A/N: I just wanted to let you guys know that I'll be gone for a long time (like, over two weeks, maybe even more than that) so I'm trying to squeeze in all the updates I can—and make them long updates—for my mad reviewing public (ok, that's a bit of a stretch, but can't a girl dream?). Enjoy! This chapter will introduce the much-anticipated (by me at least) Cowboy Bob Orton!
Hampton Inn breakfast buffets were unmatched in their goodness. The only hotel whose breakfasts can come anywhere close to the quality of the Hampton is the Clarion in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. If you wanted it, it would be at the Hampton. They even had miso soup.
Jacinta lived for Hampton Inn breakfasts. As with any all-you-can-eat buffet, her philosophy was, "Let's see if I can eat it all." Everyone who knew her at all knew that about her. So the fact that she was staring dismally at a mug of green tea—and her appearance—drew many strange looks.
Jacinta shot a surreptitious glance at Crystal, who was having an animated conversation with Randy, although the talk dropped occasionally, when Crystal realized either a) she was talking to Randy Orton, or b) how pretty his eyes were.
Jacinta was wet, cold, dissatisfied, and had a horrible crick in her neck. And she did look like a manic raccoon. And though she normally didn't mind, the looks were starting to annoy her on an epic scale.
She stomped out of the breakfast room.
Most of the time when Jacinta was angry, she took the stairs. Her stomps and angry mutterings echoed most interestingly there. But, in this case, she was too tired. "Ah, screw it," she muttered and pressed the elevator button.
The elevator slid open almost immediately, and Jacinta stepped inside. Just as the door was about to shut, Matt Hardy slid though the door. Jacinta rolled her eyes. Matt was one of her really good friends, but he'd gotten incredibly obnoxious since he and Ashley Massaro had started dating. "Hey, Jackie (yes, Randy's nickname for her was used throughout the WWE)," he'd say. "Guess what? I've got a girlfriend!"
"Do you mind?" Matt asked, pressing the 8 button.
"Do I have a choice?" Jacinta asked, pressing the 10.
Matt shrugged. "Not really. What happened to you, Jackie? You look like you spent the night on a park bench."
Jacinta glared at him. Matt couldn't help laughing—the only thing funnier than a manic raccoon was a really angry manic raccoon.
Jacinta sighed. "Not that it's any of your business, but it just so happens that I did spend the night on a park bench. Is that, y'know, a problem?" She inwardly cringed. If I'm getting Randy's speech impediment—saying y'know every two words, Jacinta thought, I'm gonna, y'know, kill myself. Oh no!
Matt picked some leaves out of her hair and handed them to her. "No problem for me, but your grandmother is on the warpath. Watch out." The elevator dinged. The hats arrived on the eighth floor. Matt shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off.
"What am I supposed to do with these?" Jacinta called after him, meaning the leaves.
Matt didn't answer. The door slid shut again. "That's it," Jacinta resolved. "If I can get a hold of his room key, he is getting some kind of reptile in his bed."
Randy was having a very enjoyable conversation with his girlfriend, Crystal, over breakfast. Yes, the conversation was very enjoyable, but, all things considered, he'd rather be having sex. But Crystal was a good Catholic girl, no sex before marriage, and Randy respected that. That's not to say he didn't 'accidentally' forget his towel coming out of the shower occasionally—he had to try, at least, but he respected her.
Crystal was saying something—probably very meaningful—but at that precise moment, Randy was watching her mouth move. He didn't do this very often, but when he did, Crystal thought it was cute, so everything was fine. Suddenly, though, she stopped in mid-sentence and stared over his left shoulder. "Randy, there's a nun behind you," Crystal said, instantly hating whoever this nun chick was. She didn't look like a fan wanting an autograph, so she obviously had a personal reason for wanting to talk to Randy. Crystal didn't like this. My man, she thought savagely. Back off, Gonzo. Her nose was way too big. It annoyed Crystal.
Randy turned. And there was Samantha. She had been his fiancée before she had left him to join a convent, of all things. The Lord was calling her, or something like that. Now Randy was all for religion, but he didn't understand at the time why she couldn't do God's work and marry him. By now he was glad the Lord had called Samantha, though. God might have been talking to Randy at the same time He was talking to Samantha. Because three weeks after she'd left, Crystal got her WWE contract.
"Umm…hi…?" he said uncertainly. Why is she here? he wondered. I thought I took care of her last night when she showed up at my door. Good thing Crystal was, y'know, out doing something then…
"Hi, Randy!" Samantha said enthusiastically, pushing Funaki out of his chair and dragging the chair over to Randy and Crystal's table, and settling about half an inch away from Randy.
Randy scooted his chair further away. When it came to Crystal, personal space was not an issue. But he'd had plenty of time to think about Samantha since he'd met Crystal, and had no idea why he'd ever gone out with—or proposed to—someone with a nose that huge.
"Who is this?" Crystal asked, even though she had a good idea who it was. She and Randy didn't keep secrets. Well, there was that thing with John Cena, but it was over now, so it didn't matter. And anyway, since they'd been dating at the time, not going out, they could still see other people.
Randy introduced them. "Crystal, this is, y'know, Samantha, I told you about her." He'd told Crystal about Samantha shortly after they started going out, when they'd been watching TV, and some show came on that had a nun in it, and Randy had put his foot through the screen. "Sam," he continued, "This is Crystal, my girlfriend."
Samantha raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?" she said, placing her hand on Randy's. Crystal bristled possessively at the touch, and Randy twitched his hand away. Samantha pouted.
"I made myself clear. Crystal. And. I. Are. Going. Out." Randy spoke slowly, as if he was talking to the very stupid.
"Um, Randy, you're engaged to me." Maybe he was talking to the very stupid.
"You cheated on me with God!" said Randy exasperated.
Crystal snickered. She couldn't help it. The mental image of that was hilarious.
Samantha's pout grew more pronounced. "But you said you loved me…"
"And then you left me. So, y'know, now I don't. I, y'know, met someone else. Someone better. And I love her more than I ever could have loved you," Randy explained patiently. He knew that he was crushing her spirit, but didn't care—anything to make her go away.
Crystal was in shock after this little speech. Did those words just come out of Randy Orton's mouth…about me? she wondered, but was pretty sure they had.
"Fine!" Samantha said. "I hope you're happy!" She ran out of the hotel sobbing, but already planning her revenge.
"I am happy," Randy murmured.
Crystal had heard him, but figured it was not something meant for her ears. "How old is she? Nine?" she asked Randy while returning Funaki's chair to him. Funaki resumed eating his miso soup with Tajiri.
"She just can't handle disappointment."
Crystal rolled her eyes. "I knew that," she said. "OK, so you opened the door and then what?" she asked, referring to a hilarious story Randy had been telling before he had been so rudely interrupted.
Randy laughed. "So I, y'know, open the door and you will not believe what I see…"
Jacinta opened the door and could not believe what she saw. Well, she could have believed it if she had listened to matt's advice instead of trying to figure out why he had just given her a handful of leaves. She opened the door and got an Icy Majestic Glare right in the face. Abuela.
"Where have you been?" she demanded.
Jacinta just stood there. She got the, "You had me worried sick. What is your problem? Worrying like this is the last thing you need at my age…" speech in the hallway. She thought she heard laughter from upstairs. Quit listening through the vents, Carlito, she thought savagely. I taught you that trick myself, don't you dare use it against me!
She was allowed inside the room before she got the, "your antics are embarrassing to this family…" talk, the "You need to take better care of yourself…" lecture, and the, "You should attend family functions instead of partying, getting drunk, high, and prostituting yourself. We didn't do those kind of thins in my day. We respected our elders…" diatribe—the most ludicrous accusation of all.
Jacinta was certain she heard laughter this time. She only survived the endless blathering by replaying John Cena's CD—the explicit version, of course—over and over in her head. She knew every word, and got through it three times before Abuela appeared to be winding down.
"…and so I want you to work on improving yourself so you do not bring shame to our family."
She looks like she's done, Jacinta thought. I'd better stop raining fire like Apache helicopters and start nodding and looking remorseful. She promptly did so.
"Very good," Abuela announced. "I am glad we had this talk. You will take my words to heart, yes?"
Jacinta nodded.
"Outstanding. Then you will not dishonor the family, yes?"
Jacinta nodded again.
"Excellent. Then you will not smear the Mysterio honor any more, yes?"
Jacinta nodded a third time.
"Grand. Then you will speak at some point, yes?"
Jacinta blinked. She hadn't realized that senses of humor had been invented in her grandmother's day. "Yes…Abuela…"
Abuela shook her head. She had treated—and been treated—by her own grandmother much the same way. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't become like that. Except she had. The only difference between Jacinta's situation and her own when she was young was that she didn't have any catchy background music in her head to drown out the senile ramblings. Of course all those ramblings made sense now, and she was regurgitating them herself. She would try again later, but for now, she knew from experience Jacinta just wanted whatever Authority Figure that was there to leave. She swept out.
Jacinta sighed with relief and flopped down on her bed. More laughter came through the vents. She grred and got up and walked over to a vent. "You're not cool and you cheat at poker to see the divas naked!" she yelled through it. The laughter grew louder.
OK, Jacinta thought. When I get a reptile for Matt, I will get something disgusting and slimy for Carlito.
She looked in the mirror and nearly had a heart attack. All right. That's it. I am never doing that again, she thought, and walked into the bathroom.
"I cannot believe, y'all, Randy. Did y'all get my approval before gettin' serious with that girl? No! Y'all are too young to have sex with that girl, Randy." The rant was Randy's dad, Bob, to Randy. Randy had informed his father that he was in love—it was for real now, dad—and he had been less than thrilled.
"Dad, you were fine when Samantha and I, y'know, got engaged," Randy said, trying to be the voice of reason.
"I knew y'all wouldn't last," Bob said. "And y'all weren't having sex with Sammy."
Randy and Samantha had gotten jobs at the same place in high school so they could sneak in quickies in the back.
"I don't know this Crystal girl," Bob continued. "And y'all're going off and sayin' you love her? And what kind of a name is Crystal anyway?"
"Dad," Randy said. "How about this? I'll take…y'all," it hurt to say 'y'all,' but if he talked like his dad, Bob might be more inclined to listen, "…out to dinner, and you can get to know Crystal and see if you, y'know, approve."
"OK, Randy. But it better be a nice restaurant, y'all hear?"
"Yes, sir."
"OK. Now I'm gonna go check into my room, ya'll go get ready and be down her at 6:30, y'all hear?"
"Yes, dad."
Bob walked over to the front desk. "I need a room," he announced in his peculiar drawl.
"I'm sorry, sir, we're all full," said the front desk girl, a shy brunette whose name was Sylvia.
"Look, y'all, I need a place to rest my head. I reckon' y'all'll just have to turn some'un else out of their room!"
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't do that," Sylvia said meekly. The wrestlers scared her.
"Now look here, Miz Sylvia," Bob said, reading her name tag, "I'm tired, and I need somewhere to sleep."
Freshly showered so she didn't look like something out of a bad zombie movie, Jacinta headed down to the lobby to see if there was any breakfast left. Little did she realize hat it was 12:30, and Abuela had talked the morning—and the breakfast—away. She took the stairs because she was too lazy to wait for the elevator.
"Ma'am, I am not gonna tell y'all again! I need a room! I don't care how full y'all are!"
The stairwell door opened. Jacinta saw the trademark hat, and tried to sneak out without being seen.
She didn't make it.
"Jackie!" Bob thundered. "I haven't seen y'all in forever! C'mere!"
Jacinta joined Bob at the front desk, wincing. While the nickname was a joke to the rest of the wrestlers, who actually knew how to pronounce her name, with Randy's dad, it was serious. 'I'm sorry,' she mouthed at Sylvia. "Mr. Orton, what's the problem?" she asked.
"This here young'n won't give me a room."
Sylvia wasn't daunted by being called a 'young'n.' She figured that even Stonehenge would be a 'young'n' next to this particular customer. "We're full, sir," she repeated for the umpteenth time.
"OK," said Jacinta calmly. She was an expert at this. A lot of people were, actually. If you hung out with Randy long enough, you learned to resolve conflicts between Bob and people in the service industry. "OK," she repeated. "How about this? See who has a room with two beds and is only using one."
Sylvia tapped a few keys. "I'm sorry. The only room with two beds and one occupant is room 1021, occupied by a Mr. Gene Snitsky."
Jacinta thought for a second. "What about Tyson Tomko?"
"What about him?"
"What is the status of his room?"
"Mr. Tomko is sharing a room with Mr. Chris Mordetsky (Masters)."
"How about this?" Jacinta said. "We take Tomko and stick him in with Snitsky, and you can room with Chris. Is that all right, Mr. Orton?"
"Y'all know it ain't all right. Y'all know I spent my entire career in an $8 a night hotel with cigarette smoke, cigar smoke, and 300 pound wrestlers farting. I want my own room!" Another reason Bob wanted his own room is that his wife, Elaine, would be coming in later. He thought Jacinta was the best thing since sliced bread, but she and Elaine had had some battles.
"All right, Mr. Orton," Jacinta said, then turned back to Sylvia. "How about this. Put Tomko in Snitsky's room. I'll sacrifice my privacy and—after fumigating it, of course—take Tomko's old bed. Mr. Orton, you can have my old room."
"OK," said Bob. "Now, y'all make that work," he said to Sylvia. "I don't want no hanky panky between you and that Chris fella," he said to Jacinta.
"Don't worry, Mr. Orton, nothing like that will happen. I'll go get my stuff, you stay down here and try not to scare the nice lady too much." Jacinta walked away and hit the call button on the elevator.
Bob and Sylvia just stared at each other for a minute.
"Umm…sir, if you want to sit down while you wait, there are some chairs…over…there…"
Bob leaned on the desk. "Y'all need to learn how to talk properly he announced…"
"…sir…"