DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Chris Jericho, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 11-01-04 Raw.

NOTE: Lengthy author's notes at end of chapter. Please read!

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hell had frozen over.

Eric Bischoff had grown balls.

Someone had openly admitted that Triple H was nothing without the title

And Maven (MAVEN?) had the opportunity to run Raw.

Stephanie (along with the majority of the Raw crew) was gaping at a television backstage. Initially, her mouth had gone dry at the sight of Dave Batista in that suit (hell, taken or not she could still appreciate a hot bod), but it felt like she had entered the Sahara when Bischoff started talking.

A few pinches to her arm later, and she was sure it wasn't a dream. Maybe that disgusting black hair had suppressed his common sense all of these years.

"Hey baby; what're you watching?" Chris Jericho asked as he came up behind her. A chorus of shhhhhs answered him, and he frowned. "What the hell is this?"

More shh-ing, and this earned him a dark glare from Steph. "Be quiet, doofus! This is important!" she hissed.

Chris wasn't too sure, until he heard about the card for Survivor Series. Forget the match itself and the possibilities it presented; he was mostly intrigued by the idea of his very own Raw.

He could see it now… lounging on the GM office's leather couch, while Stephanie straddled his lap and fed his grapes. First, he'd put Christian and Tomko in a cage match with Batista and Edge; he'd love to see all four of them destroy each other. Then, he'd force Hunter into a Heavyweight Championship match, where the only stipulation to win was to be victorious in a game of musical chairs.

Chris was awesome at musical chairs. He was also pretty good at fantasies; but in all honesty, the sky was the limit if his team managed to pull of a victory at Survivor Series.

One thing was for sure: he'd order some grapes tonight from room service and try to get Steph to practice.

During the announcement, Nidia was walking to Chris's locker room (to drop off her things) when she was accosted by a random girl with a book.

"Hola Senorita!" the girl chirped excitedly. "You must be Nidita; Trish said you looked Mexican."

Nidia's eyes flashed fire, but she refrained from tearing the stupid white girl's head off for the moment. "It's Nidia, actually," she bit out in an attempt to be polite. "Can I help ya with something?"

"Nidia…" the girl repeated slowly. "That's a weird name. Anyways, my boyfriend asked me to go around and tell everyone that his book has finally been published, so you can stop asking him."

The other woman was confused, until she looked down at the book cover and put two and two together. Instantly, she realized that this was the girl that Chris and Stephanie had been talking about all week. "So you're Susie…"

Susie's blue-brown-green eyes reflected her surprise. "How…"

"Forget how," Nidia interrupted quickly. She had been warned about this, and how easily she'd spout out her life story; it was better to be rude and make a quick escape at a critical time like this. "And I'm not all that interested in reading your boyfriend's diary, sorry."

The blonde/brunette grabbed Nidia's arm, effectively keeping her from walking away. "You don't really mean that!" Susie said with a smile as he thrust the book against the other woman's chest. "Just read a little; it's a real page turner!"

Pinned between the wall and the other woman, Nidia sighed. To humor Susie, she flipped open the proffered book to the middle, to a chart simply entitled 'Likes and Dislikes'. It read as follows:

Likes: wrestling (duh!), the way my voice echoes in an arena, good oral hygiene, girls who scream my name, soda, my mom, sunglasses at night, and tight pleather.

Dislikes: people who use their real name as their wrestling name, frizzy hair, yearbook photos, girls who think I'm greasy and/or are married, rookies who haven't paid their dues, and ignorant people who haven't realized that I am the savior of wrestling today.

It was odd; as much as Chris Jericho and Edge hated each other, they seemed to share a number of likes and dislikes.

Then again, they both had a tendency to act blond and flaky…. maybe it wasn't so much of a stretch.

Slapping the book shut, Nidia handed the book back to Susie, and without another word, continued walking to Jericho's locker room. After reading that stupid chart, she had felt her IQ drop a few points, and decided to save her intellect by making a silent escape.

And speaking of flaky, there was a certain superstar she needed to talk to later tonight.

Word spread quickly through the backstage about Edge's new book. Everyone was curious about the contents, but no one was willing to talk to Susie and steal her copy (or worse, have to talk to Edge and inflate his Canada-sized ego).

Down the hallway, two people (which also shared Canada-sized egos) were hatching a plan to steal a copy of the book. Unfortunately, both of them wanted to be the mastermind and not the fall man.

"Look rookie, my plan is full-proof! Just go lay that charm into his girlfriend and I'm sure you can get the book," Chris whined.

"Why do I have to hit on the floozy? I always have to do everything!" Randy retorted, crossing his arms. To date, he had done NOTHING for Chris Jericho; but he doubted the older man would call him on it. "Why can't you just run into Edge hard enough to drop the book? I swear, I'll walk by and pick it up while he's threatening you."

Chris snorted. "That, rookie, is the WORST plan I've ever heard."

"Why?"

"Why? Why? Because if I run into Edge, I'm going to ricochet off of his greasy chest and run face first into the wall. And the last thing my woman wants is an ugly mug on the King of her World."

"Is that so? Then why does she make you wear that paper bag on your head in public, hmmm?" Randy goaded.

"Oh, that's it rookie!" Chris shouted, effectively catching the younger man in a headlock and giving him a noogie. "You're going to need a paper bag after I give you this bald spot!"

"Ahhh! Let go!"

"Hell no! I haven't even broken skin yet!"

"Ooooh, I'm next!" another voice interjected.

Chris froze in his noogy-ing, allowing Randy to wiggle away and stand slightly behind the blond man. "Excuse me, junior?"

Maven (MAVEN?) bounced on his heels and clapped his hands. "I said, I'm next! I've been looking forward to the backstage horseplay that goes on."

"The what?" Randy was glad that he was standing behind Chris, because he was a bit afraid of the overenthusiastic man before them. If the kid wasn't bald and had womanly eyebrows, he could've sworn it was Rob Conway.

"The backstage horseplay. Al said that there was nothing like it!" Maven explained.

"Ugh, kid, word of advice? Stop reminding people that Al Snow is your idol. It's nauseating," Chris advised. After all, that Spanky kid gloated endlessly about being trained by Shawn Michaels, and what did that get him? A ticket in the unemployment line.

Al's protégé shook his head slowly. "Impossible, Chris, since I live my life by this," he said as he held up his hand. Circling his wrist was a black bracelet, adorned by the letters W.W.A.D.

Randy and Chris exchanged looks, both begging the other to ask the obvious question. When Chris sneered with self-imposed authority, Randy sighed and gave in. "Alright Maven, what does it mean?"

Maven grinned happily. "Thought you'd never ask. It means What Would Al Do," he clarified, pointed at the corresponding letter in mime. "It's been the mantra that has guided my career,"

"Right down the toilet," Chris muttered, getting a laugh out of both him and Orton.

Slightly peeved by the laughter (which was odd, considering that he was used to being laughed at by his co-workers), Maven decided that a demonstration of his 'super awesome' mantra was in order. "You think it's funny, Chris?"

"Jericho; only my friends call me Chris, kid. And yeah, I think it's funny."

"Alright then Jericho, then I'm going to prove you wrong. Let's go!"

Chris prepared himself for a fight, but instead saw Maven retreating down the hallway. "What the hell are you doing, kid?" he shouted after him, slightly confused by his behavior.

"What Al would do – confront our opponents in their locker room," Maven called over his shoulder before disappearing around a corner.

Time stood still for a second as both men contemplated this statement.

"I don't think Al Snow would willingly walk into a beat down," Randy finally said.

"I agree, rookie. Let's go save his ass," Chris responded before they rushed after the stupid kid.

Maven (after unknowingly being saved, and then ditched by Chris and Randy) was idly roaming the hallways looking for Benoit when he saw her: gorgeous blond-brown hair, bluish-hazel eyes, and a brilliantly bright smile. Without knowing her name, age, or other vital information, he was desperately in love. So with a deep breath and a quick smooth-down of his eyebrows, he went to talk to his future wife.

"Hi there!" he greeted with a smile.

Susie looked up from her nails and returned the young man's grin. "Hi… uh, do I know you?"

Realizing that she wasn't a groupie (not that Maven had much experience with groupies; most of the ones he'd met were trying to use him for his free backstage pass), his smile grew and he puffed out his chest a bit. "Well, I am the premier rookie on this roster," he said proudly.

Her brow briefly furrowed with thought; her boyfriend was always complaining about the rookies, especially one in particular. She decided that if her Edgie was the best wrestler on the roster (like he said), then this well-manscaped man had to be that pest. "Oh wow, I've heard so much about you Randy! I'm Susie!" she eagerly said, shaking his head politely.

Maven's face fell. "Oh, I'm not…"

"I mean, wow, it must have been great to have been the World Champion for those few weeks; Edge said that it was a godsend for you to even have had it for so long," Susie continued.

"Well, actually," the young man tried again.

Susie was oblivious to his efforts to correct her. "My honeybuns always said you were this snot-nosed, ugly prick that stole all of his girls."

"Hey!" Maven exclaimed, even though he wasn't the snot-nosed ugly prick in question, and he certainly had never stolen ANY girls.

"He didn't want me to meet you; he had this idea that I would see you and poof, we'd fall in an unrequited love that would hang over my and Edgie's relationship until it dissolved and I could be free to love you," Susie finished with a giggle. Her boyfriend must be delusional; perhaps other girls went for that metrosexual look, but SHE preferred bushy eyebrows and long, shiny (see: greasy) locks.

"But I did! I fell in love with you at first sight, just like you said!" Ran… er, Maven protested, desperately going over his mantra. What Would Al Do! What Would Al Do!

Problem was, Susie was a far cry from Mick Foley or the Big Boss Man.

She patted his arm gently, as if he was a child. "Sorry Randy, but I'm much too busy telling my life story, making new friends, wondering why there is a connection between my love for wrestling and my absent father, and keeping Edgie happy, to have a secret love interest." She gave him a big smile before flipping her long hair over her shoulder and walking towards the cafeteria.

With a tear in his eye and a heavy heart, Maven watched her walk out of his life. He would never regret talking to her; however, it was the happiest two minutes he had ever lived (minus the times he was with Al, of course. Golly gosh, he sure did love spending time with Al).

While the tag team championship match (see: oil slick) was going on, Nidia was pacing outside of Randy's locker room, mentally rehearsing all the things she wanted to say to him.

The key word here, of course, was say; although she was quite afraid that she'd start crying or yelling at some point.

Things with Randy weren't turning out the way she thought they would have. Yes, they had kissed, but it was always in private. Yes, he would call her, but only after she called him ten times in a row and begged him to call her (which was quite degrading). And yes, he called her 'his girl', but that was missing the key antecedent of 'friend'. Girl-friend.

She would get him to commit tonight, or else. And then she'd drag him over in front of everyone and shove her tongue down his throat, just to gloat a little.

With a deep breath and a nod, Nidia smiled to herself before barging into his locker room. "Randy, we have to talk…"

Randy, however, was busy talking to Gail Kim… and this 'talking' did involve waggling of the tongues and grunting noises.

So Nidia did what any girl would do in her position: destroy the locker room and try to tear the bitch's hair out.

By the time security could pry them apart, both girls were nearly naked and ready to break out the claws. Eric Bischoff's benevolent mood seemed to evaporate when he saw the trashed locker room and was reminded of the Diva search contestants trashing HIS own office.

He had loved that office furniture, and it was cruelly taken away from him…

Without a second thought, both Nidia and Gail Kim were fired, ordered to leave the arena by the end of the show and never come back. And while Nidia quietly accepted her fate, Gail unsuccessfully used her backstage connection to Trish to try and regain her job.

News of the firing spread even faster than the news about Edge's stupid book.

"Have you heard?" Stephanie yelled as she burst into her boyfriend's locker room. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the other occupant in the room. "Oh, it's YOU," she sneered.

Pulling up his kneepads, Chris grinned to himself and took a seat on the bench. If he knew his girlfriend, this was going to be quite the show.

Randy held up his hands defensively. "Look Steph, I didn't know…"

"Don't you DARE spout those lies to me, Randy Orton," Stephanie interrupted as she strode over to him McMahon style (Vince's cocky walk, minus a bit of the swagger). Bending over at the waist, she growled inches away from the seated rookie's face. "Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't know how she felt."

The young man gulped but maintained eye contact. "Honestly, I didn't know…"

He was cut off as Stephanie slapped the shit out of his face. "Chris was right about you all along, Orton. You are a stupid rookie," she bit out as she straightened and shook the sting out of her hand. "And with Gail Kim, of all people! She's the backstage bicycle; even Ric Flair's had a ride!"

Rubbing his cheek, Randy looked at Chris desperately. "Can't you control your woman man?" he asked a bit cheekily.

Chris grimaced as Stephanie wound up and smacked the young man yet again. "Wrong thing to say, my friend. Definitely the wrong thing."

"You're disgusting," Steph spat as she spun on her heel and faced her boyfriend. Chris immediately shrank under her deathly glare. "And you! You're his friend; did you know about this?"

Chris stood up, hoping that his height advantage would keep her from slapping him. "I swear honey, I thought he had the hots for Nads!"

"Why does everybody think that," Randy lamented as he now rubbed both of his cheeks. "We made out a few times and all of a sudden I'm dating her!"

"Dude, you totally made it sound like you liked her, with all the 'she won't stop calling me, and I love it' and 'I want everything to do with her' bullshit!"

"Dude, I never said that was Nidia! I was talking about Gail!"

"No way!"

"Oh, so way!"

"You're lying!"

"Did I ever say Nidia's name, huh?"

At that moment, Nidia chose to walk into the locker room to retrieve her gym bag. The hesitant smile she had forced on her face slipped away as she saw Randy sitting on one of the benches.

Cursing to himself, Randy stood and took a few steps towards her. "Nidia, listen…"

Stephanie intercepted him within a second, jumping between him and her like a seasoned football cornerback. "Shut your mouth, Orton; who knows what disease that bitch coated your tongue with." Turning around, her feminine instincts (yes, she still had a few) kicked in and she hugged the younger woman. "You ok?" she asked consolingly.

Nidia wasn't ok; she wanted to cry and scream and maybe beg Randy to reconsider (all of which were unacceptable routes of handling the situation). So instead, she nodded slowly and pushed away from Stephanie. "I'm fine, Steph. Ya don't have to be nice to me anymore, remember? I've lost my job."

Stephanie frowned, but gave the girl her space. "I'm know and I'm sorry about that. If you want, I can try and get you a job backstage. It's not glamorous, but it's something," she offered.

To everyone's surprise, Nidia shook her head. "No thanks, Steph. It's pretty obvious that I'm ready to play with the big girls yet. I do that, ya know, chase after things I can't have…" she trailed off uncomfortably as she walked to the corner and picked up her gym bag. "It was nice of you to offer though."

"You should reconsider, Nads. What else are you going to do?" Chris piped up.

She shrugged as she shouldered her bag. "I talked to Lita, and she gave me Jeff Hardy's number. Maybe he can get me a job with NWA, and I could get the experience that I need."

The room fell silent after that. It was obvious that Nidia wanted to cry, and the other three occupants weren't sure of what to do or say. Stephanie's instinct was to hug her again, but she'd already been rebuffed. Chris wanted to provoke her a bit so she could release all of her emotions (a method that he found worked quite well with women). And Randy… well Randy was too afraid of Steph's slap to do or say anything.

In this silence, Nidia felt her resolve slipping, and decided that she'd better leave. "Well, uh, I guess this is goodbye," she choked out as she fidgeted with her bag.

Those words shook Chris out of his thoughts. "Goodbye? You're not dying Nads, so stop being so dramatic," he complained as he rushed over to her and gave her a big hug. "Besides, if you died, who would I call at 3 am to get female advice from?"

Stephanie shrugged and joined in the hugging. "And who would I call at 8 am to apologize about my boyfriend's idiotic behavior?"

Nidia giggled into Chris's shoulder, somewhat glad that she was still needed by her friends. "Great, even when I'm unemployed I'm never going to get any sleep," she deadpanned with a sniffle. Pulling back, she gave the blond man a pleading look. "Do me a favor?"

"Anything for you, sweetcheeks," he replied, pinching her cheek in mime and earning a warning glare from his girlfriend for touching another female.

"Talk to Shelton. Something's going on with him, and I'm worried about him."

Chris scowled; he had tried calling Shelton all week, but the young man had not returned any of his calls. "Easier said that done, Nads; he's been ignoring me for days."

"Just try; you're his best friend," Nidia begged.

Buckling under the pressure of Nidia's pleading eyes and Stephanie's death glare, Chris gave in. "Alright, alright; I'll set Benji straight, but you're going to owe me big time Nads," he conceded.

Nidia mustered a grin. "I'll bring the Jack Daniels," she joked, getting a chuckle out of everyone, including Randy. Her eyes instantly fluttered over to the Legend Killer, and she found herself blinking back tears. "Uh, I'd better go."

"Alright," Chris said as he and Steph led her to the door. Both had caught sight of her impending tears, but decided not to press the issue. "Give us a call later on, alright?"

She nodded. "You guys take care, alright?" she said before her eyes fell back on Randy. His miserable face reminded her of Shelton, and despite everything that had happened, she found herself taking pity on the young man. "You too, Randy."

Randy wanted to return the favor, but he found himself unable to speak. With her glistening eyes and wobbly chin, his friend (well, former friend) had never looked so beautiful.

His silence was a shot to the gut. Thoroughly disappointed, Nidia finally blinked, allowing the tears to fall. Without another word, she opened the door and rushed out into the hallway, leaving her friends and her broken heart in the hands of her crush.

Once the door shut, both Chris and Stephanie turned to glare at him. "You idiot," Stephanie hissed.

"Moron."

Randy knew they were right. Eric Bischoff had made a mistake in firing her, but he had made a bigger mistake in letting her go.

END CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Author's notes: I was just putting the finishing touches on this chapter last Wednesday when I received this nasty IM (name has been changed out of respect):

Randumbedgefangurl: Hahaha, nidia got fired. now yur storys reaLly sux!

While I am used to shrugging off these mean messages these days, this one left me speechless, and not because of the random capital 'L' in really. My anxiety grew after I checked the WWE website and confirmed the person's message to be true.

Nidia is gone. And with that, the major storyline for this sequel.

To be honest, I don't know what I am going to do. It was easy enough to write her out of this chapter (I set up the cheating Randy scenario awhile ago, but never planned on using it) but now that she's gone, I've lost my direction for this story. Sure, I could continue to make fun of Edge and Susie and Maven, but that'll lose its flavor. I could create some drama between Chris and Steph, but it'll be jarring and out of synch with the rest of the series (their relationship has been my only constant thus far, and I'd like to keep it that way). The Shelton drama is still there, but Nidia's involvement was integral.

What I'm driving at, dear readers, is that the future of this story is unclear. I want to continue it, don't get me wrong, but I also want to keep it real and funny, and I'm not sure if I can do that anymore. And unfortunately, I'm not as talented as Nina or other writers who can go with the flow and still come out with an amazing product. So for now, I apologize for the lateness and the choppy-ness of this chapter (since I had to do a major rewrite after Wednesday), and I hope you enjoyed what I got. And as for the next update, who knows? Maybe Vince'll be benevolent and throw me a bone Monday night. Until next time (whenever that may be), take care.