THE GIRL WITH THE EYES

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, FEBRUARY 11TH, 2001

Chris Benoit hated women. Most of them were good for one thing only and the rest not even that. He hated the pretty ones most of all – Lillian Garcia, that blonde bitch who fancied herself as a legitimate journalist, and Lita, God, how he hated Lita. He didn’t even like Terri, although he let her hang around the Radicalz because someone had forgotten to tell Saturn that she was an ugly whore, and that amused him greatly.

Benoit didn’t need a woman. They talked too much, whined constantly and were always getting in the way; he’d seen that happen with Terri a million times. There was no way he was going to let anyone, especially not some dumb broad, get in the way of his ultimate prize – the WWF title. Only a while ago he’d been a legitimate contender, now here he was, kicking the crap out of the Hardy Boyz night after night and why? All because Malenko couldn’t keep it in his pants and Benoit, being one of Malenko’s oldest friends, was there to deliver his own brutal brand of revenge.

If he was to be proved wrong, if he was to be beaten, however unlikely, he liked it to be because of him, because of a mistake he’d made. It had been like that at the Royal Rumble. One small mistake and Chris Jericho became the Intercontinental Champion. Benoit loathed Jericho, his ability to get lucky like that, because there was no way he was a better wrestler than Benoit – no one was. Jericho was a lot like a woman – long blonde hair, a pretty face, always yapping or whining. Perhaps that was why Benoit hated him so much. He grinned and ran his tongue through the gap in his teeth at the thought.

No, Chris Benoit didn’t need a woman. There were ways of getting around that one thing they were good for and, besides, abstinence made him a better athlete. He was turned on most of all by power, pain and winning, three things he had routinely in his line of work, so who even needed a woman? That’s not to say he was completely celibate. Occasionally he’d pick up groupies. It was just so easy. They’d be standing there as he left, in their skimpy little outfits, screaming for the Hardy Boyz, Edge and Christian, the Rock, Chris Jericho and Test. They obviously didn’t know Test hated women almost as much as Benoit did. While Test was another pretty boy and Benoit couldn’t stand him, he did respect that attitude. The big seven would all pass these women, but they’d still be screaming and then Benoit would be there. He’d look into their pathetic little faces and choose the one or two he hated the most. They wouldn’t resist – he was a pro wrestler and he was famous. Do you think all those Playmates screwed Hefner because of his looks or personality? Hell no. Then, when Benoit had them alone, he’d break them, any way he could, so they’d know how much he hated them. That it didn’t matter how they did their hair and makeup all pretty, which outfits they wore, what perfumes they used. They were all ugly. They were all whores. Benoit let them know that and he knew they’d never forget and they’d never do anything about it, because they were scared of him. He liked it that way. Power and fear. That’s what it was all about. He’d built a career on it.

And then there she was. She was nothing like the others. He didn’t notice what she was wearing because he never did. Benoit only noticed faces and they formed the basis of his opinions about people. It wasn’t necessarily how pretty the face was, because her face was pretty. It was all in the eyes. Hers were extraordinary. He’d seen her twice and he still didn’t know what color they were, though he longed to know. He had to know. Benoit’s own eyes were blue, but they were very dark, some would say soulless. Jeff Hardy’s were the opposite – light green and nothing but soul. Benoit abhorred Jeff Hardy. And yet here was this girl with eyes neither dark nor light – not green or blue or even brown. And that bothered Benoit, though he couldn’t figure out quite why.

The first time he saw her was just after he’d demolished Al Snow (dark brown eyes which were crazed rather than soulless. Not worth hating but definitely not worthy of respect). The girl jumped into the ring before Benoit had even left and crouched over Snow’s broken body. Benoit was still glaring down at Snow when she turned around and caught his eye. There she was, glaring up at him as if she didn’t know that he could pick her up and break her in two without even thinking twice. Stranger still, as if she did know that. For that was the weirdest thing. There were those eyes, those remarkable eyes, and when he looked into them he saw not even a trace of fear. He couldn’t get past that. Plenty of people hated Benoit, he knew it better than anyone, but deep inside them, they were all scared of him. Benoit could look into their eyes and pinpoint their fear so, win or lose, he’d know he owned them.

And yet here was this girl, not much more than a child. She’d just watched him destroy her friend bust she was no more afraid of him than she would be of a tiny puppy, and Benoit wanted to know why.

The next time he’d seen her she’d planted one on Malenko before jumping up into the ring in an almost exact replica of Monday night. Different broken body, same situation. This time she didn’t even look at him, didn’t even acknowledge his existence. He wanted to hit her so she’d turn around and he could get a look at her eyes, but he didn’t. He just watched as she knelt over Jeff Hardy – her boyfriend, perhaps? That would explain the hair. She didn’t look up and when Matt Hardy shoved him, he left the ring, though his reasons had nothing to do with Matt. If she wasn’t going to look at him there was no point staying. Benoit and the other Radicalz backed up the ramp, eyes still on the ring. His friends were watching the Hardyz but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He still hoped she’d look at him, that he’d see the fear he longed for. But she didn’t and so he didn’t.

He knew he’d see her again. He had to. And she would fear him. After all he’d been through, after all he’d done, he sure wasn’t going to let a woman, a mere girl, be the one to prove him wrong.

* * * *

Things weren’t going so great for Dean Malenko. Lita hadn’t spoken to him since Thursday and now even Benoit was ignoring him. He had that look on his face, intense and focused. He got that look a lot, but usually before a big match, not in the middle of a Sunday when he wasn’t even booked for Heat. Especially so intense a look. Malenko hadn’t seen a look like that since Benoit had his last Federation title shot. It was very weird.

But Malenko was more worried about Lita. It was unlike her to ignore him for so long. He knew it had to be because of that other girl – the kiss. Malenko had been surprised and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it, but the girl wasn’t Lita. His Lita. He had to go set things straight.

"Hey Chris, I’m going to go…get me a few broads."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Yeah," he replied, before returning to his thoughts.

* * * *

Lita opened the door. "Oh, what do you want?"

"Don’t be like that, Lita. You know exactly what I want."

"Goodbye, Dean," Lita replied emphatically, starting to shut the door.

Malenko stood in the way. "I know why you’re upset with me, beautiful."

"Finally."

"It’s about that other woman, what happened on Smackdown," Malenko continued. "Lita, I don’t even know that girl. I’ve never seen her before in my life. You have to believe me."

"She’s my cousin, Dean."

"Your cousin?"

"That’s right," Lita replied testily. "My cousin."

"So she was jealous of our relationship. That makes sense," Malenko mused. "I guess I’ll have to let her down easy, ‘cause I promise, Lita, she means nothing to me. You’re the only woman for me. I won’t let her come between us, because we were meant to be together, Lita."

"Look, Dean, thee is no ‘us’. There’s never going to be an ‘us’ and the sooner you get that through your head, the better." She leaned against the door again and it finally closed. Lita quickly flipped the lock. "Can you believe him?" she called to Angel, who was sitting on her bed.

"I’m really sorry, Lita. I didn’t know it was so bad."

"Well, I could have done without it, but the truth is he probably would have come to see me just now even if you hadn’t kissed him. He’s off the planet. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him I’m not interested but he still keeps on…" She was interrupted by another knock. "Go away, Dean!" she shouted.

"It’s me, Lita."

Lita unlocked and opened the door. "Sorry, Jeff. Dean was just here and…" She sighed. "…Well, you know what he’s like."

Jeff nodded. "Wish I’d been here to kick his head in for you. Tell me, is Angel around?"

"Yeah, she’s right in here." Lita stepped out of his way and he entered the room.

"Hi Angel."

"Hi," Angel replied quietly. She’d been standing since she’d heard her name.

Jeff took a deep breath. "I miss you."

"Me too."

Jeff finally opened his arms and Angel stepped up to him.

"I’m so sorry, Angel," Jeff said, hugging her tight. "I was acting like a real jerk."

"I’m sorry too," Angel replied. "I shouldn’t have kissed Malenko. I didn’t realize all the trouble it’d cause."

Jeff pulled away and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I forgive you. Just don’t do it again."

Angel smiled at him. It was great to have things back to normal. Well, as normal as things ever were around there.