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Trish Stratus tentatively entered The Stop, fears flitting through her. After the incident - the *fight* - with that bitch Torrie the other day, she was scared.
The little blonde somehow managed to avoid the stares of the diners currently in the establishment. A couple of them were regulars here and had been around on that horrible day. What if Torrie had said too much? What if...?
Trish put her fears about the patrons on hold for the time being as she stepped past the double swinging doors leading into the kitchen. She sucked in a breath, terrified of having to deal with Chris Jericho... She'd always liked the chef, but... What if *he* ridiculed her? The bulk of the fight with Torrie had occurred in front of *him*.
However, Jericho had been so very sweet to her that day. He'd comforted her when she'd been crying, holding her in his strong arms and speaking soothing, sweet words - sweeter than any she'd ever heard from a man in far too long.
"Hey," the man said as she entered the kitchen. "How are you, Trish?"
The blonde grabbed an apron, managing to avoid eye contact with him. She wondered if he wondered what that Torrie bitch had meant when she'd made mention of her past - calling her a whore... Trish thought she could just about die if anyone else around here knew the truth.
"H-hi," she stammered. She turned her head halfway in his direction, giving him a crooked, nervous smile. "I'm okay." Quickly, she wandered off to the back room to change into her waitress uniform.
The moment she had the door shut and locked behind her, she closed her eyes tightly, feeling a sob begging to escape. Instead, she let out a deep sigh. She'd wanted to escape her past for the last four years now, which was why she'd attended college. She'd been doing a good job of it, too, until Torrie Wilson had made her cruel, catty comments that day.
Trish wondered how the bitch knew... For she hadn't breathed a word to *anyone* around here of her sordid past. She thought she could die if anyone in her present found out about her having been a paid escort.
*
"Honey, I'm still worried shitless," the woman said. To prove her point, she grabbed hold of his hand, letting him feel that it was as cold as ice.
"Dawnie, baby," Christian soothed his wife, "there is no need to be so scared." He leaned across the car's seat to press a kiss to the brunette's forehead. To his dismay, it too felt cool, but also clammy.
"I can't help it," Dawn Marie replied, her brow furrowed prettily. "I'm not so sure I can handle this... It's... Well, it's *wrong*."
The blond man smirked, a chuckle chasing it.
"And what we did to swindle my brother out of his inheritance *wasn't*? Hell - you leaving him for *me* wasn't?"
The brunette wrung her hands nervously and glanced down at them, her gaze studying her purse on her lap. She was aching for a cigarette, but she knew how much her husband hated smoke. She respected him enough so as to not do it right in front of him, and despite her high anxiety at the moment, she would uphold that.
"You know what I mean, honey." As she looked up again, her brown eyes grew wide. "They're here."
Christian's blue eyes followed his wife's line of vision. Sure enough, Edge and Lita were heading in the direction of The Stop. His eyes narrowed. He liked Lita, he really did... But the redhead was proving lately to be a real problem.
Husband and wife watched from their car parked across the street and slightly away from the restaurant. The new couple were holding hands and seeming very content in one another's company.
Dawn shifted her gaze from Edge and Lita and then back to her husband. He looked pensive, deeply lost in thought... Most likely, he was plotting.
Christian met her gaze, a smirk on his handsome face. Their quarries were completely oblivious
of the fact that they were being watched as they embraced just outside of The Stop.