Inside the diner, the girls had taken one booth, while the guys sank into one directly behind them. After ordering way too much food, with way too much grease, they ate in silence and then lounged in their seats, discussing the upcoming trip to Europe and other business-related topics. At least, the girls did. The boys were laughing loudly, attempting to throw chili-covered fries into each other's mouths across the table.
Stacy rolled her eyes as the three men continued their juvenile antics. "Do they even know they're not twelve anymore?"
John leaned back to catch the fry that Adam threw at him, accidentally bumping the back of Trish's head in the process. Christy smiled from beside the blonde woman, who only sighed and reached her arm back to smack John. "Watch it," she warned.
Olivia let a small smile of amusement drift over her lips. Sure, the three men behind them acted like little boys sometimes, but Olivia was used to little boys. Over the last ten years, little boys had become her only source of entertainment, so Randy, Adam, and John didn't bother her at all. The looks on Christy and Trish's faces said they didn't mind, either. But Stacy, Olivia noticed as she looked to the woman beside her, was nothing but irritated.
"Stacy here," Trish started to explain to Olivia, "thinks that the boys are obnoxious and immature."
"And the boys think," Randy called out from behind, tossing another fry at Adam, "that Stacy is," he stopped as his friend caught the fry.
All three men threw their hands up in victory as Adam wiped chili from his chin and then smiled at Stacy. "The boys think that Stacy is a stuck up prude who wouldn't know fun if it smacked her in the face with a ten-inch dildo," he winked at the young woman and chewed his food loudly.
Rolling her eyes again, Stacy sunk further into the seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "Just because I wouldn't sleep with you," she huffed.
Adam smiled and shrugged, drinking from the coffee cup in front of him. "That's one strike against you, yes," he admitted.
It was clear that she was not Stacy's favorite person, either, but Olivia didn't care. She was not about to have her entire experience as a diva de-railed because Stacy didn't like strippers. "Hey, Randy," she called, waiting for the blue-eyed Adonis to look her way. When he did, she hurled one of her own tater tots in his direction.
Opening his mouth on instinct, Randy caught the flying object and smacked the table happily. "Awesome," he winked.
Olivia wiggled out of her seat, standing on the imitation leather and climbing over the table. Christy moved out of her way quickly and Olivia scaled the back of the seat, dropping into the booth next to John.
Stacy watched as he shot one of those glowing smiles at the new girl, trying her best to suppress the anger that was bubbling up in her gut. She had always hated girls who were manipulative, who used mind games to get what they wanted. But now she was the one playing games, and she was losing.
When she left him, he was supposed to think about what he had done. He was supposed to realize that what was important to her was also important to him. He was supposed to see that she had a valid point, and that they belonged together. She had already decided that she would forgive him, if he would only ask her to.
But he wasn't asking. He wasn't thinking about, or realizing, anything. Because he was too busy macking on a stripper. A stripper who was damn good at what she did, if Adam's assessment was correct. And when it came to strippers, nobody knew how to assess better than Adam Copeland.
Slumping even further into the booth, Stacy sighed in resignation. She had played her hand, hoped for the best, and lost the greatest thing she had going for her. "She's really a good girl, Stace," Trish's voice invaded her thoughts.
Stacy looked at her friend and narrowed her eyes. Maybe she could admit defeat, but she would not, could not, like Olivia. "Good girls don't take their clothes off for money, Trish."
With an eyebrow arched, Trish crossed her arms. "But they strip down to their bra and panties and hit each other with feather pillows on national television?"
"It's not the same thing."
Rolling her hazel eyes, Trish leaned her elbows on the table. "It's exactly the same thing and you know it. You don't show nipple, but it doesn't make it any less tempting." Sipping from her straw, she watched the conflict on Stacy's face. "We're still bein' all sexy, trying to get the guys in the crowd aroused. Some of them are married, too, Stace. Some of 'em have girlfriends at home."
Somewhere deep inside, she knew Trish was right. But she wasn't about to admit that she was anything like that fake-ass bimbo flirting with her ex. "At least I don't need collagen and silicone to turn a man on," she spat weakly.
Trish laughed and rolled her eyes, turning to Christy, who had grown strangely quiet. "Do you need to use the bathroom, Christy?"
Nodding gratefully, Christy waited for Trish to stand and then scurried out of the booth. When she was gone, the Canadian diva slid back into the booth and ignored Randy's catcalls from behind her. "Is that what this is all about, Stace?" Stacy looked oblivious. "It's not the nudity? It's the implants?"
Stacy threw her arms up in defeat and huffed. No one understood it. Nobody would ever understand it. Was she wrong? Was she way out of line to believe in some degree of moral and ethical decorum? "What kind of message are we sending to the world? That A-cups and natural beauty isn't sexy? That you have to have big boobs and long hair to turn a man on?"
In that moment, Trish Stratus had enough. She had listened to Stacy bitch, whine, and moan about this topic for far too long. "Alright, look – you wear make up right? And jewelry?" Stacy nodded. "You hit the tanning bed? Dye your hair?" Again, Stacy nodded, this time with an eye-roll for good measure. "All those things enhance your beauty, Stace." She shrugged her shoulders. "So ours are surgical. So what?"
"So what?" Stacy exploded. "I can't compete with that. I'm never gonna get John back with Miss Enhanced to Perfection battin' her fake eyelashes at him."
All eyes in the restaurant were now on the blonde women in the center booth. Christy came out of the bathroom as Stacy charged out the front door. "What happened?"
Trish pointed toward the path of dust her friend had left and motioned for Christy to go after her. Smacking Randy's shoulder until he scooted closer to Adam, she sank to the seat and looked across the table. John and Olivia concentrated on their hands, like school kids who had been caught doing something naughty. "Now look what you've done," Trish smiled.
John looked up and let a tiny grin crack his lips. "Right. Because Stace and I were so perfect together," he defended slightly.
Olivia said nothing, only looked around for some escape. She had wanted two and a half months with no regrets – she hadn't lasted one day.
"Ya know what I think?" Randy stated, looking out the door to where Stacy and Christy were talking in the parking lot.
"That Stacy just needs to get laid?" Trish asked, laughing when he turned his smile to her.
"I swear, baby, it's like you can read my mind," he said, kissing her firmly, his hand running down her shoulder.
"Right, because it's a real stretch of the imagination to guess you might be thinkin' about sex," Adam accused, smacking the back of Randy's head until he stopped kissing his girlfriend. "Dude, come on," he begged.
When Olivia finally risked a glance at John, she found him smiling at her reassuringly. "I feel like I should apologize for something," she whispered.
Slipping his arm around the back of her seat, John ignored the fact that three faces were staring at them intently from the other side of the booth. "Look, whatever happened between me and Stacy, happened before you came along, okay?"
Nodding, she took another drink of the coffee in front of her and forced the butterflies out of her stomach. It's not like they were a couple. They were just friends. She didn't need to get too attached to anyone, especially someone she had the potential to fall madly in love with.