Shout out to fictionalthoughts (I love that username!), PlayTheGame, lita101matt101, hhh2018, theeazymark, Guest, McMahon-Levesque, and everyone who has favorited/followed Lovely so far.
This story has turned into my baby the last couple of months and I'm so excited to be sharing it. Sorry for the delayed update. I meant to upload just a few days after Chapter 3, but my final proof read turned into a couple week's worth of editing. Send help lol.
**PlayTheGame: You called it in your Chapter 2 review that I'd be covering the signing of the divorce papers. Embrace the pain, girl.
Vengeance 2002
"It's Done"
The morning of the pay-per-view, Stephanie grunted a good morning to the wake-up caller from the hotel's front desk. She'd slept well the night before despite her nerves. She slept better these days regardless of the circumstances. Rolling onto her back, she rubbed her eyes and stretched, feeling the dull ache from yesterday's workouts. Yoga in the morning, cardio and weights at night, Monday through Saturday; she maintained a strict schedule.
Reaching towards the nightstand, her hand felt for her cellphone before promptly calling her mother. Linda answered after the second ring but asked to return her daughter's call; she was negotiating WWE stocks on the other line. Stephanie agreed to wait patiently and took the opportunity to lounge in bed for a few extra minutes. It was supposed to be a relaxing moment. A chance to unwind before a hectic day and enjoy the peacefulness of her new lifestyle.
But Hunter loomed in the back of her mind. She would have to see him today. She may have to see him every week if he chose to sign with SmackDown. It's what she wanted. Maybe. She wasn't sure. She just knew she couldn't afford his talents to go to Raw. It would give the opposing show, and Bischoff, an edge. And really, regardless of where he went, she would have to see him for many more years to come. Stephanie knew his aspirations, knew he would be working for her family's company until they were both old and grey.
So she hoped that time would ease her nerves, today and in the years to come. And the pain. She hoped time would lessen the pain. Because it had been almost unbearable seeing him Thursday night. He had looked so good. And smelt so good. It took everything she had to not just fall at his feet. She wanted to. For a split second, she considered it. Cameras and Bischoff be damned, she wanted to beg him for forgiveness. The world could see her, on her knees in a dirty parking lot, if that meant he might take her back.
But her mother had advised her otherwise. And Linda's advice had benefitted her so far. With the exception of the giant, gaping, Triple H shaped hole in her heart, she was better. Better in every way, mentally and physically. She lost herself in thought.
Stephanie was woken up by a gentle caress. She had slept restlessly the night before, between her breakdown and the booze. But Linda made the executive decision that sleeping the day away was not beneficial to her daughter. A fresh start was best achieved in the morning. So she rubbed Stephanie's arm with tenderness and hoped for the best.
"Stephanie."
"Mmm."
"It's time to get up."
"I can't," she moaned.
Sternly, Linda took control. "Yes, you can. And you will. If you want my help, you'll do as I say."
Stephanie peered up at her mother through beaded eyes. The sunlight creeping through the window shade was painfully bright.
"You came here," continued Linda. "You apologized and –"
"I remember."
"Well," the older woman's eyebrows rose with inquisition. "Do you want to get better? Or do you want to keep on this path of self-destruction?"
Stephanie was quiet for a moment. She fought the urge to lash out, to rise from the bed, and stomp away. But the agony she had been trying to numb for months twisted her insides. She couldn't live this way anymore.
"Okay," she whispered.
Linda smiled. "Okay, baby. Then do as I say and take a shower. I already sent for new clothes to be brought here for you. We'll talk over breakfast."
The McMahon matriarch moved to leave the room. She paused in the doorway to watch Stephanie slowly get up and make her way to the bathroom. A thought, or rather a memory, caused Linda to speak up again. She remembered the first time she became aware of Vince's infidelity.
"Stephanie," and she waited for their blue eyes to align. "Despite everything, if you were to do something stupid now, hurt yourself in some way, that would hurt Hunter. He's mad now, but something like that would twist him up with guilt eventually. You've done enough damage to him." She watched Stephanie's eyes fall to the floor with shame. "Can I trust you to be alone?"
"Yes." It was whispered through tears.
"Look at me, Stephanie."
The younger woman obeyed.
"Don't be stupid."
Stephanie nodded, before dropping her eyes again. "I won't do that to him."
Linda fought back tears. "I'll be back in 10 minutes."
Wrestling's princess avoided every extravagant mirror in the guest suite after her mother's departure. Her body felt heavy as she pulled her father's shirt from her body. Bathing quickly, she scrubbed her face, hair, and body clean with vigor. Her skin, from head to toe, was bright pink by the time she stood naked before the sink, brushing her teeth. Her eyes never lifted. She watched her hands and the floor without ever glancing at her reflection.
Her mother returned exactly ten minutes after she said so. She laid out new clothes onto the bed. Jeans, a simple grey sweater, pastel pink panties and bra with comfortable, but tasteful, flats were all deposited without a word. Linda watched her daughter dress in silence.
"Shannon is bringing you up breakfast"
"I'm not hungry," mumbled Stephanie.
"You need to eat."
Stephanie's eyes rose to the ceiling. Her jaw jutted out as she struggled to quell her attitude. Why could her mother never take no for an answer? Why did everything have to be a fight?
Soft hands took hold of her face. Linda stroked her daughter's cheeks with her thumbs and smiled at the insolence already appearing on the young woman's features.
"I know you're hurting and that this is brand new. But you need to trust me."
Stephanie had no choice but to nod. Silent tears spilled from her eyes for her mother to swipe away. A gentle knock on the door alerted them both to the caretaker's entrance.
"Good morning, Ms. McMahon," greeted Shannon.
Linda offered Stephanie an encouraging smile.
"Good morning."
Guiding her daughter to sit at the vanity, Linda watched her take the tray of food Shannon offered her. Stephanie eyed her breakfast with disgust. A moment later and Stephanie looked up to see a stern expression on her mother's face. Linda eyed Shannon and then cocked an eyebrow at her daughter.
Stephanie looked a bit awkward before staring down at her plate.
She mumbled, "Thank you."
Shaking her head of the memory, Stephanie got out of bed to ready herself for the day. Making a mental checklist of everything she needed to accomplish before heading to the arena, she started her skin routine while staring into the bathroom mirror. It took no time at all to contemplate again the recent changes to her life.
"I can't believe I agreed to this."
"You're going to live through this, Stephanie. Calm down," jibed Linda as she scooter further into the pew.
"This place is likely to burn down any minute."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm not. You have no idea some of the things I've done."
Rolling her eyes, Linda ignored her daughter's panicked face and waved to familiar parish members from across the aisle.
"I'm serious, Mom."
But Linda's response was interrupted by a woman from her Thursday night spin class. The two older women chitchatted for a minute, leaving Stephanie to stare gloomily up at the giant crucifix suspended above the cathedral's alter.
"Having flashbacks to private school?"
"Not quite."
"Mm, you probably don't remember much. Too busy causing trouble."
"I wasn't that bad," snapped Stephanie.
A moment of contemplation from Linda. "No, you weren't."
That got her daughter's attention. Stephanie looked to Linda for explanation.
"I may," she paused. "I may have been a bit hard on you at times, but it was because I could see how things were going. I didn't want you to become..."
It was Linda's turn to fidget uncomfortably.
"To become what I am?"
The question hung between them as the church filled with people. Stephanie turned her attention to her hands, picking at her cuticles for a moment. Then Linda gently cupped her daughter's chin to reunite their blue eyes.
"You are a passionate, fierce, and dedicated young woman. You've gone out of your way to impress your father, and given who he is, that's quite a feat. You took excellent care of your husband when he was injured. And you're a hard worker." Linda cleated her throat at the sight of Stephanie's eyes misting. "You just need some manners, that's all. And patience. That's why we're here."
"We're here to teach me a lesson?"
"Yes and no."
"Huh?" Stephanie looked to her in disbelief.
"You need structure, a routine. You need to fill your life with more than just wrestling and your husband."
Stephanie cringed at the second mention of Hunter.
"He's not my husband anymore," she mumbled.
Linda slipped her hand into her daughter's.
"He's your husband until the divorce papers are signed. So I will refer to him as such until then."
A sad smile was mirrored between them.
"It's tough business, becoming a woman."
As the church's pipe organ began to play, signaling the start of mass, Stephanie nodded affirmation to her mother's wisdom.
Stephanie tried again to clear her thoughts. Opening up her make-up bag, she rummaged through her designer products to find shades that would compliment her chosen outfit for the evening. Something subtle. Light pinks, browns, and greys made up the majority of her options. She had turned over a new leaf in every facet of her life; style and wardrobe included. Her cell phone rang throughout the bathroom as she gently applied primer to her face.
"Hi, Mom."
"I'm sorry about that."
"It's okay."
"How are you doing?"
"Uhh," stalled Stephanie. "I'm okay."
"You sound unsure."
"Well I have to see him tonight."
There was a brief pause as Linda mulled over what to say.
"I understand. But you already got through the initial sighting. I think from now on it'll get a little easier."
"Yeah." Stephanie agreed softly, her voice refusing to speak more than the one word.
"I'm sorry, baby. I know this is hard."
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Stephanie found her nerve. "I just don't know what I'm going to do. If he comes to SmackDown or not, I'm going to have to see him. It's awkward and…" She couldn't say it.
"Painful," finished Linda.
"Yeah."
"Just keep your head up. You're a McMahon. And don't let Bischoff see you unnerved."
Stephanie grinned against the phone. "I won't."
"I'm a phone call away."
"I know, Mom."
"Yeah well, just remember that," added Linda. "Oh! Those townhouses you were looking at…"
"Yes?"
"Are you sure you don't want to stay in Greenwich? We could be neighbors, go to lunch, go shopping, whenever we want."
"We already do all that," laughed Stephanie.
"Well yes because you're living here."
"I can't keep hiding at my parents' house, Mom. And I hate Greenwich, no offense. Stanford is close enough. We can keep our weekly dates and I won't have to run into him."
"Alright, alright, fine." Linda's tone was lighthearted. "Are you decorating yourself? Or do you want a designer?"
"I'll hire someone."
"Okay. My assistant's daughter just graduated from Pratt for interior design. I can send you her information."
"That'd be great."
"Do you have an idea of what you want? So I can pick up an appropriate housewarming gift."
"Mum," Stephanie blushed although no one was with her. "You don't have to do that. You've done enough."
"I know I don't have to. I want to. What's the theme?"
"No theme. I just want something nice."
"Obviously, dear."
Stephanie chuckled again, trying to word her scrambled thoughts.
"I want nice, big windows and light colored walls. Nothing too fancy, but... classy. Something comfortable for after work. I just want it," she paused, a bit embarrassed again. "I want it to feel like a home."
There was a moment's pause.
"That sounds lovely, Steph."
She could feel her mother's pitying smile through the phone."
"Thank you."
"Of course."
"No, not just for this."
"I know what you meant." Linda's smile was now ear to ear. "Call me later tonight to let me know how everything went."
"I may call you before that."
"That's alright."
"Okay. I love you."
"I love you too."
Stephanie ended the call and let out a heavy sigh. She met her reflection in the mirror. One thing at a time. It had become her mantra lately. The only thing keeping her moving from one moment to the next. Successful at last in clearing her mind, she went to work on her face just like she had her life; one careful move at a time.
Twelve hours later, she walked briskly through the halls of the Joe Louis Arena as the rumble of the crowd boomed. The position of SmackDown General Manager was proving to be a strenuous one. Since arriving at the venue, she'd been on her feet, chasing after free agents and enticing veteran talent with contract bonuses. But now she was in a rush to return to her office. Hunter had texted her at noon, the first and only correspondence between them in months.
Be in your office at 9:20.
It was a demand she chose not to argue with. She responded with a simple okay and made sure to handle as much business before the start of the event as possible. Even so, she found herself half jogging towards her office to wait for him.
She was a bit breathless when she finally reached her destination but quickly worked to calm her nerves. There was no guarantee he'd actually show up. She was still unsure if this was a power play or not. But she had no choice but to wait. Busying herself at her desk, she tried to focus on reviewing the contracts she'd already successfully negotiated. She had only five minutes before he came knocking. She knew it was him just by the pattern and sound, and gulped before calling out for him to enter.
When the door closed behind him, the fact that they hadn't been alone together since their vow renewal became horrifyingly apparent to both of them. They stood ten feet apart, shell-shocked and staring.
"Hey."
"Hi," she replied softly.
A moment of silence followed the greeting. Hunter watched her stare at him. She seemed fidgety and nervous, like she was scared of him. He looked to his feet. The thought made him uncomfortable.
"Thank you for coming," she started, grabbing a folder from her desk. "Sit. We can talk."
He sat at the end of the large sofa in the meeting area of her office, and though there was a coffee table and love seat opposite of him, she chose to sit beside him. Stephanie immediately sensed his displeasure at this, and scooted a bit backwards.
Recently, her heart had begun to scab around the dagger still buried to the hilt inside of it. But his reaction to her closeness to him, twisted the blade. She inhaled a breath through her nose.
"Look, I know you said I was relying on my lawyer to communicate for me, but I'm really –"
"Business," Hunter interrupted. "I'm here to talk about business. Nothing more."
She searched his face for leniency but he just continued to stare harshly back at her.
"Okay." Her tone was soft, breathless, and sad. She pulled a proposal contract from the folder she held.
"I can offer you a 25% salary increase with the usual championship stipend available. Merchandise sales are the same across the board. I'll include three guarantied title shots a year given that you're not already champion."
Hunter stayed quiet for a moment. It was a usual business tactic of his. She'd seen it many times.
"Bischoff's offering to let me set my own terms."
"Bischoff's a jackass."
"He's desperate to get me onto Raw. I like desperate. It's a useful advantage." His eyes widened a bit but she missed the insinuation.
"He was desperate to put the WWE out of business and he ran WCW into the ground as a result."
"Can't argue with that logic," Hunter said while nodding his head and looking around the office. "He'd probably let me double my pay though."
"And leave no budget for the rest of the roster."
"So?"
"You'll have no competition. It'll be you and a bunch of midcarders."
"I still don't see the downside."
"You'll plow through the whole locker room."
"It's a family tradition then. The locker room's already plowed through you."
He stretched out his arms to rest on the top of the couch, a cocky smile on his face. Stephanie's blood boiled, temper rising faster then all her mother's counseling could prepare her for.
"Eyes wide, "I DID NOT –"
No, Steph! Count to ten. One, two – fuck!
Hunter's Cheshire grin faltered as he watched her look to the floor and take two deep breaths.
"I haven't," she spoke to her feet and through her teeth, "slept with anyone on the roster. You and Andrew are the only wrestlers I have ever been with. And you know it wasn't like that with Andrew."
When Stephanie looked to him again, it was to see his face had sobered. He had never seen her control her temper before. The tears of frustration in her eyes took him aback.
"Hunter, I'm so –"
A harsh knock at the door interrupted her. They both jumped at the sound. Stephanie looked towards the interruption and felt her stomach plummet at the sight of her lawyer in the doorway.
"Ms. McMahon?"
"Come in, Devin."
"I'm sorry to interrupt," he glanced at Hunter and nodded, "but I figured this might be a convenient time as you're both here."
She moved from the sofa to properly greet her attorney and shake his hand.
"How did you know I was here," asked Hunter.
The lawyer looked to both of them again before reluctantly answering, "Eric Bischoff's right outside."
Hunter and Stephanie exchanged matching eye rolls.
"See what you'll be dealing with on Raw?"
Hunter laughed with her in a temporary truce.
"You'd be doing the same thing."
Stephanie couldn't stop her face from lighting up at the smile he gave her. It had been so long since she'd seen him smile.
"For what do we owe the pleasure, Mr. Menard?" Hunter tried to quell his smile by addressing the lawyer, but it didn't work.
"It's not about the house again, is it?" Asked Stephanie. "I know I'm loosing equity. I don't care. It's Hunter's house."
"No, actually," answered the lawyer awkwardly. "All that has been squared away. I'm here with the official divorce papers. Everything's in writing. All there's left to do is sign."
The brief moment of peace between them evaporated. Hunter's smile was lost instantly. Stephanie once again felt the weight of the world fall to her shoulders. She looked to her husband and the frightened pout on her face was so familiar and reminiscent of their first meeting, when she had asked him to free her from her family, that he had to look away. He couldn't bear to look at her. His chest tightened.
Mr. Menard was used to the heaviness of these types of proceedings. He ignored it and made himself comfortable on the loveseat, placing his briefcase on the coffee table and removing almost all of the documents from within.
"This will just take a moment. All of the details are the same as I emailed you last week. Though, Mr. Helmsley, you are welcome to take your time in reviewing everything, of course."
Hunter had sat up straight and was listening carefully to the lawyer. But his eyes were trained to Stephanie's hovering figure. She looked like she was ready to bolt from the room, standing rigidly with her fingers twitching by her sides.
"Mr. Helmsley?" Mr. Menard, who was now trying to hand him the paperwork, recalled his attention.
He took it without saying a word, eyes bouncing to every edge of the first page without really reading.
State of Connecticut… Superior court… dissolution of marriage agreement… Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley… assets divided through mutual agreement…
It felt surreal. But he wasn't one to put off the inevitable so he reached across the coffee table and grabbed the folder Stephanie had used to house his optional SmackDown contract. He used it to balance the divorce papers on his knee before holding out his hand for a pen. Once Mr. Menard had armed him with a writing instrument, he began to flip through the pages.
"Wait!"
He anticipated the outburst, could feel it from the moment her lawyer had joined them. He was a bit surprised though when she skidded around the furniture to kneel between his knees. Both he and the lawyer stared wide-eyed at her. She pulled the pen from his hand but kept her hands flat on the paperwork.
Stephanie looked to her attorney quickly; suddenly embarrassed and scared, before refocusing her attention on Hunter. He couldn't help but hold his breath.
"I'm so sorry," she said, staring into his eyes. "I'm sorry for everything. I didn't want to end this. I didn't mean for everything to spiral the way it did. I didn't want this. I –"
Her voice cracked. Her eyes pooled with tears as she bit her lip and looked down at the papers on his knee, beneath her fingers. She mesmerized him. Her lawyer and the room seemed to disappear all at once. She was so close to him, closer than she'd been in longer than he could remember. He could make out every freckle on her face.
Stephanie raised her eyes to him. He remained expressionless.
"I don't want this," she whispered.
They'd been separated for months. He had trained himself to bury any feelings towards her beneath a mountain of anger and professional focus. He thought himself immune to her beautiful face. But her positioning, vulnerable and kneeling before him was unexpected. He hadn't predicted her to be so humble when the time came to finalize the divorce.
He calculated all of this in seconds. No, he hadn't expected her to be this open. But it was no matter. He could never trust her again. Even if he wanted to.
He steeled his jaw.
"I do," he answered.
Jerking the papers and folder from beneath her hands, he resumed reviewing the paperwork. Stephanie gently lifted herself from the floor and perched herself on the coffee table in front of him. He could feel her gaze on the top of his head as he flipped through the pages. There were no surprises in the fine print. She'd agreed to everything he wanted.
"No tricks?" His tone was facetious.
The lawyer scoffed irritably, but adjusted his expression as soon as Hunter scowled.
"My client's agreed to all of your terms, Mr. Helmsley. Sign the paperwork and this can all be over."
With a roll of his eyes, the wrestler flipped to the final page of the contract.
"Initial the first three lines," gestured the attorney. "And then sign your full name on the line at the bottom."
Stephanie's hand extended to him. Hunter gently plucked the black pen that rested in her opened palm. He was careful not to touch her. Then he followed instruction and marked his initials three times. He pressed the pen down hard when signing his signature.
He stared at his name for a second. He jostled the contract unnecessarily. He clicked the pen closed.
Then he handed it all to Stephanie without looking at her.
"Do I sign Helmsley?" She asked the question softly, trying to keep her voice from cracking again.
Mr. Menard answered gently.
"Have you changed your name legally?"
"Not yet."
"Then sign Helmsley. I'll get the other paperwork ready for you tomorrow. You'll be back to McMahon, officially, by next week." He gestured to the final page of the contract like he had done for Hunter. "Initials on the three lines, please. And then your full name on the bottom."
She inscribed SMH on the first three lines and then stopped before writing her signature on the bottom. The pen hovered over the line. She looked to Hunter.
That same pitiful pout was back on her face. Hunter felt his heart tear in half, but kept his face as impassive as possible. A split second had him questioning if she was going to refuse to sign. But then the tears pooled in her eyes and he knew she'd do as he told her.
His expression was hard, but his whisper was a soft caress.
"Sign, Steph."
Looking back down as her hand moved along the page, gravity forced her tears to fall. They dropped down onto the printed text and smudged the ink. Hunter's closed fist covered his mouth at the sight. Then nothing.
Three seconds of silence. Both of them felt shell-shocked as the attorney collected the papers and pen from Stephanie before organizing his materials and stuffing them into his briefcase.
"I'm sorry to have disturbed your meeting…" He babbled the usual pleasantries such an event called for. Neither Hunter nor Stephanie heard him. Their ears were ringing as they stood awkwardly just a foot apart and avoiding eye contact.
A pause and the lawyer looked to them for an answer. Hunter cleared his throat but Stephanie found her voice first.
"Thank you, Devin. We appreciate your discretion."
Her tone was kind but the inflection clearly conveyed their mutual want of privacy.
"Yeah," agreed Hunter.
"I understand. All of these proceedings are confidential. I will give you both a call when I've filed and made it official. However, you can assume that you're divorced from this moment forward. I'm," he paused, unsure what to say. Both of them looked devastated. "It was a pleasure working with you," he looked to Stephanie. "I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances."
"Don't be sorry," interjected Hunter. "One of the best days of my life," he quipped, trying to break the tension in the room. And failing miserably to loosen the knot in his chest.
Stephanie looked to the ceiling in a mixture of hurt and exasperation. The lawyer shot Hunter a look that clearly relayed his annoyance.
Deciding that she'd reached her breaking point, Stephanie moved towards the door.
"Steph."
She looked back at her husband. Ex-husband, her mind corrected.
"I still haven't decided what roster I'm joining."
"I know."
His eyebrows rose in question.
Her shoulders slouched and she threw her hands up in defeat.
"I want you on SmackDown. I think Bischoff's the same arrogant, ignorant asshole that he always was. He won't appreciate real talent. But I can match his offer… if you want. I'll give you whatever you want, whatever contract you want, whatever stipulations you want."
Hunter was staring into her eyes from across the room, not caring that they were most likely making the moment very uncomfortable for her attorney.
"You think we can work together?"
"Despite everything," she answered softly, "Yes, I think we can. We always made a good team."
He processed her words for a moment. She watched him calculate everything as she simultaneously fought the urge to run both to and from him.
"I'll make my decision in the ring."
Stephanie gave a curt nod before escaping from the room. Bischoff was in her face in a heartbeat. She confirmed to him that Hunter had signed, and moved quickly down the hall. She knew he'd misconstrue her words to mean that Triple H had signed to SmackDown and she didn't care. It served him right for snooping outside the door.
And regardless, she could feel a breakdown swelling inside and was short on time. Power walking away from all WWE personnel, she stopped for only a moment at the end of the corridor to decide either left or right. Right it was, she saw an exit sign in the distance. She found sanctuary in an empty stairwell.
Miniature, imaginary versions of her parents rested upon her shoulders. Vince encouraged her to let the pain out. Kick and scream. Cry and fight. Anything but keep it in. Transfer the pain to someone else. Inflict it. Linda coached her to hold it in. Bury it. Don't let anyone see.
She settled for in between. Gripping the stairs' railing with both hands, she let out loud, heavy breaths. They were wracked, half sobs, but not loud enough to draw anyone's attention to the abandoned stairwell. She focused on breathing and tried to push her emotions downward, away from her chest. She blinked the tears away for several minutes. And lost the feeling in her fingers. For almost a half hour, she fought to compose herself. Hiding, and mourning her marriage alone, she wondered if this had all been a mistake. Returning, seeing him, working in the same company, even if it was her family's.
Her thoughts were endless. They circled, flaring up her emotions and blocked all rationality.
One thing at a time.
Stephanie squared her shoulders. One thing at a time. Get out of here, sign him, or don't, whatever. Go home, drown yourself in the shower. No I can't do that. Go back to the hotel. Call Mom. Drown yourself in wine and then cry in the shower. That was a better plan. One thing at a time.
She exited the stairwell and continued on. For the rest of the night, her mind was sharp but her body numb. She went to the ring, followed Bischoff in one last attempt to recruit Triple H to SmackDown. It had almost worked. Not because of anything she'd said or done. But because Hunter had temporarily thought she was the more reliable devil to work for. For a second, there was one tiny upside to her past schemes.
Shawn Michaels' theme music trampled that thought immediately. She knew she couldn't complete with him. Hunter had told her almost everything he knew about the Heartbreak Kid. His love for his old friend was genuine and deep. He spoke of their good ole days with nostalgia. Stephanie had been consistently intimidated by the memory of him. In the early days of her marriage, she wasn't too fond of anyone but her being the object of her husband's personal attention. In the later days, Shawn's spiritual rehabilitation highlighted the rather hedonistic lifestyle she and Hunter enjoyed. The two spent little time together after that so she had little to fear.
So she now found it fitting that he walked away with Shawn, arm and arm, without a care in the world. They were doomed. Her ex-husband was a jealous, possessive man. She would bet the majority of her inheritance that he would turn on Shawn within a month. It would be no surprise to her when it happened sooner. Slapping Bischoff for good measure, she used every ounce of the McMahon bravado to carry on with the night, conducting business with her head held high.
Later, much later, after she'd called her mother in the limousine ride from the arena to the hotel, after she'd stripped down to her bra and panties and downed a bottle of merlot by herself, after she'd drunkenly dialed his number four times only to snap the phone shut before pressing call, she stood naked in the shower. Scorching hot water turned her skin pink and mixed with her tears as she cried. And cried and cried. She cried until the water turned cold, and the hand she'd pressed to her mouth could no longer smother her wails. Her head tipped back, resting against the tiled wall, as she started truly keening. The sounds echoed for what felt like an eternal penance. Her hands, pressed tightly against the center of her chest did nothing to stop the pain.
Stephanie's gut-wrenching sounds, though loud, did not travel beyond the glass walls of her shower. They did not float through the hallways of the hotel. They did not move into the elevators and down to the lobby and lounge. They did not reach Hunter's ears.
He sat, painfully sober, beside his best friend. They had left the ring, high on life and their reunion, and ready to make up for lost time. Hunter had had visions of nightclubs and women. Of alcohol and bar-fights. But those days, for Shawn, were long gone. The Showstopper had instead booked them a table at Detroit's top restaurant.
For the most part, Hunter had enjoyed himself. They reminisced and joked of the good ole days. They discussed the company's current highs and lows. They argued over dream matches and who was second to Flair of being the greatest of all time. Shawn drank water with his meal. He bowed his head for a moment before eating. His head did not turn at the attractive cocktail waitress that brought Hunter a drink.
When they finished dinner, Shawn's driver took them directly to the hotel that most of the WWE employees were staying. Its bar was fairly crowded. They nodded politely to familiar faces and had a few drinks before bed. Hunter began to loose faith that this was just a pit-stop in his friend's plans for the evening. Shawn again forewent alcohol and showed little interest in anything besides talking.
Hunter expertly dogged questions about Stephanie, his parents, recently losing the titles to the Undertaker, and more. So much more. Shawn divulged details about his newfound faith. He didn't cheat anymore. He didn't drink or party anymore. He seemed to do nothing that his former self had done. It was strikingly clear that the DX reunion Hunter had been picturing would not happen.
Though Shawn did not push Hunter to change. It was obvious that he still saw himself as a mentor to Triple H. He wanted to guide him. To influence him in a way that he did long ago when Hunter was first starting out. No fucking thanks.
Hunter did not need guidance. He didn't need a mentor, a big brother looking over his shoulder. He didn't need to be lectured. He didn't need to clean up his act or start thinking about his career long term. He didn't need to answer questions like: What are you gonna do when this is all over? If this stopped today, would you be proud of your legacy? Are you relieved that the marriage is over? Did you love her?
How fucking dare he? He was Hunter, Triple H, The Game. He answered to no one. He needed no one. And he certainly didn't need this shit.
But the small part of him, the part of him that was still his mother's son, loved his friend unconditionally. No matter how different Shawn now was, he sat there and listened and avoided as many inquiries as possible. He acknowledge that this partnership would be different moving forward and made a mental note to never agree to hang out with his friend after an event. He liked to decompress with two things, booze and babes. It had been Shawn's saying long ago.
His plan to create a harmonious distance was squashed with a phone call.
"Uh oh! It's the Mrs."
Hunter forced a smirk at Shawn's playful tone and listened to his friend speak to his wife.
"Everything alright, hun?" Shawn lowered the phone to his shoulder for a second. "The little one had a nightmare," he whispered to Hunter before returning the cell to his ear. "Put him on."
Hunter's stomach churned. Shawn playfully reassured his kid. He flirted with his wife once she returned to the phone. He told her he loved her. Earnestly. Wholeheartedly. Hunter looked across the bar but saw nothing. Images of his ex-wife were flashing through his mind, blinding him. Her eyes, as blue as the ocean, had been wet throughout their encounter in the ring. He could still see the blotches on their divorce papers from her tears.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything… I didn't want this. I don't want this."
A knot formed in his throat. Was she lying? She could be. Stephanie McMahon was a pathological liar. But she had been crying – crying so differently than he had ever seen her cry. Quietly and submissively. She'd looked so sad.
Was she crying now? Now, that the cameras were gone and she was alone. Was she alone? God, he hoped so. He hated the thought of her with someone else.
"Hunter? Hunter? Hello? Hunter?"
Shawn deadpanned his name over and over until he got his friend's attention. When Hunter shook his head and met his gaze, Shawn added, "Welcome back."
"Sorry."
"It's all good. Just had to help my little man out and check on his momma."
The loving smile on Shawn's face sickened Hunter.
"Alright," Shawn exclaimed, rubbing his hands together excitedly, "One more cola and it's bedtime for me." He turned to grab the bartender's attention while Hunter made up his mind. DX would not reunite. Him and Shawn would not be riding together. He was done with setbacks.
Booze and babes. And the belts.
That's all he wanted. He needed nothing else. He'd eliminate everything else. Just like he'd done her. He'd remove all distractions. Kill the parts of himself that cared for anything other than money and power.
One last thought of her. Standing beside him and scared. Eyes wide and panicked at the sight of her lawyer. Her fingers shaking as she signed his surname for the last time.
"I don't want this."
His reign of terror would start tomorrow.