*Cinnamon & Vanilla - Chp5*
*By JM*
"Trish, I see your talent, I see your charisma, I see it all. You'll
be a champ again. However, I've heard from your colleagues that you might
be delving into a work-related relationship," Vince noted, leaning against
the nearest wall while crossing his arms. Trish lowered her head, letting locks of her hair fall in front of her face and tried to reserve any unstable emotions. It was expected, probably later rather than at this point, at this moment. But Trish knew it, felt it. She couldn't be with Jeff, couldn't just hold him at night without having to seek permission, acceptance from at least one of the McMahon's. A hand was laid on her shoulder and Trish was better than this. She didn't give up, accept defeat without struggling. She lifted her head, squinted her eyes, and waited. She wanted to hear him speak, hear his words of discouragement. "You know that I do not place myself in the position to dictate any personal relationships that occur in the WWF. I've seen the likes of Steve and Debra, Jerry and Stacy, Hunter and Joanie, even Hunter and my daughter. Hell, Matt and Amy even started a relationship and I still have no say in that other than do not let it affect your work in the Federation. I am
not for mingling romantically with other wrestlers, yet I cannot stop it, nor
will I try to," Vince stated evenly, giving Trish's shoulder a slight squeeze. There was no confidence behind the touch.
"It's nothing, really Mr. McMahon," Trish insisted and it definitely didn't
feel like a lie. It was nothing. Just Trish Stratus and her feelings, lying in Jeff Hardy's bed night after night with nothing but the occasional kiss and smiles that felt like they were more. "Staying in a Hardy's room nightly is a bit more than nothing Trish," Vince countered, eyes layered in question. He leaned off the wall and moved toward the production room. It was all Vince had to say to remind Trish that nothing happened without his knowledge and his opinion. And there was no one to blame. Just her. Just Trish and her damn feelings for Jeff. She remained silent in the hall. She treasured her position in the Federation. She didn't want to fight Vince, so she fought her heart. She
fought to figure out where she was with herself instead of where she was with everything else. It was easier standing in the back with Michael, Booker, Rob, and Tommy, watching the show on the monitor instead of contemplating the words Mr. McMahon spoke to her earlier. It felt different; maybe a bit discomforting
not to have Adam there with her, but Trish resolved the feelings of absence
a week ago. Adam couldn't always advise her, assist her, or remind her that
she was strong. She knew it enough to smile when Michael made fun of Jeff's
wardrobe, constantly teasing about the way he resembled Lita. Trish was
pretty sure Jeff did it to seek revenge against his brother for his earlier
actions, but she said nothing, just laughed.
"Damn, did Brock get bigger?" Booker questioned as Trish lifted her cowboy
hat from a nearby table. The words alone caused Trish's eyes to divert from
the hat to the monitor, lips falling apart to gasp. "I doubt it, but Paul Heyman's mouth sure did get bigger," Tommy joked and the others laughed while Trish stared, motionless with fear. "That's an awesome finisher," Rob cheered as Trish moved closer to the monitor, shuddering at the sight of Matt's body bouncing limply off the canvas. Didn't they call that the TKO? Trish had seen the way Solofa limped backstage after the move had been performed on him a week ago. Even as the large Rikishi, Solofa couldn't deny the power behind the move
and Trish was sure Matt wouldn't be in perfect shape when he hobbled backstage.
"Oh, no, don't do that Jeff," Tommy called out, throwing a hand over his eyes as the others watched Jeff spring from the top rope onto Brock's shoulders. Trish lifted her hand to cover her mouth, eyes still large with disbelief. It was quick, it was powerful. It didn't happen once, not even twice. She watched as Jeff's lean body slapped against the mat three times, a tortured victim of Brock's vigorous powerbomb. "Shit," Trish hissed lowly, fingers still pressed against her lips with anguish running through her. She squinted her eyes at Brock and Paul as Paul lifted Brock's arm in victory. And there he was, lying limp on the canvas with his indigo hair completely disheveled in two messy
pigtails.
"He's gonna feel that one tonight," Booker jested, moving away from the monitor with Tommy and Michael accompanying him. She stayed, Rob beside her with one hand on her shoulder. He gave it a small squeeze, his best effort to comfort her as she awaited their appearance backstage. She didn't have words for Brock or Paul, though Rob spoke, complimented Brock on his strength. Trish eyed him and let her upper lip twitch, something burning like a sweet summer ember during a slow fire. Matt limped in first, assisted by one referee as he pushed himself to walk proudly. Rob said something that Trish gave no attention to, glaring into Matt's eyes with wonder. He smiled softly and moved to the side, a
medic checking for any threatening injuries. Matt was uttering something, maybe to her, maybe to Rob, but she didn't listen. She set her hazel eyes on him, on the way he shuffled backstage, a hand on his ribs as he offered her a diminutive smile. "Looks pretty healthy to me," Rob chimed as Jeff pulled his hair from the restraining pigtails on his head. His hair fell back in a stringy mess as he pulled off his black shirt, flexing his muscles with contorted
expressions blazing across his face. "Ah, that was nothing for him. Shove him off a twenty-foot ladder and then we can talk about pain," Matt insisted with a small laugh. His words didn't save Jeff from the looks Trish set on him. "Have a seat Mr. Hardy," the medic insisted, leading Jeff toward a nearby chair. Jeff eyed Trish with concern, still holding his ribs with one hand. He frowned slightly when she crossed her arms, a helpless look of frustration and worry sculpted into her appearance. He lifted his other hand, offering it to her as she took a small step forward, closing her jacket tighter across her body.
"Stratus, come on, you've got a match. Terri's already heading out
there." Trish sighed lowly when she heard Stephanie speak. She took a few
steps back, trying not to expose the unresolved emotions sifting through her. "You better go, doll." Trish glanced up to Jeff. She could feel Stephanie drawing near and something inside of her lost all reason to care about Stephanie's barking or the stares she got from Rob. She scooped up her cowboy hat and adjusted it on her head. She puckered her lips and shook her head, winking at Jeff. She could play the role, be the person that the others wanted while still exhibiting the woman Jeff knew when no one else was around... The first edition Ric Flair's Raw and Trish already felt as if she and Jeff were being punished for their non-relationship. Why was it that she had to take the biggest bump of the night? Why did she agree to let Nora crack a paddle across her head? She didn't care what the technicians told her, that paddle wasn't just a prop. She was pretty sure it looked good for the cameras and she was pretty sure her cellular phone was ringing uncontrollably, all the calls from her mother. She'd probably have to assure her mother that wrestling wasn't real again. She didn't mind. "Pretty intense bump you took Stratus," Michael said in passing and Trish merely nodded, holding the back of her head while trying to keep her jacket around her barely-clothed body. She'd have to remind herself to talk to Vince about her next gimmick match, possibly request something where
she was fully clothed.
"Ice is on the way, Trish. Great job out there," Ric said as he fleetly moved past her, headed in the opposite direction. Trish wanted to find the strength to stop Flair, maybe fuss at him for agreeing to book her in a match that required her wrestling in a bikini and taking a shot from Nora for storyline's sake, but she saved her strength. What good would it really do? She'd merely sleep off her feelings and revel in her pride, knowing she gave a good performance and helped to boost the fans fear in Nora's character. And it didn't hurt that much. Trish tried to ignore the sting, the pressure that burned against the top of her head when she nudged her dressing room door open. She was pretty sure Terri was going to check on her and she knew Adam would probably question her when she called him, but she settled in knowing she'd have a few minutes to gather her strength again. "It didn't sound that violent when Stephanie explained the concept earlier." Jeff's voice was a cottony Southern melody in Trish's head. It dulled the pain some and she managed to gather a smile for him when she saw him, hat backward, eyes crinkly, and lips struggling with a frown as he sat on the bench. Trish lowered her hand from her head and slinked her coat off, letting it fall to the floor as she walked. She dropped her black hat near her bag and sighed, combing manicured nails through her hair to fix its scruffy state.
"Nothing ever does in a production meeting," Trish insisted, easing past Jeff to move toward the mirror. His hand gripped her hip and she stopped, allowing him to carefully pull her backward until she found a seat in his lap. His arms circled her and this feeling was inescapable at times. It was distracting, agonizing, confusing, yet warm and soothing like a sunrise against her skin. "Matt forced me to sit in here because I was freaking out backstage
when I first saw Nora hit you," Jeff whispered, his lips pressed against her
ear as his face buried itself in her hair. Trish giggled a little because
this was the shy, reserved Jeff that existed during the night, behind hotel
doors. "I hope it wasn't all Matt's idea for you to come in here," Trish
replied softly, drawing her fingers through his exposed hair. She brushed her
nails along the shaven sides of his head and took in another scent of him. He was coated in a vanilla fragrance that was too sweet to abandon. Jeff toyed with the side of Trish's bikini bottom, pulling away from his position next to her head. He blushed lightly and fiddled with the string on her bikini. He gave it a light tug, smiling up at Trish with bashful eyes. "Did I tell you, earlier, that you look great in this?" Jeff snickered before nuzzling his face to her neck, still hiding from feelings. Trish held a smile and pulled his hat from his head. She raised her brow and tilted her head downward, kissing the top of his head. Maybe he couldn't say it in the most poetic words? Maybe he couldn't ask her even if he attempted to?
*Chp6*
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