The curtain shifts, and two wrestlers come from the other side, the ringside area. "All right," Vince calls out to us, "let's get ready. We'll go out first, do a little talking, and Mark, you follow." We all nod as Steph and I join the others. As I pass by Mark, I stand on tiptoe, and place a lingering kiss on his lips.
Just as Mark's about to say something, this strange rap music begins to crawl through the sound system. Shane takes my hand to pull me closer, then places his arm around my shoulders. I give an apologetic look to Mark, and let myself be lead out into the open.
We walk out onto a metal ramp way, and, as I look around at the arena for the first time in a long while, I see thousands of fans, screaming their extreme dislike at the family. I'm shocked at the amount of people that are in the arena; much more than when any other event is held here. After a momentary pause at the top of the ramp, we continue toward the center of the arena, where a large, square ring is constructed.
When we arrive at the ring, we clamber up a set of steel steps at a corner post. Vince steps between the ropes first, and assists Steph between them next. Shane sits on the second red rope, and motions me in. I smile coyly at him, and step into the ring, followed by Shane, placing his arm around me once he's beside me again. Hunter steps up on the outside of the ropes, facing the crowd. He lifts the heavy championship belt high over his head before he, too, enters the ring through the ropes.
By now, Vince has a microphone. He waits for the loud chants of "Asshole!" to die down, which doesn't happen. Finally, he puts the mic up to his mouth, and says, "So Taker thinks he can just walk right back in, does he?" The crowd does finally stop chanting, only to cheer louder after Vince mentions "Taker". "Sorry to burst your bubble, Undertaker, but I guarantee that Triple H will not lose the title today, or any other day at that!"
A loud chorus of "He's here" emanates from the speakers, cutting Vince's speech short. 'His Judgment Day Is Now' flashes on the huge screen over the entrance, along with images of a shadowed Mark on a bike. Then Kid Rock's "American Bad Ass" begins to play from the middle of the song. After a few seconds, Mark emerges from the back, sunglasses back on his face, a look that that says "You're ass is mine" written all over him. The crowd reacts with even louder cheers as he makes his way down the ramp.
Except for Hunter, we all exit the ring. Steph stays by the ring while Vince, Shane, and I walk over to two men sitting behind a table-like structure, with large headsets on their heads. An empty chair was on a side of each man. Vince sits in one beside the chubbier, black cowboy-hated man, and Shane sits next to the man who's outfit somewhat resembles a king's suit. Shane directs me to sit in his lap, and he places a set of the large headset over my ears. I have to readjust them to fit my head. I see Vince and Shane put sets on themselves.
Mark has just stepped through the ropes of the squared ring. "Well, we'll see just how damn good the Game is tonight, won't we? I mean, with all the 'ring-rust' Taker must have, it should be a piece of cake for Triple H to keep his title." Vince says into the little mic attached to the headset. Mark removes the trench coat, sunglasses, and the bandana. A bell rings, and the two men run at each other, with Hunter getting knocked down by Mark's arm.
The man in the black hat reports everything that's happening in the ring for a few minutes. The one next to Shane and me interrupts him, saying, "JR, were are your manners? Don't you ever ask about a pretty new face?"
"Jeeze, JR!" Shane replies. "I bring my girlfriend out to be admired by you all, and this is how she gets treated?"
"It's all right, Shane," I tell him. "I'm admired enough by you to get by." Shane smiles, and I go back to watching the match. I notice how the moves are constructed, easily applied, and no matter how hurtful the move looks, it's not that bad.
After a good five minutes, things get a little more interesting. As Mark has Hunter's throat in his hand, I see the other three members of DX coming down the ramp. I hear JR say, "My God! Why are DX on their way down here?"
"They're just getting a closer look at the match!" Vince insists.
Shane adds, "Yeah, it's kinda hard to see anything good from the back."
Mark picks Hunter up by the throat, and violently slams him down. By now, DX has made their way to the ring. The woman jumps up on the outside of the ropes, and distracts the ref as Mark covers Hunter with his body. I watch as the one with the long, dark hair acquires a steel chair from underneath the ring. Mark realizes the ref is being distracted, and goes to the ropes. He argues with the woman and the ref before he gets angry and clobbers the woman with a fist, causing her to fall flat on her face on the floor. During all this, Hunter rolls out of the ring where his buddies wait.
Suddenly, I remember my little thing. "God, why doesn't a match ever go as one-on-one, like they say they want it to be?" I say into the little mic. "I remember watching when I was younger, how everyone had to go at it on their own. Now, to win, you've got to have help."
As I say this, Hunter returns to the ring with the chair in his hands. Mark turns around from arguing with the ref, and Hunter slams the chair into his head, causing him to fall on his back. Hunter then attacks him violently with the chair while he's down.
Vince pipes up, "Why does it matter? I mean, it's no DQ, anything goes. It's legal for this stuff to happen."
Shane says, "Jess, what's happening here is called winning a match the way it's supposed to be won with the stipulations that are placed on it. Come on, root for the home team!"
Hunter finally drops the chair, and covers Mark's body. The ref falls to the ring, slapping his hand on the material three times, and a bell rings. The match is over, and Hunter has retained his title. After the bell, Vince, Shane, and I take off the headsets, and join Steph and Hunter in the ring. Mark is still down.
Suddenly, Hunter begins to attack Mark again. Vince and Shane join in, getting some pretty good shots in. Steph eventually joins in as well, slapping Mark's face a few times. Shane comes over to me, takes my arm, and says, "Come on, Jess. Join in!"
I wave my free hand in front of me. "No thanks," I decline. "It looks more like a family thing." Shane lets go of my arm, and rejoins the other two men, who have Mark propped up in the corner. Hunter lunges at Mark again, but Mark manages to get his hands around his throat first. He tosses Hunter onto the ground of the ring, and Vince and Shane scatter away, falling out of the ring. Steph kneels down to help Hunter up, and they quickly exit. I try to exit, but as I turn to scoot under the ropes, Mark grabs me by the shoulder, roughly turns me around, and places a strong hold on my throat. I begin to worry, and think, 'Mark's carrying this a bit far. Would he actually hurt me?'
From beyond Mark's body, I spot a few refs and other men coming from behind the curtain, and I see Vince, Shane, Steph, and Hunter just standing at the bottom of the ramp, watching in shock. Mark then hoists me up into the air by my throat, supporting me with his other hand. By now, the men from the back are sliding into the ring, discouraging Mark from what he's thinking of doing. Mark stares a death glare through them, then looks up at me. He tosses me down toward the McMahon's and Hunter. I land hard on my backside, but quickly scramble out of the ring, and into the waiting arms of Shane. I turn around to see Mark beating the men down one by one, and when they have all rolled out of the ring in pain, he stares another glare into us. Quickly, we power walk ourselves up the ramp and behind the curtain.
Shane finally lets go of me, and I sit down on a nearby chair, wincing as I finally feel the results of my fall. "Jeeze, you all could of told me that was gonna happen!" I exclaim, rubbing my aching back, and moan my discomfort.
"Mark said that if you knew about it, you wouldn't go through with it," Vince explains. "Besides, this might aid in the next turn of the feud."
Mark finally comes through the curtain, his trench coat draped over his arm, and bandana and shades back on his head. He looks up to see me sitting down, and quickens his pace. Once he reaches me, he kneels down to my eye level, takes my hands, and asks with unmasked concern, "Are you all right?"
"Does it look like I'm all right?" I reply without emotion, wincing again.
He kisses my hands. "I knew you wouldn't do it if we told you," he explains, "and I didn't want to hurt you, but the only way to let go of you was to toss you. I tried to let you down gently; I guess it didn't turn out that way. Do you want me to get the doctor?"
I kiss his forehead. "Stop worrying, all right?" I tell him. "I'll be fine. What about you? You took some pretty rough shots to your head." I kiss his forehead again.
Someone clears their throat. We look up to see the others. "Do you two need to a room or something?" Vince asks, grinning in amusement.
Mark and I grow a slight shade of pink as we stand back upright. "Do you want us for tomorrow's tapings?" Mark asks, putting his arm around my shoulders.
Vince nods, and answers, "Sure do. That is, if you want to come back."
"I figured I was rehired as soon as we did the clip in the office," Mark tells him. "I'll have to make a few calls, but after that, things should be set."
"Good," Vince says with finality. "The bus will be at your house at eight to pick you all up. Pack enough for a couple of days, and I'll call the hotel to get another room." He grins again. "I don't even have your new address!"
Mark finds a piece of scrap paper, and Vince hands him a pen. After writing our address on the paper and handing it to Vince, Mark says, "We're gonna go now. I think most of the fans have left by now, and I'm sure our guests are waiting for us. We'll see you tomorrow." That starts off a bunch of good-byes, and we finally walk toward the exit where the truck is parked.
As Mark predicted so well, our houseguests are waiting for us, milling around the lot. We wait for Shane to get his stuff, and when he reaches us, we get into our vehicles, Mark and I into the truck, and the other ten in their limos. Mark leads the caravan through the streets until we reach our house. Once Mark parks in the garage, I quickly walk to the front door to let our guests in. I stand beside the door, watching everyone exit the limos before the long, black vehicles drive off, and watch as they lug their wrestling stuff with them into the house. Half go toward the kitchen while the other half go straight upstairs to their rooms. I wait for Mark, and we walk in together.
I promptly plop down on the sofa as Mark goes into the kitchen to talk to his friends. I grab the remote for the stereo, and turn on the CD player. After a few seconds, a bell rings through the speakers, signaling the beginning of AC/DC's "Back in Black" CD. I smile to myself. It's always been my favorite CD.
Adam, Christian, Matt, and Jeff pass in front of me. They cock their heads, listening to the bell ringing, and begin laughing at once. "What?" I ask, wondering what was so funny.
They shake their heads. "Nothing," Adam replies, "just a memory we kinda share." I shrug, and they continue their way to the stairs, and to their rooms. I sit back, enjoying the music. I relax so much that I begin to sing with the song softly. As I sit, listening and singing along, I think back to when I was younger, and how I hated all sports, wrestling included. 'I think I like wrestling,' I think to myself. 'I mean, it's not like it was when I was little.'
Mark and Glenn walk in from the kitchen. They stop, and both half-smirk at me. If I didn't know better, I would've said they're very close brothers, just by how they act so much alike. I stop singing, and look at them, blushing just a tad. "What are you smirking at?" I demand.
Mark shakes his head while Glenn laughs. "She's a feisty one, ain't she, Mark?" Glenn asks of him.
Mark nods in agreement while he motions to me. "Come on, my little sprit," he says, his laughter coming through. I turn off the stereo, and go to his side. He takes my hand. "Let's go to bed. We've got to get up early tomorrow." Glenn goes ahead of us up the stairs after we turn off the lamps in the living room.
As we begin out ascend, I ask, "Did you call Ralph?"
Mark nods. "He understands, and hopes we do all right," he replies. "I just hope we survive the welcoming when we get on that bus tomorrow." I giggle at the thought, and we enter our room. Mark closes the door behind us.
"Finally!" I call out. "Some peace and quiet." I head toward the bathroom, hoping that there was enough hot water left to take a shower. I stop when I see the gleam in Mark's eyes and mischievous grin on his lips. "What?"
"Now that we've finally got some time alone…" he says before trailing off.
"Well, my fine sir," I reply, walking over to him, "you'll just hafta wait and see what I've got in store for you." I put my arms around his waist as Mark leans down to kiss me. Our lips meet, stay together for a few seconds, and I pull away. "It's not gonna be as easy as that, Mark. You'll hafta work for it." Mark groans as I take his hands, and pull him toward the bed. Needless to say, I didn't get to that shower.
********
A sudden knock at the door jolts me from a peaceful sleep. I sit upright, and ungracefully fall out of the bed. Mark chuckles at me. "Shut up," I reply with a grin. I grab my red silk robe, throw it over my naked body, and tie the robe closed before I open the bedroom door.
Dennis is standing on the other side. When I open the door, he's about to say something before he clamps his mouth shut, and sort of blushes when he sees me and what I'm wearing. "I just wanted to tell you two that you need to get up. Bus is gonna be here in a few hours." he manages to say, and walks away with a quick pace.
I close the door, and sort of laugh. "I think I scared Dennis," I tell Mark. Mark smirks, and I know he's thinking of some nasty comeback. "Oh, don't even go there!" I grab a few clothes out of the dresser, and head into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Shedding my robe, I turn the hot water on, pull the shower lever up, and step into the steaming streams of water coming from the showerhead.
Quickly, I wash my body and my hair. As I turn off the shower, I step out of the tub, wrapping a blue, fluffy towel around myself. I dry myself off, put my undergarments on, and put on a shirt that stops about half an inch from my navel, where a multicolored navel ring sits. Carefully, I place a teaspoon of Sea Salt in an old shot glass, and hold it over my navel area for five minutes. I then wash the navel area, making sure to get soap on the ring and turning the ring in the hole. Once I'm done cleaning my piercing, I finish dressing in stonewashed denim overalls. After I brush my hair, I open the bathroom door, where Mark is just reaching for the doorknob.
He looks at me. "I was just gonna join you, but it looks like you're done," Mark explains.
"That is your punishment," I reply, stepping away from the bathroom, and into the main part of the bedroom. "Serves you right for thinking about nasty comebacks." I turn around to evilly smile at him, and he just shakes his head, entering the bathroom for his shower.
I walk up to the bed, where a medium-sized, open, empty suitcase awaits me. I pack undergarments, T-shirts, jeans, shorts, a bikini, sneakers, and all those little essentials one needs for a couple days away from home. I glance around the room, trying to figure out if I needed anything else. I pack a few books, and suddenly remember something. I walk over to the bathroom door, turn the knob, only to find it's locked. "Mark!" I scream at the door.
Mark suddenly opens the door, brushing his hair. "What?" he asks.
I enter the bathroom, grab the Sea Salt canister, the shot glass, and some more essentials, and go back to my suitcase. Once I place those few things in, I zip the suitcase closed. "There, all done," I announce.
Mark finishes brushing his hair, puts it into a low-hanging ponytail, and walks over to me. "Not quite," he tells me, and turns me to face him. "Don't I get a 'good-morning' kiss?"
"All right, I guess you've learned your lesson," I reply, and stand on tiptoe to kiss his lips. His arms circle around me, pressing my body closer to his. Reluctantly, I pull away. "We'll never be ready if we keep this up." I grab my suitcase, and haul it out of the room, leaving Mark to finish his packing.
I manage to not trip over the suitcase on the way downstairs. I place the piece of luggage by the door, and I walk straight to the phone, dialing Rita's number. On the second ring, she picks up. "Hello?" comes her voice from the other end.
"Hi, Rita, it's Jess," I reply.
"Oh, hi!"
"Listen, I need you to do me a favor," I start. "Mark and I are gonna be outta town for a few days, and I was wondering if you'd be able to take care of Harley for me."
"Well, sure, I could do that," Rita says. "I'll just go ahead and bring her over here. When are you leaving?"
I look over at the clock, which reads 7:30. "We're supposed to leave at eight," I tell her. "I'll just leave a key under the welcome mat at the front door. That way, you can bring my mail in, as well get anything else Harley might want that you forgot."
"Okay, I'll do that," Rita replies. Kiara begins to cry in the background. "I've gotta go now. I'll see you when you get home. 'Bye!"
"'Bye!" I reply before we both hang up our phones.
A pair of arms circle around me, taking me by surprise. "Who were you talking to?" Mark asks.
"Rita. I asked if she could take care of Harley while we were gone." I tell him, turning around in his embrace. "You hungry?" After Mark nods, we head toward the kitchen, where the ten guests are noisily eating.
"Well, about time you two come down!" Glenn shouts. "Did someone get a little distracted?"
"Slept in late, okay?" Mark replies, a hint of irritation in his voice. The men back off with their comments, and continue with their meal.
I look over to the backyard door, where Harley is anxiously pacing, waiting for her own breakfast. I grab her dog dishes, put her kibble in one, water in the other, and walk over to the door. Balancing the kibble dish in the crook of one arm and the water dish in that hand, I open the door, and walk into the backyard. Harley barks joyously, and almost knocks me over. Before any catastrophe can happen, I place the bowls down, and watch as my dog dives right into the kibble dish. I give the pup a good scratching, and wander back into the house.
Now, I only had twenty minutes to eat. I pop some bread into the toaster, push the lever down, and watch as the coils inside the appliance begin to heat up and glow orangish-red. After a minute or so, the bread pops back up, a well-toasted brown. I take a butter-knife out of a jar of Smucker's strawberry jelly, making sure I have a good amount on the knife, and spread the oozing substance all over both pieces of toast. I thoroughly wash the knife off, along with some sticky plates, and return to my toast. I slap the two pieces together, and begin to eat.
I notice Ron, John, and Andrew watching me. "Stop staring at me, or I will get medieval on your asses!" I tell them, and laugh menacingly. They chuckle insecurely, and leave abruptly. I continue on with my breakfast.
After I finish my toast sandwich, brush the crumbs off the counter, and clean my sticky hands, Mark walks into the kitchen, shaking his head in some sort of disbelief. "Do you know what John, Ron, and Andrew told me?" he asks, and a knowing grin comes to my lips. Mark gives me a serious once-over, trying to figure out what I was grinning at. "Never-mind, I think I don't want to know anymore."
I laugh. "Did you eat?" I ask once the hilarious moment subsides. He nods, and I look up at the clock. "Oh, it looks like we've gotta get going." We walk toward the front door, where everyone else is waiting with their luggage. A huge bus cruises to a stop in front of the house. Our houseguests begin to file out of the house, lugging all of their suitcases and wrestling stuff out to the bus. I wait until everyone is out of the house before locking the front door, and shut it behind me, as if sealing a fate that has yet to be determined.
For a moment or two, I watch the men dropping off their luggage on the side of the bus where the driver is putting it all in the side compartment. I then step away from the porch, trying to be as confident as possible. Mark suddenly takes my hand, gives it a gentle squeeze, and walks ahead to drop the luggage off. I survey the bus as I walk down the cement walk. The windows are darkly tinted, and I can't tell if those inside are observing us. The bus could seat a good many people.
Just as I reach the curb where the bus is parked, Mark comes back over to me. "Ready?" he asks.
I nod, and say, "Pretty sure." Mark walks up the stable steps first, and I follow. Just as I take the first step up, I hear someone shout out, "And making his return!" followed by a loud chorus of cheers.
I look up at Mark, who has stopped now, leaving me on the first step, and I notice he's half-smirking. "Hey, Mark," I whisper, "do you mind getting on the bus already?" He looks back at me, and finally realizes that he's blocking the way. He moves on down the aisle of the bus, and I follow him again. Just past the middle are two side-by-side seats, and Mark sits in the one by the window. I plop myself down next to him.
Taking my hand, he says, "Now we'll see what we've gotten ourselves into." I just smile, wondering that very thing myself. Finally, the driver sits in his seat, and starts the bus. After a few revs of the engine, the bus begins to move away from the curb.
Directly across the aisle, a wrestler with brown, shaggy, shoulder length hair, a full goatee on his face, and missing teeth leans over, and asks, "Hey Mark, who's the lady?"
The one next to him, a man with very short blonde hair who speaks with an accent, from Alabama, says, "Weren't you payin' attention last night, Mick? She's the girl that's being Shane's girlfriend."
Mick looks back over to the man. "Well, jeeze Bob, you don't have to be all snotty about it!" he says with sarcasm. He looks back over at me, smiles, and winks. I smile back, and face front again.
********
After four and a half hours of driving and various conversations with Mick, the bus pulls into a hotel parking lot, signaling our arrival in Dallas. After the bus parks beside the entrance, everyone exits the bus, stopping long enough to retrieve their luggage, and enter into the hotel. I spot my suitcase, and grab it before it gets buried. Mark grabs his luggage and wrestling stuff, and we start off toward the front door.
The inside of the hotel is huge and quite elegant. There are fountains everywhere, an indoor swimming pool right in the middle, and see through elevators. For a few moments, while Mark checks in, I watch the elevators rise to the desired floors, and return to the lobby. Mark comes beside me. "We're on the sixth floor," he tells me, and we head toward an elevator.
Mark pushes a button with an up arrow, and the doors open. "There's only one problem with these elevators," I say after the doors close, and I push the button for the sixth floor.
"What?" Mark asks.
"You have no privacy," I respond, looking slyly at Mark. He looks back at me, and laughs. A 'ding' comes from the elevator, the doors open and we step out onto the expensive carpet. "What room?"
"639," Mark replies, looking at every door on our way by. "Here it is." We stop at the white door with a gold '639' at the top. Mark places the keycard into the straight slot and pulls it down. No click. He tries again, but still no click. "Damn cards. I hate these things." He tries a third time, slower, and finally, a click. Mark opens the door, and we walk in, lugging our suitcases behind us.
I put my suitcase down by the dresser, and look around our room. "Wow," I whisper. I haven't ever been in a room like this one. It has a king-size bed, tons of space, and a huge bathroom as well. "They treat you real good here, don't they?"
"This isn't anything compared to other hotels," Mark replies, looking up from his unpacking. "Just wait 'till we get to New York."
Suddenly, the phone beside the bed rings. I pick the receiver up, place it to my head, and say, "Hello?"
"Jess?" Vince asks from the other end. When I tell him it's me, he then says, "Just wanted to tell you two that you should be ready to leave here about 3:30. The limos will then take you to the arena. Until then, have fun!"
"Thanks, 'bye!" I say, and we hang up.
"Who was that?" Mark asks.
"Vince. He said to be ready to leave at 3:30." I reply. I look at the bedside clock. It reads 12:45. "Want to grab some lunch? I spotted a nice restaurant attached to the lobby."
"Yeah, that sounds good," Mark responds, and lets the suitcase top flop down.
We walk out of the room, making sure we've each got a key card, and make our way back to the elevator. Once we get to the lobby, I lead him to the restaurant. Immediately, a waiter shows us to a booth, and gives us menus. "Someone will be with you shortly," he tells us, and leaves us to our decision-making.
So many tasty things to choose from! They have just about everything imaginable. I glance up from my menu to look around the seating area. I notice a quite a few wrestlers are looking at their menus or eating. I also notice all of the 'regular' people, jaws hanging open as they watch the wrestlers eat. 'God,' I think to myself, looking back into my menu, but not even reading the choices, 'I hope no one's eying me like that.'
A waiter in a crisp tuxedo walks over to our table, pad and pen in hand. "Hello, my name is Jose, and I will be your waiter today," he introduces himself. "Are you ready, or would you like a few more minutes?"
"Give us a little more time," Mark answers, and the waiter shuffles off to another table. I look back at Mark, and he just looks right back at me. "Well, I did notice you weren't looking at the menu. I didn't think you could decide so fast."
I give him a glare, and return my gaze to the menu in my hand. "It's not like I can't," I respond. "How would you know whether I did or didn't decide already?"
"Because you didn't put down your menu," he tells me, giving me one of his famous smirks.
I glare at him until the waiter comes back. "Are you ready now?" he asks, holding his pen to his pad.
I nod. "I'd like a chef salad, a quarter-pound burger meal, and a Pepsi," I recite to him as I watch him write everything down.
"And you, sir?" he asks Mark.
Mark gives the waiter his order, and the waiter walks off with the menus. "A little hungry, aren't we?" Mark asks, leaning over the table toward me.
"All I had for breakfast was a toast sandwich," I inform him, "so get off my back." He sits back in the cushion of the booth, a feigned look of pain crossing his face. "Sorry. I'm just a little testy today, for some reason."
"Testy is right," he replies, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Are you still angry from last night?"
I shake my head. "No, I'm past that," I answer. "I just feel as if something's gonna go wrong sometime soon." I shake my head again. "Never-mind, it's just a premonition." Mark relaxes, and we wait for our food to come in silence.
