Chapter Four

Celeste sat alone in the hotel room, dressed in a pair of baggy cargo pants and a tight black tank top that showed off a lot of cleavage. She didn't see the point in dressing up; she was just spending the entire day locked up inside the hotel room anyways while Brock and Paul trained for Brock's upcoming match at Unforgiven. She pulled her hair back into a sloppy ponytail and set about making the bed. She had barely slept the night before, just thinking about how ashamed she was to buy into Brock's words so fast. She really thought better of herself. It took Brock's words to knock her down a peg or two.

She also felt guilty for thinking about what Mark was saying to her. As Brock rested on her last night, his description of Brock being "hot and cold at best" was running through her head. She sighed, shaking her head. Everything just had to be so complicated with her. She knew Mark was right; but at the moment she wished she could just buy into some kind of blissful oblivion when it came to Brock.

The women backstage at SmackDown were more or less catty, all about who could sleep with the Superstar who held the most power. Torrie Wilson seemed to be the worst offender; a bleached blonde little number who was always seemed to be grasping for power backstage. Dawn Marie was right there, too, but Dawn Marie preferred to torture Torrie more than go after the big name players. And Nidia...well, Nidia struck Celeste as pretty odd. She felt out of the league of all these Divas, and she definitely had pangs of insecurity every now and then when it came to Brock.

She went over to the minifridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Brock would be gone until late tonight, running, stairclimbing, jumping, submerging himself in tubs of ice, while Paul shouted at him until his face went red and the veins threaten to burst on the side of his face. She sipped her water, staring out at the brisk, steel day that lay outside the sliding glass doors. Of course, she was locked inside.

A knock at the door snapped her thoughts out and she sighed. I'll bet that's Mark, she thought to herself, a small smile creeping across her features as she made her way over to the door. She peered through the eyehole and saw him standing on the other side, dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans, a navy bandana tied around his head. Trying to wipe the smile off her face, she opened the door and he handed her a cup of coffee. "Good morning, beautiful," he said, a smirk tugging at his features. Her face showed tension, fear.

"Mark - if anyone sees you here, do you know how much trouble I'm going to be in?"

"We'll solve that problem then," he replied and walked into the room. Instantly her mind went to Brock. He would kill her if he knew she had his number one contender in the same hotel room with her. He wouldn't even hear her out that nothing had happened.

"You're really going to get me in trouble," she replied, closing the door.

"Well, when are they due back?"

"I don't know."

"Look, Celeste, if you think I'm going to let you just sit around by yourself, you're out of your mind." He shook his head and sipped his coffee. "If Brock and Paul don't like that, then they're just going to have to get over the fact that you're going to make some friends."

"I'm sure they don't mind that I have friends..."

"Bullshit," he grumbled, placing his coffee cup on the counter. "Let's be real here, Celeste - you've been traveling with them since Brock came up to the main roster. And how many friends do you have here?" She tried to answer him with something that would combat his statement, but she knew he was right. Frustration boiled over.

"I don't have any. Is that what you want to hear?"

He shook his head. "I really would have rather you proved me wrong about that." She sipped her coffee. "Look, it's a pretty safe bet they won't be back until late afternoon right?"

She nodded. "I guess."

"Then come down to breakfast with me. A few of the guys and I always sit around and go over the night before." She shook her head.

"Forget it. Someone's going to see me with you, then it's going to get back to Brock and Paul...and if Brock doesn't do anything about it, then Paul will."

"Jesus Christ, do you ever get tired of this?" Mark stood to his feet. "There's no reason for them to be treating you like this, Celeste! You're so beautiful, and it's so irritating watching you lag along with these two guys who treat you like you're a prisoner or something."

"This isn't any of your business, Mark," she shot back, defensive. "If it was so bad I'd pack up my things and go home!"

"Then why don't you?" he asked with a smirk. He made his way towards her. "I know why. You think about it...you get riled up, you get tired of being left behind at the arena or being yelled at for whatever...but when Heyman's gone...and it's just you and Brock...it doesn't take a whole lot to convince you you want to stay..."

"Ugh." She tried to walk away from him but he stepped in her way.

"Come on, Celeste. You're a beautiful young lady, and what good is it doing you when nobody talks to you? You know what I think..."

"I think I've heard enough of what you think," she replied hotly. "Why don't you just get out of here?"

"I think you stay because you think there isn't anybody better for you out there," he told her with a smile. She scowled at him.

"I love Brock."

"Nobody's debating that, sweetheart. But love only gets somebody so far when they're doing what they're doing to you."

"Are you finished?" she asked.

"Not really. I could go on for a few hours." He smiled. She felt her anger boiling and before she could even think about what she was doing, she slapped him. Hard. The sound of her palm connecting with his cheek reverberated through the silent room. He looked at the stunned look on her face, and a smile crossed his features as he rubbed his cheek.

"Well...you do have a bit of fight in you," he said with a chuckle. "I was worried for a second you were just a doormat."

"Get out."

He smiled and went back to the counter to grab his coffee cup. "Fine. I'll go. But you ever get sick of putting up with all this...you know where to find me." He watched her entire body puff up as though she was ready to kill him and he only chuckled, sipping his coffee and leaving the room. Celeste sat down on the bed in silence before punching the pillow, hard.

"Asshole."