Chapter II: Things For Which You Can't Prepare

The house show felt like a waste of time but Cheryl was doing what she loved. She was scheduled to lose to Nidia and the match went off without a hitch. Stacy was off doing promo work and she and the remaining women had talked more freely, even if it was only about what she thought of the WWE that diminished into the weather in the cities that they would be traveling to next. It was better than the stilted niceties from her first night.

Monday came as an absolute surprise, especially after the weekend show went so smoothly. Cheryl was stopped by an assistant before she made it to the women's lockerroom. "Mr. McMahon wants you to put your things in the dressing room and immediately go see him."

"Yes, sir," she replied, headed inside, and dropped her sportsbag in a cubbyhole. She greeted Nidia and Gail, the only two in the room, and explained why she was leaving. Vince ran across her as he was returning to his office.

"Cheryl," Vince said, greeting her with a cocky smile. "Everything went so well last week, I want to extend the same welcome that I give to all…I'm taking you to dinner this evening."

"But, but I have a match with…with…I mean, I won't have time to get ready and…and…"

"Let me explain something. When the boss hands down an order, you take it with a smile," he grimly said. Her eyes went wide and she dropped her gaze to the floor. "Come on, I was just kidding. I've decided that your match is off tonight and you'll just have a promo with Evolution along with the one-on-one talk with your 'brother'. Nothing to exactly prepare for."

"Alright, sir."

"When I'm ready to leave, I'll have someone come get you," he stated.

"Sir?" she tentatively began, "I don't have the script for this promo."

"Oh, yeah. The creative team is just finishing up with it. I'll give it to you over dinner."

With that, Cheryl was dismissed and she returned to the lockerroom. To her dismay, Stacy Kiebler was in the room. The redhead was still bothered by Stacy's comment and wanted to confront her on it but just wasn't sure how to go about it. Nidia asked her what Vince wanted and Cheryl downplayed the dinner. Stacy snorted and then slightly smiled as if she knew something that Cheryl didn't. The new diva turned away and asked Lita how her flight was.

Eventually an assistant retrieved Cheryl and she waved 'bye', easily noticing the smug look on Stacy's face. She was going to straighten things out next week, no matter what it took.

The Helmsleys were in McMahon's office and Stephanie actually smiled at Cheryl. "Hunter's going with us to dinner. That fine with you?" Vince asked.

"Am I supposed to protest?" she asked facetiously.

"You guys have fun," Stephanie called after them as Cheryl was helped into the waiting limousine.

Something didn't feel right but she chalked it up to nervousness being around the head honcho in the business and his second-in-command. No matter what Hunter's title, everyone knew that he was being groomed to take over. Vince talked on about the history of his business, as if he was politely informing her how grateful she should be for being allowed to work for them. She laced her fingers together and locked her ankles to keep from fidgeting and never lost a word he said because she was grateful to be there.

The drive was long enough for Hunter and Cheryl to discuss the vignette that they would be doing later. Before they knew it, the two had made revisions to the dialogue and were ready to go without a hitch. She was fairly surprised that he was so congenial and so much less haughty than she had ever imagined.

The restaurant wasn't as high class as she expected but it wasn't something that she could have afforded on her previous salary. Once seated at the table, Vince prodded her to talk about herself.

"There's almost thirty years worth. You got something more specific in mind?" she asked with a laugh.

"No, just talk," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I can tell you I'm nervous about tonight since I have no idea about the promo."

"Getting straight to business. I like you, girl." McMahon produced several pages of script and Cheryl pulled out her wire-rimmed glasses and they quickly talked through them. She was enthralled since this would be her first 'live' promo and wished they could spend more time on it. "Something's not right," he muttered, taking the pages back from her. He perused the papers and Hunter shrugged his shoulders when Cheryl looked to him. Vince's cell phone rang and he glanced down at the callerID. "I've got to take this call. Excuse me for a moment."

The chairman of WWE disappeared and took thescript with him. "So…" Cheryl started.

"So…forget business. Who's your favorite wrestler?" Helmsley asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm not telling. I would hate to offend you."

"Come on. I won't tell and I won't be upset," the blonde prodded.

"Current or any?"

"Any."

"Kevin Nash," she answered, knowing their relationship. That touched off a long one-sided conversation about the Kliq, which was absolutely fine with her. She could listen to him talk about the group forever.

Cheryl glanced down at her watch and noticed that Vince had been gone for almost twenty minutes. She and Hunter had made it through the drinks and an appetizer and he had yet to return. "Do you think you should go check on him?" she interrupted.

He too looked down at his watch and nodded. "Yeah, I have no idea what's going on but it can't be good."

Cheryl sat on her hands to keep from picking at her nails and chewed the inside of her cheek as she waited for them to return. After about ten minutes, she pulled their server aside and explained that they were having problems and to hold their plates until the rest of her party returned. Another ten minutes passed and her entrée was brought out. "Mr. McMahon and Mr. Helmsley had to leave but they asked that you stay and enjoy your dinner. The bill is already taken care of and the limo is waiting for you," the server explained.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to keep the distress from her voice.

"I was not informed of the situation. My apologies."

Cheryl was so worried that she could barely eat. Whatever was going on did not involve her and she tried to remind herself of that and finish the meal. Curiosity and concern got the best of her and she wolfed down the pasta. Checking once again on the bill, she gathered her purse and left the restaurant to find the limo. The driver, a man who easily fit the look of a wrestler, held the door open for her. She glanced around to see if maybe a note was left for her but nothing. There was still time for her to get to the arena and quickly change while going over the scripts for both her appearances on the show.

After what she believed to be about the same time as the drive to the restaurant, she rolled down the black partition and asked how close they were to the arena. "Traffic's been rerouted, ma'am. There's some kind of construction and we've had to take a detour. We shouldn't be much farther." She thanked him and the black glass returned to its place.

When the state patrol car pulled up behind them with flashing lights, Cheryl was fit to be tied. She had thirty minutes to get to the arena, get in her outfit and make-up, learn her lines for the opening shot, and get in the ring. It wasn't going to happen. With luck, she had programmed into her phone the backstage coordinator's cell number, the guy all of the wrestlers were to call if they were going to be late. She explained the situation, verging on panic, but she was reassured that everything would be alright and that he would ask Lita to have her things ready.

When the glass partition slid down, she was surprised to see the patrolman stare at her for a moment through the driver's window and then glance around the seats. "Please remain here, ma'am, and we'll have you on the road soon," the officer said.

Cheryl watched out the window as the driver stepped out of the limo and the two men conferred for what she felt like was forever. Eventually, it seemed that the situation was resolved and a ticket conferred. She was relieved that they would be on their way but she wasn't even sure if she would arrive at the arena on time. To try to calm the panic attack welling up, she worked through what she could remember of the script as she reapplied her make-up and straightened her black skirt and blue blouse. It wasn't Cherry Leigh material but, with a few buttons undone and a roll of the skirt, it would pass this once.

The limo careened into the parking lot at 9:00 on the dot. The vehicle hadn't even come to a complete stop and she was running through the lot. Stage hands cleared the way as she propelled herself through the halls at top speed. Hitting a dead-end, she screamed in frustration and ran the other way. There was still the welcome by the announcers and an opening montage. She kept thinking that there was a possibility she might make it. Finally arriving atthe gorilla position and hauling herself up the steps, she was greeted by a sour-looking McMahon, shaking his head. "They're already out there. It's too late."

"Oh my god, oh my god, I am so sorry! I tried, I really tried," she apologized, tears starting to well up in her eyes as she stumbled down the steps. "Please, please, don't—don't fire me." The redhead leaned up against the wall, trying to catch her breath. "I really—" She gulped for breath and looked up at McMahon to see all four members of Evolution behind him. "But you're…y'all…wh—what's…" she spluttered pointing at them and then out towards the ring.

Vince laughed and put an arm around her. "There was no promo. Nothing was here at the arena that needed me or Hunter."

Her mouth dropped opened as half of the staff and wrestlers were gathered around to watch her reaction. She stared at Vince, her mouth still agape. "But…but…"

"It's like Candid Camera for the WWE and no one, no one here hasn't been through a practical joke like that on their first or second night," Helmsley explained.

The red that crept up her neck and throughout her cheeks rivaled that of her leather jacket. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Her eyes swept over the crowd, the laughing faces, all good-natured, but she felt so embarrassed she could die. She dropped her gaze and then looked back up, focusing on Dave Batista. He looked a bit anxious with a fake smile. His face changed and he seemed to be saying, "Go on, laugh at yourself."

Cheryl took a deep breath and glanced around again. She managed a weak smile and an even weaker laugh. "You got me," she said through an exhale and readjusted her clothing.

McMahon and a few others gave her a one-armed hug but Nidia, Lita, and Victoria squeezed her tight. "You made it through," one of them whispered. I wish I hadn't, she thought.

As people started to drift away, Batista put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay? There was a minute there I thought you were gonna pass out."

"Yeah, I was just…trying to deal with thinking I was fired an-and then finding out it was all a joke. Did they do that to you?"

"Yeah, I'll have to tell you about it some time. You've got to learn to laugh at yourself around here or they'll rib ya non-stop," Dave explained and unexpectedly found himself watching her left hand to see a ring.

"I will keep that in mind."

"Hunter wanted me to tell you to get changed and meet him in thirty minutes for your vignette," Dave added, catching the flash of gold on this glance. He still couldn't tell if it was a wedding band and mentally chided himself for even caring to look.

"Yeah, I'll be there," she replied.

The audience and home viewers later watched Triple H and his sister have it out. "Why are you here? What's wrong with staying in Connecticut?" Hunter demanded.

"Okay, I get you," Cherry Leigh replied, narrowing her eyes in anger. "It's okay for me to play in the backyard but, when I come to your playground, it's not okay."

"This isn't a playground. This is it, this is the game," he forcefully stated.

"And I plan on playing it," the redhead replied, planting her hands on her hips.

"It's not as easy as I make it look."

"If I went on how you make it look, I should be able to kick your ass."

"Listen, I ought to send you packing right now," he ground out, pointing a finger in her face. "As a matter of fact, I think I am. Get your stuff and go home. I won't tell you twice."

He grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her towards the door but she jerked away from him. "Are you afraid I'm gonna show you up or something?"

"I can't do my job and watch you too."

"I'm all grown up," she insisted, straightening herself up higher. "I'm not that little girl in pigtails anymore that you can throw around over your shoulder. While you've been here making your way to the top, you forgot that you've got a family, you've got a sister. While you were away, I grew up! I can take care of myself. I got here without you."

Triple H dropped his head in exasperation. "Fine. Don't expect any help out of me."

"Fine. I won't," she replied.

"Fine then."

"Alright."

"Just make it easier on me and stay out of trouble," he said with an exasperated sigh.

"I could try."

"By the way, Orange, you may not have pigtails but I can still throw you over my shoulder!" he declared, grabbing her around the waist and hefting her up like a sack of potatoes. She giggled loudly until the director informed them the shot was over.

"Alright, put me down," she ordered.

"Where?"

"Anywhere," she replied through a giggle as his hand unintentionally tickled her side.

He spun around quickly and she barely caught Batista out of the corner of her eye. Helmsley twirled back around and called, "Dave, catch!"

"No, no, no," she started shouting, her eyes wildly trying to focus, but Hunter had an arm around her, rolling her onto Dave's shoulder. The dark-haired man allowed her to slide down his body until her feet touched the ground, then she stepped back from him like he had scalded her. The tingles were back, accompanied by goosebumps.

"We don't bite," Hunter said with a laugh. "Just relax. We're your family. Do your job and have fun at it. Learn to laugh at yourself. Right, Dave?"

Batista flashed a crooked grin and nodded. "I'll try," she said, managing a smile.

"See you later, Cheryl," Hunter called as he headed out the door.

"They got me twice. Well, actually, I set myself up for one of them," Dave stated nonchalantly.

"Is that a warning?" she replied with a smirk.

"Could be," he said, glancing down at his watch. "I have to be in the ring with Evolution. See ya around."

Cheryl was ready for that hole to swallow her up at any time. She sat down in the empty room and sighed, wondering what it was about Batista that made her feel like she was alight with a thousand ants. I bet every woman feels that way around him. I mean, he just exudes masculinity, she thought. Feeling the issue was resolved, she started to return to the women's lockerroom to wait out the rest of the show when Shawn Michaels stopped her.

The redhead sucked in her breath when the Showstopper stopped her. Yeah, she knew he was married but he was a legend and a wrestler that she and almost everyone else looked up to. "Cheryl, hi, I didn't get a chance to say 'welcome' with everybody earlier."

"Th-that's no…uh, problem," she stammered out.

"I also wanted to let you know that a few of us meet two hours before the show for prayer and a short Bible study, so you're more than welcome to join us."

"Uh, yeah, thanks…"

"Alright, maybe I'll see you then, kid," he said, pointing at her and clicking his tongue before walking off. Cheryl watched as he headed down the hall, amazed at the fact that she had just talked to, no, been talked to by Shawn Michaels and feeling like an idiot for not saying anything that she had wanted to say about him being her idol. Trying to rub the heat from her cheeks, she entered the ladies' lockerroom.

"Hey, I'm glad to see you," Lita said when she came in the door. "We're rooming together tonight. Matt can't travel yet, so it's us."

"Oh…that's fine," Cheryl replied. Not really, she thought, I need to have a personal pity party and wallow in my embarrassment. She knew that the practical joke was an initiation rite but she felt so stupid for not seeing it coming. She should have known something when Stephanie and Stacy were in good spirits around her. Stephanie obviously didn't like her by virtue of having to work with Hunter and Stacy felt scorned by the creative team because ofCheryl being brought up. When neither McMahon nor Helmsley came back to the table without an explanation, she should have known. When everything kept them from getting back to the arena and the coordinator was okay with her being late, she should have known. That was what was so embarrassing. She felt so gullible.

"When you're ready, let's go," Lita said, breaking into her thoughts.

Shortly after the two were settled in the hotel room, a knock sounded at the door and Lita went to answer it. In walked Nidia and Victoria with a six pack of beer and two pizzas. "I invited them over for a midnight snack. I hope you don't mind, Cheryl," Lita said apologetically as she shut the door behind the two women.

"No problem. I'll stay out of the way and read."

"We were hoping you'd join us," Nidia stated and held up the pizza boxes. "We've got more than enough."

The smell of pepperoni drew her to the table where Nidia set them down. She couldn't remember the last time she had pizza. "If you're sure?"

"Yeah," they chorused. Cheryl was more of a Corona woman but she caught the Budweiser that Victoria tossed her and settled down at the table. The women dug in at the same time and Nidia's engagement ring scraped against Cheryl's hand.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Did it cut you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"I told Eric I didn't want something so big, but, then again, what woman wouldn't want something like this?" she said, waving her hand before taking a bite of the pizza.

"Just out of curiosity, that's Kurt Angle's brother you're talking about?" Cheryl asked and Nidia nodded. "I was wondering. You can't exactly believe everything you hear."

That started the conversation about how Eric proposed to her and then she demanded Lita tell the story of how she met Matt. All three then turned to her, staring at her expectantly. "It's your turn. How did you meet your husband? What was he like?"

Cheryl nervously laughed. "Pierce was one of those guys who lived up to his name. He had three studs and two rings in each ear and that wasn't counting the nipple ring, nose ring, the bellybutton ring… He had plans for a few more but I met him and stopped him before he got that far. This was…" she paused to think then continued, "…seven years ago this past summer."

Cheryl had passed by the nightclub "The Zone" several timesas the day's events were navigated for her grandparents' funeral. From the moment she woke up, she planned on getting drunk and was at the club not long after it opened. She didn't even bother negotiating the cover charge, slapping a bill in the guy's hand and heading straight for a barstool.

The bartender placed a napkin before her and asked, "What would you like this evening?"

Not being much of a drinker, she popped off the first thing that came to mind without even looking up. "Smirnoff Ice."

A shot glass was slid in front of her and she crinkled her brow. "Wild Turkey. Try it," the bartender said.

"That's not what I ordered," she replied angrily, looking up at him.

"If you wanna get drunk, Smirnoff's not gonna do it," he smirked and folded his arms across his wide chest. She finally took stock of his appearance. He was dressed in all black, the tight t-shirt showing off all he owned. He was probably 6'2'' and filled out every inch of that with a well-built, slender body. His spiky hair was dark blonde, the ends bleached by the sun. He was a fine specimen of manhood that she wouldn't mind getting a hold of. Cheryl stared at him, mouth agape. "Go ahead, try it. But write down your address first," he stated, unfolding his arms and tossing her a pen. "We get four or five of those in you and I'll have to send you home in a cab. I need to know where you live."

"Are you trying to come on to me?" she asked indignantly.

"No, I'm serious. I don't want to have to take you home at the end of my shift."

"Oh, thanks. I'm glad to know that I'm some…some…" She couldn't find the word she wanted and she didn't even have a drop of alcohol in her yet.

"Woofer?"

"Something like that."

"Trust me, under any other circumstance, I'd be glad to take you home with me." She stared at him wide-eyed, attempting to find a response. "Are you gonna drink it?"

"I don't know," she stammered, trying to make sense of the situation. It wasn't helping that she couldn't quit staring at this man that had her mesmerized.

He took the shot glass from her and then tossed the bourbon back himself. "You look like a classy lady. How 'bout I fix you a gin an' tonic?" he said in a Southern drawl that raised chill bumps on her skin.

Cheryl didn't feel classy but the black dress and upswept hairdo probably said otherwise. She hadn't changed from the funeral and fellowship dinner afterward. "I think a good ol' margarita'll handle it."

"Sure thing, Miss…" he trailed off, looking at her as he pulled bottles from under the counter to mix the drink. "That's where you say your name."

"Cheryl Leigh," she answered.

"Alright, Miss Leigh," he drawled, glancing around the counter to see if any other customers waited since he had already spent so much time with her. The other bartender seemed to be handling it and she needed the tips more than he did at the moment.

"Just call me 'Cheryl'," she sighed. "And you are?"

"Pierce, Pierce Ellis. So, do I get your address?"

"I'm guessing not since I'm not drinking that Wild…Wild Chicken or whatever it was."

"Turkey," he corrected. "So, I don't get your address, even if I tell you that the margarita's on the house."

"Free alcohol doesn't get you in my pants," she replied, a half of the drink already down her.

"I'm not trying…at the moment. So what brought you here all in a huff wanting to get drunk?"

"You don't want to hear my sorry problems."

"It goes with the job," he replied, leaning on the counter beside her.

With a heavy sigh, she let it all go. Never in a million years would she have confided this easily to a stranger but everything had built itself up to a boiling point. She blubbered on about being newly graduated from college with no job waiting and no clue where to go for employment since her degree really didn't qualify her for anything. Now, a month after graduation, her grandparents had been killed in a boating accident. She groaned on about how they had left her and her brother their winter house there in Hilton Head and their summer house in Maine and having too many decisionsto make.

By this time, she was almost through her second margarita. "I need to quit whining. Sorry. Anything you wanna whine about? Tell me about yourself."

"We'll have to save that for another time. It's starting to fill up in here and I need to go help Julie."

"Yeah, no problem," she replied, waving her drink at him.

By the time Pierce had made it back around to her, she was gone. On her napkin was written: "You'll have to wait another time for my address. –Cheryl."

"Not quite the romantic beginning, huh?" she laughed as she finished the story. "Victoria, tell us about, uh, Alan. That's his name, right?" The women wanted to prod her for more but this was the most she had opened up since coming to the WWE and they weren't going to push her. Nidia had suggested the night-time rendezvous after seeing Cheryl's initial reaction to the hazing to let her know that it was all in good spirits. She considered the evening to be progressing even better now that Cheryl was slipping them tidbits about her private life. It was not that she didn't talk but preferred to keep silent about parts of her life. She didn't want to hear the half-sentimental coos of sympathy from people about her past.

TBC…

Author's Notes: This timeline does not necessarily correspond with RAW's. As a matter-of-fact, it only corresponds when it suits my purpose. I'm being terrible and taking the easy way out by borrowing the parts of TV storyline to suit my fic's purpose.

As toStephanie's andPritchard's places on thecreative team,I think Steph is head of the creative team also but I was trying to go for the idea that Creative is split into two teams (RAW and SmackDown!) and she hovers back and forth to approve what they're doing and, of course, throw in some of her own ideas. She flat out doesn't like what Pritchard wants to do with Cherry's character but she knows he's right about the need to do it.