"Hello, *Stephanie*," a familiar voice says coldly.
I turn around and reply in the same aloof tone, "Hello, *Jericho*. Shouldn't you go back to the hotel? The show's over."
"Oh, I'm going there all right, just not with *you*. I've heard since the Alliance went under, you went under, too- under the body of any man you could find!"
"I can assure you that you'll never have that pleasure," I retort.
"Thank God for that," he mutters under his breath. "Anyway, Steph, I think you should take it easy- not that you have a problem with that word- since your husband's due back soon. I'm sure your form of 'therapy' is speeding up the healing process, eh?"
After Jericho brings up the subject of Triple H's return, I tune out. Hunter and I have led separate lives over the past few months: he'd spent a grueling eight hours a day in rehab; I'd been on the road constantly, exercising my power as the owner of ECW and co-owner of the Alliance. Except for having Shane around and being forced to slap Mom- I cried myself to sleep that night, I felt so awful- I'd been on cloud nine.
"Earth to Stephanie! Come in, please!" Blinking, I realize that Y2J is waving a hand in front of my face. He chuckles. "Whoa, I knew I was charming, but I never thought I could put the Princess into a trance! Oh, who am I kidding? You've never been able to hide your true feelings for Y2J!"
"You're right, I haven't," I agree, smirking. "Every time you kissed me, I didn't hesitate to show just how disgusted I really was!"
"That's false advertising." Jericho's eyes travel down to my chest, and he returns my smirk with one of his own. "Of course, you *would* know about false, wouldn't you?"
The implants. I hadn't gotten them because I thought I was flat or because every other woman in the business has them.Well, not *every* woman, but I digress. I'd only done it to get attention, something I desperately craved. Blame it on Hunter, Daddy, and Shane for only thinking of themselves.
"You seem pretty distracted," Jericho observes. "Why don't you leave early, Princess? If you hurry, you can squeeze in a few more customers."
Normally I'd slap him across the face- I did that on Raw earlier tonight- but I'm too focused on my personal problems right now. Instead, I lift my chin, turn back around, and, taking quick strides, continue on my way.
"Hurry, Steph!"
I don't even bother to insult him again because I know that, in due time, Chris Jericho will get what he deserves.
As I pack my bag moments later, I can't help but wonder about my desire for attention. Am I so needy that I'll accept Jericho's cruel remarks as that attention, however negative they may be?
[ email author ]