A/N: This is probably full of typos because I did this on this sites document manager after work and I'm tired as hell. Probs won't update in a minute since I still don't have a computer and I'm doing this at my mom's while I wait for my laundry to finish.

I hate my job.

I never wanted to be a wrestler. All I ever wanted to do was to get paid by being hot, so when a WWE talent scout offered me a developmental contract while on a job, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for me. I'd be on television. I'd be famous. I'd be rich. I'd be beating out hundreds of women who actually worked for something like this all because I was blessed with good looks and a few men who paid for my enhancements. It would be like live action modeling instead of only posing in front of a camera or walking down a runway like I did for a few years.

I don't know which I regret more: signing the contract or ever becoming a model in the first place.

This is a terrible business. I can't stand it, but everyone needs to pay the bills. Aside from that, I must admit that I have a venomous taste for designer shoes.

Your personal life is out there for the world to see. You are encouraged to be scantily clad twenty-four seven. Your family time is rare, as well as your personal time. You learn to live for the four hours of sleep a night you get in your hotel before waking up early for the next flight out. And you can't sleep on the flight because someone always wants to take a picture with you.

"Wake up, Cind. We're here," Adam whispered in my ear as he nudged my arm.

Thank god for Adam Copeland.

I was a bit skeptical when Vince decided to drop the belt from John Cena and give it to Edge. The bad guy won the war, and Vince always seemed so against that. But with the title change meant that I changed shows, as well. You see, I have a different sort of contract. My storyline or gimmick, whichever you prefer, is that I manage the champion, no matter who it is. It could be Big Show and I'd have to pretend to be in love with the guy. Unfortunately for me, Cindy Ashworn, the gimmick makes me appear to be a slut or a gold digger.

Now, don't get me wrong, John Cena is a great guy. I had fun traveling with him and getting to know him during his time as champion. I was worried about Edge. I hoped his Rated R persona was simply that, just a persona. Luckily for me, it wasn't, and I've come to learn that Adam Copeland is one of the greatest individuals I have ever met in my life, and he is definitely my favorite wrestler to manage, travel with, and work with. He is like the older brother I never had.

I groaned as I woke up, not wanting to move from my resting position. "Mmm...What time is it?"

"Time to get moving. The plane has just landed. We're in New Orleans for Extreme Rules."

I slowly stood up, reaching inside the pocket of my jeans for my phone. 11 AM. I slept for about twenty minutes on the flight, and I'm going to have to run on that.

We only just arrived at the arena and we're already in the pre-show meeting. Rediculous. I am half asleep as it is and I'm afraid that I'm going to start drooling on Adam's shoulder at any minute.

Honestly, I wasn't paying much attention during the meeting, at least to start off with. Blah blah blah. Same shit, different pay per view.

"Oh, of course I'm going to job to Umaga. Why WOULDN'T I win Money in the Bank, then? We might as well put the case on the line as an even MORE special stipulation? Hm?"

Vince must have just announced the winner of the Samoan Strap match, because CM Punk's whining and crying woke me up. Now, I'm not going to claim to love everyone, but CM Punk, or CM Junk as he is known behind his back, is someone that I cannot stand. He is rude. He is cocky. He is arrogant. He thinks everyone is below him because he came from Ring of Honor.

I understand that he's straight edge and all, but I swear, that man could use a few drinks in him.

Vince let out a heavy sigh. "Alright, fine. How about I just change the whole damn show just so YOU can win a match?"

Punk clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers. "You've got it, old man."

In the short time I've worked in the WWE, I've never seen Vince McMahon speechless. I guess there's a first for everything.

After the chatter died down, Vince continued on with his ramblings about the show and I drifted back into my peaceful stupor. Did I honestly care about the Hog Pen Match? No, I did not.

"And Jeff Hardy will gain the World Heavyweight Championship."


I bolted upright. Did I seriously just hear that correctly? I would have to manage Jeff Hardy?

"Yes, Cindy. You and Edge will part ways tonight. Do I make myself clear?"

Guess he's not speechless anymore.

"Yes, sir."

I looked over and Jeff Hardy and found that he was looking over at me, as well. He gave me a friendly smile. I didn't know him very well. I know that Adam and his brother had some troubles in the past, but those were where they belonged, in the past. As much as I didn't want to stop traveling with Adam, I did have my eye on that new set of Louis Vuitton luggage...

"Hardy's a good guy. You'll like him," Adam encouraged me, rubbing my shoulder as the meeting ended.

"I guess...And we'd still be on the same show," I agreed.

"Yep. I can't be greedy and hog you all to myself. I've gotta share the wealth."

"Ya know, I feel REAL bad for Hardy. He's gotta travel with that blow up doll."

Behind us, CM Punk was exiting the meeting, as well. He really got my blood boiling with that comment.

"Are you implying that I'm easy?" I barked back at him.

"Well I mean come on, woman," he snarled, rolling his eyes. "We all know what you're really doing when you're managing the champion. Or is it massaging the champion? And look at you with your blonde hair and fake boobies. You have trailer park slut written all over you, sweetheart."

"Just because you don't get laid..." I muttered under my breath as Adam guided me away from that douchebag.

To tell the truth, my heart dropped a little when Jeff unhooked the title, winning the match.

No more Adam.

No more fun.

Hello to new starts, I guess.

Saying my heart broke when I heard the opening riffs of CM Punk's entrance music is quite possibly the second biggest understatement ever. The only thing to beat that out was saying that the Titanic was indestructible.

When Punk won, my world ended.

I was on the sinking Titanic as a third class passenger with no way out.