Chapter 1- How It All Began
Relationships are funny little things. Hell, I should know, I've been in one for a while. And to tell the truth? If you were to tell me a few years ago that I'd be with who I am now? I would have laughed, spat in your face, and then slapped you. And that's just for even thinking about it. Let me explain…
In April 2002, I was working on Smackdown. The youngest Diva at 18. But I didn't want to be a Diva. I wanted to fight the guys. To play up my heel status, I attacked whoever was hated. So you can only imagine how much the people loved me when I went after Kurt Angle and won the WWE Title from him. The first and youngest female, or person, to hold it in its history. Unfortunately, I only had it for 2 months. Angle won it back from me. I would have gotten it back, had it not been for some new punk named John Cena. Blecch. He just had to come and start some shit with Angle, pushing me out of the limelight. I hated him. One night, I let him know exactly how I felt. For the record? It was all his fault. I heard him freestyling one of his stupid raps to a bunch of guys. I walked past him, and he just had to spit a line about me. Now, I don't remember what he said, but I stopped, and turned around. "Don't get her started, holmes..." Eddie Guererro had warned him. As I walked toward him, I started screeching incoherently in Spanish. I slammed him against the wall. "Yo, my moms told me ta neva' hit a chick, but honey, yo ass is pushin yo-"
WHAM!
I knocked him flat on his back with a hard right. "Oh shit!" His friend, Randy Orton had exclaimed. I screamed, and then pounced on him. He took up his arm and knocked me over. I lay still. "Dude, what the hell? You just hit a chick!" Jason Reso, a.k.a Christian exclaimed. I felt him hovering over me. Without opening my eyes, I suddenly rose up my foot, then heard a groan. Target hit, I thought with a smile. I got up and smacked him in his head, but he picked me up and smashed me into the floor. I kicked him in his leg and he fell on top of me, and I picked his head up and rammed it into the concrete. Finally, somebody pulled me off of him. "Hey, hey, HEY! Breathe, alright?" I looked up to see Orton holding me. "Calm down, ok? Please." "Yeah", I mumbled.
"You cool?"
"I'm cool."
He didn't release his grip on my shoulders. I can fix that, I thought. As he turned me around, I turned my head and chomped on his hand. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" he screamed. I ran away and lunged on Cena and started to choke him. "HEY! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" We turned around to see Vince McMahon, purple and red with rage. I immediately released Cena's neck from my grasp and jumped off of him. "Godamnit, Cena, you should know damn well better than to put your hands on a woman!" he spat in John's face, while John rubbed his neck in pain. Then he turned to me. "Eleina, how many times do I have to tell you to control your anger? Behave better, ok?" I nodded. He stepped back. "If I ever, EVER see you two fighting again, so help me God, I will fire you BOTH!" he screamed. Then he cleared his throat. "Night!" he called, and left. Everyone else dispersed. "Lei, let's go!" My best friend, Michelle McCool, called. "Cena, you comin'?" Randy called as he glared at me, rubbing the big red welt that was forming on his hand. John and I looked at each other.
"Bitch."
"Punk-ass."
And with that, we left. Of course, we didn't heed Vince's warning. The amount of backstage brawls we shared was mind-numbing. Why wasn't it publicized? Because it would have ruined our heel personas. That, and the ironic fact that, on TV, AND ONLY ON TV, I was...his…his…God, I think I'm gonna puke. OK. His…girlfriend. There, I said it! Freaky, huh? The pain I went through, having him touch me. And kissing him…ewwwwww…makes me wanna brush my teeth every time I think about it.
But I remember one night we were heading out. We were just standing there, silently, as usual. "So…should I put my arm around you, or…" I sighed. "Yeah, whatever." "Why do you hate me so much?" He asked. I gave him a look. "Are you serious?" I asked. He shrugged, then smiled. I shook my head, chuckling. "If, after 3 bloody noses, 2 bruised knees, 4 black eyes, and a whole lotta sores, you don't know, then that's just a damn shame." "I'm just sayin' tho', imma nice dude if you get to know me, give me a chance." I looked at him. "Why? What in God's name is moving you to care? Why are you tryin' to make peace all of a sudden?" "Iono. I think I realize that I'm not the young idiot that came out here to make a name an' shit anymore. The people love me now. And I think I realize that it's time for me ta grow up. So… I guess I'm tryna be a man an' cut this fightin' bullshit between me an' you. That is, of course, if you down wit it." He stuck out his hand. I turned up my nose, which cause him to stick out his hand further. "What if I don't wanna?" I asked sweetly. "You enjoy this shit? Who are you, Kurt Angle?" I laughed. "C'mon, please?" I looked into his eyes, frowned, then shook his hand. 'Stupid blue eyes", I muttered. "So", he said, wrapping his arm around my waist, "Wanna go out tonight an' celebrate, mama?" His music started up. I moved his hand from around my waist to around my shoulders. "Take ya time, playboy. Baby steps." I made the motion with my fingers and a stupid look on my face. We laughed as we headed out to the ring.