Chapter Four:

Hell Week Begins

Mike wasn't at all surprised to find Atlanta was excited for WrestleMania week when he arrived. Fans swarmed Mike and Maryse at the airport, asking for photographs and pictures. Maryse couldn't be bothered, openly snapping at the fans after two minutes to give her some room to breathe, to get out of her hair. Mike was supposed to be a bad guy, but he was in such a great mood that he stopped to pose for a few photographs and sign some autographs. Maryse stood to the side, rolling her eyes and making it clear to anyone who got close that their presence was not welcome. Alex was taking the pictures, rolling his eyes whenever he heard Maryse complaining behind him. Mike wasn't about to let her attitude bring him down.

It stunned Mike how many people seemed to really and truly hate John Cena. Some were conflicted, however; some couldn't tell if they hated John more than Mike. The fans who approached him, dressed in shirts ranging from him to Randy Orton to Chris Jericho, shook his hand and told him that they were rooting for him at WrestleMania. He thanked them for their support, feeling a surge of pride that there were people who stood behind him.

It was ten minutes before Maryse reached out and grabbed Mike by the wrist, her manicured nails scratching him. With a pull, she took him away from the fans, leading him towards baggage claim. He wanted to say something to her, to tell her that she was making him look bad, but he didn't say a word. He didn't want to cause a scene in front of anyone, but he was aggravated that it didn't take her getting off the plane before she turned into a stick in the mud. A few of the fans outright booed Maryse as they walked away. Alex stood frozen for a moment, shaking his head before he followed them.

Mike and Alex exchanged glances. Alex was growing tired of feeling sorry for Mike, who was a nice guy who just wanted the good life. He had everything in the world going for him, with the notable exception of a loving and supportive girlfriend. It was an open secret that Maryse was one of the least-liked women backstage; her cold attitude shut a lot of people off. Conceited, arrogant and high-maintenance, Maryse had a tendency to rub a lot of people the wrong way. Alex knew that Eve hated the woman; she had vented to him after a fight backstage. Everyone could see the chemistry, but they knew what it meant to be in a relationship with such a woman. She was always angry at him. It pained Alex and Eve to watch Mike constantly falling over himself to keep her happy, only for her to dash his attempts with a cold glare and insults.

Outside of the airport Maryse ran into Melina, the two of them leaving to go and get their hair done right away. Mike and Alex got into their rental car and drove to the hotel to check in. Mike had the penthouse suite, a nice room with pale walls, white carpets and an enormous balcony that let a lot of light into the room.

"I don't know how you put up with this shit, man," Alex told him, stepping onto the balcony. He had a bottle of beer in his hand. "She can't be that good."

"It is getting to be a bit much, isn't it?" Mike asked, running a hand through his hair. Alex nodded, sitting down in the chair beside him. Their balcony overlooked downtown Atlanta. "Things will get better. Once the roster cuts happen and she realizes she has some job security, she'll loosen up. She's just been stressed."

Alex's lips pursed into a narrow line; he knew Mike was trying to rationalize her behavior. He wanted to call Mike out for being delusional, but he wasn't in the mood to fight with his mentor. Alex knew that Eve was trying her best not to grab Mike by the shoulders and shake him. She had struck up a friendship with Mike when she was hanging out with Cryme Tyme. She had tried to warn him against getting involved with a woman like Maryse, but Mike was smitten. There was nothing she could do. Alex had the hope that he would see with Cristina that there were other women, just as beautiful and would treat him better. It was going to take Mike a while to realize that he didn't have to take Maryse's treatment; he just hoped it wasn't too late when he figured it out.

"Man, this is crazy. Main-eventing my first WrestleMania. I never thought I'd be doing this," Mike told him. "I used to dream about this when I was a kid. This is just so huge."

"I know. I have no idea how you're staying so calm." He wanted to point out that Maryse should be telling him how proud she is as well, but he didn't want to keep hammering Mike with it. She had Mike wrapped around her finger, and he knew that it was taking away some of the excitement he felt about the week. It made him cringe every time Mike mentioned giving her diamonds to calm her down. He was enabling Maryse's diva behavior, but he couldn't tell Mike that. Alex couldn't imagine dropping a small fortune on a woman who didn't appreciate it. He supposed it was what made Mike and him so different.

They fell silent, both of them drinking their beer. Alex's week was nowhere near as crazy as Mike's, but he saw his job to be keeping Mike sane until his big match on Sunday.

"Oh, hell no. Girl, I know you did not find another woman's number in his phone!"

Maryse, Melina, Vickie Guerrero, Layla El and Michelle McCool were all seated in the hair salon, getting their hair touched up and trimmed. Everyone wanted to look their best during WrestleMania week. Maryse had just let it slip to the other girls that she had found Cristina's number in Mike's phone, adding pauses for dramatic effect to keep the girls pushing for more information. Melina sat beside Maryse, nodding sympathetic confirmation.

"He tells me there is nothing between them, but I don't think I believe him," Maryse replied. She paused, then widened her brown eyes, as though a horrifying thought had just hit her. "What...what if he doesn't find me attractive anymore?"

"Girl, are you crazy?" Melina asked, rolling her eyes. The ends of her black tresses were covered with tinfoil. She was touching up the blue streaks in her hair. Like Maryse, Melina was upset that she had been passed over for Trish Stratus at the company's biggest event. The only difference was Maryse was staying quiet about it, choosing to put all her energy into her troubles with Mike. "Maryse, have you seen yourself? You're a Playboy model. You're a Diva. Sexy, smart and powerful, remember?"

"Aw, merci beaucoup," Maryse replied, a smile tugging at her glossy lips.

"What did you say when you confronted him...you did confront him about this, right?" Layla asked. Maryse nodded. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, taking in every detail of her face.

"Of course I confronted him! I'm no doormat. He said she's a journalist. I haven't read anything she's done. I've never even heard of her," Maryse said dismissively.

"What is her name?" Vickie asked. Maryse shrugged.

"Beats me. Something with a C." The girls laughed, peals of catty laughter bouncing off the walls of the tiny Atlanta salon. "He thinks I don't notice it, but he's on the phone constantly. I think it's with her. He takes the phone everywhere with him now."

"I can't see Mike being stupid enough to fool around," Michelle mused.

"Has he tried making it up to you?" Layla asked. Maryse nodded.

"You should have seen the necklace he bought me. It's not the nicest one, but I threw him a bone." She rolled her eyes. Mike was easy to control, and he didn't see it. "But I told him I didn't want them to speak anymore, and he's still not budging."

At the other end of the salon Eve Torres sat underneath the dryer and rolled her eyes. She kept her eyes in her novel, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. Listening to them speak made her want to stick an ice pick through her ears. She turned the page and kept her mouth shut, listening to the women bash Mike. The revelation that he had found a female friend who angered Maryse had piqued her interest. The next time she had a moment alone with Mike, she made a mental note to ask.

With Mike and Alex in Atlanta for the week, Cristina threw herself into her work, silently counting down the days until her friends came home. She began working on her most ambitious piece, a full history of metal and all of its subgenres. Cristina was sending out as many e-mails as she could, desperate to find a band willing to throw her a bone and talk to her a little bit about influences. She had started the article with classical music and she was quickly falling further and further down the rabbit hole, getting distracted with the different genres. Her editor was interested in the article, offering her as much assistance as she needed.

Sipping on her cup of coffee, she stared at the paragraph she had written on her little second-hand laptop. Outside, it was a beautiful LA day. She had her sliding glass door open, allowing the crisp breeze into her home. Cristina could hear the traffic and the busy buzz of LA outside.

Feeling a touch hungry, and realizing that she hadn't eaten since the night before, Cristina got off the couch and ventured into the kitchen. She took the mini cheesecake she bought at the market the night before, strawberry swirl. She pulled a fork out of the drawer and dug into the cake, smiling to herself. It had been a wonderful week. With a smile, Cristina recalled the e-mail she received from her brother the night before. She had sent him a message, telling him that she had made friends with Mike and Alex. Her brother let her know that they both suck. It was the hardest she had laughed since coming to America.

She hadn't heard from Mike since their trip to the jewelry store. While she was aware that he was living his life and his work required a lot of travel, part of her wondered if she had overstepped her boundaries and said something out of turn. But he seemed so unhappy. Shaking her head, she tried to push the thoughts of him being upset with her out of her mind. He was the WWE Champion, and she knew that it meant he was busy. Alex kept in touch every day, asking if she had heard of certain bands or if she could translate something for him. After about two dozen texts about Italian, Cristina had teased him, telling him to get a dictionary. His response had been slow, and she worried that she had offended him. When he messaged her back with a comment indicating laughter, Cristina had felt the anxiety disappear from her chest.

Returning to her laptop, Cristina dug her fork into the small circular cake as she sat down on the couch. She thought about the different bands and how they all traced back to classical music. She had written out a list of bands, their countries of origin and assumed influences. Every few minutes she checked her e-mail, frustrated that nobody had gotten back to her. She hoped someone would; she thought quotes from the more notable bands would give the article more depth. The harder she worked, the more she became convinced that it could be her opus for the magazine. It also passed the time until Mike and Alex came back.