...I wanna rock n' roll
all night/And party every day/I wanna rock n' roll...
Bleh! I know there's something wrong with the date if I start
tuning What'sHerFace out to replay old KISS songs in my head over and over.
But give a guy a break--how much time can any living, breathing human being
with functioning brain cells take of some chick yakking away about all
the troubles she goes through to achieve the perfect tan, or how many hours
it takes for her to evenly coif all her glorious hair? See my point? Now,
where was I? Oh, yeah! You keep on shouting/You keep on shouting...
"Rob!" I blink and nearly
fall out of my chair, knowing with a start that there's no such line in
KISS's "Rock & Roll All Nite" that goes, "You keep on shouting...Rob!"
Only then do I realize that my date's finally caught on that I've pretty
much blanked out throughout the course of the evening, as she whines, "You
haven't been listening to me at all, have you?" I blink cluelessly, but
quickly remember the phrase of how Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,
even if that woman is a giggly airhead, and decide that it's time to play
my trump card. Tossing back my own gorgeous hair (which does not need two
hours in front of the mirror to achieve the perfect coif, I might add!),
I flash my best smile, knowing how most women can't resist dimples. Her
expression softens, giving me time to ponder why exactly do most women
like dimples in a guy. I mean, is it supposed to be "adorable"? How adorable--adorable
as in puppy dog, adorable as in the boy-next-door all grown up, adorable
as in--
"Rob! You've ditzed out
on me again!" Oops, guess I've got to stop digressing. I force my utterly
bored mind to concentrate on the date present, as I mumble out the first
lame excuse that I can think of.
"I'm sorry, Stacy, that
match really took a lot out of me, and I'm afraid--" I start to babble
mindlessly, when I notice to my dismay that my date's jaw has dropped open
in outrage upon my calling her Stacy. D'oh, of course, Stacy's a brunette-turned-blonde,
this chick's a plain brunette.
"Oh, did I call you Stacy?"
I let out a guilty laugh. "I'm sorry, I tend to mix names up...um, Ivory,
right?" Is that smoke shooting out her ears? Oh, crap, I just realized
something--double d'oh, cause Ivory's no bimbo! Which leaves...All right,
what the hell am I doing with Nidia, of all people? I know she's
a WWE diva and all, but she is a bit young for me--more like Jeff Hardy's
type. But still, since this ain't Ivory...
"I mean, not Ivory--of course
not Ivory--how could I forget that your name is Nidia?" I guess blindly,
but What'sHerFace is still not appeased, as the Nidia remark only
serves to make her all the more furious. Oh-kay, if fire starts shooting
out her eyes, I am so out of here! Desperate, I take one last shot.
"Listen, Molly, I am really
sorry about this, but--" I start to ramble, as finally, my date decides
to drop the games and explodes, "It's Dawn Marie, you jackass! Dawn Marie!"
"I knew that!" I huff, trying
to sound sure of myself. Dawn Marie rolls her eyes, and mutters something
under her breath about how my cuteness better be worth my ditziness. Yeah,
whatever. Finally, after a few more moments of stony silence, What'sHerFace--um,
I mean, Dawn Marie--resumes chattering again.
"So, you want to know how
I keep my complexion perfectly smooth? Well, unlike Trish or Torrie, I
always make sure to..."
I wanna rock n' roll all night/And party every day/I wanna rock
n' roll all night...
Once I return to my hotel (this time I'm sharing a room with Hurricane and Christian, since Jericho won't come within screeching distance of me after that little suffocation incident), I decide to stop by the bar downstairs. Now, I'm usually not the drinking type, but after such a dazzling evening with Terri, I mean, Stacy, I mean, Victoria, I mean--wait, who was I dating again? Oh, yeah, Dawn Something-Or-Other! Ugh, one of these days, I'm going to have to start handing out name tags!
As I walk across the lobby
and head on over to the bar, I notice a familiar redheaded figure sitting
rather gloomily in a booth by herself. I frown and squint my eyes, making
sure that it's her, before calling out her name.
"Hey--Lita!" She whirls
around in her chair and catches sight of me, and promptly turns as red
as her hair once she realizes who I am. I shrug--ever since that little
double shower incident, Lita's been furiously avoiding me like the plague.
As I begin to weave through the crowd to join her at her table, Lita freezes
like a deer caught in headlights, and for a brief moment appears to be
considering actually fleeing the place. Not a chance; I reach her table
before she has the opportunity to rise out of her seat, and pull a chair
out and sit down backwards on it, hugging the back to my chest.
"Oh...um...Hi, Rob," Lita
stammers out, looking embarrassed and steadfastly avoiding looking me in
the eye.
"Hey, Lita," I repeat my
greeting pleasantly, trying to show her that I hold no ill feelings for
what had happened over two weeks ago. "So what's a gorgeous lady like yourself
doing here all alone on a night off?" Lita blushes, mumbling something
incomprehensible into her glass. I strain forward to hear, and her blush
deepens as I get nearer, so I quickly draw back. Lita seems to notice this,
and hastens to say, "It's okay, Rob. Anyway, if you really want to know
what happened--well, let's just say that Trish may be a good friend, but
she's got to be the most terrible matchmaker walking this planet!" I nod
wisely, even though I've been thankfully spared from Trish's attempts to
play Cupid--I've been able to find my way into bad dates quite well on
my own, actually, which I choose to voice out loud. Lita tilts back her
neck and laughs good-naturedly at this, then falls silent and begins fiddling
with her shot glass.
"Listen, Rob," she says
after a while, "if I've been acting rather weird around you, then it's
because of...well, um..."
"Actually, you haven't really
been around me much during these last couple of weeks to really act all
that strangely," I remark, and Lita blushes again. She clears her throat,
before attempting to finish what she's started.
"I just want you to know
how sorry I am for acting the way I did when--well, you know," she mumbles
in a tiny voice.
"Hey, don't worry about
that," I tell her. "It's--"
"It's cool with you, right?"
Lita cracks, already looking less embarrassed and more like her usual self.
I pretend to look insulted, as I huff, "Am I really that transparent?"
"Sugar, that was as predictable
as the Rock raising one eyebrow and calling someone a jabroni," she teases,
and I have to smile.
"Come on, let's get you
out of here," I say, and Lita looks surprised.
"What do you mean?" she
asks. I shrug.
"Well, for one thing, that
bartender over there's giving me the eye, and to be quite honest, it's
really beginning to creep me out," I joke, and Lita laughs again.
"Besides, you've obviously
had as miserable a dating experience as I just did, and like the saying
goes, the night is young, so we might as well try to salvage it," I tell
her casually. Lita ducks her head, but I can detect hints of red washing
up her cheeks again, and hasten to lighten the situation, as I joke, "Hey,
c'mon, I know Stacy and Dawn Marie must've pumped you full of propaganda
against me, but I'm not really that big an airhead when it comes
to dates!" Lita raises her head, and now I can see that she's blushing
furiously, as she squeaks out, "It's not that, Rob, but...I guess what
I'm trying to say is...Well, why not...?"
At that minute, we're interrupted
by a young bottled blonde in hot pink and black leather, as she bounces
over to our table and promptly decides to let out an ear-splitting shriek,
right into my face.
"Like, ohmigod! You're,
like, RVD, aren't you? You so totally are!" she squeals, chattering a mile
a minute as Lita leans back irritably in her seat, annoyance clearly visible
on her features. I force a polite smile on my face, resisting the urge
to reach up and rub my busted eardrums, as the girl gushes, "I am such
a huge fan, I am such a huge fan! I think you have the cutest a--um, I
mean, hair!" As Lita darts her a sharp look at the cutest "hair" comment,
the blonde digs around her hot pants, producing a set of keys and all the
while happily ignoring the evil eye from Lita. Turning around, she gives
a seductive smile and bats her eyelashes furiously while purring, "Listen,
I'm thinking of trying out for the WWE, and I was wondering if you could
come up to my hotel room and, ah, show me some moves and holds...?" By
now, Lita's arched eyebrows have nearly disappeared into her hairline,
and as soon as she hears hotel rooms being mentioned, she suddenly sits
up straight and snaps, "Split, bitch!" The little blonde looks taken aback
and a tad pissed off, but one good look at the expression on Lita's face
is more than enough to convince her to get the hell away from our table.
As Lita casually leans back in her seat and takes a sip of her drink, I
fix my eyes on her in a questioning look. She meets my stare with steady
brown eyes, demanding to know, "What?"
"Call me crazy, but do I
detect a hint of jealousy from the lovely Lita?" I ask, only half-teasing.
Lita rolls her eyes, and promptly fires back, "You're crazier than that
jackass from Jackass, Rob!" I shrug and manage a good-natured laugh,
but Lita seems to feel the need to explain herself, as she adds rather
cheekily, "Why should I be concerned with your love life? All I was doing
was protecting one of my colleagues from cheap, meaningless sex." Now it's
my turn to roll my eyes, as I reply dryly, "Gee, well aren't you a saint,"
to which Lita answers with a lazy grin.
Just then, a second person
dances over to our table, this time a little skinny girl with dyed bubblegum-pink
hair.
"Aren't you, like, RVD?"
she breathes in an awestruck voice. Before I can answer, Lita has already
snapped crisply, "So what if he is?" We both wait warily as the pink-haired
chick screams herself hoarse like one of those teenyboppers on TRL, before
she produces a soft-tip red felt pen and thrusts it into my hands.
"Can I have your autograph?"
she squeals. Placing her hand suggestively on the low-cut neckline of her
thin blouse, she leans closer and adds, "You can sign anywhere!"
"Eh heh..." I dart a nervous
glance over at Lita, who by now is sporting a dangerously twitching left
eyebrow, and quickly grab the nearest napkin and scrawl my name across
it before handing it back to the somewhat disappointed-looking girl. She
begins to skip away...and that's when Lita discreetly inches one foot out
and trips the girl, making her fall flat on her face into a passing dessert
tray. I arch my eyebrows at this, but Lita just turns around innocently
and remarks, "See? I'm not jealous at all!" I laugh and shake my head,
but before I can say anything, Lita's already leapt up, suddenly reenergized,
as she declares, "Now let's go clubbing, shall we?" My eyes widen in surprise,
as I stammer, "Now?" Lita shrugs.
"Now or never," she says.
Warily keeping her eye on an approaching top-heavy brunette, she urges,
"Now, before I have to kick that little slut's ass for trying to smear
your reputation with a one-night stand!" I laugh again as I stand up, conceding,
"All right, all right!" Lita nods enthusiastically and grabs my hand, leading
me away from the table.
"That's the spirit, now
c'mon and let's get this party started!" she declares, dragging me away
to whichever nightclub she's got in mind.