Chapter 8

After staying in the shower a full hour, with the cold water beating down on her, Emery finally turned the sprays off, her temper simmered for the moment. Gritting her teeth, she wanted to retaliate against Undertaker, but what good would it do? This had to stop; all of the nonsense had to stop. Sighing, Emery changed into a fresh t-shirt, jeans and braided her hair back, cleaning her glasses with special cleaner she carried with her. When the clock struck 4, it was time to leave her hotel room as she packed up and head to the arena for the Royal Rumble.

History would be made on this night.

Matthew was who greeted her at the door, looking worried. "What's going on?"

"Vince wants to see you in his office."

Frowning, Emery shouldered her bag and walked past him toward the boss's office, wondering why she was being summoned. Knocking on Vince's office door, she entered when he called out 'come in' and stepped inside, freezing at the sight of Randy, Paul and an irate looking Undertaker, all eyes turning to her. "Umm…"

Paul lowered his head along with Randy, having already gotten hefty fines for their attack on Undertaker, but they had no idea what was about to happen to Emery.

"Enough is enough." Vince said flatly, standing up behind his makeshift desk, hands splayed on it and glared at her before glaring at all the others. "I don't know what the hell happened today, but I'm done. Strippers? And beating down the Undertaker in a hotel hallway? How's that look, my top superstars, getting jumped by their coworkers?"

"Bad?"

"No kidding, Orton?" Vince rolled his eyes. "And you, Taker, really? I expected so much more from you. You've been harassing her, vandalizing property and acting like some three-year-old!"

He folded his arms over his chest, frowning.

"Vince, I have no idea who sent those strippers to my room, of all places."

"Tell me what happened now, Emery."

"We were in my room, Paul, Randy and I, and Taker banged on our door demanding us to be quiet. I told him to get ear plugs, slammed the door in his face and not even 10 minutes later, another knock sounds at my door and its strippers. And then a clown with a pie." Emery was as red as a cherry by now, unable to meet her boss's eyes and took a deep breath. "Taker was outside of his room laughing at what was going on, so I'm assuming he's the one who sent all of this to my room for a prank. I don't know what I did to him to deserve this type of treatment, but I want it to stop just as badly as you do. He smashed two of my laptops, he had my tires slashed on my rental vehicle and he claims that I've been screwing with him since he told me to leave him alone. I HAVE left him alone, not the other way around." She'd never been in trouble like this with Vince and could feel her heart thundering in her ears.

"And we're going to totally disregard the fact that she's got the entire locker room calling me a Neanderthal now? Or how about those pictures? Or the fucking room service bill for over $3,000?"

"That last one was me."

"You son of-"

"You should've left her alone then! Neanderthal."

"You three! Fined! You," Vince whirled to glare at Emery, sighing and shook his head. "You're suspended, effective immediately."

"Why?!"

"Boss, it was us, all us."

At this point, this situation was costing him money and tearing apart his talent.

"Paul, don't." Emery kept her voice quiet, knowing the boss had spoken and his word was final. "I'll catch the first flight home tonight. I'll email what I have done for No Way Out to Matthew and let him finish it up." Work came first to her and for 10 years, she'd never had any problems in this company…until this particular line for WrestleMania.

"I hope you think long and hard about what you've done, Emery. You're all dismissed." Vince was disgusted with all of them, shaking his head sadly and turned his back to the door.

Emery didn't wait to hear anything Paul, Randy and especially Undertaker had to say, walking out of the room to head for the exit. She would not cry, not until she was far away from here and completely alone.

Matthew had overheard what happened through the door and felt giddy, knowing he'd done it – he'd gotten rid of Emery and now it was time to shine!

"Wait, she's fired?" When David heard the news, it was… odd. He hadn't realized that Vince cared, until it was explained about this morning and then it made sense, sort of. But Paul and Randy had both stepped up and claimed their fair share of the blame and it kind of looked like the underwriter had been deemed the problem and the solution. Fire the problem, problems solved.

"Poor kid." He had grown to like Emery.

"Yeah, poor Emery." Matthew sighed, shaking his head sadly. "It's just too bad… her getting mixed up with Taker the way she did."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's the Undertaker. You can't talk to him or treat him the way she did; it never works out." Obviously… inside Matthew was grinning like an idiot. Strippers and pie… who knew that was the breaking point?

Going home on a Sunday evening, a pay-per-view at that, felt foreign to Emery as she packed her belongings in her suitcase. Undertaker had gotten what he wanted. She was gone and now he could do whatever the hell he wanted with the line. Knowing Vince, he'd probably throw in the towel when it came to Taker and gave the man what he wanted. Emery didn't care anymore, she was out of fight and had lost her job, as far as she knew anyway. Suspended was the same as being fired. Maybe TNA was hiring, she mused thoughtfully, deciding to look into it after she arrived home. Just as the pay-per-view began, Emery was on a plane headed to Sedona, Arizona.

"I hope Matthew has fun with all of the responsibilities." She muttered, knowing he wouldn't last a week with all the responsibility that was about to be tossed at him.

Not to mention, he would have to come up with new ideas, which he sucked at.

Mark would go on to win the Royal Rumble that night, as had been planned. At the end of the whole shebang, as he stood there, enjoying his victory, he found he didn't really enjoy it. Yes, he had wanted Emery to stop screwing with him, but not suspended, which was just a nicer way of firing someone. It wasn't her fault Matthew had written such a crap line about him dropping to Batista, though… her being fired over what was essentially strippers and a pie… and he hadn't even been the one to do that. It left a bad taste in Mark's mouth.

Matthew's mouth would be full of champagne at the end of the night.

"Matthew, I need you sign off on this."

"Matthew, this idea isn't what we agreed on."

"We also need an idea for Smackdown! Vince wants everything rewritten because of how sloppy the script is for tonight's show!"

"Emery should be here. She'd know what to do."

"Have you called Melissa over at Raw to discuss the finale to No Way Out for the main event?"

Randy watched all the writers hounding Matthew a few days later, arching a slow brow at how overwhelmed the man looked. His eyes were bugged out and he was on the verge of ripping his hair out, from Randy's viewpoint anyway. Emery hadn't even been gone 48 hours and this fool was destroying the writing team! She really was the oil that kept the writing team running smoothly.

"He really does need Emery; it's obvious she was the brains."

"How did he ever make lead writer? He's a moron."

"He must've been stealing all Emery's ideas, this is stupid. We're going to drop in ratings so hard…"

Even David was paying attention to the gossip and complaints coming from the writing department, shaking his head. That was messed up.

So was Mark, and things didn't make sense. All those brilliant lines, the few stupid ones that were rare, and suddenly Matthew was floundering.

"What the hell is this?" Vince demanded, looking back at Matthew with narrowed eyes and slammed the paper down on his desk. "You were supposed to pick up the ball and run with it now that you're no longer Emery's proxy. Are you telling me you can't handle this position, Matthew?"

"Sir, I…" Matthew never realized just how straining and stressful this position was, swallowing hard at the boss. "Just give me a little time to fix all of this…you won't be disappointed!"

Vince waved him off dismissively, shaking his head sadly. "Just get out of my office."

"Em, you should see how miserable this asshole is without you around." Paul murmured in his cell phone, Randy nodding in agreement. They missed her fiercely and wanted her back. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"It's fine, maybe I deserved it after what I did to Undertaker. Either way, I hope he's enjoying my position." Matthew didn't have a CLUE what the lead script writer did and, just as she predicted, was way over his head. "Keep me updated, I'm gonna go play some Kingdom Hearts." She hung up, laughing.

Sedona, Arizona… god's hellhole. This was where people came to die. It was gross. He was a Texas man, he preferred the big blue sky, the varied scenery and, sure, it was dry, but nothing like the damn desert.

"Fucking lizards…" He grunted, kicking one off of the toe of his boot.

Frowning, Mark eyeballed the place, glancing at the address written in the palm of his hand and shrugged. Emery being gone had caused some issues, and it was weird. Also weird was the fact that some of the situations that had been happening to him, Paul and London had vehemently denied wrongdoing for and claimed she was innocent as well. Like the itch powder in his gear and he hadn't sent those strippers to her room either.

Sedona was beautiful with mountains as far as the eye could see, green grass and had a rich land full of valleys. Her house was light brown, 2 bedroom and all hers, completely paid for. Besides splurging on the occasion game, Emery had saved her money and invested it well in her first home. She was born and raised in Scottsdale, Arizona, but fell in love with Sedona during one of her family vacations. Her parents were currently in Scottsdale and she'd visited them whenever she could. Wearing a pair of blue jean shorts and a white tank top that had some kind of video game character on it, Emery had just finished making lunch when a knock sounded at her front door. She wasn't expecting anyone and had no neighbors, not for miles anyway. When she opened the door and came face to face with Undertaker, her jaw actually dropped.

What the HELL was he doing here?!

A picture was instantly snapped because he had his cell phone in hand, figuring whatever her reaction to seeing him would be, it'd be hilarious. He was pleased to know he had been right. "Surprise, sweetheart!" Mark greeted, grinning down at her. "We need to have a chat, Emery." He had even used her actual name and not DC, which while cruel, was now how she was permanently stuck in his head.

"You came all the way to my house to…wait, how did you know where I live?"

She sighed when he just waved her hands, gesturing for her to let him inside her home. This was…incredibly awkward. He brushed past her to walk inside, not waiting for her invitation and shook her head, shutting the door. What was there to talk about? She was suspended because of his ridiculous pranks and antics. Emery suddenly didn't care about eating lunch and slid fingers through her waist length black hair. It was down since she was home; she always had it pulled back in either a braid, ponytail or bun when at work.

"What do you want, Mark?" She asked resignedly, folding her arms in front of her chest and watched him survey her living room.

"I didn't send the strippers, or the dick with the pie, to your hotel room." He informed her, busy looking around her pad. There were posters everywhere and collectibles; she was definitely a dork. Then, he turned to look at her and it was his turn to let his jaw hit the floor. "Your hair is down." He pointed out, then cleared his throat. He felt like the dork now. "How the fuck do you keep it up all the time?" Because it was insanely long.

"Braid, ponytail or bun. Not hard to keep it up." Emery didn't know if she believed him about the strippers and clown with the pie, looking thoughtful. "You have long hair too, how do YOU keep it maintained?" She shot back, padding over to the couch and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. He was being civil with her. "The itching powder wasn't me either, I swear. Paul and Randy didn't do it either. We don't know who did that to you. Are you gonna take a seat or remain standing?" When he hesitantly settled onto her couch, on the opposite end, Emery turned to face him.

It was surreal this man, who hated her, was currently in her home.

"Deep conditioning and hot oil treatments." He said bluntly and honestly. "I have a great hairdresser, she's awesome." Frowning, Mark shifted on the couch, wondering if his backside would be able to get up again; he was sinking. "Someone… is being a sneaky ass, and I want to know who." So, if it wasn't her, or her friends, who had done it? "Any ideas?"

"Nope, zero." Emery had thought it over ever since she came home several days ago. It was Wednesday and she'd been suspended on Sunday. "Congratulations on the Royal Rumble win, by the way." She felt she owed him that, even though she'd been the one to write it happening. "Wait a minute, you have a hair dresser?" Snickering, Emery didn't know why she found that funny and stood up from the couch to walk into the kitchen, her entire house an open floor plan. "Want something to drink, Mark?" She had a feeling he'd be here a while. "I have beer, water, juice…and coffee."

"Water, please."

Of course he had a hairdresser, Mark wasn't the Neanderthal she thought he was and he dyed his hair. Black, and he was a redhead naturally. That crap took a toll on a man's hair. If he was going to destroy it, he should probably at least attempt to slow down the process.

"Well, Emery, I have a list of enemies a mile long. So, we compare and see if there are any familiar names, or we go on the assumption that we were both being jerked around at the same time and coincidences do happen." Which he did not believe.