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After the disgusting meeting with the equally despicable creature that was Mr. McMahon, Amy stalked her way down the hall.

She was on her way to the divas' locker room with the intent of preparing for her evening's match of humiliation.

When she was halfway to her destination, the redhead suddenly stopped in her tracks as she spotted someone nearby - someone she cared a great deal for, and whom she'd become pretty close friends with over the last three and a half years... Someone who cared about her...

The tall blond man looked up, sensing her before she'd even made a sound or a move toward him.

"Hey, Red..." He gave her a winning smile - which quickly disappeared as she neared him.

Adam Copeland was soon donning a frown as he took in the displeasure on her lovely face.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

All of a sudden, Amy was sorry she'd run into the Canadian in the hallway. Damn, it would have been so much simpler if she'd just been able to get back to the locker room - if she'd not have to explain her humilation...

She tried desperately to step around Adam and just ignore his query, but the blond man was fast and gently grasped her by the arm.

Turning her around to face him, he squinted, his brilliant green eyes questioning.

"Amy? What is it? What happened?"

"Adam, let..." The redhead sighed, her hazel eyes closing for the briefest second as she took a deep breath and exhaled. "Let me go - please...I don't want to talk about it..."

The tall Canadian man would not budge.

"No - come on, you look like you need someone to talk to..." he insisted, and she rolled her eyes at his persistence and stubbornness. "What's wrong?"

Amy glanced quickly around, noting that there was basically no one around at the very moment. Damn it, she really didn't want to discuss this with anyone of the male species... At the same time, everyone would find out soon enough what was going on. It would be elementary enough - why else would an untalented joke the likes of Torrie Wilson be booked to beat her in an actual physical wrestling match?

The redhead slumped, defeated, her back against the wall, eyes downcast. Adam was obviously not going to relent.

"I had, shall we say, a very humiliating meeting with Mr. McMahon a few minutes ago..." she confessed. She crossed her arms over her breasts almost protectively.

Adam frowned, then his features gradually softened.

"What do you mean, sweetheart? What happened in there?"

The redhead raised her gaze to meet the tall blond man's eyes, and a ripple ran its way up her spine. Something about the way he'd just called her 'sweetheart,' and about the way he was looking at her was touching her in a very profound way.

"It's...a long story..." she said, one hand going up to her hair to rake through its auburn mass. "But to make a long story short, Mr. McMahon wants to fuck me..." she said bluntly, not bothering to candy-coat her speech.

The Canadian's eyes widened somewhat in surprise, and she continued.

"...and because I gave him a big fat 'no,' I'm being forced to job out to a whore..."