Sure enough, as she'd known would happen, Torrie was late. She'd made it in plenty of time for her match, but she should have arrived at the arena nearly a full hour beforehand. Speaking with Mr. McMahon, who was there for a segment, did her no good. The WWE Chairman had not admonished her but informed her that she would have to pay a fine.
The blonde was finally beginning to settle down from the crazy night she'd had after her match. But as soon as she and her opponent got past gorilla position, the other woman snapped at her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Michelle McCool barked, and Torrie whirled around to note the angry expression on her face. "You could have crippled me!"
"What?"
"You heard me! That swinging neckbreaker of yours is a disaster waiting to happen!" the skinny blonde cried. "And your clotheslines suck, too!"
Torrie's mouth hung open, and she didn't fail to realize that they had a bit of an audience. There were other wrestlers as well as backstage workers all around. She stared at Michelle, not quite knowing what to say purely out of shock. The young woman was usually very nice. Right now, she was being downright nasty. Torrie knew she was by no means the best wrestler. But she wasn't exactly the worst, either.
"Back off already!" she shouted, now annoyed as the younger woman continued yelling at her. "I've had a shitty night as it is, Michelle, and I don't need you adding to it by telling me how 'bad' I am!"
"But you are," the former Diva Search contestant retorted. "The truth just hurts, doesn't it? Look, Torrie... If you don't watch yourself, I'll go straight to Mark."
And get on your back and spread your legs for him, Torrie thought, but she didn't utter a word of that aloud. Everyone knew how Michelle McCool and Mark Calloway had started out in their relationship - they'd had an affair while Calloway had still been married to his wife, Sara. He'd traded his already very young second wife for a 'newer model' in twenty-six-year-old Michelle.
Torrie sneered at the other woman, not giving into the satisfaction of a response. Instead, she turned away and marched down the hallway to catering.
Due to the fact that there were still about another sixty-odd minutes left of the taping, the room was deserted except for a few wrestlers. She smiled at Shannon Moore as the Cruiserweight was leaving with an orange in hand.
A moment later, the blonde was retrieving some fruit herself, with the intention of bringing it back to the hotel with her just in case she grew hungry. She had a Granny Smith apple in her right hand, an orange in the crook of her arm and was just reaching for a banana when she felt someone come up behind her.
Turning around, she had to keep the scowl she felt to herself. It was World Heavyweight Champion Dave Batista. She wondered what he could possibly want as he simply stood there, leering at her with a silly little smile on his face. On second thought, she, like everyone else in the company knew exactly the type of person he was.
"H-Hi," she stammered. She figured she might as well be nice.
"A banana, huh?" the muscular, tattooed man asked. He looked her up and down before speaking again. "What do you say later tonight, you personally show me how you eat one of those."
The platinum blonde gave him a look of disgust. Dave was known in the back as a bigtime womanizer, and none of the female talent in the company seemed to like him. Well, she could totally understand why his wife had divorced him! Without a word, she slipped past him and hurried from the room. The sound of Batista's laughter trailed after her, and she tried to drown it out.
*
Her head spun as she tried to meander her way through the crowds of people to leave. Strangely enough, the fans didn't seem to recognize her, because they were not bothering her.
She pulled her wheeled suitcase behind her, barely managing not to trip as it suddenly tipped over on her.
She'd been running late in terms of leaving the arena, just as she had in arriving. After being called back to speak with Mr. McMahon, she'd had no choice. On top of that, she needed to call the rental car company to explain her problem.
"Hey, it's Torrie Wilson!" she heard a young man suddenly call out. She turned to offer him a smile and saw that he was with two other young men. She waved at them.
Torrie entered the parking lot, her sights on her dented rental car. All she wanted to do was get to the hotel, go up to her room and pass out, thus forgetting the rotten day she'd had.
She heard wolf whistling behind her and tried to ignore it as she kept walking, her suitcase again wobbling as she yanked it over the gravelly ground.
"Hey, baby, why don't you give me a stinkface!" one of those same three young men called, referring to a move she regularly performed on opponents in the ring.
The tall blonde rolled her eyes and kept moving - until a bump in the concrete caused her to drop the handle of her bag. She bent down to pick it up, shivering in her black winder coat, when she suddenly realized those three guys were standing inches away from her, over her. She stared at them with fear, instinctively knowing they weren't towering over her for a mere autograph or picture. Her heart just about stopped as she stood back up and saw the leering faces of each of them.
"Goodnight, guys," she said, reluctant to turn her back to them. She suddenly realized how thinly the crowd had thinned, and how many cars had already left the parking lot. It was nearly deserted by now, and she didn't see a parking attendant anywhere.
"No, no." It was that first guy, the one who'd called out to her. "Give us a little something first, hotness." He shocked her by putting his face into hers, puckering and making sucking noises.
Torrie recoiled, gasping, but one of the other men suddenly got behind her. She nearly tripped as she tried to step to the side. The guy grabbed her.
"Let go of me!" she yelled, squirming. She noticed that the third guy was at her bag, and he was unzippering it. As she struggled in the grasp of the one behind her, she saw that one take out a pair of her panties and pocket them.
"Come on, gimme a kiss, Torrie!" the first guy taunted her. His eyes were closed as he was puckering again as he shoved his face so close to hers.
She kicked him in the crotch as hard as she could manage, screaming as she did so. The guy doubled over, groaning, and she gave the one holding her a nice elbow to the ribs. The one with her underwear stood by and gaped, then began to laugh as she tried to run but tripped. Fuck her suitcase and belongings. She still had her purse with her wallet, credit cards and cell phone. She was getting the hell out of there!
The second guy recovered quickly and suddenly tackled her to the ground. Torrie couldn't even scream this time as his weight crushed the air from her lungs. He was on top of her, and she was terrified she was about to be raped.
She was a professional wrestler, damn it... She could defend herself. On top of that, she'd had one stressful experience after another that day, and she wasn't going to take it anymore.
Somehow, the adrenaline in her body gave Torrie such great strength that she managed to push the guy off of her. She let out a snarl of rage as she straddled him, punching him repeatedly in the face.
"You bastard!" she screamed. She was so enraged, she actually saw red. She kept punching and punching until suddenly, she felt hands grabbing at her again, pulling her off the man. She screamed again and was about to hit the person behind her as well but stopped upon seeing them...
It was Vince McMahon.
She burst into tears and couldn't stop herself from throwing herself into the man's arms.