Been wanting to do something AU for a while now, but I always worried about not being able to find a scenario where everybody was recognisable as their wrestling personas rather than just being stock characters who happen to share their name and likeness with wrestlers. However this one seemed to work. It's going to be told (I think) exclusively from Seth and Kaitlyn's points of view, starting with an introductory chapter for each of them (this one being Seth's) but I've got plans to feature over a dozen other current and former WWE stars in one form or another. The full story is a little vague in this opening, but all will gradually be revealed across the early chapters. Hope you enjoy!
It was my typical Wednesday morning. The fact that this could be considered par for the course encapsulated what an improbable six years it had been. I arrived here with a few grand to my name and a one-month internship at an investment bank, and half a decade of hard work, perseverance, and yes, a hell of a lot of backstabbing and manipulation, here I was; Junior Vice-President of that very same organisation. A 28-year-old from the Midwestern abyss, rubbing shoulders with the great and the good of Wall Street. Even now I still take a degree of pride in what I accomplished.
The apartment was on the Upper East Side, on the junction of 2nd Avenue and East 77th Street. You could've fitted my college dorm into it about eight times over. There were no pictures from my graduation on the wall, or indeed anything that pointed to my existence prior to September of 2008. It was surprisingly easy to dismiss any questions about my early years. As soon as you said the words 'small town in Iowa', these Manhattan types quickly lost interest, muttered something to the effect of 'that must have been just awful for you' and moved on. In their eyes you were no one unless you were here, and to my eternal shame I believed them.
It was 7am, I awoke to the buzzing of my phone. A reminder from my PA, a shy but resourceful young lady by the name of Alexa Bliss, about my meeting with Mr Regal at 10. Trusty, reliable Alexa. I'd have been lost without her. I only wish I'd told her that more often instead of working her like a dog. At least I remembered my conscience when it really counted. But it never should have gotten that far...
Cameron was already awake; fully-clothed (at least as fully-clothed as she ever was), sat at the foot of the bed, fine-tuning her make-up in the pocket mirror that seemed almost permanently affixed to her right hand. She'd be taking a private car from here to the VIP terminal of the airport, yet her cosmetics routine was little less exhaustive than for many TV appearances. It was almost as if she'd spent so much of her life with a camera on her she'd forgotten to ever not try. It would probably make her day if some amateur paparazzo caught sight of her leaving the building.
She'd made her name as the less talented but more media-savvy half of The Funkadactyls; initially the backing singers for the rapper Brodus Clay, they'd become a successful R&B duo in their own right before the spectre of 'artistic differences' reared its ugly head. Her bandmate, Naomi, had grown weary of the shallow materialism of commercial R&B and wanted to return to the soul and gospel she'd grown up singing. Cameron wanted to make money and be on television.
A year on from the inevitable break-up, Naomi had released her first solo album to critical acclaim but commercial indifference, and Cameron had a worldwide top-ten hit with an autotuned earworm entitled 'Girl Bye' (lyrically a transparent cash-in on the much-documented Funkadactyls split drama) and a reality show, Totally Cameron, airing to blockbuster ratings on the E! Network (I can tell you for a fact that there was no 'reality' to it whatsoever).
She was everything my teenage self loathed. Publicity-hungry, petty, catty, and utterly self-absorbed... and she was my girlfriend. I guess I was so keen to lay the old me to rest that I spent my time in New York doing everything and everyone I would've have avoided like the plague back in Iowa. The less I felt like the same person, the better I felt about the mess I left behind.
She was about to leave town for a week for a short press tour for her new album. I knew she'd be sharing her bed with at least one other man during that time, and she knew I'd be digging out my little black book too. It was a shallow, soulless sham, but it suited us both just fine.
Her phone buzzed into life and she snatched it from the dresser.
"JoJo! JoJo, where are you?!" she squawked.
"...The car was meant to be here five minutes ago! What am I paying you for again? Well, you better be! Goodbye!"
I might not have been the best boss in the world to Alexa, but compared to how Cameron spoke to poor JoJo I was a master of employee relations. I hope that girl was well-paid, that's all I can say.
"JoJo says she's they're two minutes away. I'm gonna go wait in the lobby," she said with a sigh as she finally tore herself away from her own reflection long enough to look at me.
"Two minutes... you sure we couldn't fit a quicky in?" I joked. Sex was what kept us going, there was definitely no conflict of interests in that department. Cameron was truly beautiful, on the outside at least.
"Was last night not enough?" she giggled, kneeling alongside me on the bed and throwing her arms over my shoulder.
"It's never enough," I replied, moving my arms around her waist to bring her petite torso flush against mine.
"I'll Facetime you when I get to Rio. I may or may not be wearing any clothes," she teased, pecking me on the cheek and rolling onto her feet.
"Bye, boo! Love ya," she chirped as she headed out of the door.
"Love you too," I muttered. In hindsight the fact my eyes never once met hers during this exchange, instead remaining trained on her tight little ass bouncing in her yoga pants, said it all. It was a shell of a relationship and I was a shell of a man.