DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Dawn Marie, and various other WWE characters that appear in the subsequent story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE. Vince, don't sue me, it's been a miserable semester thus far.
Façade
CHAPTER FOUR
I couldn't keep the smirk off my face as I walked through the arena on Thursday, wrestlers and crew members alike calling out their greetings. I, however, did not leave RAW unscathed; my lymphodema had become ten times worse with the bruises I received when Kurt slammed into me. Dawn Marie took me to the emergency room that night after my hand started to resemble a latex glove filled with water. I was now forced to wear both my cuff at all times, as well as a sling, until the swelling went down. Fortunately, a long sleeved shirt and the sling hid my gigantic arm from view, and my suit coat, draped over my shoulders, kept the rest of it from sight.
The constant pain in my arm, however, took a backseat to my thoughts for the evening. My imagination was working overtime, trying to picture my ex-husband, Hunter, trying to paddle Chris Jericho, wearing nothing but women's lingerie. *Now I understand what they mean by sweet justice,* I thought as I entered my office, smiling at Dawn Marie, who was already hard at work filing her nails at my desk. "Any messages?"
Dawn shook her head slowly, still concentrating on her French tips. "Nope. But you did get these." She gestured to a bouquet of white lilies and purple orchids sitting on the corner of my desk. Curiously, I shrugged my coat off my shoulders and walked over, removing the white note from the rather beautiful arrangement. "They're from Hunter; why is your ex-husband sending you flowers?" She looked up at me curiously.
I glared at her. "I didn't realize it was in your job description to read EVERYTHING that comes in here." Turning my attention to the note, I recognized my ex-husband's handwriting and read aloud: "Just wanted to express my apologies once more for the incident this past Monday. Please forgive me. Hunter." Scowling, I threw the card on my desk and gingerly sat down on the nearby leather couch. "First he calls me, now this… I know he's up to something."
A nail file bounced off my forehead, landing in my lap. I winced and chucked the offending item back at her. "He called you and you didn't tell me?" Dawn Marie shrieked, jumping up from the desk chair. "What the hell, Steph? I thought I was your best friend!" She stuck her bottom lip out at me in a pouting gesture.
"Actually, he called me every night this week so far," I admitted, rubbing the spot where the nail file hit my head. "It was the same conversation each time: He'd ask if I was feeling ok, I would say yes. He would apologize, stating that he acted instinctually when Kurt rushed him and that he would never intentionally hurt me, and I would tell him that there was no major damage done. Then a long uncomfortable silence, then he'd tell me he would see me at Smackdown and to sleep well. That was it." I looked over at Dawn and frowned; her face had twisted into an evil grin. "What's with the face?"
"Isn't it obvious? He still cares about you!" She stood beside the desk, playing with one of the orchids. "Phone calls and now flowers. Oh, and I'm sure you saw his face on the RAW tape; he was horrified when he realized what had happened."
"You live in a fantasy world, Dawn. Hunter never cared about me, and he's not going to start now," I stated firmly. If there was anyone I knew better than myself, it was my ex-husband. "There is an ulterior motive here… I just can't figure out what!" Frustrated, I pounded the leather cushion beside me with my good hand.
"Maybe he wants to get back together," Dawn teased. Her smile disappeared after the death glare I sent her way. "Or maybe he is trying to get out of the match tonight."
My mouth dropped open. "That's it! That's exactly it!" It was so simple; Hunter was trying to grease the wheels and get the match changed tonight. "Well, that's just too bad. Did you buy me that camera like I asked?" I wanted these memories to last forever.
She nodded, then dug out a Polaroid camera from her purse. "Nothing like incriminating Polaroids to spice up the Christmas party!" she commented.
Glancing at my watch, I noticed that I had only a few minutes until the beginning of the show. "Go get a cameraman Dawn; I'll do my announcements from here." She nodded and left the room quickly. Bending down to pick up my coat, I made my way over to my desk, sitting down and adjusting my blazer to cover my sling.
Less than a minute after my assistant had left, a cameraman was up in my face, courtesy of Dawn Marie. I sent the man a glare, who blanched immediately and backed up a few steps. "When the pyros end, turn on your camera; I'll make my announcements at that time," I ordered, playing the part of general manager.
The man nodded, pressing a button on his headset and relaying the message to the production center. "You've got thirteen seconds until the show begins, Ms. McMahon," he said softly, wiping at his brow before returning his hand to steady the camera balanced on his shoulder.
I nodded curtly in thanks, training my eye on the red light, waiting for it to illuminate. Taking a deep breath, I pasted a smirk on my face and organized my thoughts. *First, remind fans of what happened on RAW, rub it in that Smackdown won, and talk about the main event for tonight… although there really is no incentive for Hunter or Jericho to even show up to the match…* Suddenly worried about the unpredictability of my main event, I watched as the red light turned on and cleared my throat.
"Stephanie McMahon, your general manager of Smackdown, here." I couldn't help but smile wider at the sound of my title. "As I am sure you are all aware of, last Monday night my Smackdown tag team humiliated the RAW tag team on their own show. Now, I was never one to rub it in," I let a smirk creep onto my face, "But Shane, I told you so! As a result, tonight's main event is a rather historic event: the first ever male bra and panties match in the history of the WWE! However, I know Chris Jericho and Triple H might be tempted to play hooky; so, in the interest of fairness," I rolled my eyes at the familiar Bischoff phrase, "I will allow….the winner of the match to choose his own reward." I immediately frowned, hating the stipulation as soon as it came out of my mouth.
Taking my silence as his cue, the camera went off and the man left. Alone, I smacked my forehead in disgust. *I don't like that at ALL! How could I just blank out like that? Hunter's going to want a title shot with Kurt, and Jericho… well Jericho will probably want to fight me, after the stunt I pulled last week.* Angry at myself, I chucked my stone paperweight at the wall, followed closely by my stapler. Feeling marginally better, I let my jacket fall from my shoulders and rested my head on the desktop, willing myself not to stress out about the match. Stress would not help my health out in the slightest, and I already had enough problems.
Hearing the door open, I scowled. "Don't you knock?" Wearily, I picked my head up and saw none other than Chris Jericho standing in the middle of my room. I groaned loudly, checking my bangs to make sure they were in place. "Well, that didn't take too long. So what's it gonna be?" I couldn't believe he already had his reward thought out.
His brow furrowed. "What's it gonna be?" he repeated. Before I could clarify, he rushed to my side, kneeling down to examine my left hand. "Jesus…" he whispered, pressing his fingers into my swollen wrist and pulling them away, watching the indentations slowly fill back up with fluid. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to hide the pain. "When was the last time you had someone look at this?"
I had the urge to flee, but the concern in his blue eyes kept me in my seat. "Monday." His hand moved to my wrist again, but I smacked it away. "It'll be fine, it's just a sprain," I lied.
He scoffed. "Your hand is larger than mine, and you think this is ok?" Standing up, he pulled me out of my desk chair with my good hand. "We're going to see a trainer NOW," he stated, dragging me towards the door.
"Let me go!" I shrieked, incapable of pulling my good hand from his strong grip. Without the use of my right arm, I did the only thing I could do: I dug my heel into his foot. He yelped in pain, immediately letting go. "What is wrong with you?! I can't see a trainer, you idiot!" I hissed at his bent-over form.
He looked up suddenly. "Why not?" he asked, genuinely confused.
I felt the blood leave my face. *Oh God, I've blown it.* Unable and unwilling to speak, I made a beeline for the door, only to have him beat me to it. Turning around to lock it, he leaned against the door and raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for an answer.
Starting to panic, I reverted back to old tactics. "Look, Chris, it's just a sprain and I don't want people knowing that I was that badly hurt by Kurt's Olympic behind," I lied, meeting his eyes confidently. "Frankly, I don't understand why you are insisting upon this."
He looked at me strangely, then began to laugh. "Geez, Stephy, have you that little faith in me? I was your partner; I know this trick." I frowned as he continued to laugh, wiping at his eyes with his hands. "Seriously, are you sure they didn't use brain mass instead of silicone the last time?" He smiled indulgently at his own joke.
I had always heard the expression about seeing red; it finally made sense at that moment. The room seemed to disappear as I focused on a crimson-tinted Jericho. Filling with rage, I felt my sanity slip and could care less. Shrieking, I launched myself at him, trying to beat him to a pulp with my one good hand. *It had to be done! It had to be done! It had to be done!* my mind screamed over and over. The words were familiar, and Chris slowly faded away as I recalled an early July day.
I could barely sit up straight on the examination table. I shuddered, hating the room and the smells that accompanied it.
Dr. Pratt walked in, flashing me a warm smile. "Hello Stephanie. How are you feeling?"
"Tired," I admitted. "Always tired. But that should stop soon, right?"
Sitting on the stool before me, the doctor patted my hands. "You finished radiation a week ago, Stephanie. It'll be awhile before you're back to your old self."
I frowned. My father had contacted me this morning about possibly returning to the WWE, an opportunity I didn't want to miss. My only option was to work through the fatigue. "Well, ok, but what about my breasts? The left one is still noticeably larger than the right."
Checking my chart quickly, Dr. Pratt sighed. "Unfortunately, Stephanie, it doesn't seem that the enlargement is the result of swelling. Sometimes, radiation therapy can cause the breast tissue to permanently grow. If the difference in size bothers you, you can ask your plastic surgeon to add fluid to the right implant in order to even out the appearance."
I looked down, and couldn't suppress a groan. I was already uncomfortable with the large implants I currently had; this next enlargement would bring only more unwelcome attention. "Guess that I don't have a choice," I mumbled. "If I look normal in the end, it has to be done."
"…snap out of it!" Chris yelled in my ear.
Coming back to reality, I found myself struggling in Jericho's embrace, shouting curses and trying to break free. His left hand gripped my right arm tightly to keep me from striking him again, while his right arm was snaked around my waist. Stilling my movements, I shut my mouth quickly, feeling my cheeks turn red with embarrassment. *Christ, way to lose it Steph.*
He hadn't spoken since I stopped my attack on him. Refusing to meet his eyes, I grew rather nervous by our close proximity and decided to try and remove myself from his arms. I placed my hand on his chest to push away, and was rather surprised to feel him jump at the contact. I became aware of his chest pounding beneath my hand, and immediately stopped my escape. A million lusty thoughts rushed through my mind, but most of all I wondered at his reaction. *Could he possibly be attracted to me after that horrible outburst?* Needing some answers, I dared to look up.
His face did not reflect the desire I felt inside. Concern furrowed his brow and overpowered all other emotions in his gorgeous eyes. My hopes dimmed; why did I keep fooling myself into believing that this man has any sort of romantic feelings for me? Still engulfed by his scent, I pushed myself away from his embrace, his arms releasing their hold on me. "Please go away," I begged, my voice scratchy from yelling. Turning away from him, I made my way back to my desk, hoping that I had some tissues stashed there. I heard the door unlock behind me, and didn't try to hold back a sniffle. *When am I going to stop crying over hi…*
Before I could finish that thought, I was spun around. I caught the familiar wild look I his eyes, and knew what was coming. His left hand caught my chin, tilting it to the right as his lips slammed into mine. I smiled against his lips, filled with desire, and did what I had wanted to do for ages: I kissed him back.
His right hand came to join his left, tickling the sensitive skin behind my ears as they stroked my hair. Completely turned on, I let out a moan, and was immediately greeted by his tongue. My knees went weak at the sensation, and I grabbed at his t-shirt with my good hand to keep myself from passing out. His hands detangled themselves from my hair, and were trailing down my shoulders to my waist when his hand caught my sling the wrong way, jarring my arm. Fire shot through my wounded appendage, and I tore my mouth away from his with a gasp. Breathing heavily, I clutched at my arm, the tears stinging at my eyes.
Chris cursed repeatedly under his breath, wrapping his arms around my waist. Lips brushed against my forehead. "I'm sorry Steph… I kind of lost my mind there," he said, his voice filled with regret.
I winced at his tone and the renewed concern in his eyes. "Don't apologize!" I admonished, removing my hand from my arm and placing it back on his chest. "I like when you lose your mind." I gave him a grin, which he slowly returned.
"Is that so?" he responded, tilting his head towards mine again. I licked my lips, ready for round two despite the ruthless pain in my arm.
A knock came at the door, startling both of us and thoroughly ruining the moment. I scurried away behind my desk, afraid of whom it might be. "Come in!" I called out, rubbing around my lips to remove any possible smudges.
"Steph, it's me," Hunter announced himself as he entered the room. He first noticed Chris, who was sending him a rather deathly glare, and patted him on the back. "Jericho! You're still here! Did you get us out of it?"
I slammed my hand into my desk, irritated at my ex-husband for multiple reasons, starting with his impeccable timing. "I am standing right here Hunter!" I bellowed. *Wait a second… did he say 'get us out of it'?* Processing what Hunter said, I narrowed my eyes at a visibly nervous Chris. "Get you out of what, Jericho?" I asked through clenched teeth, already knowing the answer.
Chris opened his mouth to speak, but Hunter decided to answer for him. "Out of this stupid match. Seriously, Stephanie, you can't have me in this girly match; I'm the RAW champion for Christ's sake!" His eyes pleaded with mine before catching sight of the flowers on my desk. "I even sent you flowers, and I'm sure Jericho offered you something better just now…"
I stared at Jericho, waiting for him to deny Hunter's words, but his attention was focused on my ex-husband. My heart crashed to the floor. *He kissed me… to get out of the match?!* "That is it!" I screeched, on the brink of another breakdown. Grabbing my blazer, I pushed past the two men and rushed out of the office. Unable to leave the arena, and knowing that Dawn Marie and John Cena were 'busy', I made my escape to Kurt's locker room. My insides were crumbling by the time I reached his room. Knocking quickly, I didn't wait for an invitation and rushed inside.
Sitting on a chair, Kurt immediately jumped up. "Steph!" he exclaimed indignantly. "I could have been naked!"
I didn't know whether to laugh or groan at his comment; then my body decided for me and I began to cry. "I'm sorry Kurt," I whined, going over to his open arms. "I'm sure you're getting sick of me crying to you all the time…"
"That's not true," he interrupted, hugging me carefully around my sling. "What did Jericho say this time?"
I cringed at Jericho's name, burrowing my face in Kurt's neck. "God Kurt, if you only knew…" I trailed off, leaning back to look into his eyes. *Dawn Marie is so busy with John Cena these days… maybe it's time to tell someone else.* Quickly deciding to give Kurt the benefit of the doubt, I pushed him back down on the chair, sitting in his lap. "Kurt? Can you keep a secret?" I asked nervously.
END CHAPTER FOUR
Author's notes: I know, I know, it's been forever since I updated. Blame my senior year of college and my inability to properly manage my time. However, I appreciate each and every one of you coming back to read my story, and all those who review and give me some sort of redemption for not reading my business law chapter tonight :)
I am currently looking for an editor, because when I do have a few hours to finally write I never have the time to check for bad grammar and spelling. E-mail me if you're interested, and I'll forever be in your debt!
Don't worry, dear reader, the bra and panties match will appear in the next chapter. Plus, as I promised a few of you, the details of Stephanie's condition are starting to seep out. I won't string you along much longer; however, you can visit breastcancer.org and do your own research on breast cancer. Until next time (and probably next month), take care!