Chapter 6

Unfortunately for Taker, the occupant to that room was already checked out and the front desk had neglected to inform him of that information. Emery was on her way to the next area, in a new rental, and moved her head to the beat of the punk rock band she had blasting through the speakers. She had a mixture of favorites with genres of music, but today punk rock spoke to her. Randy was in the passenger seat and Paul in the back, often traveling with them. They were overprotective of her with everything going on lately, so it was no surprise when both hopped in her rental at 6 AM that morning, not giving her a choice.

"So you do realize, if Taker ever finds out what you did, he will hurt you, right?" She asked, turning the music down and saw the smirk curve Randy's lips.

"How is he gonna find out? You checked out and we're long gone already."

Paul shook his head, deciding to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the peace for the moment.

"Besides… it was good, right? And he's destroyed how much of your shit? And you have to pay for all of that out of pocket, I know you got money but you're blowing through it lately on all this damage he's causing." Randy said very reasonably and fingered his pack of cigarettes, wondering if she'd be upset if he smoked in the car. He usually kept his habit to himself, and outside, but today… today was just one of those days. "He just needs to grow the hell up and deal with it. It's a line and he's blowing everything out of proportion."

"That is true. I only wish he had e-mail; I'd have every gay site, political, all of it… spamming his inbox."

"Roll the window down or you'll have my foot up your ass." Emery ordered with a smile, winking at Paul in the rearview mirror. "You should photoshop his body with a large dick for his head. Because that's exactly what he is – a dickhead." They were rolling and Emery had to calm down before she crashed the car. "Don't worry, I have a feeling things are going to come to a head with Vince, if this shit doesn't stop. Neanderthal thinks I put that itching powder in his gear, or one of you did it, and we didn't. So someone else is targeting him and making it seem like it's my fault." She didn't have a 4.5 GPA for nothing and Emery definitely wasn't born yesterday. Something was going on. "Matthew better get a handle on things or else he's gonna find himself on the unemployment line."

"No doubt, he's supposed to be handling the wrestlers' grievances and shit, right?"

"Yeah and Mattie boy hasn't been living up to the amount of money he's being paid. Think we should put itching powder in his pants or something?"

Paul grinned, suddenly getting an evil idea. "I got something better in mind."

It did, briefly, occur to Randy that being mean to Matthew wasn't a smart idea. The man had taken crap for years, even if he was extraordinarily paid for it, but things had also escalated to a whole new level of jacked. The poor little bastard had been locked in the trunk of a car, for who knew how long, and then towed. He choked on his smoke at the memory. It wasn't supposed to be funny, but it was.

"Maybe we should just talk to the Deadman, clear everything up? He can be professional."

"You should quit smoking weed, it's obviously damaging your brain cells."

"Oh yeah, sure. I'll get right on that." Sarcasm dripped in Emery's voice. "This is the same man who came to my office, after Paul did those flyers, and spanked my ass so hard, I had bruises for 2 weeks."

Deep black, blue and purple bruises that hurt, but Emery also had a high tolerance for pain…and she was sick in the head because she enjoyed it. Someone once told her she had a bit of a dominatrix inside of her and maybe they were right. Who else would enjoy having their ass beaten the way Taker did to her?

"Talking isn't going to fix anything. The ONLY way this ends is if I change the line for WrestleMania and that's NOT happening."

"Okay, so… curious." Randy shifted in his seat so he was staring at Emery. "Why David?"

"Yeah, no shit. He's an asshole, you know that, right?"

Paul already knew he'd never get a chance at that belt, he'd never main event WrestleMania. He was a smaller guy and Vince had a hard-on for his big, burly men. Everyone in the business knew it. He just worked to excel where he could and that was about it.

Randy knew David, well enough to be disgusted by the man. It was probably a good thing Dave had never realized that under those glasses and geek shirts was a gorgeous woman or else he'd have tried tapping her by now.

"He's the world champion right now and Vince told me he was holding the title until or after WrestleMania." Emery honestly didn't think David deserved a WrestleMania main event slot. Randy was more deserving and even Paul, even with his smaller frame. "I had no choice. Vince wanted Undertaker in the championship picture, which is why he's winning the Royal Rumble and going onto Mania to wrestle for the title. Batista is new blood, as much as I hate saying it. New blood needs to make their mark in the business. It won't grow without newer stars rising to the occasion and Taker is a veteran. I don't like it any more than you two, believe me."

"Okay, one last question…" Usually they didn't discuss the lines because that was… not okay. She wrote it, they did it, and that was how business worked. It also helped them to maintain their friendships, not getting personal about business, even if they disagreed with something they were supposed to do. "He's won…" He did the math. "14 WrestleMania's, right, like, consecutively?" There were 2 years he hadn't participated due to injuries in his entire career. "That's a pretty big deal. I think he's going to buck that line of Vince's, and yours."

That… was true and Randy agreed, but didn't say anything. Her job was hard enough without them pointing out the obvious.

"That's between him and Vince then. All I do is come up with the ideas, good and bad, and it's out of my hands after that."

Emery shrugged, knowing it was cemented and Taker would lose at WrestleMania, unless he jumped script. It was a huge possibility at this point. Honestly, she had no idea what she was thinking giving David Batista the win of a lifetime because, not only would he remain champion, but he would also break the Streak. WrestleMania was revolved around the Streak – it was one of the main attractions that brought fans back year after year. All Emery thought at the time was new blood had to win, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized just what a monumental mistake she made with this line.

"Fuck me."

"Yeah, no shit, fuck me." Paul echoed in agreement.

She was a brilliant writer and all, but didn't really understand the wrestlers themselves and, in some of her lines, it had shown from time to time. Most of it was great, but there were those rare occasions where her… lack of understanding came through, like with this one.

"It's a cornerstone of the event, and him losing… I don't think…"

"Shut up, you're not helping." Randy ordered, seeing the look on her face and lit himself another cigarette, taking a deep inhale letting it out through his nose. "It'll be fine, Em. So what if he jumps script? That's not on you, it's him."

I fucked up, she thought, the harsh realization crashing down on her. There was no changing it either, just like the Corporate Ministry line. "Okay enough talking about work, let's focus on something else."

Anything because Emery felt nauseous and leaned her head back against the seat, mentally berating herself for being stupid. Abruptly, the topic switched to video games and what they liked and disliked about the new game the WWE would be selling during WrestleMania time. After dropping Randy and Paul off at the local gym, Emery went to the hotel to check in and get settled. The show wasn't for several more hours and she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Her new laptop wouldn't be in until later that afternoon, so she'd have to find something to occupy her time. Grinning, remembering what she'd brought with her on the road from home, Emery had her answer as she took her key card and headed for the elevator, stepping inside.

Humming, Matthew considered what he was hearing. It was interesting, how things were starting to fall apart backstage because of the Undertaker's future loss at WrestleMania to Dave Batista, of all people. He would never understand that one. Vince was an idiot. Putting Batista over, sure, but at the Deadman's show? Even HE knew better. Emery going with it and writing it out, expecting people to fall in line… he sniggered.

"Well, I'm scheduling you an appointment with my – uh – PA." He said, nodding at Batista himself, who was not happy by the Undertaker's lackluster attention to their upcoming feud. "You can talk to her about this line, maybe you guys can figure something out." He could only imagine how that meeting would play out.

"Why not you?"

"Because I'm busy and it's her job to take notes."

After hours video gaming, Emery felt marginally better, breaking long enough to grab her new Alienware from the post office and set it up. In between loading times, she resumed her playing, ordering some lunch in the process. Randy and Paul would rip her a new backside if she didn't take care of herself. Around 4 o'clock, Emery headed out to the arena in a pair of blue jeans and a Rubik's cube t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The drive to the arena, Emery kept thinking back to what Paul and Randy said to her during the drive here, groaning. Why was she feeling guilty over this line? Vince wouldn't change it, she didn't think anyway. Maybe talking to the boss about making a last-minute change was a good idea. Sighing, Emery stepped out of her vehicle and grabbed her bag, turning to walk into the arena only to nearly slam into an annoyed David Batista. Great, what now?

"Can I help you with something, Batista?" She asked cordially, pushing her glasses up her nose and smiled tensely.

So this mousy little thing was Matthew's personal assistant and junior writer… huh? He stared down at her, the annoyed expression leaving his face as a smile took over, his brown eyes crinkling as he stepped back to give her some space. David knew well how Taker had dealt with her and he wasn't about to take that route. He was on her side and only benefited from this story arc; this win he was supposedly guaranteed at WrestleMania, so he would play ball with anyone right now.

"Yeah Emery, right?" He took in her Rubik's cube t-shirt, grinning even more. "I have a Rubik's cube lunch pail, it's tin." He said, trying to break the ice and she only blinked at him. "Sorry, I – um –," David scratched the back of his neck. "I collect them." He was a lunch pail dork. "Matthew said I needed to talk to you about this feud with the Undertaker and try to see about making it work." Which was next to impossible as long as Taker was having a bitch fit.

Since when did Matthew send wrestlers to her? Wasn't it HIS job to be her proxy and deal with the wrestlers? What the hell was going on? Emery was NOT happy and it clearly showed in her eyes while eyeballing David, seeing he was trying to get on her good side. At least he wasn't a dickhead like Undertaker had been. For now, she would play the proxy, but before the night was out, Matthew would be reported to Vince McMahon.

"Well, as you know, Undertaker isn't happy about this line at all." She didn't blame him. "And I'm really not sure how much help I can be as far as making this line work. That's not really my job, you see. All I do is help the others come up with ideas for the wrestlers and they take the ball and roll with it. Maybe you should direct this to the man you'll be wrestling instead?" Emery suggested softly, walking with him slowly toward the arena entrance. "Matthew should've told you that, actually."

He was a DEAD man.

"Take it to Calaway?" David repeated, then chuckled ruefully. "I did." He turned and showed her the lump on his head, which showed really nice. "He told me to go copulate with myself." That was him rewording it nicely. "I don't know why Matthew sent me to you; something about you might have ideas? I just want the guy to work with me. I'll let him beat my ass all the way up until WrestleMania if he wants, as long as he… well, plays ball."

Not wanting to get into a second war with another wrestler, Emery thought over what he said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Did you tell him that? He could beat you up all the way to WrestleMania?" She knew they had a tag match planned for the pay-per-view No Way Out, but Emery had yet to get together with the lead script writer on Raw's side to hash everything out.

"No, but…I'll do it if it means I win at WrestleMania."

Emery didn't want to inform him that wouldn't be happening due to Undertaker more than likely breaking script in order to win the title and keep his WrestleMania streak intact. "Okay, maybe you should start with that. He might be more entuned with the idea if you told him he could beat you up until WrestleMania time." She highly doubted it, not believing she was being her OWN proxy and sighed. "Or maybe we should go talk to him together…" This was a really bad idea, but David didn't look like he would back down easily.

David stared down at her intently, wondering if that was the best move. "Sweetheart," He stopped and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Emery." She didn't look like someone who would take kindly to an endearment as a nickname, right off the bat, from someone she didn't really know other than professionally. "Emery, I know he's been harassing you and that's putting it mildly. I'm not about to let you get hurt on my behalf."

He'd go toe to toe with the Deadman for her, if he had too. David wouldn't see Calaway bully a woman just because he was a giant dickhead. When she continued giving him what he was now dubbing the 'Emery' look, he sighed.

"If he tries anything, I'll stop him." Deadman wasn't writing on her forehead tonight, or anything else.

Word got around fast.

"Thanks, come on."

Walking together inside the arena, Emery laughed at some joke regarding a Rubik's cube and rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. David wasn't as bad as he was made out to be. The man was polite and had a great sense of humor. He definitely wasn't her type, but at least he treated her with respect unlike the Neanderthal.