Hi my name is Stephanie McMahon, and I've been married to Triple H now for over a year, and quite frankly I'm bored to tears. The guy does nothing but eat, sleep and live wrestling. They call him "The Game", well let me tell you, the guy has no game where it counts (you know what I'm sayin' ladies?) I know, I shouldn't be complaining since I am co-owner of the biggest wrestling entertainment company in the world, but for Christ's sakes, live a little. I guess looking back I felt pressured into marrying him. Don't get me wrong, for a while there our little fling was fun and exciting. We spent so much time together rehearsing our storylines, it was inevitable a little romance would ensue. Although no one in the family really approved of my ever dating a wrestler, Triple H was different. He was, and is, WWE wrestling. My dad respects not only his athletic ability in the ring, but also his ability to captivate an audience, to deliver a flawless monologue, to become larger than life at any time, and manage backstage altercations when they occur. All great qualities, but none of this actually translates into husband material. Unfortunately for me, he is now so intertwined in the family business and in our own personal lives, it would be almost impossible to get rid of him. My mom thinks he's the greatest thing since apple pie, and Shane, huh, Shane treats him as if he was his own brother. He's part of the reason Triple H and I tied the knot in the first place. He practically begged me to marry him. The two have formed a bond so close it makes me sick.
I had my reservations about Triple H. I wasn't sure how long I would actually be attracted to him. There was always someone else I had my eye on. Another wrestler, but the family, especially Shane would never approve of our relationship. He didn't fit the "mold" as Triple H did. He was quiet, genuine, honest and poetic; and please don't get me started on his outer beauty. The man has THE best smile, long golden hair, a rebellious attitude, and to top it all off, mesmerizing blue eyes. His nickname, Y2J, I know him simply as Chris Irvine. But, as fate would have it, I'm stuck bearing the doldrums of life married to a man that I'm just not attracted to, both as a person or as a physical specimen. And why? Because that's the way my family wanted it.
So, when my beloved brother asked me to help him get a piece of that, "fine ass", known as Stacey Kiebler, of course I agreed. What he doesn't know though, is that I need a little excitement in my now pathetic life. And what would be more exciting than watching that little twit suffer the way I am right now. You can call me "No Action Jackson" and that's just about what Shane is going to get. Revenge can be so sweet.
5:00pm. I called Stacey into my office shortly before most of the other wrestlers arrive to get ready for Raw taping number, whatever. As she enters my office, she smiles at me sweetly, but I can tell she's nervous as hell. I have to give it to my brother, she is definitely a beautiful looking young woman. As I show her to her seat, she looks around nervously; I just smile.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice Stacey." I tell her, still maintaining my smile.
"No problem Steph. Is everything okay?"
God I love having power. I can make the brawniest men shake and the bitchiest ice queens tremble, just by calling an unexpected meeting; and smiling.
"Everything is fine." I assure her, then continue. "The reason I've called you here is because tonight, you will be working as my brother Shane's bitch." Stacey raises an eyebrow and shuffles uncomfortably in her seat. I laugh a bit under my breath at her uneasiness, but then make sure to clarify my last statement.
"You will be playing Shane's new escort to the ring for the next couple of shows." A sigh of relief crosses Stacey's face. I get up from behind my desk and start slowly pacing around the room, acting all business like and shit, with my hands folded behind my back.
"I suppose the, 'Shane's a Bitch' and 'Shane's a Pussy' signs are starting to get to him. He needs someone that will help his image. Someone who can turn him from dud, to stud." As I circle around Stacey one last time, I stop and lean forward where my eyes meet hers directly. "Are you in?"
"Of course Steph, anything to help the show."
I smile at her with approval; she fakes a smile in return. If I were her, I'd feel a little uncomfortable myself. Shane's hit on her before, but now, he has full reign to be the sleaze he really is. His wife won't mind, the fans won't mind, no one will mind. Why? Because it's all part of the story, it's make-believe, right? Wrong.
Now some of you may be saying, "Steph, if this is your way of revenge, giving Shane exactly what he asked for, then can I be your worst enemy?" Well, what I haven't mentioned yet is that Stacey has an awfully jealous boyfriend. His names' Andrew Martin, aka Test, and he was just let go from the WWE roster. Not only did Shane get in his way when we had our little fling, but he also broke his foot at a house show, thus ultimately leading to his release. If Shane wants to play with Stacey, the whole world will know about it, including Test.
Poor Stacey, she had no idea she was just being used. A pawn in my wickedly innocent little game. I shook her hand as she rose from her seat. While she made her way out the door, I couldn't help but to keep smiling. This was going to be fun.