our purses--and then figure out that it must be RVD's. I let
out an amused chuckle, as I realize he must have taken his car keys to
this room with him to ensure that Jericho can't just leave the hotel without
him as retaliation for nearly suffocating him the previous night. As I
absently pull my hair back into a ponytail, I wonder if I should just be
nice and return his car keys to him, or whether I am still mad enough at
RVD to just keep the keys and let Jericho (and the Mighty Chris Jericho
Screech O' Doom) bitch him out for losing the keys to their rental car.
After a few moments of debating, I decide that I'm just not cruel enough
to do that to RVD--and besides, I'm pretty sure he really didn't mean to
catch me in the showers like that, anyway. At least, for his own good,
he better not have!
"Lita, sometimes you're
just too nice for your own good," I joke to myself, as I adjust my halter
top and grab the car keys off the polished dresser surface.
I head over to the room next
to ours and gently rap on the doors, noting in amusement the fact that
it's number is 420. Probably just a coincidence, unless RVD had noticed
that and specifically requested this room just for kicks--he seems like
the type of person who could and would easily laugh at himself. Before
I can go off on a tangent and try to figure out his whole personality,
the door is slammed wide open in a sudden movement, so fast and so forcefully
that the edge nearly cracks me right on the nose. Behind the doorframe
stands a rather bedraggled-looking Lance Storm--funny, you would think
the guy would look more refreshed after a night's sleep; after all, he
wasn't the one being bothered by obnoxious snoring or suffering a near-death
experience. He manages a harried, half-hearted nod in greeting, as he asks,
"Oh, hey, Lita. Can I help you?" I open my mouth and try to think of something
to say, but first I reach over and pluck a long, white goose feather from
his head. Storm glances up guiltily, and quickly bats away whatever feathers
might still remain tangled in his hair. I arch one eyebrow questioningly,
and Storm hastens to explain, "Jericho and Van Dam found out I was the
one who was snoring...You really don't want to know the rest of the story."
I shudder; I really don't think I want to know.
"Listen, I just came by
to drop off your car keys...I'm assuming they're yours, since I'm pretty
sure Rob left them in our room," I tell him. Storm distractedly reaches
forward to take the keys back, mumbling, "Thanks, I appreciate it, especially
since you delivered these just in time before Mr. Rock n' Roll had an excuse
to turn the room upside down." I laugh in amusement; everybody knows how
the male wrestlers kid around and play pranks on each other and just generally
act like, well, goofy little boys, but I'd had no idea just how crazy they
could get.
"Here, before I go downstairs,
you mind if I use your bathroom to wash my hands?" I request. "I think
there was cinnamon gum stuck on that little toy guitar attached to your
key chain, and somebody did a really crappy job of scraping it off." Storm
winces, and agrees.
"Sure, feel free," he says.
Cocking his head, he listens, murmuring to himself, "Hn, nobody's butchering
the lyrics to "Smokin' in the Boys' Room" at the top of his lungs, so I'm
pretty sure it's free right now." I laugh again, guessing knowingly, "Jericho?"
Storm lifts one eyebrow.
"Who else?" he mutters dryly,
as I head on over to the bathroom.
The door is firmly shut;
I close my hands around the knob and twist it open, stepping inside. Hmm...it's
funny how hot and steamy it is in here--Jericho must've just finished taking
his shower. The next thing that happens pretty much takes all thoughts
of the blonde Canadian straight out of my mind, as none other than Rob
Van Dam--the same man who accidentally got an eyeful earlier this morning--steps
happily out of the showers, his hair all wet and his body glistening. My
jaw must have dropped straight to the ground, and it isn't long before
RVD takes notice of me. Thankfully, he's showing no intentions of getting
as pissy about this situation as I did earlier this same morning, as rather
than dealing a bitch slap he opts instead to casually reach over to grab
a towel and tie it around his waist.
"Oh, hey, Lita," he says
cheerfully, sounding far too unfazed considering the fact that I'd just
burst into his bathroom and caught him right at the moment when he'd stepped
out of the showers.
"I didn't know you were
coming, otherwise I would have worn something," he adds; I don't know whether
he's being serious or whether he's teasing me. My mouth is as dry as cotton,
my cheeks feel like they're on fire from blushing so hard, as I open and
close my mouth without uttering a single sound, save for a tiny little
mouse-like squeak. I feel obliged to say something, however...
"Um...uh...that is...Oh,
shit!" And, right then and there in RVD's bathroom, I do the only thing
I can think of at the moment: my eyes roll way back into my head, and I
faint dead away.