For ratings, disclaimers, etc., see chapter one.

Chapter III: Who's Fooling Who?

Cheryl had no problems with the hazing beyond her gullibility but this was beyond a good-natured acceptance. The lipstick she knew she had put in her make-up had disappeared and now she sported bright orange lips from a tube that had been borrowed. The color had gone on a scarlet red, a fitting shade for Cherry Leigh, but then changed as she began thinking about the embarrassment of last week and the strange thoughts popping in her head about playing with Dave Batista's black curls.

"What's wrong with your lips?" Trish asked, coming closer to inspect them.

"Nothing, I guess," Cheryl replied, pursing them. She fumbled for her cosmetic mirror, found the horror that was now on her mouth, and quickly began rubbing it with a cotton pad to no avail. Finding some soap, she washed as hard as she could but the lipstick wasn't coming off.

Short guffaws came from out of nowhere and Trish and Cheryl looked up to see Stacy trying to hold in the snorts. "What's so funny?" Trish asked.

"You're foaming at the mouth like a mangy dog," she said in a voice squeaky from holding back the laughter.

"Did you do this?" Trish demanded. Stacy's eyes grew wide and she feigned an innocent look. "I ought to…" Trish started to say and balled up her fists. Stacy skittered like a dog clawed by a frightened cat.

"It-it's not coming off," Cheryl wailed after rinsing the soap off.

"What's not coming off?" Victoria asked, coming in the door, and walking over to Cheryl.

"My lipstick disappeared and I-I borrowed somebody else's and this," she pointed at her mouth, "is what happened and it won't come off!"

"Put another shade over it," Victoria offered and picked up her cosmetic bag. While Cheryl tried different shades of pink and red, the two other women combed Stacy's belongings.

"Was this the one you used?" Trish asked, holding a tube up. Cheryl glanced at her and nodded in the affirmative but then Trish shook her head.

"That color, uh, uh," Victoria stated, expressing the thought for the both of them. The redhead started frantically rubbing her lips again.

"I think I was the one who handed this to you, but I don't know who I got it from," Trish muttered.

"S'okay."

"It's not okay if you don't get that off or something over it," Trish replied and then studied the offending tube. "It's cheap mood lipstick…let's see…orange…were you nervous?"

"That's an understatement," Cheryl replied.

The knock at the door startled all three of them. "Ms. Ellis, you're supposed to be filming as we speak," a male voice called.

"Oh god! I'm coming! Five seconds! Help me!" she wailed.

Cosmetics were spread out over the vanity and the women picked at the various tubes. "Here," Victoria ordered, handing her a maroon shade. Cheryl looked at it in disgust and spread it on anyhow. It was the best combination she had seen all night. If only her lips could match the red in cheeks brought on by her intense anger for what Stacy had done. "Now go," the black-haired beauty said, handing Cheryl her red leather jacket and pushing her towards the door.

The new diva smoothed a hand over her clothes and hair for what felt like the thousandth time before the director counted them down. It was a simple scene that led to all of Evolution leaving the room except for Randy Orton, who then made a simple pass at her before the camera cut.

Batista watched her, her lips looking a bit more plump than usual and her anxiety obvious in the way she wrung her hands before they began taping. Feeling slightly nervous over staring at her lips, his eyes dropped down to the choker and the cherry pendant that dangled on her neck. As she spoke, it swayed sensually inside of the hollow of her throat and his stomach tightened. He turned away but the image of the dangling pendant was stuck behind his eyes.

As Cheryl slipped away, Dave called after her, absolutely surprised at himself that he had stopped her. "The sting of last week worn off yet? You looked really nervous."

"I had a make-up crisis, making me late, both not exactly helping," she angrily muttered,

"How do you do it? Go from looking like a scared rabbit to this 'queen of the stage' thing?"

"I wouldn't describe it that way. It's just acting. I'm another person and she doesn't have the fidgets or get nervous."

"How did you come to figure that out?" Dave asked, slightly cocking his head

"It's sort of a long story," she replied, shrugging her shoulders to brush him off.

"I've got a while if you do," he said, settling down on a black storage crate.

"It's boring."

"But I'm interested," he said, patting the crate beside himself.

Cheryl shook her head and leaned up against the wall. She knew better than to sit by him dressed in a black suit and a sapphire blue shirt. He looked sharp, from the tie down to the polished shoes, and her neck began to heat up around her collar as she thought about him. "The only thing I'd ever been good at was softball. I went to UNC on a full softball scholarship—starting third baseman four years in a row," she added and curtseyed.

"Impressive."

"Luck. The rest of my stats aren't that pretty. Anyhow, near the middle of my second year, my advisor told me I had to declare a major the next semester. Well, I enrolled in theatre appreciation against my will because it was the only thing that would fit around my practice schedule. I thought I would puke every time I went to class 'cause I was so afraid of acting. After several weeks, I found out that I could absorb myself into a character. I could be another person and this," she wrung her hands as if for emphasis, "and my stuttering would just go away. Have you ever watched Hugh Grant give an interview?"

"Yeah, that horny pansy," he murmured.

"I was drawing an analogy. Thanks for the compliment," she sarcastically replied. Dave blushed when he realized what she meant. "Don't worry about it. Anyway…that's me."

"You weren't nervous or stuttering talking to me just now."

Cheryl looked off to the side, thinking about what he had just said. "I guess it's because I consider you a friend and I'm comfortable around you."

"Well then, friend, the invitation still stands for getting drinks after the show," he stated, considering it to be an innocent offer for her to join the group in the bar.

"Thanks but I kinda have plans," she replied since the girls had decided that tonight was another pizza and beer night. They figured that the once a week indulgence wouldn't hurt their figures if that was all they slacked on.

"Okay," Dave replied, trying not to let his disappointment show as he realized that the offer was indeed selfish and he wanted her to go out with him. "Just be sure your dinner date doesn't run off this time."

"I'm not going out to—oh, ha, ha, very funny!" she sarcastically replied but smiled at him anyway.

When the director had yelled 'cut,' Cheryl had a one-track mind for hunting Stacy Keibler down. She knew about the no-fighting decree backstage but that didn't mean she still couldn't provoke the woman into starting something. The place was run like a school—the person who threw the first punch was the one to get in trouble. Dave stopping her had lessened her anger somewhat, along with her drive to bitch-slap the blonde. She'd get her back but in her own time.

"Has anyone seen Stacy since I left?" Cheryl asked.

Victoria shook her head and then held up a tube of lipstick. "Is this yours?"

"Yeah."

"We found it in the trashcan," Victoria offered.

Cheryl took the tube from her and tossed it back in her bag. "I haven't been this mad since that time I wanted to kill Pierce," she muttered to herself, running her hands through her hair and plopping down on the bench. She glanced up to see everyone's eyes focused on her. "What?"

"You know we're gonna badger you until you tell us the story," Nidia stated, crossing her arms.

"I can't believe I said that out loud," she sighed. "Fine."

It had been six days since Cheryl had first found herself in "The Zone" and now she was drifting in again, in denial that the reason was to see Pierce. She slipped up on the barstool and noticed Julie, the other bartender, coming her way much to her chagrin. "What would you like?"

"Wild Chicken," she answered, knowing she was incorrect but only wanting to see Pierce's reaction to the joke.

"I'm sorry. I don't think we have any of that," the brunette tentatively replied.

"Pierce told me that y'all do."

Julie tried to hide the look on her face of wondering what in the hell this woman was talking about and went to tap on Pierce's shoulder. Cheryl wanted to laugh out loud as she watched the confused woman explain Cheryl's request. The smile that lit up his face melted her on the spot and her cheeks were flushed by the time he had made his way to her. "Finally come back for a taste of Wild Turkey?"

"No, something light today. I still don't want to give you my address."

"How 'bout a phone number then?" he asked with a sexy grin.

"What? Another one to add to your growing list?" she scoffed but then smiled.

"Why don't you give it to me and we'll see?" he said, handing her the drink.

"I'll think about it," she demurely replied. He made his apologies and moved on to the next customer. Cheryl slowly slipped the drink and watched the live band. Pierce often came by and they passed flirtatious comments back and forth.

By the time she was ready for her second drink, the man sitting beside her on a barstool was pawing the woman with him, something she obviously didn't like. Pierce tapped the guy on the shoulder and asked the woman if there was a problem. The man had a few choices words about staying out of his business.

"Can I ask a favor of you?" Pierce asked her. "Find Mike, he's the bouncer. Dressed all in black, bald, biggest guy in the place. Eric's sick and we've only got Mike tonight."

"Let me try something," she said, not sure where the boldness was coming from—probably a way to try to impress him.

"Cheryl, don't—" But she was already off her stool, imagining herself on an improv stage. He watched her speak with the couple and the man flung himself from the stool and stomped out of the place. She said a few words to the woman, who smiled and then loosened up. "How did you do that?" he asked when she settled back on the seat.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes it takes a feminine touch. Plus, he had on a wedding band and she didn't."

"Would you pick a fight for me?"

"What?" Cheryl exclaimed.

"I'll keep you out of trouble, I promise. I have an idea," he said as if concentrating on his plan.

"And that would be?"

"I'll tell you afterward." She rolled her eyes and waited for him to tell her. Some chick was coming on heavy to him but he had tolerated her, knowing that Mike was the only bouncer for the night. Cheryl was to start a fight with her to get her tossed out. The redhead wasn't sure about how to pick one without throwing the first punch. She started needling the woman about coming on to a man that obviously had no interest in such an ugly woman as her. The blonde lashed out at her several times but Cheryl deflected them. She then ducked the next punch and slammed her fist into the other woman's face. She staggered but then charged after the redhead who slipped out of the way at the last second. When she twisted around and attempted to lash out, Cheryl kneed her, pulled her up, and punched her again. The redhead was preparing for the blonde to come after her again but Cheryl was being dragged by her collar towards the door and unceremoniously dumped on the sidewalk.

She was so pissed at Pierce that she vowed never to set foot in "The Zone" again. She'd strangle him if she ever saw him again. No, she'd pay someone to egg his house because she wasn't going to dirty her hands with him again. Better yet, she'd pay someone to start a fight with him. By the time she righted herself, the blonde that she had picked the fight with was deposited beside her. Cheryl held a hand out to her but she pulled herself up. "I'm sorry. Look, this guy—" she started, holding out her hands apologetically, but was interrupted by a fist to her mouth. The other woman took on a defensive stance and beckoned the redhead to her. "That's it," Cheryl spat, rubbing her face, but a dark figure stepped in between the two and grabbed her before she could rush the other woman.

"Here." It was Pierce, holding out a bag of ice. "Let's go back in," he said, putting an arm around her and leading her into the manager's office. Her first impulse was to shrug him off but, if he came out after her with ice and was taking her back in, she might as well hear what he had to say. Settling her into the chair, he handed her a glass of water. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"My uncle's a former FBI agent. He thought I needed to learn how to fight when he found out I wanted to go to a large university. It's not exactly the most exciting present to get on your sixteenth birthday."

Pierce nodded approvingly. "Well, I said I'd tell you why afterward. You interested in a job doing security for us?" She stared at him at a loss for words. "You'll be like our negotiator and can calm those hysterical women and you can even leave the bigger guys up to Mike and Eric."

"Why did you think I-I could do that?"

"Just some of the things you said. I wanted to see how you handled yourself and then offer the job."

She wanted to say 'yes' just to see him again, but she knew nothing about being a bouncer or running security. "I—I don't know," she replied, her thoughts about wanting to kill him immediately dissipating as he melted her with his blue eyes.

"Tell you what. I'll give you a few days to think about it and then I'll give you a call."

"But you don't know my number." He gave her a crooked grin. "Oh, you want me to give it to you," she said shyly and reached for a pen.

"I give you a free drink and can't get your number. But I get you punched in the face and you give it to me. Sorry about that, by the way. The punch, I mean, not about getting your number." She smiled at him and then slightly winced. "Let me see if I can find you some aspirin."

"Did you take the job?" Nidia gushed.

"Yeah and it was the most miserable I had ever been for the first month or so until I got the hang of it," she said with a nod, remembering the vehement argument between Pierce, the manager, and Darkeyah, the owner, about her being hired.

"But you got a husband out of it."

"Yeah," she sighed with a weak smile, "yeah, I did."

Several weeks had passed and now Cherry Leigh was forced to team with Gail Kim against Nidia and Victoria while she and Gail had their own personal battles. It was all part of the struggle to remain good but flirt with the dark side. Orton was taking an interest in Cherry Leigh and Triple H was giving warning signs. This part of the storyline led to her seeing Batista at least twice a week.

Dave found a way to tease her almost every time. He would ask how her dinner went or if she ran into any construction or was pulled over on her way to the arena. The first couple of times, she flushed pink from the roots of her hair down to her toes but then she got in on the ruse, asking around about his initiation. The best she had come up with was the one he had inadvertently put himself into. "Dave, how many push-ups did you get in today?" or "You talk to D'Von lately?" She loved to hear his laugh and found as many ways as possible to give him reason to do so.

Most of the superstars were booked on the same flights from the house shows to the next cities for RAW. Tickets were handed out and the wrestlers rearranged themselves however they chose. Cheryl found herself shuffled around to a window with Nidia, who particularly didn't care for flying and definitely couldn't stand to "see" their altitude. She excused herself to the bathroom and Cheryl pulled out a book to bide her time, knowing her neighbor would want a nap.

As she settled into her book, a hand whipped it from her and shut it with a malicious laugh. "Dave," she said without looking up, "what do I have to do to get it back?"

He dropped in the seat beside her. "How'd you know it was me?"

"How many other cruel people do you know would do that and not hold the page?" she said, pulling off the reading glasses. Dave was disappointed when she took them off, thinking her quite sexy with the silver frames on.

"You've got a point."

"Oh, I've got a joke for you. I forgot to tell you Friday," Cheryl excitedly said.

"Okay. This donkey and camel are crossing the desert and then come upon this oasis. The camel quickly drinks up the water and the donkey asks why he drank up all the water. The camel replies, 'Shut up, jackass, I know what I'm doing.' Well, they keep walking across the desert and come to another oasis. Same thing happens. Donkey protests and the camel says, 'Shut up, jackass, I know what I'm doing.' Alright, so, they keep on going and they end up at a third oasis. Camel drinks all the water, donkey asks what's going on, and camel says, 'Shut up, jack—"

"—ass, I know what I'm doing," Dave said with her. "Tell me there's a point to this."

"There is, I promise." He folded his arms, her book still in his hand, and waited for her to finish. "Okay, donkey and camel, traveling across the desert, come to the third oasis and—"

"You said 'third' already," Dave interrupted.

Cheryl looked up at him smugly and replied, "Shut up, jackass, I know what I'm doing." Dave snorted and shook his head. "What's wrong, jackass?"

Finally, he couldn't contain himself and started laughing out loud. She had to join the infectious laughter and half the people around them started staring at them. "I've got to tell someone else that joke," he said, handing the book back to her. "By the way, you were on page 121." She smiled and took the paperback from him. That's when he finally saw the engraved gold band, clear as day. They had had little reason to see each other outside of the arenas and Cheryl didn't wear her ring once dressed out since she couldn't wear any while she wrestled. His stomach dropped to his feet and he slipped out of the seat as Nidia slid in around him.

Dave flopped down in his seat beside by Randy and stared at the back of the chair in front of him. "What's your problem?" Orton asked.

"Nothing. Just thinking about work too much," he replied, not about to tell his friend that he had flirted ridiculously with a married woman. He had thought about officially asking Cheryl out but he was afraid of being turned down. She had quickly sidled away from him when Hunter dropped her on him and she had chosen not to sit with him the evening he had been fascinated with her choker. She had also turned down drinks twice. So he didn't ask. The problem now was that he couldn't understand his reaction to learning that she was married. If he hadn't even bothered to ask her out, he wondered why he was so upset that she wasn't available. "Maybe we should hit the town after we land. You cool with that?"

"You know I always am," Randy replied with a grin.

"What was that all about?" Nidia asked Cheryl when she was situated in the seat.

"Nothing. We were just joking around."

"You two are cute together," the brunette sweetly noted. "Y'all should go out sometime."

"Me and Dave? Nah, there's nothing between us."

"Could've fooled me, chica," Nidia replied, fluffing her travel pillow.

"Then I guess we did," Cheryl replied, opening her book to signal that the conversation had come to an end. Is there something between us? she thought. In her opinion, he was extremely attractive and could give her goosebumps. But that problem had been solved when she decided every woman had to feel that way in his presence. Yet, she wouldn't lie to herself that she liked being around him. In the two years she had been widowed, she had been out on a few dates, all miserable failures. Why add another one to the list?

"Why?" a voice inside her asked. "Why? Because you know you like him."

She made a sound of disgust at herself and absentmindedly fiddled with the sole ring on her hand. The band, engraved with tiny flowers, was a gift from her mother upon her high school graduation. She couldn't wear it on her right hand anymore because of a softball injury to her ring finger. Now that she no longer wore her wedding band, she found the occasion to wear the expensive gift.

TBC…