vagary
(n.) an unpredictable instance, a wandering journey; a whimsical, wild or unusual idea, desire, or action.
"I'm going to fucking kill him."
"Paul, you are not killing anyone. You're going to talk to him like an adult." Vince demanded, walking after the furious man.
"Do not tell me what to do, and do you honestly think what he did was being an adult?!" Paul shouted, turning around to face Vince. His face was bright red, and his jaw was clenched to match.
"It was twenty years ago, neither of you were adults. I am not excusing what happened but-"
"Did you know?!" Paul interjected, staring down Vince.
Vince only sighed in reply, looking away from Paul and loosening his tie. Vince had had some shocker employees over the years, but he had always dealt with them without even breaking a sweat. But for the first time, Vince was afraid of an employee, and not because of his size or stature, but because Paul's rage was built up on something genuine. He hadn't been passed up for a title shot, he wasn't filled to the brim with steroids and ready to unload on anyone, something truly upsetting had happened to Paul and he was going after the culprit.
"DID YOU KNOW?!" Paul snapped.
"No, I didn't. And if I did, I would've done something. I would have told you." Vince answered meekly.
Paul only looked up, staring up at the sky for a few moments before scoffing and looking back down.
"I don't believe you." He uttered to Vince before turning around and beginning to walk away.
"You think Ari would want you to do this?!" Vince shouted after Paul. This made him turn around and look at Vince with enraged eyes, and before he knew it, Paul was striding over towards him. As soon as he was within reach, Paul grabbed Vince by the shirt with both of his hands.
"DO NOT USE MY DAUGHTER AS A GUILT-TRIP EVER AGAIN! ESPECIALLY NOT NOW… WHEN THIS IS ALREADY ALL ABOUT HER, AND SHE DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING WRONG!" Paul seethed.
Vince was dead silent for a few moments before calmly removing Paul's hands from his shirt.
"I know that you are angry, but if you ever lay your hands on me again, I will fire you and have you charged with assault." He said bitterly.
Paul's face almost broke into a smile, "I'll make that easier on you. I quit."
Vince's face of anger immediately dissolved to one of shock as Paul silently turned around and continued his walk towards a tall white building.
"So, you're going to throw this all away?! All that I've given you? You're going to throw it away for this?!" Vince yelled after Paul, "If that's who you are, then you don't even deserve a place in this company!"
Paul turned around, taking one last look at Vince.
"Why don't you tell someone that gives a fuck?" He remarked, before entering the building.
Oftentimes, I would dream about stuff that I had only heard about through the grapevine. I didn't know if my grandpa actually brought me into their argument or if he was actually scared of my dad at that moment, however, I did know that that was the day my dad quit the WWE.
I didn't realise I had fallen asleep until I was jolted awake, I looked around to see that the plane had just landed on the runway. I furrowed my eyebrows in slight annoyance; I had never enjoyed it when a plane was landing. Even when I was a teenager, I used to hold my mom's hand as the plane hit the ground. Don't tell anyone, but I kind of wished she was there with me at that moment…
I sighed in relief when the plane eventually came to a stop, and I immediately heard from the intercom:
"Chúng tôi vừa đến sân bay John F. Kennedy, ở thành phố New York xinh đẹp. Giờ địa phương là mười hai giờ chiều, nhiệt độ hiện tại là bảy mươi ba độ và đó là một ngày hè tuyệt vời. vui lòng ngồi yên cho đến khi dấu hiệu thắt dây an toàn biến mất."
"We have just arrived at John F. Kennedy Airport, in the beautiful city of New York. The local time is 12PM, the current temperature is 73 degrees and it is a fabulous summer day. Please remain seated until the fasten seatbelts sign disappears."
"I hope you have a wonderful trip." I said to the mother and daughter as I grabbed my bag. Over the course of the last eighteen hours, I had come to know that their names were Tuyen and Lanh (Tuyen being the mother and Lanh being the daughter). Tuyen had vented to me about her divorce, but that was okay, because I had vented to her about my family drama that came right after a soap opera. And even though we were still frazzled and a bit angry, the vent had made both of us feel better.
"And I hope everything works out for you at home. You seem like a very smart girl, I think it will." Tuyen replied as we both stood.
"Tạm biệt." I said happily, stepping out of my seat and into the aisle, Goodbye.
"Tạm biệt." She replied before I headed off the plane and onto the jetway. After I collected my luggage, I looked around for any sign of a WWE employee (because I knew full well that Vince McMahon wasn't about to make an appearance at JFK's international arrivals terminal). Eventually, I spotted a suited man holding up a sign in big black letters that read: "ARIETTE LEVESQUE".
"That's me…" I uttered meekly as I walked up to him. He only held up his phone in response, most likely studying an old picture of me that he had been given to make sure he was picking up the actual Ari Levesque. I wouldn't be surprised if it was hard for him. Over the past year, I hadn't cut my hair once (meaning it had grown long, but also extremely frizzy), my skin had grown freckled and even more tan, and my hair was also remarkably sun-bleached, which might sound attractive, but on me it looked more like a box dye bleach job.
"Yeah, I see it." The man said gruffly and took my suitcase in silence and guided me to a limo.
"Wait, this is for me?" I asked cautiously approaching the vehicle.
"Yep, Mr McMahon requested it." The driver answered, putting my suitcase in the drunk of the car. I only nodded my head and opened the door before getting it.
"That's supposed to be my job." The driver commented, walking over to my door. I could only smile.
"Sorry." I said, right before shutting the door.
I awkwardly shuffled into a seat by the window. I'd never quite grown comfortable with riding in a limo, so I just sat there, arms in my lap and eyes darting around like I was some kind of lizard. I soon spotted a decanter filled with brown liquid sitting on a console in front of me with a glass beside it.
"He requested that for you too." The driver interjected, noticing that I was staring at the gift of sorts. Nonchalantly, I grabbed the glass and poured only the amount of a single shot into it before downing the whole thing (not to brag, but I had grown quite accustomed to drinking in Vietnam).
I sat back, feeling the taste of… apple juice in my mouth?
The driver began to laugh hysterically, slapping the steering wheel before looking back at me.
"I guess you're gonna have to get used to teetotalism again?" He asked.
"Yeah, yeah," I said bitterly, crossing my arms over my chest.
The driver wiped his brow, still chuckling as he pulled out of the parking lot and towards the highway. That was when I made the decision to wind up the glass dividing window.
"Young lady… Young lady, I really don't think it's a good idea to go back here right now, Mr McMahon is in a meeting." The receptionist called after me, jogging awkwardly in her stilettos.
"Don't worry, he knows me, I'm family!" I called back before skidding to a stop and setting my eyes on a conference room. It was filled to the brim with old people, Jesus, were my parents the only members of the board that weren't over sixty? I thought, and against my better judgement:
"VINNIE MAC!" I shouted, slamming by hands on the glass door. Every single person in the room stared, and the one person I was looking at seemed to just look at me in horror for a few moments before it dawned on him… Grandpa then flew out of the conference room at an almost vicious speed and wrapped his arms around me.
"You look so different. So grown up. How was the flight home? Should I have sent the private plane for you instead?" He asked quickly, grabbing a hold on my shoulders.
"No, you shouldn't have sent the private plane for me. The flight was fine." I replied, smiling.
"So how was Vietnam? Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Well, I stayed there for a year, if that's any indication." I answered, chuckling, "But yeah, it was great, it was what I needed."
"Do you feel any different about… well… you know…" Grandpa trailed off before putting his hands behind his back.'
"I honestly thought that Vietnam would give me this amazing clarity about what I should do and how I should feel, but I have to say that I don't feel much different." I sighed.
"Well, if it's any consolation, you look very different, and don't worry, because until you figure out what you're going to do, the guesthouse is all yours."
"Thank you, Grandpa. I don't know what I'd do without you." I said, hugging him. "But while we're talking about how amazing you are, I do have something I want to talk to you about…"
"Mm-hmm?"
"Listen, I'm going to apply to Princeton in the fall and go there next year if I get accepted, but I don't want to sit in your guesthouse for the entire year. So, I was wondering if you had any jobs for me here? I'm not fussy, I'll literally be a janitor."
"Honey, I'm not going to make you a-" Grandpa paused for a moment as he pulled away, looking at me dead in the eye, "I have an idea, follow me…" He added, before speed-walking off. I immediately went after him and we both ended up in his huge office, where he began to rummage through drawers under his desk.
"I saw how you walked in here and it just dawned on me that you might be perfect for this…" He muttered, pulling out a bind of papers.
"For what?"
"Kayla Braxton walked out of the company last week, she had an issue with salary that we weren't willing to be flexible on. I've been searching for an interviewer to replace her-"
"Umm, I don't really think I'm qualified for that."
"I'm not saying you're Raw's all-new full-time backstage interviewer, but I need someone to do the job this week, just until we find someone with… more experience and. I'll make it easy, I'll cut the segment down to two minutes and we'll even set a teleprompter up for you to use at the start."
"I still feel like you're oversimplifying this massively."
"Listen, take your backpack and that bomber jacket off…"
I did just that, despite grumbling
"Straighten up your back and smile…"
"Okay…" I said before putting my shoulders back and forcing a smile on my face.
"Your form is perfect; the people would love you. Your look does need work though, but I have a feeling about you, Hun."
"That'd be good to hear if I wasn't completely petrified."
"Relax, we'll shoot it before the show, so if you can't get the hang of it, it won't even be aired." Grandpa assured, "Tonight would be perfect."
"Tonight?"
"Raw's in Brooklyn tonight. It's only an hour drive away. You'll have plenty of time to get down there and shoot the segment."
"So, if I don't fuck the segment it up, I'll be on national television tonight?"
"Well, no, you know how I like to keep my programming exclusive to a select few neighborhoods in the New England area."
The sarcasm was completely lost on me.
"Yes, you're going to be on national television." Grandpa said after quite a long silence.
"Oh my god, but what if my parents see me and they immediately track me down? What if I'm really ugly, and my double chin is all that Twitter is talking about in the morning?" I panicked.
"Honey, you're not ugly, and as for your parents… You didn't hear?"
"Hear what? I mean, I know that Dad quit, but what if he's still watching?"
"Oh, believe me, I don't think any one of your parents will be tuning in tonight."
"God, do I want to know?"
"You really don't." Grandpa sighed, "… Well, if we're done discussing business, I guess I should bring the girls up."
"The girls?"
Instead of replying, Grandpa walked over to the phone at his desk and punched a number in before putting it up to his ear, "Hi, can I get Lauren and Camille up here please? Alright, thank you."
Not two minutes later, the doors to Grandpa's office opened right up and in walked two perfectly-dressed, blonde-haired women. One looked to be in her mid-thirties, while the other looked twenty-five or twenty-six at the most.
"Ari, this is Lauren and Camille, if a writing team decides to make a change to a performer's appearance, these two make it happen. Girls, this is Ari, my granddaughter. I need her camera-ready for tonight."
Lauren, the older one, waved at me, while Camille had already sat me down in a chair and was running her hands through my hair, "God, I love this hair, but I'll admit that it desperately needs a cut and color. I'm thinking shoulder-length golden brown."
"All the way to my shoulders?" I asked nervously.
"All the way, sweetie. You've got split ends and Tom-Hanks-in-Castaway levels of sun-bleaching in that mane ad that's how were going to fix it. Now for your face, I'm thinking a light smoky eye and a nude lip will be perfect." Lauren gushed, squatting in front of me. "You remember that Ralph Lauren blazer we were looking at last week for Alexis? That would be perfect for her." She said to Camille.
"So, do you think you can have her ready and at Barclays Center by six?" Grandpa
"We can have her ready and at Barclays Center by four. But if you're giving us until six, then she's going to look majestic." Camille said excitedly.
"Can we use the-"
"Yes, you can use the company credit card." Grandpa replied to Lauren.
"And can we take the-"
"Yes, you can take the company car."
"Well, Camille, stop pulling on the poor girl's hair and let's go! We're going all the way to Manhattan and traffic on the I-95 doesn't let up for anybody."
"Hey, I did not say you could take the car into the-"
"Bye, Vince, it was lovely meeting with you, I'll see you soon." Lauren said quickly, hustling Camille and I out of the room and closing the door behind her.
Not an hour later, I was sitting in a Sally Hershberger-esque salon, waiting for my hair to finish "marinating" (as Camille called it) in a light brown dye. Camille sat opposite me, ready from a tabloid while I watched the television on the other side of the room which was showing some trashy celebrity gossip show.
"Excited news today as a date has finally been set for former WWE wrestler and business executive, Paul 'Triple H' Levesque's UFC debut. He's set to appear in the main event of UFC 242, just two months away. It was just over a year ago now that-"
"Hey, excuse me, can we maybe turn this over?" Camille called out, pointing towards the television.
I sighed as I looked away, rubbing my eyes with my hands and trying to catch those tears before they even appeared.
"Thanks." I muttered.
"It's okay, I saw you getting upset, and it's not only my job to get you looking fabulous, but it's also my job to keep you comfortable." Camille explained. "All the crap that went down was hard to watch, I can't imagine what it must have been like to experience, but I think it's best if we keep an "out of sight, out of mind" way of thinking."
"Yeah, I guess…" I uttered reluctantly.
There was a brief silence between us that followed Camille's statement. I didn't know if it was healthy for her to do that to me, but I decided to take her word for it for the time being.
"So, did you meet any boys while you were over in Vietnam?" Camille asked in a sing-song voice, presumably desperate to change the subject.
"There were a few guys, mostly tourists. The language barrier was made it tough, and by the time I became quite fluent, I'd already decided that I just wasn't in the right frame of mind for a relationship." I sighed.
"I met my man just after I swore to myself that I was done with dating for at least a year. It'll happen when you least expect it, it's kind of scary." Camille said, smiling.
"I'll take your word for it." I muttered quietly. Certain events had made me skeptical of finding true love, but I wasn't about to complain to someone I'd known for an hour about my jadedness (even though that's exactly what I did with Tuyen on the plane).
"Hey! Can we get some ice waters over here?!" Camille called out again.
It was at that point I realized that I found Camille the stylist slightly (and by slightly, I mean incredibly) grating.
Both Lauren and Camille stood outside the change room, waiting for me to finish.
"Okay, I'm done." I called before stepping out of small cubicle. Upon seeing me, Lauren put her hands up to her mouth.
"Oh my god, Camille, look at what we made, oh, I'm so proud of us… Sweetie, just look at the mirror and take it all in."
I turned around to look at the wall-sized mirror. Even I had to admit, I looked ready to appear on Raw. My hair was almost the color of gold, Lauren had done my makeup flawlessly, and she had also hunted down the Ralph Lauren blazer for me to wear (along with a blouse underneath, and matching pants and shoes).
"Am I Raw ready?" I asked nervously.
"Honey, forget Raw, you're New York Fashion Week ready." Lauren replied, putting her head on my shoulder.
"Group hug!" Camille squealed, and before I knew it, I was being squashed between Lauren and Camille.
After we paid, Lauren hailed down a taxi at the front of store.
"Now, unfortunately, this is where we leave you, Hun." Lauren sighed.
"You're not coming to Raw?" I asked.
"No, unfortunately, both of us have people to go home to, but we'll be watching you be fabulous from our living room." Lauren answered, hugging me.
"Driver, take her to Barclays Center, put it on this card." Camille commanded, handing him the company credit card.
"I'll see you." I said, getting into the back of the car.
"If you ever need anything, just call me, here's my card…" Lauren said frantically, basically throwing her business card at me.
"Bye!" Camille said before she shut the door. The taxi promptly drove off.
As the car got closer and closer to the arena, the nervousness I was feeling before kicked in again. The "what ifs" were suffocating to me: What if I fucked it all up? What if I fucked it all up and they still put me in the show? What if they thought it was okay, but I end up being the world's biggest joke?
"Hey, we're here."
The driver's voice took me out of my thoughts and I calmly collected the credit card from him before stepping out of the taxi, the vehicle speeding off the moment I took a step away from it. I put my hands behind my back as I walked cautiously into the backstage area, not a single soul in sight as I slowly crept through an open roller door.
Although my nerves were threatening to make me crumble completely, the sight of large red banners seemed to temporarily distract me, especially one reading: "YOUR WWE UNIVERSAL CHAMPION SETH ROLLINS".
"Huh, well, that's news to me." I muttered quietly to myself.
However, this distraction proved to be hazardous, as, just a few moments after I had stopped looking ahead of me to look at the banners, I bumped right into someone.
"Hey, look where you're- Oh my god, Ari?"
A/N: Follow, favorite and review!