A/N: First of all, I want to apologize for posting this chapter so much later than what I intended. When you're dealing with writer's block, you automatically hit a roadblock, which ironically is the title of Chapter 2. I've been really busy with things so finding the time to write was extremely difficult, but I'm back at it now and I intend to finish it! :)
Second, I must, must thank RebeccaR3864, PlayTheGame, Rossi's Lil Devil, GracieClaire, Allylynn, gabbylynn, TaylorChesney, Lauren Grant, Kylie3 and DashingPrincess for your wonderful reviews! Thank you so much! I really appreciate it! Love you guys! I hope to belt out another chapter as soon as possible! If I don't, you can heckle me NoseysRosie on Twitter! Haha!
Ok, so without further ado, read, review and enjoy!
Chapter 2: Roadblock
"Hi, this is Sabrina. I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, I promise I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks."
Beep.
"Hey sis, it's Shane," the eldest sibling called from the other end. He tried hard to maintain his composure as his eyes were glued to the television screen. "I'm just calling to see where you are and to see if you're alright. We just saw on TV that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center. I know that you were headed there." He paused for a couple of seconds as he felt emotions building up. He tried to suppress the thought of something harmful happening to his little sister. "Please call me when you get this message so that I know that you're OK!" Shane paused for a bit to regain his composure, but his voice was thick with emotion as he uttered the words "I love you, sis."
Shane reluctantly snapped his cell phone shut. He hoped Sabrina would call him back and fast.
8:51 – 9:02 a.m.
Deep in the heart of Texas, the bright rays of sun shined like the state's yellow rose over Highway 7. While the morning rush hour brought the usual inconvenience for many motorists, it did, however, buy more time for one frequent road traveler.
For years, Vincent Kennedy McMahon has amassed a lot of miles, sweat and sharp criticism in order to be on top of the sports entertainment industry. With the recent acquisition of World Championship Wrestling from Georgia media tycoon Ted Turner, Vince had proved to the corporate world that he was ultimately unstoppable. If money did buy happiness, Vince would certainly have the big bucks to spend on it.
The World Wrestling Entertainment Chairman sat at the front of the luxurious coach bus next to the driver, smiling away as he examined the traffic.
"It's a good morning, isn't it?" he asked the driver in his signature rusty voice. Like any other morning, he was ready to take the bull by the horns. "Looks like we're going to make it there on time."
"I believe so, sir," said the driver, still keeping his eyes on the road.
Vince and his production crew were heading to Houston for a live Smackdown show that was going to air on Thursday. The goal was to arrive at the Compaq Arena by late morning, thus giving the creative team ample time to finalize the script so that the next two days, the Chairman could focus on the rest of the show's production.
"How long do we have to get to Houston?" Vince inquired to the driver. At this point, traffic was beginning to slow down a bit and he was very anal about being on time.
"We have a good two hours, sir," replied the driver. "If traffic starts to pick up soon, we should be in Houston by 10."
Perfect, the Chairman thought to himself.
"Alright, well I'm going to have a meeting in the back," Vince motioned the curtain that divided the small front area of the bus and the spacious compartments in the back. "Let me know if we run into any problems."
"Yes, sir," the driver answered as he continued to be fixated on the road. He reached over and turned the radio dial to a clear sounding station. A tapestry of twanging sounds of banjos and fiddles kept him company now.
As Vince headed back to join his writers, he could hear them arguing like school children over what direction to begin Thursday's show. This was nothing new for the Chairman. Coming up with new ideas for storylines was a daily chore, but it was the most integral part of the entire production. Without that, there would be no show. There would be no increase in revenue and their target audience. In other words, the fans would not be thoroughly entertained.
The creative team, a concoction of writers and producers with years of experience in television production, including the newest member, Vince's daughter Stephanie, were sitting in the kitchenette area. Laptops and a bevy of papers filled with ideas and dialogue cluttered the tables and countertops. The team's main hurdle was to rally where the previous night's Monday Night Raw show in San Antonio left off, in which the Rock beat Test in the main event match, and Stone Cold Steve Austin told interviewer Michael Cole backstage that he didn't give a "rat's ass" in injuring Olympic Gold Medalist Kurt Angle.
Vince raised his eyebrows when he approached his team. He was startled by the volume level ensuing on the topic of discussion."What the hell is going on here?" Vince yelled over them in his true on-air character fashion.
All of a sudden, the conversation dropped to a halt as the writers and producers turned their heads at their boss. Finally, Vince had their full attention. He loved that feeling of authority. A slight smirk emerged on his face. He grabbed his notes off the countertop and sat down in one of the recliners next to the window.
Vince glanced around his writers as they were still staring at him. He extended his hand like he was offering something. "OK, what do we got so far?" bellowed the Chairman. "Someone tell me how we're starting the show." He polished the lenses off his glasses before putting them back on his face. A cacophony of voices spewed off a variety of ideas that made Vince confused.
"Wait, wait!" he exclaimed again, holding his hands up. "One at a time." He pointed to former wrestler, now writer Michael Hayes who sat across from Vince. "Hayes, you start."
But before Michael could open his mouth, the phone rang.
One ring.
Two rings.
"Should I get it, Dad? It could be someone from the corporate office," Stephanie asked.
Vince nodded. "Yeah, but make it quick." While Stephanie left the kitchenette area to take the call, her father proceeded ahead with the meeting. "OK, Hayes, go ahead."
Michael cleared his throat. "Well, we ended Monday's show with Austin calling out Angle. I was thinking we could begin the show with a promo from Angle responding to what Austin said."
"Yeah, but we can't let it alone at that. The fans want action," interrupted one writer. "Austin's gotta be in the ring with him. He's a crowd pleaser."
"Actually, he's a crowd hater. Remember, he's a heel?" Vince corrected the writer, who ducked his now crimson-colored face. "What else do you got?"
"What would happen if we added a third party into the mix?" inquired another writer. "Like one of the Divas."
"What do you mean?" Vince listened attentively.
The writer cleared his throat. "We can ignite some heat into this feud between Austin and Angle by having Steve call out a Diva … for … I don't know … getting in his way."
"Well, who would you want?" Vince asked.
While the writers tried to pick a Diva for Austin to berate, Stephanie bolted back into the kitchenette area. She still clutched the phone in her hands. Her face now looked sullenly pale. She hoped the expression on her face would catch her father's attention, but he was too busy spearheading the meeting that he didn't notice her walking back. The news that Stephanie heard over the phone had crippled her heart, and now she had the unfortunate duty of informing her father.
"Uh, Dad ... Dad!" Stephanie interrupted the meeting, but she had no other choice. "I need to talk to you."
Vince pursed his lips. "We're in the middle of a meeting, Steph," The Chairman snatched his glasses off his face in irritation. He hated when his meetings were interrupted by third parties. "Can't this wait?"
Stephanie shook her head, her eyes were welling up with tears. "No, Dad, it can't." Her lower lip quivered as the writers and crew stopped what they were doing and gave their full attention to the Billion Dollar Princess.
"Steph, I don't have time for this," Vince grabbed his glasses and placed them back on his face. He leaned back in his recliner and opened his folder again that was filled with production notes.
"It's about Sabrina," Stephanie announced, her voice cracked.
All eyes were on Vince as he now lifted his head and peered over at his daughter. He finally detected the sadness on her face. The vibes from that sadness quickly reverberated into Vince. In the back of his mind, the Chairman was swarming with thoughts on what the news could possibly be, but he knew he couldn't get the facts unless he heard it from his daughter's mouth.
"What's wrong?" he quickly asked, his voice was low and raspy that none of the writers could hear him.
With the exception of the bus's roaring engine, the mood suddenly turned quiet. There was a long pause, followed by a deep shuddering breath from the boss's daughter. "That was Shane on the phone." Her voice was thick with emotion as though as she had been crying, but no tears were flowing down her cheeks yet. "He told me …" Stephanie looked down at the phone she was still clutching. Her hands were shaking. She sighed and tried again. "He told me that a large plane just hit the World Trade Center."
The creative team gasped and looked at each other in shock, however, the Chairman would later regret the bewilderment that flooded over him in that particular moment, as he tried to correlate how the World Trade Center towers had anything to do with his youngest daughter. In retrospect, Vince should have surmised that something awful had happened or else Stephanie wouldn't have interrupted the meeting on impulse. He wrestled with multiple possible scenarios in his mind, but nothing seemed to make sense.
"What does this have to do with Sabrina?" he blurted out.
Stephanie took another deep breath before explaining to Vince and the crew Sabrina's meeting her friend Jenna for breakfast on one of the North Tower's top floors. "Shane said he called Sabrina but no answer."
Vince gulped. He stood up, took off his glasses and tossed it on the table in front of him. His head started to throb as he tried to wrap himself around the new pieces of information he just learned. He rubbed his forehead with his fingers, hoping the throbbing would stop.
It just doesn't make any sense. Plane crashing in World Trade Center, the Chairman thought to himself. It's NOT true. It CAN'T be true. There has to be a mistake. My baby girl couldn't be in the building, could she? There's only one to find out.
"Somebody turn on that goddamn television!" he barked at his creative team. One of the writers grabbed the remote control and turned on the medium-sized television that was built-in on the wall.
Once the picture appeared on the screen, Stephanie and the creative team shrieked in horror as the screen showed a close-up shot of the smoke clouds gushing out of the large gaping hole near the top of the North Tower. There was a graphic near the bottom of the screen indicating "World Trade Center" and "New York City."
The bus suddenly came to an abrupt stop on the shoulder of the highway. Everyone shook upon the impact. The driver got out of his seat, pulled away the curtain and raced into the kitchenette area. "Mr. McMahon, I just heard over the radio that-" Immediately, the driver's train of thought was interrupted by the crystal clear image on television. Everyone's eyes were glued to the screen, feeling helpless at the sudden turn of events. The Today Show anchors were interviewing various eyewitnesses who were near the towers. One eyewitness, a Today Show producer, was recounting how she just dropped off her daughter at school and heard a plane engine roaring above and a loud explosion. She described it as if she was experiencing shockwaves.
Shockwaves were definitely felt inside the bus as the tension and emotion ran so thick one could cut it with a knife. Still glued to the television, members of the creative team were talking amongst themselves, trying to piece together information as it unfolded.
But no news was more devastating than the one they were about to witness next.
"OH, ANOTHER ONE JUST HIT! SOMETHING ELSE JUST HIT!" shouted the eyewitness on television. "Something else just hit! A very large plane just flew directly over my building. There's been another collision."
Everyone in the bus panicked and screamed with horror when they witnessed a large, fuming fireball ferociously igniting the World Trade Center's South Tower. Vince felt something inside him plummet hard like a huge stone. His countenance changed as his legs suddenly gave out like tree branches breaking in half, plunging himself into his recliner again. A wave of incomprehension washed over him, making him feel like an alien observer in his own surroundings. He couldn't move or talk.
The Chairman felt a heavy tingling feeling all over his skin. The country was being attacked, and Sabrina was in the middle of it all. The sheer thought of it made him completely vulnerable and sick to his stomach. All his life, Vince tried to shield his children from the harmful distresses in the world. He always wanted what was best for them, and they always regarded him as their hero. Now, the hero was thousands of miles away from the devastation, and there was nothing he could do to save his baby daughter from the pandemonium at the World Trade Center.
"My Sabrina," Vince murmured to himself, becoming overwhelmed with emotion. He lowered his head, not letting the staff see him cry. He tried to churn his mind away from the inevitable, forcing himself to think positive thoughts.
Maybe Sabrina is alive. Maybe she's not in the Tower.
Suddenly, Vince felt a wave of warmth caressing his shoulder blades and back. Stephanie knelt down and hugged her father tight. Vince returned the favor by putting his arms around her. They embraced for a while, murmuring words of encouragement in each other's ear, hoping to give each other some more ounces of strength during this very difficult time. Stephanie leaned back and looked in her father's eyes, cupping his face in her hands and wiping away the tears with her thumbs. She gave a forceful smile, but then her face automatically turned into overwhelming concern and sadness as more streaming tears poured down her cheeks.
"Daddy, I'm so scared," she whispered. "I'm so scared that Sabrina-" Before Stephanie could utter another word, Vince placed a finger on her lips, causing to stop her train of thought. He knew what she was thinking. Great minds think alike, especially in moments like this.
"I know, honey," he whispered in his low-cut, raspy voice, cracking in every syllable. "Me too."
"What are we going to do?" Stephanie asked. Her voice morphed in panic.
Vince looked straight into Stephanie's brown depths, realizing that just like any other time, he had to be the hero. He couldn't save his daughter from the catastrophe in New York City, but he had a duty to perform the next course of action for his production crew, his company, and the millions of fans. It would be a very difficult task, but like anything else in life, he was up for the job.
Vince wiped away the tears from Stephanie's face. "We are going to do what we always do," Vince said tenderly. "We are going to be strong and hope for the best. We're not going to think the worst. You hear me?"
Stephanie nodded her head. "I know. Sabrina's OK. She's going to be fine. I need to keep saying that."
"Exactly. Now here's what I want you to do," Vince instructed. "I want you to call Shane. Find some way to get a hold of your sister. Call her friends. Call anybody she might know."
Stephanie nodded again. "What about Mom?"
"You let me handle your mother," replied Vince as he looked over his daughter's shoulder at his creative team. They were all busy speaking to their loved ones on their cell phones updating them on the latest developments. "I'll also handle the crew."
Stephanie creased her brows in confusion. She wondered if her father was up to the challenge of committing to his corporate responsibilities. "Are you sure about that?" she asked him quizzically.
Vince nodded in assurance. "I'll be fine. Just keep me updated on what you find out."
"Ok," Stephanie said, as both of them stood up. "I love you, Daddy." She threw her arms around him again, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
"I love you too, sweetheart." Vince embraced his daughter in full measure. The unleashing of love didn't quell the anxiety of the unexpected, but like any other turmoil, father and daughter knew that they had each other's backs.
Vince reluctantly pulled back from his daughter's embrace and kissed her forehead. "Time to get back to work," Vince gently commanded as he deftly switched from his fatherly responsibility to the role of boss. Stephanie nodded in acknowledgement.
Vince walked over to his driver and placed his hand on his shoulder. The driver jumped as he switched his attention from the television set to the Chairman. "Yes, sir?"
"Can you still handle driving us to Houston?" he asked.
The driver quickly nodded. "Absolutely."
Vince smiled and nodded. "Good, then I suggest you get behind the wheel." Without hesitation, the driver followed the order and headed back to the front of the bus.
Stephanie stood next to her father as he tried to get the creative team's full attention. "Everyone, I want your undivided attention, please," he spoke over them. When all eyes were on him, Vince paused for a moment trying to choose his words carefully and methodically. "It's obvious that today is going to be a very sad day. Personally, this is a difficult day because Sabrina … is there." Vince pointed to the television screen, his raspy voice quivered. He cleared his throat. "All I ask is for your full cooperation. As of now, we're going to scrap what our original ideas. We're going to monitor the news right now. Once we get to Houston, we'll have an emergency meeting with the road agents and Superstars. So at this point, call them up and let them know that immediately when they arrive we'll have a meeting." Vince glanced across the room. Any questions?"
At first, the writers were silent, but then one of the men raised his hand. "Yeah?" Vince asked.
"What about the show?" the writer inquired.
Vince looked in the writer's eyes, his facial expression turned serious. "Until further notice, the show will go on."
