Jessa Bolt

"Happy birthday, Lightning Bolt!"

I turned my head as Shane McMahon fell into step beside me, the two of us walking down the main hallway of the Allstate Arena in Chicago, our pace brisk and with purpose. He draped his arm over my shoulder in a half-hug, the two of us never falling out of step. The navy blue business blazer he had worn earlier in the night was gone; he only wore his blue jeans, Nikes, and a white button-down shirt with top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Last year Shane and I had formed a tenuous bond, thanks to our battle with his sister Stephanie, her husband Hunter, and his faction Evolution, but our relationship didn't morph into a full-fledged friendship until the two of us suffered an ass-kicking at the hands of Evolution last November. The aftermath of the fight had been miserable; I suffered a broken rib and a dislocated rib in the attack when Dave Batista put me through a table. Three days later Shane and I got the last laugh, defeating Evolution at Survivor Series and effectively banishing them from SmackDown, blowing up Hunter's plan of dominating the entire federation.

I wish the story ended there; heartbroken and injured, but victorious. Instead, the night after, Vince decided that I needed a change of pace. He went to the ring on Raw and announced that I had been traded to Raw for Stacy Keibler, and I was stripped of my Divas Championship. I handed my title to Vince and accepted that my days as a SmackDown Diva was over. Now I was on the red team, in a sea of faces that were familiar but unknown.

It's April twenty-fifth, and it's been five months since I came to Raw. Outside of WWE, life has been moving pretty smoothly; after veering off the rails a bit, my friend Sabella McCann got back into contact with us. When I got signed, I got her a job here as a camerawoman. As our lives began moving in different, chaotic directions, I think she started feeling left out. She ended up lashing out and leaving the company, probably burning her bridges on the way out. Four months ago, she ran into her ex-fling - my mentor - Kurt Angle at some kind of convention, and the two of them decided to give their relationship another go. So far it seems to be working for them, but seeing Sabella in a monogamous relationship is a little odd.

Another friend of mine, Adriana Braxton - she worked here as a seamstress - left the company on New Year's Eve with the hopes of building a fashion empire and opening a boutique. Her boyfriend, Rene Dupree, proposed to her on Christmas Day, and she's hoping to have the wedding just after Christmas. Their relationship has been fast-moving, almost a whirlwind, but Adriana and Rene are so happy together. I couldn't be happier for the two of them.

Two of my dear friends left, but my friend Natalie Landry still works here. At the end of last year, she got a promotion, going from runner to the personal assistant of Shane McMahon. So far she seems to love it, and I'm not surprised - Shane is so low maintenance; I've always imagined that working with him is a pretty stress-free experience. Her relationship with John Cena is going strong, but now that his star is rising so fast, she's not spending as much time with him as she used to. She's a little worried about him meeting someone else on his constant travels, but she's been good for him, and I know he sees that. She pieced him back together last year after his heart had been ripped out and stepped on.

John's heart had been manually taken from his chest by my ex-best friend and probably eternal nemesis, Callie Berry. After the two of us had a year of trying to take each other out of commission, Callie took herself out. She blew out her knee in January at the Royal Rumble, during a Heat match with Victoria. She's expected to miss anywhere from six months to a year. The surgery was a success, but she's endeared herself to nobody here, so I imagine there hasn't been a lot of get well cards and flowers sent her way. I thought about sending her something, but there's so much bad blood between the two of us at this point that I didn't see it doing any good to do such a thing. Once upon a time, we had been the best of friends. Now, we attack each other on sight.

Callie is still with Dave Batista, the man she cheated on John with and ultimately left him for, but I don't think they are happy together. For a woman who likes to claim that she is in total control of every situation, she doesn't seem to realize that Dave has her wrapped around his finger.

Since coming to Raw, I've once again found myself relentlessly pursued by the Legend Killer, Randy Orton. He's like a gnat, constantly buzzing around me, always finding some excuse to be close to me, to talk to me. For about a year now, I've been hoping and praying that he would find another woman to go after, but he's still fixated on me. I guess it could be worse, but his affiliation with Evolution is a complicated wrinkle, a hurdle almost too big to get over.

Last weekend, I moved out of my penthouse, into a nice little house in upstate New York. It was something I needed to do; the home was too tied up in all of the painful memories of last year, a lot of those memories having to do with my first - and to date only - boyfriend, Brock Lesnar. My sister Kari flew out to help me move, unpack, and paint. It had been a fun weekend, the two of us drinking a lot of wine and turning my house into a home. About a month ago, Kari decided to shave her head, something she now regrets. Getting drunk often turns Kari Bolt into her own worst enemy, but that's for her to work out.

"Birthday party in your honor tonight," Shane told me. "You're coming out, right?"

"When do I ever turn down a chance to hang with you?" I asked. We shared a laugh. Shane has a reputation back here as a notorious party animal and a competitive one at that. He's given men twice his size alcohol poisoning on a lot of different occasions. There have been a couple nights this year alone where I've had to drag him back to his hotel room.

As a sweet birthday surprise, my former teammate John Cena has flown out to the show tonight. Natalie, Lita, Chris Jericho, and Shane are set to take me out tonight and get me royally drunk. Kari came on the road with me this week; she's flying back home to Canada on Wednesday. She didn't want to miss out on a chance to "party like a rock star" tonight with the Superstars. My sister is a champion drinker, but I don't think she's ready for somebody like Shane. I'm curious to see who is going to be carrying who back to the hotel room at the end of the night.

"Can I ask you a favor tonight?"

"Anything for the birthday girl," Shane said with a grin. "What do you need?"

"As a surprise birthday gift tonight, your father has set me up for a lingerie photo shoot tonight." It's not something I'm looking forward to, but Vince believes I need to add more sex appeal to my look; he thinks I'm too buttoned up. I'm not very comfortable taking pictures in G-strings and thongs like the other girls, so tonight I'm thankful for the invention of corsets and boy shorts. Vince said he wants to see me get edgy, that he wants the kind of fight I had last year when I was feuding with Callie; what he doesn't understand is that I spent all last year two steps away from a nervous breakdown, pretty much until Callie blew her knee out.

"...And you want me to talk Dad out of it?" he finished. I laughed.

"No, no. It's okay. Sometimes I have to grin and bear the bad stuff to live the dream," I told him with a laugh. "I appreciate that, though. It's just that this photo shoot is going to have me running a bit late after the show, so I was wondering if I could get you to take Kari to the bar tonight?"

"Yeah, I can totally do that." I didn't think that he would refuse. "Where do I find her?"

"Probably with Shelton Benjamin. Those two seem to be joined at the hip." We stopped. He removed his arm from over my shoulders. "Thank you, Shane. I really appreciate it. I'll try and be as quick as I can with the shoot. I'll call you when I'm done and let you know what's happening."

"Sounds good. Have fun with it. You always look so tense in your photos."

"Because your dad has a no drinking policy." Shane laughed. We slapped hands and said our goodbyes before separating. He went towards catering, while I went to the Divas locker room to go get ready. I had to get changed into my lingerie before going to get my hair and makeup done. It can be pretty glamorous, but posing in my underwear isn't something I think I'll ever be comfortable with.

I stripped out of my clothing - black pants and a white tank top underneath a glimmering black vest. I put the emerald green corset and had Maria Kanellis help me with the clips in the back. When she was done, I changed into black boy shorts with an emerald green and black garter belt, hooking them to my thigh-high stockings. I looked at the giant mirror, taking in my reflection. While it's a beautiful look, I felt completely out of my element. My normal photo shoots are kind of like Molly Holly's, maybe with a touch of cleavage. Staring at myself in the mirror, I had to admire the way my cleavage looked in the corset. I slid on a little black robe, tying it tight around my waist. I'm still not very good at walking in heels, but I've gotten better. I slid on a pair of small black heels, thanking Maria for her help before I went to get my hair and makeup done.

It was almost midnight by the time I finished the photo shoot. Despite my nervousness, it ended up being a lot of fun. It helped a lot that I was surrounded by people who just wanted me to be myself. We did a lot of pin-up inspired poses, and the photographs ended up looking super cute. I got to look at every picture that was taken, and I got a lot of say about what shots were going to end up on the website.

I walked back to the locker room in a great mood, holding the high heels in my hand. About twenty feet to my left, in the parking area, I heard some kind of a commotion, some yelling, and swearing, but I ignored it. My mind was on getting drunk with my friends and having the best birthday so far.

Deciding that I liked the way the corset looked - and not having anyone around to help me get out of it - I decided to keep it on for the night. I decided to keep the stockings and garter on, too, but I put a black ruffled mini-skirt on over the underwear. Instead of getting back into the high heels, I opted to go for a pair of black ballet flats, since I'm bad on heels when I'm sober, nevermind when I'm drunk. I shoved everything into my bag, zipping it up and draping it over my shoulder. I took one last look around the locker room to make sure I had everything with me.

The door burst open behind me and I shrieked, turning in time to see Randy Orton collapse on the floor in front of me, bleeding profusely from the head, his handsome features contorted in pain. Just looking at him I was able to piece the situation together: after months of going back and forth, everyone in Evolution had decided he was too much of a liability. They didn't trust him anymore, so they were cutting him out like cancer. They threw him out in their favorite way - by beating the poor man half to death.

"Jesus Christ." It was a quiet gasp. I dropped my bag after the initial shock had passed. Down the hallway I heard them approach, pounding on walls and doors and catcalling Randy. Then they were in front of the Divas locker room door; I know because their voices became clear. Then Ric spoke; I knew it was Ric because of the constant "woos". He wanted to go and celebrate throwing Randy out of the group. Somebody said something - I think it was Dave because I couldn't make it out - but Ric said finishing the job with Randy could wait until next week, that it was time to go out and "light it up".

Then they were gone.

It took me a moment to realize that I was shaking, that for a moment I felt a very real fear that Evolution was going to walk inside the Divas locker room and find me in here with Randy. I looked at Randy on the floor and sighed. Grabbing a white towel off a folding chair, I got down beside him and began dabbing at his face, trying to find the source of the bleeding. I found two wounds - one above his right eyebrow and a long gully across the top of his hairline. Both looked deep enough to require stitches.

I dabbed the towel around his mouth and his chin, trying to clean his face. I wasn't at all surprised when he pushed his lips out and kissed my wrist. I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fact that he had just gotten some of his blood on my skin. "That's enough out of you, Casanova," I told him, exasperated. I saw a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I got up and went into the shower area to wet the towel; I wanted to clean him up a bit before taking him to the hospital.

My heart ached for him; kneeling beside him, looking at the bleeding wounds, it was hard not feeling like all of this was my fault. I went into my bag and pulled out my first aid kit, pulling out some alcohol wipes to disinfect the wounds. I began to dab with the wet towel followed by the alcohol wipe. He winced and groaned, forcing me to draw back, startled. "Sorry, Randy, but I need to take a look, and we need to get any kind of bacteria out." I wiped away some blood, but a new geyser oozed from the wound in his forehead. "We need to get you to the hospital. You need stitches."

He didn't respond. I tried to help him to his feet, but he wasn't helping.

"Randy, please don't be difficult," I pleaded. It took me a moment to realize that Randy had dozed off. I looked at the door of the Divas locker room and huffed. Everyone in the arena was almost gone, the medical staff included. Turning, I began to lightly tap at his cheeks with the back of my hand, forcing him awake. His eyes opened, slate blue with dilated pupils.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he groaned, mustering a grin. I rolled my eyes.

"Not a good time, Playboy. Come on - we're getting you to the hospital."

"Jess..."

"Don't even try to argue, Randy. You've got two wounds that need stitches. You're bleeding a lot, and your pupils are so dilated that I think you may have a concussion. I've got a first aid kit, but you need more than that." I grabbed a bundle of gauze from my kit and put it to the wounds on his forehead. I grabbed his hand and forced him to put pressure on the wounds to staunch the bleeding. Head wounds generally look worse than they are, but this still seemed excessive.

"Jessa..."

"There's no arguing. Come on. You need more help than I can give you. Get up. Come on - let's go."

"Don't worry about me, Jess. I'll call a cab." I helped him sit up. "I've fucked up your night enough..."

"I'm not hearing any of that shit tonight, Randy. You're not taking a cab bleeding the way you are. I'm taking you to the hospital. Come on. Let's go."

"It's your birthday..." he protested. I helped him to his feet.

"So what? I'll have other birthdays. You need medical attention. That's the important thing right now."

I leaned him against the wall and rushed to grab my bag. Slinging his arm and my bag over my shoulder, I opened the door and looked down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. Randy outweighs me by at least a hundred and twenty pounds, so acting as his support to the parking lot was going to be a challenge. It took us a while, but we made it. There was blood on my hands, on my shoulders. It felt symbolic since his departure from Evolution had everything to do with the way he has been looking out for me over the past year.

Unlocking the car, I got him into the passenger's side. Once he was settled and buckled in, I shut the door and threw my bags in the back. While I was putting everything away, I called Shane to let him know that I wasn't going to make it.

He wasn't happy.

"What the fuck do you mean you can't make it?" he shouted over the loud music in the bar. I had to hold my cell phone away from ear because of how loud he was shouting. "It's your fucking birthday!"

I quickly explained the situation to Shane, practically shouting myself so he could hear me. "He's bleeding half to death, Shane. I need to get him to the hospital and make sure he's going to be okay. We'll reschedule everything for the weekend, okay?"

"You are fucking right we are going to reschedule." He was huffing on the other end of the line. I rolled my eyes. The music was quieter, so I assumed he found a spot in the club where the music wasn't so loud. "I'll drop Kari off at the hotel when we're done here tonight."

"Thank you. I'm going to go. I'll call you and let you know how things go." We said our goodbyes and I hung up. Rounding the car, I got into the driver's seat. The passenger's window was stained red with Randy's blood because he was resting his head against the window. I felt sick. As great as it would have been to be at my own birthday party tonight, I couldn't leave him like this. The white T-shirt he wore was ruined; the giant patch of red on his shoulder made me feel queasy. He was still holding the gauze on his forehead, but it was completely red now.

"I'm sorry," he offered softly. I snorted.

"It's not a big deal - you'd do the same for me." I looked over at him, flashing him a tight, sad smile. We have a long and complicated history, and even though he drives me crazy at the best of times, I wouldn't wish this on him.

I turned the key in the ignition, checking the rear-view mirror. Aside from Vince's limousine, there were four or five cars left in the parking lot. Evolution's limo was long gone; I knew that they had probably found some red carpet nightclub to hang out in, at some VIP table. They were probably laughing about the destruction they had caused tonight, wearing Randy's blood on their clothing like some kind of badge of honor. They were probably watching the other people in the club behind a velvet rope, where busty women sat on their laps and hung off their bodies, and the champagne flowed like water. Their lifestyle always enchanted Callie, but it's never been my scene.

Brushing the thoughts of Callie and Evolution out of my head, I backed out of my parking spot and sped off into the night. Randy looked to be going in and out of shock; it felt urgent that I get him to the hospital right away.