A/N: Wow, what's it been; like, forever since I last updated? I banged out this chapter before my screenwriting class, and while it's a little short, I still hope you enjoy it. I proofread it super-fast, so if there are any errors, I apologize in advance. For everyone who's continued to review, read, and favorite in the midst of my extreme procrastination, you are AWESOME!
Thank you to LetNys, Esha Napoleon, xXx A Beautiful Nightmare xXx, m-yaz, i luv hardy, TheEnglishRejects, and extremist for reviewing the last chapter. Love yas!
Chapter 12: What's Wrong With Me?
"Fuck!"
Jeff punched the wall, his knuckles connecting painfully with the cinderblock. The impact ratcheted up his arm all the way to his shoulder, sending a less-than-gentle hint to his brain that maybe he should stop before he broke something. Instead of obeying the suggestion, however, the Charismatic Enigma punched the wall a second time, then a third, all the while imagining that he was smashing Johnny Nitro's pretty-boy face into a bloody pulp...
Somewhere around the fourth or fifth punch, the fight abruptly left the Rainbow-Haired Warrior, and he sagged against the wall, sighing. Jeff had never been one to protest against the hand Fate routinely dealt him, but this was one instance where life truly wasn't fair. He had been so close, so close this time, to finally claiming the Intercontinental title.
It had been a Six-Pack Challenge--him, Nitro, and four other Superstars--with the prize being the Intercontinental Championship. As much as Jeff disliked Jonathan Coachman, he had to admit that this bout was one instance where Raw's Executive Assistant had gotten it right. Plus, seeing the look of panicked horror on Nitro's face had been absolutely priceless.
The pace of the match had been fast and furious, but Jeff had eventually gathered momentum and gained the upper hand, nailing the Swanton Bomb on Chris Masters. He'd dropped to the ground, hooked Master's leg for the pin, listening to the satisfying sound of the thud of the referee's hand thudding against the mat: 1...2...
And then Nitro had appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the younger Hardy brother by the hair and throwing him bodily out of the ring. Before Jeff had even been able to comprehend what had just happened, the self-proclaimed A-lister had swooped in and stolen his pin cover, allowing him to retain his Intercontinental Championship--and leaving the Charismatic Enigma with nothing but sore limbs and wounded pride.
The Rainbow-Haired Warrior swung his foot backward, kicking the wall. "Fuck!" he proclaimed once more through gritted teeth. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" It wasn't fair; it just wasn't fair. Why did the jackasses of the world always seem to prevail, while the good guys like him seemed doomed to fail? It had happened to Matt when he had returned to Raw; now Jeff's second stint with the WWE seemed to be destined to follow the same path.
At least he wasn't constantly doing battle with his ex-girlfriend, as Matt had had to endure. No...instead he had to deal with a heartless banshee who left him feeling more conflicted than any ex-girlfriend had ever done...
Jeff leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He was furious, an emotion that didn't often consume him, and just the very act of remaining so was starting to sap his energy. He needed to find Maria--otherwise, he was going to either injure himself or break something. Raw's backstage reporter was not only patient, but a fantastic listener as well; she would at least be able to put this match in perspective for him, if not help him decide where to go from here. She would be able to talk him down from this.
Pushing his lean frame off the wall, Jeff rolled his shoulder back a few times, trying to work out some of his post-match stiffness. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he resumed his trek down the hallway. He turned a corner--and then froze.
Standing only a few feet away, her manicured fingernails dancing rapidly over the keys of her SideKick, her attention glued to its tiny screen, was Melina. She didn't seem to notice him, but just the fact that she was here, in this deserted section of the backstage area, almost as though she had been waiting for him, made the younger Hardy brother instantly wary.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the stretch of hallway in front of him, Jeff strolled cautiously past Melina without granting her so much as a glance. He had just passed her, and was about to breathe a soft sigh of relief--when he heard her voice behind him, cool and arrogant and dripping with malicious sweetness:
"Too bad about your match tonight."
Jeff didn't answer, didn't even move, but down at his side, he clenched his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly that his fingers dug into his palm. Melina went on, either unaware of the Charismatic Enigma's growing fury or else utterly delighted by it. "Five guys--and you couldn't manage to pin any of them. And the best part is--" She paused, and Jeff heard the faint click of keys. Heaven forbid that Melina's gloating interfere with her texting. The Dominant Diva continued. "--you can't even blame this one on me...only yourself."
Jeff turned his head slowly, peering at Melina out of the corner of his eye. The paparazzi princess shrugged, still focused on the screen of her SideKick. "But, it's like what Johnny and I've been saying all along: you're a loser. You'll always be a loser--"
Without warning, the Rainbow-Haired Warrior spun around, snatching the SideKick out of Melina's hands and throwing it aside. The Dominant Diva's jaw dropped, her smirk transforming into an expression of stunned incredulity. "What the fu--" Her words ended in a surprised shriek as Jeff grabbed her shoulders, shoving her roughly against the wall, so hard that her skull slammed against the cinderblock.
Melina gasped at the initial impact, but quickly shook away her wooziness, glaring up at the Charismatic Enigma. "Let go of me," she ordered through clenched teeth. Jeff didn't seem to hear her; he was too busy staring at her, his green irises as bright and penetrating as laser beams. There was nothing in his face; in fact, it was the total absence of anything that began to spook the paparazzi princess and she struggled in his grasp. "Get your hands off me," Melina demanded, her voice holding the first faint notes of fear. "Let go of me or I'll--"
"Or you'll what?" the younger Hardy brother interrupted. His voice was a low mocking hiss. "Tell your boyfriend?" His mouth curled upward in the briefest of sneers. "That asshole with the porn star name? That douchebag who's only Intercontinental Champion because you stole it for him? That dick who left you passed out on your face last night?"
Jeff tilted his head to the side, studying the Dominant Diva with a kind of detachment. "You know what, princess?" he remarked. "Up until now, I was still willing to believe that I did the right thing last night. Even though you screamed at me, even though you tried to paint me off as some kind of creep, even though you tried to throw me out of my own room--I still thought that I did a good deed last night." He stared at her for a long moment. "But now, standing here, listening to you defend that piece of sh--"
The Rainbow-Haired Warrior broke off, glancing away for a second before swinging his gaze back up to meet hers again. When he spoke, his voice was a terse murmur. "I wish I would have just left you there."
At this, the paparazzi princess flinched, as though she'd been slapped. A strangled sound escaped her, a cross between a sob and a gasp, and she felt her throat swell shut with emotion. Something about the bitterness in Jeff's voice, the brusque way in which he uttered those nine short words, cut her more deeply to the core than her discovery of the pink lacy unmentionables this morning.
The Charismatic Enigma stared at her, his hands still clamped onto her shoulders. His face was expressionless, but his eyes...They were smoldering with emotion, the look in them almost pleading. It was as though he was trying to convey something to her--or more than that, like he was trying to remind her, to refer to something that she supposedly already knew.
This was ridiculous. The younger Hardy brother knew as well as she did that she didn't remember anything from the previous night. Besides, he had already assured her that nothing had happened.
No.
Jeff had merely told her that they hadn't slept together--he had never said that nothing had happened.
No reason...just wondering if this boyfriend of yours is really worth it...
The light brush of fingertips against her skin...
I don't like you...
Hands tangled in her hair...
You don't like me...
Desire, so intense that it made her weak...
And that is NEVER going to change...
Melina stared back at Jeff, panic beginning to take hold of her. Something had happened last night between the two of them, something that she couldn't remember and that Jeff seemed unwilling to voice. Something had changed last night--not just between her and Nitro...but between her and Jeff Hardy as well.
The Rainbow-Haired Warrior released his grip on her shoulders, but Melina couldn't move. She was frozen to the spot, pinned in place by the intensity burning in Jeff's emerald irises. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jeff raise his hand, and then she felt his fingers graze her cheek as he brushed back a loose strand of hair from her face.
The feeling that bubbled up inside her was a pale shadow, a faint echo of the desire that existed in her memory--but nevertheless, it took hold of her, sending her stomach plummeting toward the floor. It took everything Melina had to lock her knees in place lest they buckle beneath her; to bite back the moan that rose in her throat.
Abruptly, Jeff snatched his hand away, and the sensation inside her dissipated as rapidly as it had emerged. The Charismatic Enigma looked away, jamming his hands into his pants pockets. His voice, when he spoke, was a low mutter, and Melina couldn't tell whether he was talking to her or merely himself: "What does it matter? You don't even remember, anyway."
"Remember what?" the Dominant Diva managed to whisper, but Jeff was already moving away, stalking down the hall, his movements like those of a caged jungle cat. It wasn't until he disappeared around the corner that Melina's legs finally gave way, and she collapsed to the ground, her limbs splaying out ungracefully on either side of her.
The paparazzi princess groped around on the ground, searching for and locating her discarded SideKick, which she clutched to her chest like a familiar stuffed animal. Contrary to Johnny's claims, there had been no messages from him from the previous night...but somehow, Melina wasn't surprised.
Her boyfriend's lies, however, were far from her mind at this moment. In fact, the only thing on her mind was the one question that had been plaguing her since this morning--a question which, now, had taken on a note of urgency. A question which the Dominant Diva now voiced tentatively in the stillness of the deserted hallway.
"What...happened...last night?"
The question continued to plague her throughout the week.
Despite all of her attempts to remember, to string together her small scraps of memory, Melina's recollection of that night remained fractured, swallowed up behind an impenetrable wall of darkness. The forced ignorance, the sense of not being allowed to know, drove her crazy--but there was nothing that she could do. There was only one other individual who knew what had happened that night...and there was no way she was asking Jeff Hardy for clarification on anything.
Because she strongly suspected that whatever he had to say would change everything--and that scared her even more than not knowing.
Which brought up the question: what exactly was she going to do about Johnny? Since learning about his indiscretions, she had moved from devastated to stunned to a kind of numb acceptance--but she knew she couldn't just leave it at this. If she encouraged him by continuing to let him believe that she was ignorant of his...extracurricular activities...then he would grow more and more confident that she never would find out. And then, how long would it take before someone on the roster found out?
And if that happened--how long would it be before the entire roster joined together in ridiculing her behind her back? Even Melina had to admit that the idea possessed a kind of bitter humor; imagine, the Dominant Diva who couldn't even dominate her own boyfriend. But the reality of it was far from humorous. If people found out about Johnny, they would never take her seriously again. Hell, she wouldn't even be a Diva anymore; just a trophy girlfriend trying desperately to hang onto her meal ticket. Melina had already spent a large chunk of her career not being taken seriously--she didn't know if she had the mental and emotional fortitude to weather through that kind of disrespect once again.
But if she broke up with Johnny...what then? She would truly be alone, without friends or allies to watch her back. Johnny was imperfect, certainly, a jackass, at least some of the time--but he was safe, familiar. Despite his many flaws, she had spent the last two years arranging her life around his career and his success--breaking away from that would throw her entire existence in turmoil. Besides, as his manager-slash-girlfriend, she had garnered a tenuous form of respect. A respect that was tempered with jealousy and petty animosity, but respect nonetheless. Without Johnny, she wouldn't even have that--and there was no way she would be able to swallow her pride and start all the way at the bottom again.
What would be worse--breaking her own heart or allowing Johnny to break it for her? Either way, the paparazzi princess knew that she had to make a decision soon--because the longer she remained in this indecisive limbo, the more potential this situation would have to spiral out of her control.
Luckily, when she and Johnny arrived at the arena in Tyler, Texas for the Friday night house show, Melina was spared from any further mental debate that evening when she was summoned to the General Manager's office. Leaving her suitcase with Nitro, the Dominant Diva followed the road agent down to the room appointed as the executive office, wondering what the summons might pertain to.
Could it possibly have something to do with the Women's Championship, which had been vacant ever since Trish Stratus had won it and retired nearly a week ago at Unforgiven?
Even before she reached the office, Melina heard the cacophony of excited feminine voice, proving her assumption correct. Sure enough, when she pushed the door open, she found the small space crowded with chairs and the six other women who made up the Raw Diva roster.
Most of the Divas were clustered into small groups, laughing and gossiping amongst themselves. The only exception to this rule was Lita, who sat silently apart from the others, arms crossed over her chest, feet propped up on a nearby chair. Following the red-haired Diva's example, Melina moved quietly into the room, making her way to a chair all the way in the far corner, away from the other groups.
As she did so, she heard the multitude of conversations lapse briefly into silence, felt the weight of everyone's gaze on her as she made the trek to her seat. The Dominant Diva lifted her chin up a little, glad that her designer sunglasses shielded her eyes from their view.
Did they know? Did they suspect? Was that why they were so intent upon her? Or was this silent treatment merely another manifestation of their jealousy?
A second elapsed, then two, before the lull subsided and the conversation resumed its original pace. Melina let out a low sigh of relief as she felt the collective focus shift away from her. She concentrated instead on taking her seat, crossing one leg primly over the other.
"Ladies!" The paparazzi princess glanced up as Jonathan Coachman's confident tone rang out. Raw's Executive Assistant held up his hands, looking around the room, eying the seven women before him with an appreciation that bordered on outright leering. The Coach suffered from a delusion that all of Raw's Divas found him incredibly attractive--a delusion which none of them shared. "If I could have your attention, please..." There was no need; silence reigned in the General Manager's office.
Coach cleared his throat, shooting another glance over the room. "Now, you're probably all wondering why I called you all here," Seven heads nodded in agreement. "I brought you here to address the situation with the Women's Championship--"
"This is a load of bullshit," Lita interrupted, her throaty alto voice petulant. All of the other women turned toward the Rated-R Diva, who tossed her vibrant hair over one shoulder as she went on. "I walked into Unforgiven the champion last week. Trish retired; that title should go back to me by default--"
Immediately, a flurry of indignant protests greeted her, and Raw's Executive Assistant waved his arms, silencing the clamor before a full-fledged argument could break out. "Ladies, please, whatever your views are as to who should be Champion, I think we all agree that we need a Champion. Am I right?" Seven nods of assent. "So, as per order of the McMahons, I'm initiating a tournament for the Women's Championship, which will involve all of you, and which will take place over the next month, with the final match for the title taking place at Cyber Sunday. You all will be informed in due time of your opponents, as well as the type of match you'll be wrestling." Another appreciative glance around the room. "Any questions?"
There were none. Coach turned his attention toward the Rated-R Diva. "Lita?" Lita cast her eyes sullenly up in his direction, but said nothing. "You'll be wrestling in the first match this Monday on Raw against Candice Michelle--and since you never got the opportunity to cash in on your rematch clause, the McMahons are allowing you to select your own referee."
"Three guesses as to who that's going to be," Candice muttered under her breath, but other than her, no one said anything.
Lita, on the other hand, merely rolled her eyes. "Whatever..." the red-haired Diva muttered. She rose to her feet suddenly, the legs of the metal chair screeching against the cement floor. "We done here?" Without waiting for Coach's assent, Lita strode toward the door--but not without shooting Candice a nasty look.
"Now, if no one has anything else--" But the remaining six Divas had already taken Lita's exit as their cue to leave, and the rest of Coach's speech was drowned out in the shuffling of chairs. The clamor was deafening, but Melina barely heard it over the whir of her own thoughts. A shot at the Women's Championship--not like that title match she'd coerced out of Trish a year ago, but a real opportunity to prove herself as an in-ring performer.
If she could win this, if she could go all the way, then she would no longer be JAD. She would no longer be just Johnny Nitro's girlfriend. She would be the Women's Champion, and for the first time, truly the Dominant Diva.
The paparazzi princess pushed her way through the crush of bodies out into the hall, and was about to make her way in the direction of the locker room when a figure appeared in front of her, blocking her path.
Mickie James finger-combed her long golden-brown hair back from her face, peering at the Dominant Diva. "I couldn't help but notice that Coach included you in his little spiel back there." The former Women's Champion smiled scornfully. "I just wanted to tell you: don't get your hopes up. This tournament--it's for Divas, not stuck-up bitches. " Mickie tilted her head to the side. "In case you've forgotten--I've beat Trish Stratus."
"In case you've forgotten," Melina shot back, curbing the urge to smack the brunette. "So have I."
Mickie's smirk widened. "Yeah...but not when it counted."
The paparazzi princess felt something inside her tense up with rage, but she merely offered a curt smile of her own. "Whatever..." She started to maneuver past Mickie, but the other Diva shot her arm out, preventing Melina from passing.
"By the way, how's Nitro?" The casual yet deliberate lilt of Mickie's voice made Melina's blood run cold; it took all she had not to let it register on her face. The brunette went on. "See, because when I was out with Candice and Torrie last Sunday, I could have sworn that I saw him hanging all over some chick. Some blond chick." She emphasized the last part, flicking her gaze up innocently to meet Melina's. "But then again, you wouldn't know anything about that...would you?"
Melina hesitated for a second, and in the back of her mind, she was aware that it was probably a second too long. Slowly, the Dominant Diva pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head, meeting Mickie's gaze without flinching. "Careful, Mickie," Her voice was soft but purposeful, like velvet wrapped around steel. "Keep saying stuff like that, and they'll stick you back in the straitjacket." Once more, Melina attempted to move around the other Diva. "Now, if you'll excuse me--"
"He is, isn't he? Cheating on you, I mean?" Mickie's tone was soft, but no less malicious. As soon as she uttered those words, Melina felt her heart stop. "He's cheating, and you know about it--and the only reason you haven't dumped his ass is because you're too scared of life without him."
The former Women's Champion moved a little closer, bringing her mouth up to Melina's ear. "Face facts, Melina--you may call yourself the Dominant Diva, but deep down...you're not a Diva. You're just a trophy."
The paparazzi princess didn't think; she just reacted. Her arms shot out, catching Mickie in the chest and shoving her backward. Mickie's eyes widened in surprise and she stumbled back, almost falling. Instantly, Melina attacked, shoving her a second time, and while Mickie reeled, struggling to regain her balance, the Dominant Diva swept her feet out from under her.
The former Women's Champion landed ungracefully on her ass, and before she could recover, Melina was on top of her, pulling her hair, clawing at her like a wild animal. She was vaguely aware that she was screaming, weaving together a string of obscenities that would have made a sailor blush. But the paparazzi princess didn't care; right now, all she wanted to do was claw Mickie's eyes from their sockets...
Strong arms wrapped around her, hauling her off Mickie, lifting her bodily off the ground. Melina struggled against her captor, her feet kicking frantically in mid-air. "Let go of me, let go of me!" she shrieked.
In front of her, Torrie and Candice had come to Mickie's aid, kneeling down beside her and helping her back up to a sitting position. Pushing her hair back from her face, the former Women's Champion glowered at Melina--an expression that quickly sagged into one of absolute shock. Her friends looked at her, then back up at the paparazzi princess. Their faces immediately assumed the same countenance.
Melina twisted her head around, trying to get a good look at her captor--and locked eyes with Jeff Hardy.
For an instant, both of them froze. For the first time, Melina became aware that it was Jeff's body pressed against hers, that it was Jeff's arms wrapped tight around her. The yearning, the desire, surged upward in her again, hot and fierce, melting her insides--and this time, she wanted nothing more than to yield to it. Her gaze traveled, unbidden, to his lips, and she had the most peculiar sense of deja vu.
As though she already knew what it felt like to kiss him.
All of a sudden, awareness slammed into Melina, cold and jarring, and her eyes grew wide. What was she thinking? This was Jeff Hardy, her worst enemy--and she was actually entertaining the idea of kissing him?
The Dominant Diva struggled, more violently this time. "Let me go," she repeated. Then, with more vehemence: "Let me go!"
Instantly, Jeff released her, and the paparazzi princess tumbled to the floor, landing awkwardly on her hands and knees. She looked up at Jeff, who smiled bitterly, holding out his arms and making a little bow. "Anything you say, princess," the Charismatic Enigma drawled.
Behind her, she heard Mickie snort with laughter, soon joined by Candice and Torrie. Melina felt her lower lip quiver, felt the tears climbing up her throat, and knew that if she stayed here even a second longer, she was going to start crying. Scrambling to her feet, she ran down the hall, just as the other Divas' laughter rose in volume.
Melina shoved her sunglasses down over her face, in an attempt to hide the tears already streaming down her cheeks. Her head was throbbing, her heart pounding--and over all, one question kept echoing over and over in her mind:
What's WRONG with me?