(( WASSUP! I deeply apologize for the WAY big delay on chapter 5. This chapter introduces a new character, and a new plot. Please tell me what ya think in your reviews! Chapter 6 is almost finish, I promise! L8ter—MC Penguin ))
Torrie's hospitalization only lasted a couple of days, but with all the drama and rivalries going on between her fellow RAW superstars, she decided to take a vacation.
She resided by herself in she and Batista's large mansion that they had recently bought so that she could rest alone in their glorious estate.
"I'm so lonely," Torrie said into the phone as she pushed the spoon around her cereal bowl in circular motions. "Can't you come home for a couple of days? You haven't even set foot in the house since we moved in…"
"Tore, you know I can't. With me being the champ, I have to travel non-stop. The champ just can't take a vacation whenever he wants." Far, far away, Batista spoke into his cell phone. He was in his hotel room readying himself for a meeting.
"Please…?" Torrie begged, but she was answered with an immediate "no" from her lover. "Well, then can I at least invite some family over?"
"Tore, I still don't think it's a good idea…I mean, you even said it yourself that your mom doesn't like me." Batista said, adjusting his tie.
"But that was the oldyou, back when you were with Evolution. Besides, Dave, she's my mom, and she has to respect my choice of men."
"I don't see why you don't hire maids. They'll befriend you."
"I don't want maids, Dave! I want friends."
"Then invite Stacy over. Or maybe you can call Lita."
"I doubt Lita will be able to come, thanks to her new 'hubby'." Torrie replied flatly. "And Stacy has her problems with Randy, too."
"Then I don't know what you're gonna do, babe." Dave replied. He glanced at his watch, then, seeing the time, said, "Sorry, Tore, I gotta go. I have to get to a meeting."
"But, Dave…"
"I'll call you later, Tore. I love you, bye!"
Before Torrie could say anything else, Batista had already hung up. Torrie sighed, dumped her bowl of Lucky Charms in the sink, and headed into the living room. The living room was simply enormous, holding a plasma screen TV, a fake bear-skin rug, a fireplace, expensive leather furniture, and many other living room accessories that Torrie had put in.
The mansion had been given a women's touch with Torrie home alone. She had accessorized almost all of the rooms so that it looked elegant and pretty. Only, Torrie couldn't possibly enjoy her modifications to the house without Dave around, or anyone else, for that matter.
"Maids," Torrie said angrily to herself as she set herself on the big comfy couch. "I just don't understand him! Why is he, the world champ, afraid of meeting my family? Men…" The blond crossed her legs Indian-style on the sofa and held her chin in both palms, her elbows placed on her thighs.
It wasn't exactly fun to go out into the town by herself, since chasing after her would be the paparazzi and fans wanting autographs. Then there were always the tabloids that followed, with articles trying to predict what was going on in her life, but were really just a mess of lies. Dave had warned Torrie not to go out too much, since they had had some problems with pictures in the past.
Dave had also told Torrie to veer away from the public to ensure that they weren't caught by their boss, Eric Bischoff, for, as far as they both knew, they were still "banned" from seeing one another. Torrie was pretty sure, though, that Eric would have forgotten by now. Either that or she could get Dave to bribe him, since he was the champ.
Torrie still found herself pouting on the couch alone. Alone.
Suddenly angry at the thought of being by herself in a huge house, Torrie moved from the living room, climbed up the stairs, and entered her and Dave's room. There, she went into the bathroom, shook off the pink short shorts and matching tank top which she wore to bed, and climbed into the standing shower.
After a quick wash, Torrie exited the bathroom and applied her clothing: a pair of really short jean shorts, a white t-shirt stating "blondes have more fun" in rose pink bubble letters, and white flip flops. She then straightened her hair to perfection and slid on her fashionable sunglasses. She brushed her teeth, applied deodorant, make up, and perfume, and grabbed her car keys. Then she was out the door.
Torrie opened up the door to her pink convertible, climbed in, and revved up the engine. She set her purse in the passenger seat, and then pressed the knob next to the CD insert to allow the radio to play.
The ending of a song Torrie didn't recognize came through the speakers of her car as she droved out of the mansion's large driveway and into the street. Then, as she began to feel boredom once more, the song "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" began pouring itself out of the speakers.
"Some boys take a beautiful girl, and hide her away from the rest of the world… I wanna be the one to walk in the sun, oh, girls just wanna have fun! Oh, girls, they wanna have fuuu—nnn!" Torrie sang loudly, bobbing her head up and down, side to side, as she sped on into the city.
Soon she was cruising in the large parking lot in the Los Angeles Mall. There, she turned off the engine, grabbed her purse, and went skipping into the mall.
Somehow, she felt excited that she was disobeying Dave, but whenever she thought about the negativities that could follow; she just remembered her song and began singing it again: "Oh, girls just wanna have fun!"
Just outside the mall, though, was a taxi cab carrying a very unwelcome surprise. "Driver!" a fairly old woman said inside the cab. "Driver, I need you to take me to the residents of Torrie Wilson, please."
The cab driver looked at the old woman strangely. "Torrie Wilson, the WWE Diva?"
"Yep, that's the one. Now, I know that she lives somewhere here in LA, I just don't know where…" the old woman explained.
"Are you related to her or something?" The cab driver asked.
"Yessiree! I'm her grandma!" the woman said, looking out the window. "Now, do you know where my little Torrie lives?"
"I believe so," said the driver. "I once drove Dave Batista there." He directed the cab in the direction Torrie had driven from previously, and in minutes they were in front of the huge mansion. "Yep, this is the place, ma'am."
"Thank you very much, driver." said the old woman, exiting the cab. The driver opened the trunk, and she took her two suitcases out of it. She dug into her jacket pocket and paid the man, thanked him, and headed up to the front door.
Torrie's grandmother looked back at the cab as it made a u-turn and headed back towards the city. Then, turning back around, she rang the doorbell. An enormous DING DONG rang inside, but nobody answered. She rang it again. No answer. After about twenty more presses of the doorbell, the little old woman set down her luggage and began searching for a key.
"Oh, how convenient!" she exclaimed happily as she recovered a key from under the welcome mat. "Tisk, tisk, Torrie…" Torrie's grandmother said as she inserted the key into the lock. "It looks like you've inherited your mother's jeans and have become a dumb blond. Only she would have given you the idea to hide the key under the welcome mat like that. Tisk, tisk."
When Torrie's grandmother had successfully gained excess into Torrie and Batista's home, she firstly searched for the guest room. She found a large, exotic room, with silky red sheets and blankets upon a large canopy bed. "This must be Torrie's room. That's funny; I didn't know she liked red…"
Being as nosey as she was, the old woman entered the room and inspected its possessions. She was shocked to find men's cologne, men's office suits, and a variety of other clothing for men in the room. In the closet, one side was mostly office wear for men, and then a few jogging shorts, t-shirts, and blue jeans. Under the clothing were shoes. On the side Torrie's grandmother was eyeing, she saw loafers, tennis shoes, and boots in all different varieties.
When Torrie's grandma directed her attention to the other side of the closet, she found nothing but pink. Pink. Pink. Pink.
Pink shirts, skirts, hats, scarves, and even a pair of pink denim shorts were on the side of the closet that was obviously Torrie's. Toward the end of Torrie's part of the closet, the old woman occasionally found white, baby blue, purple, yellow, and red clothing and accessories.
After scanning all of the master bedroom, Torrie's grandma looked through the rest of the house: the pool area, the kitchen, the dining area, the living room, and all of the other places she found.
All this time, Torrie had been shopping non-stop at the mall. Now, though, she was bopping her head to a different tune as she drove her car home. With a mountain of shopping bags in the backseat of her car, Torrie rode up into the driveway. She turned off the engine, climbed out, and, grabbing her purse, went up to the front door to unlock it. It was, strangely, already unlocked…
As Torrie entered the house, she found footprints in the soft carpet, ones that was too petite to be her own. As she climbed up the stairs and into the hallway, she found two square suitcases set in the guest bedroom (her grandmother had finally found it). Shocked and slightly afraid, Torrie reached into her purse and retrieved her cell phone.
She flipped it open, rapidly dialed Dave's familiar number, and pressed the "send" button. Then Torrie glued it to her ear and tapped her foot nervously as she awaited Batista to answer.
Dave was in his meeting with some board members and Eric Bischoff when his familiar ring tone began sounding, alarming the people at the meeting table. Batista eyed the small phone in front of him, and then at Bischoff, who had an angry look upon his face.
"And who might that be?" questioned Eric, still giving Batista his harsh expression.
"Uh, it's my sister," stammered Dave, eyeing Torrie's number. He flipped open the phone, pressed the "send" button to answer, and said, "Hello?"
"I don't recall you having a sister—" Eric began, but before he could say anything more, the slam of the room's door hushed him as Dave left the room.
"Dave?" Torrie said questioningly into the receiver from their LA home.
"Tore, I told you I was in a meeting! What's going on?" Batista asked almost angrily into the phone.
"Dave, there's someone in the house. I came home and—and the door was unlocked. I'm upstairs now, and there's someone's suitcase in the guest bedroom. I also saw footprints in the carpet!" Torrie whispered into the phone hysterically.
"Don't joke with me!"
"Dave, do you really think I'm stupid enough to joke around like this! There is a burglar in the house, and I have nothing for protection!" Torrie answered sharply. Though Torrie could be a little silly at times, Dave had to admit that no one would joke around like this.
"Look, Tore, you're gonna have to hang up with me, call the cops, and get to a safe place right away. If you can, get into the car and go into town where he can't find you, or stay around the neighborhood for when the cops come."
"Dave, what about Bischoff? Is he listening to us?"
"Babe, don't worry about him. I told them that you were my sister—"
"Grandma?" Torrie had just eyed the old woman walking about downstairs, as if looking for something.
"No, Torrie, I told them that you were my sister. Not my—"
"No, Dave, I'm talking about my grandma. She's the one who was in the house."
"What?"
"Look, I'll call you back." Torrie shut the phone, hanging up on Dave, and trudged down the stairs angrily towards her grandmother.
When the little old woman spied her lovely granddaughter coming down the steps, a large, wrinkly grin came across her face and she said, "Torrie, my lovely little angel! Where have you been? I've searched high and low for you, but all I've found are some very nice belongings in this wondrous mansion!"
"Grandma, what are you doing here!" Torrie yelled the little woman, who stood at about 5'5 and had pale wrinkled skin. Torrie looked her grandmother up and down, from her snow white hair tied into a tight bun, all the way down to her white socks and black heeled slippers.
"Why, I'm here you to see you!" Torrie's grandmother replied, startled at the fact that her granddaughter seemed angry at the fact of her presence. "Why are you so angry? Is it a problem that you're poor old grandmother has come to visit you?"
"No grandma, it's not, but I thought someone had broken in. I mean, I found that the door was unlocked; I spied footprints in the carpet, and two suitcases in the guest room."
"Well, first of all, you left a key under the welcome mat to the door. That's how I got in. You should be more careful about where you hide those sorts of things. Under the welcome mat is way too obvious." lectured the old woman. "Secondly, I suggest that you find a firmer carpet if you do not wish to find footprints in it. The carpet you chose was too soft."
"Yes, grandma." Torrie said, trying to fake the fact that she hadn't listened to a word her grandmother had said. "How'd you find my house, anyway?"
"Why, the cab driver knew. He said that he had delivered someone here before, and that almost everyone here knows where the big celebrities live." Explained Torrie's grandmother.
"But how'd you know I was here in L.A.?" persisted Torrie.
"Oh, Torrie, you're still the same; always asking questions. Come now, I've made some of my homemade cookies." Torrie's grandmother answered, completely changing the subject.
Even though she knew that her grandmother had gone off the subject to avoid something, she couldn't resist her grandmother's cookies. Within a matter of minutes, Torrie and her grandmother were cruising down memory lane while they sat in the living room and ate their individual plates of cookies.
Each told their stories of their current lives, and Torrie's grandmother seemed to be especially interested when Torrie told her of her love life. Without even paying attention to what she was saying, Torrie told her grandma about she and Dave's matches together, about how he trained her, about their date and the mishap with the boat ride, being careful not to tell her grandma of the chair and her hospitalization.
"Hey, grandma, can you tell me what time it is? There's a clock over there." Torrie said to her grandmother. The old woman glanced at the wall clock an reported the time to her granddaughter. Torrie replied, "Oh shoot!", and flicked on the television. Quickly she flicked through the channels until she found what she thought was RAW. It was what she was looking for, but one of the individuals standing in the ring made her want to flip over to a different show.
On the television screen, Trish Stratus and the new girl, Christy Hemme, stood in the ring. Trish held the microphone in her hand, and walked about the ring, eyeing her adversary up and down. Torrie knew that the two didn't like each other, but she had no idea what Trish had up her sleeve.
"Hemme, I suggest that you stay in your own corner," Trish was saying, still walking about, "because, if you don't, I'll make you stay in it." Christy, with a big, toothy smile on her face, took the microphone from the blonde's hand.
"Trish, why are you so jealous of me? You've got looks and ruthless aggression, just like me. I just don't get why you hate me so much…"
"Shut up, you slut!" Trish cried. She jerked the microphone from Christy's hand, put it up to her mouth, and said, "You better keep your mouth shut, anyway, if you don't want me to do what I did to that piece of white trash, Torrie Wilson!"
Torrie's grandmother covered her mouth in shock. "She's terrible! What did she do to you, Torrie?"
But Torrie didn't have to answer, because the following footage that was shown on the plasma was enough to answer her question. Trish had told the backstage personnel to roll the tape from a few weeks before. Soon the TV screen was playing the footage of Trish whacking Torrie upside the head with the heavy steel chair. Torrie watched as she was rolled halfway unconscious backstage on the stretcher to the ambulance.
Torrie's grandmother couldn't believe her eyes. Torrie shut off the TV, not wanting to view anymore. "Torrie, you didn't tell me that that woman hit you with a chair! Oh, if I ever get my—no, when I get my hands on her, she won't know what hit her!"
"Grandma, what do you mean by, 'when'?" Torrie asked, becoming a little nervous.
"I mean that I'm going to make her pay for what she did to my grandbaby!" Torrie's grandmother declared. "I'm gonna find a way to get to her, and when I do, she won't have one trace of that blond hair on her head!"
"Grandma, if you're thinking of going to RAW, you've got another thing coming—"
"Oh no, Torrie, don't try and stop me—that Trish is going down!" Torrie's grandmother stormed up to the guest room and began repacking her things into her suitcases. When Torrie came up, she entered the room and looked at her grandmother in confusion.
"What are you doing?" She asked, leaning against the doorway.
"I'm packing," her grandmother said firmly, "because we're going to RAW."