Disclaimer: Everything in this franchise belongs to Vince McMahon and he gets my money every time Raw or Smackdown visits my city.
The Coffee Rebellion
"5 regular, 2 decaf, 5 sugar, 6 cream" a soft spoken voice rattled on like a recorder stuck on repeat as she scuttled down the hallway of the Hilton where RAW superstars were temporarily residing. Several wrestlers were outside in one of the reserved halls that could've fit a banquet or a wedding itself to meet and greet fans until from 11 in the morning to 1 p.m. and boy, was there a crowd.
Samantha had been working with this brand for four months after nabbing a job with her degree in communications to understand the fundamentals of working in such a dominant environment that was known worldwide. She wanted to use this as a stepping stone to working with studios or news stations but so far, she played assistant to an assistant while dealing with menial tasks regarding the franchise. So much for learning the ropes of television production but at least she learned how to make a decent cup of coffee and learned the quirks of the wrestlers and divas. Fans would've given an arm and a leg to be part of the glamour (even though she remained hidden from cameras altogether like other employees) so she considered herself lucky.
So here she was, in a black pencil skirt and an iron pressed blouse in periwinkle that screamed professionalism but she might as well have worn a tag that said 'Coffee Maid'. She waited in the adjoined kitchen of the hall as the coffeemaker dripped away in the empty large room. Luckily, the decaf pot was half full so the writers that ordered it would be sufficed. Still, the large but vacant room void of caterers gave an eerie feel.
Hmm, I shouldn't have watched The Shining at night yesterday, the last thing I need-
"Sam?"
"Don't Redrum me!" she squealed in surprise and turned around to see Matthew or as the fans knew him, the uprising superstar 'Evan Bourne'. Her hand went over her beating heart as he stood in the middle of the doorway with an amused expression and Samantha sighed in relief, "Oh, it's just you. I must be getting sleep deprived to think a murderer's coming at me from behind."
He flashed her a witty grin as she fought back an embarrassed blush and teased, "Stranger things have happened."
"Ugh, the last thing we need is a storyline with a crazy wrestler 'hunting' down each of you" she scoffed sarcastically to the soap opera themes the writers gave the show sometimes but brightened up to grab a few markers out of the pocket of her skirt. Matthew had a tendency to run out of markers at every appearance but she always kept a few on hand for the amicable man. Smiling pleasantly, she pointed out, "I had an inkling you'd be coming by with all the fans gathered at your table. You gotta tell your manager to carry boxes of this, Matt."
He grabbed them gratefully since waiting on the elevator would just waste time for the fans and handed her a dollar. She laughed to the gift and held the bill out for him to take back but he wagged a finger to jest, "Coffee maids need the most tips."
Samantha was about to point out that the markers came from the company but Matthew bolted through the doorway with an echoing 'thanks' as he headed back into the occupied hall. Silence ensued in the kitchen and she sighed at the lonely company of sinks and cabinets, oh what fun. Daring herself to let the coffee pot finish on its own, she wandered to the doorway leading into the jam-packed hall. Gray eyes shifted to the sides like a spy from the classic films but everything was empty in sight in the hallway so she dropped the stealth act. Meh, it was fun while it lasted.
Her small heels made no noise as she made the small cross through the hallway and wasn't surprised by the crowds surrounding five of the wrestlers. The divas would have a meet and greet in another place tomorrow but someone else would oversee it. She usually stayed in events at the hotel for the franchise since her boss took care of all of the arrangements herself while Samantha did the crappy tasks. For the past two weeks, however, she'd been entrusted to make sure everything went smoothly and was running back and forth to keep everyone happy. Unfortunately, they were in the central hub of the writers in Stamford so of course, she had to cater for them while they remained there. She couldn't wait to leave for Rome tomorrow and bite the dust on this place. Even sightseeing had been a no for her.
Is it possible to have an assistant for an assistant's assistant?, she pondered miserably as she watched the crowds move like the sea all over the place and scooted to the left when John Cena passed her by to head into the kitchen. There was no catering today but water bottles and coffee was in stock so that was all they were getting since their hotel rooms were upstairs.
A group of nine year-old kids tried to be sly and pass by her since security was at the front for the moment but Samantha cut them off at the doorway with a shake of her head, "Sorry, kiddos, only hotel guests and staff beyond this point."
"But we want to see Cena!" a little boy decked in 'Cena' fashion attire insisted with a frown but Samantha sighed at the legions of fans that adored the man. Her younger brothers back home counted as part of the masses as well. Honestly, give the man five minutes and his charisma would have you doing just about anything.
She tried to coax the little rascals back into the reception area with a sweet voice, "He'll be back soon. Why don't you meet the Viper or-"
"I want to see Cena, I want to see Cena-" the lead boy yelled and kicked her right on the left shin without warning.
"Ow!" she yelped in pain to the tantrum attack and grabbed her kneecap as it throbbed to the abrupt kick. Who the hell let their kids kick people with steel toed shoes? That was definitely going to leave a bruise and she hated wearing stockings to cover up discoloration! Samantha gave the little kid a glare as she massaged her abused shin and hoped opening her mouth wouldn't give her a matching bruise on the other leg.
Before either party could speak, the popular wrestler was back in the hallway with a water bottle in hand and fought back laughter as he saw the dark-haired woman holding her knee cap against a group of kids. She gave him a 'would you mind?' stare and darted her eyes towards the eager but shin kicking fans that held bright gleams in their eyes as they stared at their idol. He spoke up with a lecturing but jolly tone towards them, "Now, kids, you know never to hit girls regardless of how old they are. Ms. Mora was just doing her job and we can't get in the way of that, can we?"
Leave it to John to herd the masses like a shepherd, Samantha thought amusingly as she bit her bottom lip to prevent a groan of pain from escaping her mouth and massaged the lump forming on her knee. Great, now I have a limp. Can this day get any worse?
The three kids beamed at their wrestling hero as he wrapped his arms around them to pacify their annoyance with Samantha and John nodded to each in persuasion, "Now, we will apologize to the nice lady and head over to the tables so I can sign each of you a poster? How's that sound?"
Samantha gripped the doorway in shock as they went from angry to joyful in seconds and a loud ramble of apologies were heard from each before they dragged the wrestler back to the front. Huh, strong little tykes. She shook her head to the short-term memory of youngsters and wished she had the charisma of that man to sway conversations. Back on the job again, she waddled back to the kitchen with a bruised kneecap to finish her task and praised silently when the pot of coffee was finished so she could return to being beckoned like a bellhop. She'd much rather go back to working with her department regarding the operations of the show instead of learning nothing from the writers; it just wasn't her field.
Setting each of the styrofoam cups on a plastic tray, she smiled to herself to keep her confidence going and cringed when she heard her name called down the hallway. While the appearances went on in the hall, the writing team had stationed themselves in a conference room to work on the newest storylines. Ugh, she couldn't wait to board that plane and head out to the next city where it was writer-free. Grumbling under her breath, she grabbed the tray swiftly and turned around to slam directly into a wall of muscle. Coffee scalded her hands but the other party suffered the entire contents and she cried out in horror when she stared up at Stephen Farrelly. If she didn't feel tiny at her height of 5'4 before, she sure felt like David and Goliath right now.
"Oh my god, I burned you! This is horrible!" she blurted with fright, gray eyes widening to their full extent and Samantha dumped the tray into the nearest sink as she tried to grab a towel nearby to dab at his black t-shirt. The redheaded man could only wince at the burning liquid dripping down his shirt as it singed his porcelain flesh and watched the woman scramble for whatever she was looking for. Her hands opened metal cabinets in the hopes of cloth or paper towels but only found pots and pans causing her to sigh in aggravation. How the hell does a kitchen not have towels?
I'm probably looking at assault charges here!, she thought frantically and kicked a low cabinet shut with the heel of her black shoe.
Gathering her wits, she ordered the man without looking back, "Take the shirt off before you singe your skin further, we need to find a towel or honey or-"
"Samantha-"
"Aloe vera or ketchup. . .why are there no towels? Arrgh-"
"Ice pack, Samantha?" he cut in to keep her from having a mental breakdown since she seemed jumpy the second he entered the kitchen and she halted in her hasty actions. The shirt was easy to discard but he frowned as a red blotch formed in the center of his chest and Stephen touched it to test its sensitivity. Not bad.
Samantha grabbed the balled up shirt from his hands to bat his hands away and reprimanded worriedly, "No, Stephen! You'll traumatize the burnt area even worse-"
"Ms. Mora!," called one of the assistants to the writers who haggled her as their own lap dog.
Oh heaven almighty, she was tired of these people and having this problem on her hands wasn't making it better. Stephen was nice whereas these butt holes were breaking the last straw of sanity she had left. She gave the Irishman a polite smile with an eerily calm 'excuse me' before walking to the open doorway and yelling back heatedly, "Get your boss his own damn coffee, I'm not in your department! As a matter of fact, do your own stuff from now on because I'm not on your payroll."
The man started to snap back but she just waved him off with a 'screw you!' and walked back inside as she muttered under her breath, "No jodás."
Adding in a few cuss words (she felt comfortable cursing in Spanish rather than English) to dissipate her anger, she scuttled back to the wrestler that was due out there and focused on his problem. Her worrywart nature on keeping everybody on the roster (she took random groups while other assistants got the rest to gain experience) won out in uncertain situations and she tapped her round chin to point out, "We're going to the on call doctor."
"Isn't that a lil' overboard?" Stephen asked skeptically and pretty much wanted an ice pack to be done with it. As long as nobody hit him square in the chest, it was easily forgotten about.
Her face relaxed in agreement and he thought he'd be free to go change when she piped up with something completely different, "You're right. You're going in my hotel room!"
"Wait. What?"
"Sam, Ah'm fine."
That's what all the Sheamus fans heard when they saw the tall wrestler shooing away the small woman handing him first aid items after he'd switched shirts and gotten proper burn treatment outside her room. Ten minutes later, he was trying to assure her he was fine while wondering why his manager wasn't there to tell her she could go on about her business.
"Do you have the antibiotic? Contract wrestlers can't work with injuries" Samantha grilled expectantly as she crossed her arms and with her black hair pulled back in a bun, she resembled the old and strict private schoolmasters. He gave her a stiff nod and she backed off, waving him off with a pleased smile, "Remember my kindness when I get sacked."
"Yer not gettin' sacked" he stated simply since most of the roster knew the friendly woman as she worked backstage and on the road to keep everything running smooth. Hennigan and James went to her every time something was wrong with their lodgings or show time problems and she had them fixed within minutes.
She gave him another wave of the hand before heading back into the shadows of the hallway and brushed back any tendrils of black hair that slipped from the tightly bound bun. Her day had already gone to hell since it started and knew there would be retribution for her refusal to listen to the writing department. She liked working with the wrestlers, they were really interesting people, and frowned at possibly having to search through a newspaper for job postings.
"I can see myself watching soap operas and eating cheetos already" she groaned miserably to the horrible prospect of being jobless and kicked at the floor with her bad leg, causing pain to shoot up her femur bone. Jiggling her leg to shake it off, she hissed irritably, "Son of a-"
Her cell rang and she unclipped it from the waistline of her skirt to glimpse at the number. Monkeys in a barrel, it was her boss.
Double dang.
Taking a deep breath, she answered with a happy polite tone, "Sam here."
Tamara Wilkins, aka Boss Lady, quickly went into business without a greeting, "Sam, you're going to have to be on your own from now on. Medical issues came up so I'm taking maternity leave earlier than I thought but from what I hear, you're doing fine so Hagen wants me to promote you with my job."
She was floored with the sudden news since she expected to get her ear yelled off for mouthing off to the other department and getting the boot but luck was on her side. Was she finally catching a break after busting her hump with menial tasks? Her lips gaped in disbelief and she faltered in voice, "A promotion? You're giving me a promotion?"
"I don't repeat myself, Mora, so it either you or someone else and the company doesn't waste time" Tamara pointed out flatly and Samantha bit her lip nervously before agreeing to the proposition. "Good, you're already known with the RAW wrestlers and their teams so this change won't be new to them. This is your chance so don't screw it up."
"So I'm not getting fired?" she asked skeptically once more to make sure this wasn't a mental hallucination from overworking. Seriously, the company made you jump over hot coals to keep working and she was barely an assistant. Just a few more months and secure paychecks would give her enough to put in applications at the news stations to nab a permanent position.
"No, Mora, you're answering to Hagen directly so pick up the reins because I'm not sure I'll be heading back to the job so stay sharp."
That took her aback since jobs were never a spur of the moment thing (unless you counted talent agents) and she stammered, "W-Why?"
"Kids focus in your priorities and being on the road isn't the best environment so good luck, Sam" she replied simply and hung up before the younger woman could put in another word.
Samantha's legs practically melted into jello at the relief of keeping her job but also getting a raise. Maybe life was turning up for the better. She grinned wildly and declared happily, "I can finally drop the second 'assistant' on my résumé!"
Prickles of excitement shot through her spine and she headed down the hall towards the elevators in the lobby. She could finally tell the other departments to shove it and talk to her boss which was great because being walked over by them tended to suck the light out of your spirit. It was fine when it was during show time because that was the highlight of the company but not when it was for unimportant tasks. Hmm, could she get herself an assistant?
One step at a time, now run home- er, hotel room and call room service for a sundae!, she thought herself giddily and pulled back the sleeves of her blouse to cover up the coffee stains.
With the mood of celebration in mind, she grabbed Mike as he came straight out of the elevator to swing him around as if they were playing ring around the rosie. He gave her a puzzled glance for the peppy behavior and curiously asked, "What are we spinning for?"
"Do we really need a reason to spin?"
"Nah."
With that, the two spun without a care while people in the lobby stared awkwardly but come on, this was the WWE and stranger things have happened.
A/N: A humor filled fic with RAW superstars because life is never dull and subtle fluff in later chapters. Join poor Samantha next time as the job doesn't turn out to be so glamorous, Mike becomes a steed, Mickie tries to play matchmaker, and Morrison reveals his secret of baby soft skin.