Chapter 21 – Hey Jealousy
By Evilution
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it, so don't sue. Many people have asked me what Paris looks like since I haven't really described her other than she's pretty, blond, and has violet eyes. I picture her kind of looking like Anna Kournikova only with shorter hair and a few piercings. She's not super thin, like Paris Hilton, but she has some muscle and some toning to her body. If you've ever looked at Anna K., she's totally gorgeous and has a great body, but she's not tiny. She has those tennis muscles. Plus, I picture Paris being pretty tall, about the same height as say Lita or Stephanie McMahon. I hope that's how you envisioned her as well.
After the show, Paris went back to the hotel with Amy, Dave, Randy, and Paul. Since it was their last show before their days off, everyone wanted to go out. Plus, there was Paul's promise of a celebration since he was so overjoyed that Goldberg had gotten reprimanded for his bad attitude. Unfortunately, Paris wasn't really in the mood to paint the town red. In fact, she was downright cranky and it was mainly because of a comment that Randy had made earlier about how he wasn't happy about her upcoming living arrangements in OVW and that he was going to talk to Shane about it. Paris wasn't sure if she liked his possessiveness or that he wanted to go to Shane over her head when she didn't really have a problem with the situation. It was like Randy didn't think she was capable of making her own decision on the matter. Granted, Paris was a little nervous about living with three guys, but it was measurably better than living all alone in a strange city, which scared her more. Besides, Adam was friends with Jay and Chris, Jeff was nothing like Matt, and Mike had been on The Real World, so he was used to living with women and their eccentricities. Paris just wasn't too keen on forcing Shane to rearrange all of his plans for her simply because Randy was being jealous and insecure.
Randy and Paris departed from Dave, Amy, and Paul at their respective hotel rooms with plans of meeting up in an hour or so after everyone had showered and changed. The Marriott in Washington DC always comped a bunch of rooms for the WWE so several of the bigger superstars got their own rooms, which came in handy for guys like Dave and Randy who were the other half of a couple.
"You wanna shower first?" Randy asked, throwing his gear on the floor.
Paris shrugged unenthusiastically as she set her purse and coat on the bed. "You go ahead," she told him.
Randy smiled wickedly. "Or we could save time and shower together?"
As frustrated as Paris had been lately, she normally would have jumped at the chance to shower with the Legend Killer, but her exhaustion and underlying animosity kind of put a damper on the moment.
"Actually, Randy, I think I'm gonna stay in tonight. It's been a long day."
Randy
nodded. "OK, we'll stay in."
"No, you go ahead and go
out. Dave and Amy'll be bummed if we
both cancel, not to mention Paul."
"But you're my girl. I don't want to go out without my girl."
"Randy, I just don't feel like it, OK?" Paris said weakly.
"Baby, are you OK?" Randy asked, gently grabbing her shoulders.
"I'm fine," Paris declared, a little sharper than she meant.
Randy immediately noticed her tone and furrowed his brow slightly at her change in demeanor.
"Whoa, wait a minute…are you, like, pissed or something?"
Paris sighed, not in the mood for a fight, but not wanting to keep it inside any longer. "Yeah, I mean…yeah, I guess I am."
"At me?" Randy inquired, staring at her incredulously.
Paris shook her head. She loved Randy, but sometimes that veiled arrogance that he usually only displayed on camera came creeping out. It was as if he couldn't fathom that she could possibly be mad at him.
"I just didn't appreciate you saying that you were gonna go talk to Shane about my living arrangements in OVW. I mean, I personally don't have a problem with it and I don't think that it's gonna look very good that my boyfriend goes running to the boss complaining about it."
"Are you serious?" Randy replied, his voice edged with sarcastic amusement and disbelief.
Paris snorted, realizing that he was mocking her. "Well, apparently, you don't think I am, so why am I wasting my breath?"
"Are you on your period or something because I don't get this attitude?" Randy scoffed.
"No, Randy, I'm not on my period," Paris retorted, thoroughly irritated. "That was last week, remember? And I'm sorry if you don't like my attitude, but this is how I am. When I'm pissed, I let people know I'm pissed. And since you're my boyfriend, I thought maybe I could talk to you like an adult about what's bothering me, but I guess if you're just gonna make fun of me…" She snatched her nightgown and started to walk away toward the bathroom.
Randy grabbed her arm, a little annoyed himself at this point. "Now, just a damn minute, Paris…I wasn't making fun of you, OK? I asked if you were serious because I can't believe how naïve you are if you think that this is a kosher situation. Shane's gotta be out of his freaking mind!"
"Well,
obviously you don't think that I'm capable of making an intelligent decision
and you're just being jealous because I'm gonna be living with three guys."
"Jealous?" Randy exclaimed, sarcastically. "Now why would I be jealous? Let's look at the scenario here, OK? First, you've got Jeff Hardy. Now, I hear all these rumors that he's gay,
but he's awfully popular with the ladies…"
"Gay guys usually are."
"Would you just please listen for once in your life?"
Paris rolled her eyes, but continued giving him her undivided attention.
"Then, you've got this Mizanin guy, who probably gets laid left and right because he's a 'reality TV star.' Then, last but certainly not least, there's Adam Copeland, the biggest horn dog, male slut, chauvinist asshole that ever set foot in the WWE! So you tell me, Paris—why in the blue hell would I be jealous? Excuse the fuck outta me for being concerned and wanting to protect you!"
"Randy, stop yelling!" Paris shouted.
"Well, now I'm pissed!"
"Fine, you're pissed, but you have to understand—I'm an intelligent woman, OK? I'm not gonna do anything stupid. Besides, I don't think Shane would put me in a situation where my reputation would be compromised."
"But Paris, you're not experienced with men. You'd be like a lamb to the slaughter with a guy like Copeland. He's just as bad as Paul."
"So what you're really saying is that you don't trust me!"
"I do trust you—I don't trust Copeland or that Miz guy or….
"Or Paul, right?"
"Why are you bringing up Paul all of the sudden?" Randy asked, suspicious.
"I'm not!" Paris shouted, obviously frustrated. "You brought him up when you were talking about Adam Copeland!"
"That's because they're two peas in pod!"
"Sounds like you're just a little jealous, Randy!"
"I'm not freaking jealous of those two assholes!" Randy exploded. "Especially Paul!"
"Then, why did you have to call and check on me when I was shopping with him?"
"Because there was absolutely no reason for him to be there! Shopping is for girls! Obviously, he wants something…and I think you and I both know what it is."
"So this isn't really about me living with Adam, Jeff, and Mike—it's about Paul and your issues with insecurity!"
"No, this isn't about Paul or my insecurities, such that they are. You're the one who diverted the subject, Paris."
"Look, Randy, all I'm saying is that it's not your place to go and talk to Shane about who I live with in OVW…or anything else about my career for that matter. You're not my husband, you're not my boss, and you're not my lord and master, OK?"
"OK, fine!" Randy shot back. "You go talk to Shane then!"
"No, because I don't have an issue with it!"
Randy growled with frustration, running his hands through his hair. "So you don't even care that I do have a problem with it?"
"Of course I care, but Randy…who am I with?"
He shrugged somewhat sheepishly. "Me."
"And who am I totally in love with?"
"Kane?"
Paris laughed in spite of herself. "Come on…I'm serious!"
"OK, you love me…am I right?"
"Duh! Like I'm gonna screw that up over some guy I don't even know. Jeff's cute and all, but he's totally not my type. Mike Mizanin—come on…I watch him on TV! He's totally immature and look at the shit he pulls on the Real World/Road Rules Challenges. And as for Adam Copeland, I don't even know him and I'm not into guys with long hair. And that applies to Paul, too."
"Paris, look, I'm just a little concerned, OK?" Randy replied, feeling a tad silly. "I love you and it's my male ego having a complete meltdown because I just want to protect you."
Paris hugged him tightly, feeling his strength. "And I appreciate that. But the whole reason I'm here is to 'grow up' as my dad told me. So you have to let me do what I need to do and trust me, OK?"
Randy sighed. "Fine, I'll try not to be too possessive, but I still don't like those guys, especially Copeland."
Paris smiled and shook her head. "You better hit the shower, RKO."
"Are you coming with me?" Randy inquired, smiling slyly.
"To the shower or to the club?" Paris teased, looking toward the table as her cell phone rang.
"Both."
"Let me get this and then I'll join you, OK?"
Paris grabbed her phone momentarily distracted as Randy pulled his shorts off on the way to the bathroom, giving her a glimpse of his perfect ass. She checked the caller ID and it said 'Danny Ocean.' Oh, goody, she thought.
"Hello?" she greeted as pleasantly as she could.
"Paris, how are you?" the business-like voice of Danny Ocean echoed through the phone.
"I'm well and you?"
"Let's skip the small talk, OK? Why did you deliberately defy my orders for Vince to send you home?"
"Because I don't want to come home."
"It's not a negotiation, Paris. Your mother saw you in New York and she's worried. She says you've lost weight and you just picked at your food. She's concerned that you're sick again. Have you been throwing up?"
"No, Dad, I haven't been throwing up! And she's one to talk! Did you know she's smoking again?"
"Nevertheless, we want you to come home."
"I already told you, I don't want to come home. Vince is having me trained to become a diva. I'll be on TV and I'll be making way more money and…"
"And wearing as little clothing as possible and posing in Playboy before long no doubt. Listen, Paris, I love Vince like a brother, but I know what kind of a business he runs."
"Look, Dad…"
"No, you look, Paris! I sent you out there to learn some valuable life lessons and that obviously hasn't happened nor is it going to happen with you parading around the ring wearing next to nothing!"
"That's not how it is!" Paris exclaimed, tears starting to fall.
"I know exactly how it is," Danny replied. "Now, I've booked you a ticket on United—it leaves tomorrow at…"
"I'm not using it!" Paris shouted, interrupting.
"You'll do as I tell you, Paris!" Danny demanded, also shouting.
"No, I won't!" Paris argued. "I'm not a child! I'm 20 years old. You can't order me around like one of your staff!"
"I know what this is about," Danny stated knowingly. "Your mother said you have a boyfriend. Don't tell me you're dating one of those greased-up jocks that work for Vince. Those guys have a different woman in every city."
"That's not true!"
"Oh, I forgot—you're 20 years old, so you know everything!"
"I'm staying here!" Paris replied, sniffling.
"If you defy me on this, Paris, I'll have no choice!" Danny shouted. Paris could just imagine the vein standing out on his forehead. "I'll have to totally cut you off…that means no emergency credit card, no cell phone, nothing! Do you hear me?"
Paris was sobbing uncontrollably as Danny continued his tirade. She was so upset that she didn't even hear half of what he said. Randy came out of the bathroom and saw her crying. Immediately concerned, he held up his hands and looked at her questioningly as if to ask what was going on. Unable to take anymore, Paris threw the phone on the floor and flung herself across the bed, crying loudly. Randy crossed the room and picked up the phone, still staring at his girlfriend with worry.
"Hello?" the Legend Killer greeted hesitantly.
"Paris?" a sharp male voice shouted. "Who in the hell is this?"
Randy cocked his eyebrow, the rude tone putting him on the defensive. "This is Randy Orton. Who is this?" he demanded.
"This is Danny Ocean, Paris' father," the man continued rudely. "What did you say your name was?"
"Randy Orton."
"You must be the boyfriend…am I right?"
"Yes, I'm Paris' boyfriend," Randy replied respectfully yet warily.
"And you're in the same room as she is?"
"Umm…there's a few people here actually. Paris coordinates for several of us and…"
"Put my daughter back on the phone!" Danny ordered, interrupting.
Randy shook his head in disbelief. God, the guy was being a prick! Reluctantly, he held the phone toward Paris.
"I don't want to talk to him!" Paris screamed, still crying.
"Sir, she's a little upset," Randy explained, gingerly. "Why don't I have her call you back in like an hour?"
"Make it half an hour," Danny shot back just before the phone clicked, disconnecting.
"Jeez, rude or anything," Randy snapped at the offending dial tone. "Paris, baby, what happened?" Randy sat down on the bed and took her in his arms.
"He thinks he can run my life!" Paris sobbed. "He wants me to come home or he's gonna completely cut me off!"
Randy stroked her hair tenderly. "Ssh…it's OK, Paris. You're an adult—he can't force you to do anything."
"But I'll have nothing—no phone, no money…and I bet he's gonna persuade Vince to not give me the job!"
"That's not gonna happen," Randy reassured her. "Look, you don't need his stupid phone—you can use mine until you get to Louisville and then, you can get your own. As for money, you're gonna be making way more as a diva. And I don't care how good of friends they are, Vince isn't gonna let your dad influence his business decisions."
Paris sniffled. "You think?"
"I know, OK? Now, listen—I'm gonna run you a bath while you call Vince…he's speed dial 8 on my phone…and give him a heads up about your dad. Then, we're gonna order room service and spend the evening together, just you and me, OK?"
Paris nodded and wiped her face while Randy went into the bathroom to run her a hot bath. She called Vince to tell him what happened and amazingly, he wasn't surprised. He told her that he had a similar conversation with Danny only hours ago. Vince assured her that any decisions about her career were hers and hers alone. As far as he was concerned, Danny had no say in the matter once Paris made up her mind. Paris hung up from her phone call with the Chairman of the Board feeling undeniably better. She took her bath while Randy called Dave and told the Enforcer that he and Paris would be staying in for the night.
An hour later, Paris was lying naked, face down on the bed as Randy rubbed lotion on her back and legs. The tears had long since dried and she had not called her father back, having put her phone on ignore. Deciding that she better face the music and turn her phone back on, Paris checked her messages and it was no surprise that there were several from Danny. Reluctantly and with great protest from Randy, she called her father. Taking a deep breath, she knew that she could handle it. She was calmer now…Vince and Randy giving her strength.
"It's about time you called back, Paris," Danny stated when he answered the phone. Obviously, he had caller ID.
"I've calmed down a bit."
"Good."
"I'm still not coming home. I already talked to Vince."
Danny sighed. "I see. Then, you leave me no choice, Paris…if that's how you want it."
"You do what you need to do, Dad…I'll be fine," Paris told him, shocked that she sounded so confident and strong.
"Just so you know," Danny went on, shifting gears. "I just had some information delivered to me and your boyfriend is a military deserter…did you know that?"
Paris sighed and rolled her eyes. Leave it to Danny to deliver a low parting shot. "Yes, I knew that and there's a lot more to the story."
Danny snorted. "He enlisted in the Marine Corps, decided he didn't like it, went AWOL for 82 days, and he went to jail…what more could there be?"
"Coming from someone who's an expert on being incarcerated!"
"Be very careful, Paris," Danny warned, his voice low.
"Honey, we're just worried about you," Tess' voice broke in. Apparently, her mother was on the other line.
"Mom, I'm fine, OK? I told you that in New York! I've never been happier, I'm not throwing up, everything is great, OK?"
"So you're not coming home? That's your final decision?"
"I'm not coming home," Paris stated only to be greeted with a click. "Did he just hang up?" she asked Tess.
"He's just concerned, Paris."
"He's the one who sent me here!" Paris exclaimed, incredulous. "What? Is he mad because I like it? Was he hoping I'd be totally miserable or something?"
"Of course not. I guess he just didn't anticipate that you'd enjoy it this much and neither did I. And then, there's this boy…"
"He's not a boy, he's a man, and why is Dad nosing into his past?"
"Paris, you're the heiress to over 50 million. When a young man enters your life, you had best believe that your father and I are going to have him thoroughly checked out."
There was a knock on the door, indicating the arrival of their dinner. Before answering the door, Randy threw a towel over Paris' naked body as she continued talking to her mom.
Paris sighed once again. "Look, Mom, I gotta go…our dinner just got here. I'll be in St. Louis until Friday and I'll call you when I get settled in Louisville. Tell Dad that I love him and no matter what he does, I understand. He has to do what he has to do."
"I love you, Paris," Tess told her.
"I love you, too, Mom."
Paris bid her mother goodnight and hung up. Putting on a robe, she joined Randy at the table for their late dinner, even though she wasn't very hungry. Randy was quiet during the meal as well, trying to come to terms with the fact that Danny Ocean had already had him investigated and without ever meeting him, decided that he didn't like him. It was all a little unsettling.
"Are you OK?" Paris asked, pushing a piece of lettuce around on her plate.
"Fine, how bout you?"
"Fine, I'm just not that hungry. You look upset."
"I guess I'm just a little out of sorts," the young Evolution member admitted. "I haven't even met your parents and your dad already hates me. And he's having me investigated."
Paris waved her hand. "He investigates all my boyfriends…it's because I'm heiress to a fortune."
"Well, I'm not after your money."
"I know that."
Randy chuckled lightly. "I hope he at least gives me a chance some day."
Paris smiled and touched his arm, tracing her finger over his tattoo. "He will. He's just stubborn. It's throwing him for a loop that he can't call the shots."
Randy nodded, still perplexed about something.
"Can I ask you a question, Paris?"
"Sure."
"I thought I heard something when you were on the phone…something about throwing up. What was that all about?"
Paris shifted nervously, pushing her plate away. "I…I used to…sort of…I used to have a little problem with eating, that's all."
"A little problem with eating?"
"As in I didn't do it. And when I did, it…kind of…"
"Came right back up?"
"Yeah."
Randy could tell she was embarrassed. Reaching over, he took her hand in his.
"Are you OK now?" he asked, his blue eyes mirrored with concern.
Paris nodded, squeezing his hand. "Yeah, I'm OK…I'm just really not hungry. I've ate like three times today. I look OK, don't I?"
Randy kissed her hand. "You look great. How long ago was this?"
"When I was like fifteen or sixteen. I got kind of depressed and I got really busy with school and I just didn't eat. I got really skinny and I was flat-chested…my self-esteem was in the dirt. My parents finally took me to a doctor and then, some head doctors. They determined in their infinite wisdom that I was a victim of relentlessly perfectionist parents that I was constantly trying to win their love and approval. I hate shrinks."
"Yeah, I'm not too fond of them either."
"You've seen a shrink?"
"Yeah. When I got out of prison, my dad made me go talk to someone because I wouldn't talk about it with anyone. He was worried."
"So was it like on TV?"
"No, nothing like that. Military prison is a lot different than regular prison. It's very lonely because you're alone most of the time. And stop changing the subject…we're talking about you, remember?"
"There's nothing more to tell. I started eating, I gained weight—too much at first, but I found a balance eventually. Then, I had my boob job—that boosted my confidence a lot. And it made me really popular."
"Yet you're still a virgin?"
"Yeah, well…" Paris trailed off, laughing slightly out of embarrassment.
"Yeah," Randy agreed, stretching. "On that note, I think I'll go to bed…how about you?"
"I thought you'd never ask…I'm exhausted."
Randy put the dishes in the hallway as Paris climbed into bed, not bothering with a nightgown. Randy turned out the lights and climbed in as well, spooning next to Paris. To his surprise, he realized that she wasn't wearing pajamas.
"Where are your pajamas?"
"Umm…they were…stolen," she teased.
"Someone stole your pajamas?" Randy asked, sitting up slightly and staring at her in the dark.
"What kind of a world do we live in when a person's pajamas aren't safe?"
"Well, I just don't know if I can control myself…what with your pajamas being…missing and all."
Paris was immediately awake, realizing that this could be an opening to seduce the Legend Killer. Turning over, she seductively wrapped her body around his as he captured her lips in a kiss. Randy groaned, knowing exactly where this was heading, but this time he was too weak to fight it. Rolling on top of her, his hands immediately found her breasts as she twined her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her. Paris arched her back, feeling his arousal as his tongue probed her mouth, gently at first and then, more insistently. Reaching down, Paris ran her nails down Randy's back and toyed with the waistband of his boxers. This was it—there was no way he could resist her this time.
Paris felt Randy pull away from her. Suddenly, the lamp was on and she blinked against the soft light. Randy was raised above her, looking down at her, his eyes smoldering, the intent obvious. Finally, Paris thought, getting a little nervous with anticipation. Before she knew what was happening, Randy's boxers flew across the room and he gripped her thighs, pulling her against him as he rained kisses down her neck and across her chest. Oh my God, Paris thought as she felt his lips trail across her stomach. She knew where he was headed and he would get no argument from her. Smiling, Randy teased her for several minutes, placing kisses all along her legs and on the insides of her thighs before he actually reached his final destination. Paris jumped, arching her hips as his tongue touched her, softly, intimately. Randy paused, waiting for her reaction. He looked up to see that her head was thrown back, her breasts rose and fell with her shallow breathing, and her lips were parted invitingly. Smirking and wishing that Paul knew what he was doing at that moment, Randy resumed his slow and heated torture of the very receptive, intoxicatingly beautiful Miss Paris, not stopping until he was positive that he had taken her to the edge no less than two or three times, leaving her breathless as she sighed his name repeatedly, trying to control her breathing and stop her brain from spinning out of control.
As Paris calmed down, Randy kissed his way up her body, a thin sheen of sweat mixing with her perfume to turn him on even more. Sighing, he collapsed next her on the bed, stroking her damp hair and face as he gazed into her violet eyes. He knew that they couldn't go any farther…not yet anyway, but this was more than they had ever done, and it left Randy wanting more and hating himself for the mess he was in with Paul. He had to find a way to stop it. He was jolted out of his brooding by the sensation of Paris' lips on his, kissing him passionately. She had pushed him onto his back and was placing feathery kisses on his chest that felt like little flames burning his skin. Randy closed his eyes and ran his hand through her hair, relishing the feeling of her tongue piercing trailing down his abs, until it dawned on him where she was going. Panicking, he grabbed her shoulders, stopping her procession.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his gaze meeting hers.
"What do you think I'm doing?" Paris replied.
"I have a pretty good idea."
"So why don't you just lay back and enjoy it? I'm a firm believer in returning the favor."
"I thought you were a virgin."
Paris blinked, dismayed but not surprised that he was being so uptight. "You can still be a virgin and know how to give a blowjob, Randy."
"Paris!"
"What! Is there something wrong with that?"
Randy's mind was swimming. She wasn't supposed to know about stuff like that. Blowjobs were something that guys usually got from ring rats and desperate diva wannabes, not from their wives or their girlfriends. Not that Randy had ever been into ring rats or divas for that matter, but plenty of the guys were. Of course, Paris would wonder what harm could come from some oral gratification. What excuse was he going to use this time?
"No, there's nothing wrong with it. It's just that I'm not into that tonight."
Paris was baffled. Since when was a guy not into getting a blowjob? Paul seemed to enjoy it…no, don't think about Paul, she screamed at herself. OK, think, Paris. He's trying to weasel out again. Make it so he can't say no.
"OK," she replied cheerfully. "We can skip that and just go right to the sex if you want."
Randy's brain continued to race, while trying to block out how sexy she looked, kneeling naked next to him. Now was not a good time to try and tell her about Paul and the bet, not with all the stress from her dad and her new job on top of everything.
"Paris, maybe we should just go to sleep before this goes any further."
Paris sniffed, upset. "Randy, why don't you want to have sex with me? Is there something wrong with me?"
He noticed a tear fall down her cheek because it landed on his chest. Now, he felt like an even bigger asshole. He took her into his arms and pulled her down next to him.
"Baby, no…it's not you. It's just…"
"What?"
Randy took a deep breath. "I…I don't have any condoms." Nice job chickening out, Orton.
"Is that it?" Paris inquired incredulously.
"Yeah, that's pretty important."
"Well, go get some."
Randy sighed. She was relentless and it wasn't going to get any easier. "Baby, I'm tired. I just got relaxed…"
"OK, OK…I know the drill…not tonight! Goodnight, Randy."
With that, she climbed under the covers and rolled over, scooting as far away from him as she could.
Swearing quietly to himself, Randy rolled over as well and flipped off the lamp. Fuck! How much longer could he keep this up?
Please review. Only a few more chapters to go and then, it's time to do the sequel. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Keep it coming please. Love ya…
-Evilution
