Chapter XI: The Effects of Tequila

Samia woke up with a splitting headache and rolled over to find herself in a hotel room that seemed vaguely familiar. The shower was running and the door to an adjoining room was open. She almost went into a panic, wondering what she had gotten herself into. The blonde wasn't really sure she wanted to know who was in the shower or who was in the other room. She peeked under the covers to find herself in a very large T-shirt. At least I'm clothed with my underwear still on, she thought with a sigh of relief. The relief passed quickly when her stomach heavily roiled. She didn't care who was in the shower as she burst in to hug the toilet. Her stomach settled instead of letting loose and she rose to get a cup of water.

"Hand me a towel, Angel?" Instinct told her whose room she was in without having to hear Shawn Michaels' voice. She looked around for a towel and shoved it behind the shower curtain. Shawn found her back in bed burrowed under the blanket and her head buried under the pillows. "You okay?"

"No," she groaned, peeking out from underneath the pillows and trying not to think about how sexy he looked half-naked. "It's kinda hard to be when you wake up in the infamous Shawn Michaels' bed and all you remember is a second margarita. I didn't know it was possible to get drunk off of margaritas."

Shawn settled on the bed beside her and asked, "So you don't remember setting all those shots of tequila on fire?"

"What!" she exclaimed, shooting up from underneath the pillows but immediately lying back down as her stomach threatened to expel any leftover contents.

"Yeah, the bartender had the bouncers kick us out after that," he replied with a smirk.

"Please, tell me I didn't do that."

"Well, not all of it's true," he replied, patting her leg. "We didn't get kicked out and you didn't get them on fire, even though you tried." He reached for her hand and held it up where she could see a small blister on her thumb.

Samia just groaned and buried her head back under the pillows.

"Hey, Shawn," Nash called, appearing at the door. "Sleeping Beauty's awake?" Shawn nodded. "Good. Mia, I'm on my last clean shirt and you're wearing it. Can I have it back?"

She jerked up again, looking at Kevin and then at Shawn. She did a double take at a scantily clad Nash. Just get out of here, her mind screamed even though her eyes wouldn't come unglued from him. "I didn't…I mean, we didn't…" She picked at the blue shirt with a "Fubu" logo.

"No. Were we supposed to?" Kevin asked, laughing.

"Y'all really didn't," Shawn responded, hitting her with a pillow. She threw the other pillow at him, catching sight of his bare thigh almost up to his hip from where his towel shifted. Her stomach did several flips while she tried to regain her breathing.

"I really should go. I have a plane to catch later this evening to…well, to somewhere. You know, I don't have my job anymore," she sarcastically reminded him.

"Go ahead and fly in. I'll make some phone calls this afternoon. Just show up as usual," Shawn replied.

"Usual? Nothing is usual anymore," she groaned and threw her bare legs over the side of the bed.

"You know what I mean." He looked at her cock-eyed.

"If I'm to catch my flight, I need my clothes," she stated and started looking around before catching sight of them in the corner of the room. "Do you mind?" she asked, glaring at Shawn.

"Saw it last night," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "What difference does it make this morning?" She quickly jerked her clothes up and headed to the bathroom in a huff. When the woman returned, Shawn and Kevin were in the other room talking. She quietly laid his shirt across the bed and slipped out the door, hoping they wouldn't notice.

Outside in the hall, Samia had to think twice about where her latest room was at. In three days, she had been in three different rooms. Through the alcohol-induced haze, she managed to find her room and crash again to sleep off the hangover. The woman had never gotten drunk in her life and she never had the intention of doing so again. When her headache finally subsided and her stomach calmed, she packed and sent for a cab to the airport.

Rob wasn't on the flight, just as she expected. Apparently he had changed his flight to avoid her. I would too if I believed what he did and he has every right to believe so. I just wish he would listen to me, she thought, squeezing more eyedrops in her eyes to clear the red out from the hangover and what felt like perpetual sobbing.

Samia didn't want to show in Rob's hometown of Battlecreek, Michigan, because she knew it wouldn't be pretty at the arena with what happened the night before. As a fan, she would be mad too. She checked into a hotel that was different from the one she had booked for Rob even though he had probably changed hotels anyhow. She was quickly in bed, still aching from the night of tequila and not looking forward to the most boring and depressing week of her life.

Shawn called a few times trying to get her to go out with them again. Remembering, or really not remembering, the last time she was out with them, she declined each time. She was completely baffled at how he knew which hotel she was in. When she asked him, he responded with, "I have my ways, Angel, I have my ways." He called again as she was getting ready to leave for the arena. "I've changed my mind. We're taking you to the arena," he said, speaking as if his decision was an order.

"Um, no," Samia flatly replied and hung up without hearing his comment. She straightened her black moleskin suit trimmed in fuchsia. As many pissed off people that were going to be there, she wanted to look her best whether or not she felt her best. Outside the hotel's door she expected to see her cab waiting, but instead a sleek, black limo was parked at the curb. The Big Show was casually leaning up against the door.

"The easy way or the hard way? It's up to you," he said with his arms crossed over his massive chest. She looked around for an avenue of escape but too many people had already taken notice of the giant and the limo. When Show was sent to do business, the outcome was always in his favor.

"Fine," she replied and the Big Show opened the door for her. She slid in and took the space between Shawn and Kevin, knowing better than to try the spot between X-Pac and Triple H due to the look X-Pac was shooting at her. Nash offered her a pre-show drink.

"What is it?" she asked, tentatively reaching for the glass.

"Tequila," he flatly answered and her eyes shot daggers at him while she wished looks could kill.

"I thought you liked tequila, chick," Kevin laughed.

"Do y'all take great personal pleasure in torturing me?"

"Take it with a grain of salt and move on," Hunter answered. "Grain of salt, get it?" With that comment, the coroner would have been on his way to collect another dead body. They were all just about on her bad side.

When the laughter subsided, Shawn got down to business. "Here's the best I could do for you. One—go back home." She shook her head, knowing she'd be more miserable at home without even trying. "Two—some secretarial job at the corporate offices." Same reason, especially since she'd just walked away from something like that. "Alright, option three—valet for Steven Richards or Tommy Dreamer." She vigorously shook her head in the negative. "Last option—go-fer…or a rabbit or one of those animals."

Why? What did I do to deserve this kind of crap? she wanted to whine, This isn't any better than my job back home. However, she couldn't walk away from this dream, this opportunity, and the ex-valet recognized the possibility of maybe getting Rob back if she stayed with the WWE. As a go-fer, she would still be in contact with him in a neutral position. "Is this for all the shows?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he apologetically answered. Maybe this way, she wouldn't have to know how miserable and heartbroken she was.

"Okay, I'm game…Ha, I'm game, get it?" she sarcastically commented, throwing a glare at Helmsley.

"Mine was better," he picked back.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and made a "W" with her hands.

"That is so lame."

"And your joke wasn't?"

"Okay, kids," Nash cut in. "We're here. Knock it off." He winked at Hunter.

As the limo came to a halt, X-Pac was quickly out of the door to come face to face with Coach and a camera. He pulled some fake jabs at the camera and moved on without a comment. The Big Show just put his hand on Coach's forehead and pushed him backward. Triple H made moose ears at him and walked away. Nash, wondering what in the world the other three were doing, stuck his head out the door and caught sight of Coach. He disappeared back within the limo. "I think she needs to hang here for a few minutes. Coach is out there."

A nasty word flew out of her mouth but she quickly recovered and quietly responded, "No argument here."

"I'll stay too," Shawn interjected.

"I think it best that you don't, Shawn," Samia countered. "They'll know I'm in here. Please, for me, don't stay and, whatever you do, don't say anything." She pleaded desperately with her eyes.

"Alright, Angel, you're too convincing. I'll come back and get you."

Once out of the vehicle, Coach began a barrage of questions. "What do you have to say about what happened with RVD last week? Did the nWo do it? Is Samia Carlsen in on this? Rumor is she spent the night with you, Shawn. Care to comment?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Shawn said with a shrug as the interviewer loped alongside of him.

"Really? Which part of that?"

"All of it, maybe…" Shawn kept walking but Coach was right behind him all the way.

"So you claim no connections with RVD's backstabbing, two-timing girlfriend?" Shawn abruptly stopped and turned on his heel.

"Ask the questions, don't make the judgments," he growled.

"You just answered my question," Coach smugly replied. Shawn's arm drew back for a punch but Nash stopped him.

"You're really lucky tonight," HBK snarled, pointing a finger in the interviewer's face. "Stay away because you might not be so lucky next time."

With that, the entirety of the nWo disappeared within their dressing room. Moments later, Shawn emerged. Instead of going to retrieve Samia, he found Samia's new immediate boss. "Margaret, she agreed. You're really gonna love her," Michaels gushed, putting his arm around the older lady that was probably WWE's best backstage coordinator. She was loved by all and basically everybody's grandmother.

"I hope so. I promise not to judge her on what she 'supposedly' did but I won't give her any slack because of you either," she replied smiling.

"Trust me. She's a hard worker, very respectful."

"Shawn, it's okay. I believe you. Just go get her."

Shawn kissed her on the cheek and then flashed his wide smile. "Are you getting younger?"

"Go," she replied, pointing towards the parking lot and laughing. He returned within moments with Samia in tow and left her with Margaret to get acquainted.

Samia threw herself into her work. She felt that if she stayed busy, she wouldn't see the glares or hear the snickers. When Rob's match came up, she somehow managed to slip away and find a monitor. From the moment he came out, she regretted her decision to watch. There were so many signs that had quite a few ugly comments on them. The ones that cheered her on for "joining the nWo" made her stomach turn. I didn't do it, she wanted to scream. She ached to just hear Rob speak her name again, not to mention the burning for his touch. He seemed his usual self and it cut at her. To cope, she reminded herself that he was a performer and just that 'dam' good. He is just that "dam" perfect, she sighed to herself. Margaret found her before the end of the match but the lady wrapped an arm around the younger's waist and led her away. No chastisement, only comfort, and that was what Samia needed. At the end of the night, she still had plenty to do and was grateful for it so she could decline a ride back to the hotel with Shawn.

TBC…