Author's Note - Hope this new story interests you guys. This idea has undergone some changes but, I think it might be fun.
Warnings - Talks of Addiction, Drug Use, Alcohol use, some adult themes.
Disclaimer - I only own my OC Sephora. I am in no way affiliated with the WWE. This is just to get the idea out of my head. :)
Damage Control
Chapter One: Prologue
"I can't let you perform like this. You need to leave the Arena.":
Sephora rolled her eyes. She tried to push past Dave Finlay and head for the dressing room but the older man put his hands on her shoulders to stop her.
"You are in no state to work tonight and you know it. You need to go and you need to go now." he reiterated.
"I'm fucking fine. Just let me into the arena." Sephora slurred, once again trying to push past him.
"Sephora, Sephora STOP!"
The blonde stopped trying to shove past him and stared at him, her expression blank.
"Security is going to escort you out. I don't want to see you again tonight. . . or for 30 days. You are going to be suspended."
"You can't suspend me, I'm Sephora McMahon. "
"I know exactly who you are and the rules of the wellness policy still apply to you. . . and you failed your drug screening and showed up tonight high & wasted off your ass - you'll be lucky if it doesn't end up being sixty days instead." He motioned for the security guards to take her out of the arena.
Sephora cursed and swung her bag at one of the security guards as they guided her out to the parking lot. "Let go of me you bastard. I am not going anywhere. I am Sephora fucking McMahon and my dad runs this show. You can't throw me out! You better let go of me right now!" She slurred, once again swinging the bag at the security guards. One released her from his grip when they reached hte door and the second pushed her out of the door and pulled it shut. She banged the glass but they refused to open the door.
She cursed loudly and threw her purse on the ground in frustration.
"Look it's Sephora McMahon!"
She turned her attention toward two male fans. They were both smiling and one had his phone out recording the surroundings. She rolled her eyes, in no mood to deal with fans.
"Sephora! Can we have a picture please?" The second fan grabbed his phone out of the pocket of his jeans.
She snatched her purse off of the ground and stomped toward the cars. "No. I was just leaving."
"Please! It took us 5 hours to get here! I promise we won't keep you."
Sephora rounded on the two fans, "Are you stupid? I said no. Now leave me the hell alone you disgusting little mouth breather. I have places to be!" She turned on her heel to walk to her rental car, slinging her purse over her shoulder.
"What a fucking bitch." The fan said bitterly. "To think I was ever a fan of hers."
"What did you call me, you little twit?" She stormed over to the fan. "Maybe, next time someone declines a picture, don't' be a nagging little piss ant and people won't need to tell you off.":
"I wasn't rude to you and you started screaming at us. It was completely unnecessary - so yea, I called you a bitch."
Sephora had had enough, she reached out and slapped the fan across the face. "Maybe next time that will make you think twice about being demanding then being obnoxious just because you don't get your way." She huffed, shooting a glare at the second fan before turning on her heel and scurrying across the parking lot to her rental.
"GET UP NOW!"
Sephora McMahon groaned with irritation. The bed shifted as the man beside her stood up. She didn't bother to reach for him as he collected his things. "Go Away!" The blonde yelled back.
"I said get up NOW."
She cursed under her breath as she climbed out of bed. Her companion from the previous night was already dressed and putting on his shoes. She grabbed her bathrobe and put it on, cinching it tightly around her waist. She led the way down the stairs of her penthouse apartment.
Her father stood in the middle of the living room, looking livid. His steely gaze fell on her before drifting to the man following her down the stairs. Her visitor said nothing as he crossed the room and grabbed his jacket and keys. He left the apartment without so much as a goodbye - not that Sephora cared.
She flopped down on the oversized couch and smiled sweetly, "What brings you here, Daddy?"
"You know damn well why I am here! What the hell were you thinking?" He looked irate. He motioned around the room, which was a mess from the night before. "This has gone too far, Sephora. You need help."
Sephora rolled her eyes. "I'm fine Dad. Don't be a spoilsport. I was just having some fun with some friends."
"No Sephora. A few drinks is some fun… This. . . This is unacceptable."
"Oh come on, Dad. . . ."
"No! I am done making excuses for you. You humiliated our family last night and you think you can just sit there and act like nothing happened."
"No one will remember anything in a few months. They will find someone else to complain about."
"Sephora you could affect your mother's career - the company . . . and you don't even care?" Sephora didn't respond. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair before flipping it over her shoulder. "All of this . .. " Her father once again motioned around the room, "Is done. I have given you far too many chances. . . and it stops right now. You have 2 hours to get packed. A car will be here to take you to the rehab center."
"And what if I refuse to go?" Sephora jumped up from her place on the couch. "You can't make me go."
Vince nodded, "You're right. I can't make you go to rehab. . . but, I can make you leave this apartment. I have already contacted the real estate agent and they are listing it Monday. So you have the choice of going to rehab, getting the help you need, and then I will help you again - or you can pack up your stuff and live on the street because you don't have to go to rehab but you aren't staying here. It's your choice.." He turned and walked toward the door.
"YOU CAN'T DO THAT." Sephora screeched, stomping her foot on the tile floor.
Her father ignored her. He opened the door and stepped out into the hall to catch the elevator, snapping the door shut behind him.
Sephora chased after him, swinging the door open with such force it banged against the wall. She reached the elevator just as the doors shut.
"DADDY YOU CAN'T DO THAT. YOU CAN'T!" She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she stood in front of the closed elevator doors.
~ Six Months Later ~
Sephora walked briskly down the hall of the arena. She stepped in front of the final door on the right and swung it open forcefully, catching the attention of all of the talent and crew members lining the corridor.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Her father stood up from behind his desk, looking outraged.
"I will not do this!" Sephora dropped her copy of the script in front of him, on the desk. Her older sister Stephanie sat beside her husband Triple H on a leather couch on the walk opposite the door. The brunette looked shocked by her little sister's boldness. "It is disgusting."
"You should feel lucky Paul and I decided to include you in such an important story-line."
"Important? This is humiliating and degrading. Not to mention it is incredibly disrespectful! I am not going to do it." She insisted.
"Oh you will do it or you will not be staying in that new house I am getting you and you won't be working for this company!"
"You can't do that!"
"I most certainly can and I will. I told you Sephora Jean, things are going to change. You are no longer going to get everything handed to you. You are going to get your act together and earn it. Now go get ready for the show or get out of this arena." Her father sat down, with an air of finality.
Sephora huffed and stormed out of the room - slamming the door shut behind her. She made her way toward the women's locker room, tears stinging her eyes. She stopped and leaned against the wall when her cell phone chimed in the pocket of her denim jacket. She dug it out and looked at the screen.
She was surprised by the name on the ID and opened the text message.
I just wanted to say I am sorry about the segment tonight. I think it is ridiculous.
Sephora smiled slightly, wiping away the few stray tears that had rolled down her cheek. She quickly typed a reply.
Thank you.
She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.
She tucked her phone back in her pocket and once again headed in the direction of the locker room.
The show was going to start in a few hours and she still had to get ready.
Even if she didn't want to participate in her assigned story-line; it looked like she didn't have a choice.
Author's Note - well that's it for the prologue. Hope you all enjoyed it. Thank you for reading :)