i got really into this story after i posted it yesterday, so i wrote another chapter today during my first period geometry test. really, i should have been paying attention b/c we have a really big test on circles tomorrow. damn circles. anyhoo... here's another chapter. and read carefully. in these next few chapters are going to be hints about "who done it" later in the story.
enjoy!
Ruby
Chapter Two
Boston
Peyton heard a gasp on the other end of the phone, followed by a long, awkward pause. She waited for Candice to speak next, but was growing exponentially uncomfortable with every passing second. "Candice?"
"Sorry, sweetie," her voice was rid of all pity and surprise and turned nurturing, "I'm just so... I don't know... I just can't believe this is all happening. I mean, you and Randy? Now Mickie and Randy? Who could have seen any of it coming?"
"Definitely not me!" I squealed, trying to keep my composure, "I think there was alcohol involved. A lot of it. You said MJ looked like crap, right? Well Randy didn't look like a bed of roses either... and he was kind of rough with me."
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" The shock was back. "Uuuuuh, I could just..."
"No! Randy would never. I just think he was frustrated and didn't realize he was squeezing my shoulders as tight as he was."
"Pey-pey! Don't stand up for the scum! You're not thinking of taking him back, are you? Because, believe it or not, he DID cheat on you with your best friend. How more betrayed could you get?"
"Thanks for reminding me..." Peyton sighed, lying on the bed and hugging a pillow. "Absolutely not. Why would I want to be with him after that? That would be emotional suicide."
There was another pause on Candice's end. She was contemplating the question they both knew was inevitable. "Did you talk to her? Mickie?"
Peyton shook her head ferociously, unaware that Candice couldn't see her. Mentally slapping her forehead in stupidity, she continued, "No. And I REALLY don't want to."
"You're going to have to eventually, you know. I know you want to, but you can't place all the blame on Randy. It's okay if you're mad at her. But you can't place all the blame on her either. It takes two, right."
"Yeah... I guess."
"She told us she doesn't remember anything."
"I'm sure she doesn't." It came out more sarcastic than Peyton would have preferred, but it made her feel a little better.
- - - - - -
Randy looked around the locker room of the local YMCA. Seeing no one, he flung his tired, aching body against the bench, letting himself go limp. His mind ran rampant with questions and things he had been thinking about in the past couple days.
Two days left until this week's show... Will she show up?... Will she even be able to look at me?... She has to go. She has a match... She'll be forced to talk to me. We have a storyline together. There's no way she could avoid it... I'm going to tell her everything. I was drunk. I was stupid. I'm sorry. So sorry...
But in the back of his mind he wondered if she would even let him speak to her. She had made it perfectly clear that there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say.
As soon as he decided to talk to her, regardless, Randy started to mentally prepare himself for the reality that was about to wash over his head like a cold shower. She was never going to forgive him. He was never going to get her back.
And never is a really long time...
- - - - - -
Mickie picked up her suitcase from the rotating belt, her legs sagging with the weight and the added stress of jet-lag. But was it really jet-lag? Or was her conscious physically telling her something was wrong?
Mickie shook her head at herself. She was guilty, and she knew it. But she just didn't feel it. She thought it was just because she couldn't remember anything and that seeing Peyton would bring the emotion to the surface, but, at the same time, she dreaded seeing running into the aforementioned. She was so dreadful, she hadn't even dared to pick up the phone and apologize. Which, in all sense, would have made her best friend - or maybe former best friend - even more upset. But was that because of guilt or fear for her own well being?
A cab was waiting outside the airport, waiting to take her to the hotel that most of the superstars were staying at. She wasn't ready for that. Not until she could figure herself out. So, instead, she flipped open her cellphone and called Trish. Maybe some peer review could help her figure this out.
- - - - - -
Trish agreed to meet Mickie at a coffee shop around the corner from the hotel, but she also said she would only sit for five minutes to hear Mickie's side of the story. Trish knew it wasn't fair, but everyone had taken side with Peyton because she had been the one wronged. Mickie and Randy played the bad guys. And no one really wants to hang out with a bad guy. Not even if it's your best friend, unfortunately.
Mickie walked in, tears already staining her face and saturating the high collar of her shirt. She walked over to the small table with a sort of slump to her bag, looking like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She got right down to the point, "Trish, I don't remember anything!"
Trish squinted her eyes at Mickie, really looking past her and watching the door. "Nothing?"
"Not a single thing. I remember we left the hotel at seven. We went to the Bamboo Temple for Chinese. Then we went to that cigar lounge with that weird name that Randy wanted to go to...
Actavica, or something... Then Randy went back to the hotel and we went out to some nightclub. That's all kind of fuzzy, but it's there. I remember Peyton ordering us drinks, us dancing, you and Torrie flirting with some guys who asked for our autographs...then nothing. The next thing I know is that I'm waking up to Peyton screaming and Randy running around the room. Then I went back to my room...and here we are..."
Trish's sense of nervousness passed over her as she blinked at Mickie. "Really?"
"Why would I want to do that to Peyton?"
Trish really had to think about that answer, but came up with something nonetheless. Mickie wanted Randy.