Chapter 13

Friday morning, Emery was woken up by a phone call – one she never thought she'd receive in a million years. It was Vince McMahon.

"Emery, you've been reinstated into the company and I need you to fly out tonight to Phoenix. That's where we are right now. Can you make it?" He was beyond desperate; all of his scripts were in the toilet and Matthew had been demoted to a personal assistant for the wrestlers. "You will have a new proxy hired…"

"Really?" Emery stood up from the bed, beginning to pace back and forth, her heart pounding in her ears. "O-Of course I can, of course Vince. I will be there and I'll fix everything. You don't have to worry."

"I hope you realize why you were suspended and we have no other issues from this day forward."

"Understood, thank you again Vince." She hung up and started screaming at the top of her lungs. "OH MY GOD!"

"A wrestling assistant? Me?!"

Wasn't that what he had been basically all these years? Their personal puppet to abuse when they didn't like the way things were written out. He had gotten the news that morning and gone to find a quiet place to cry and fume. Where had everything fallen apart? Emery was gone, long gone, and she deserved it. All these years she had sent him out to deliver the news, to take the heat, and for what? So she could have her privacy? Her anonymity? And why couldn't he just… do her job? It didn't seem that hard, it hadn't seemed… how had that nerdy bitch managed it? Oh yes, because she had him as her 'proxy'.

Stepping out of her rental vehicle, Emery breathed in the air that was WWE and closed her eyes, relishing the moment. She'd left her hair down for a change, having it trimmed earlier that day before booking her flight along with Randy and Paul. It was just past the middle of her back now and looked a lot healthier. She had a Princess Peach t-shirt on and blue jean shorts since it was hotter than Hades. Dry heat was still HOT. Grabbing her bag, Emery swung it over her shoulder and headed inside, grinning from ear to ear.

"Home." She whispered, once again stopping to breathe everything in and went to find a quiet room to work in.

"You're back?" David had spotted her. He had been in meetings all day long as writers and everyone had been scrambling around trying to sort out what was going.

"Yes, she is." Cheryl, another writer, appeared having agreed to meet Emery here. "She's working for me now. Matthew was demoted." And she was the new proxy. She had been here for years as well, editing mostly and handling Emery's revisions, though she hadn't known it was Emery at the time. "When I was offered the job, I said I wanted her back. I know how valuable to Matthew she was."

"No kidding… he fucked everything up. Love the shirt, Em."

'Thank you.' Emery mouthed to Cheryl before turning to face David, plastering on a smile and shook her hand. "Always a pleasure to see you, Cheri." They were friends, of sorts. She would've much rather dealt with this woman than Matthew any day of the week. Unlike Matthew, Cheryl didn't put up with any crap from the wrestlers and had a backbone. "Hate to run, but we have A LOT of work to do." Dragging Cheryl with her, the girls began talking about all the problems with the scripts and Emery could already tell it was going to be a very LONG couple days. "Wow…"

"Okay, I just want to say this: I knew there was no way some of these lines were from Matthew. There's too much soap opera and hints of romance, which resonates with our female fans. Obviously, that shit came from a woman." Cheryl said with a laugh. "Only a woman in this business is able to understand all the nuances of finer entertainment for our female base; the men are so clueless." Men had come up with the Billy and Chuck wedding thing… that had been a disaster. "So… Vince needs all this redone." She gestured to the paperwork waiting in the office that was 'Cheryl's'. "I'll be in and out, and for the record, everyone thinks you're MY assistant, but… I'm yours. So, just let me know what you need. I can help sort out the scripts for you and I'm good at the editing aspect and finer details." She was part of the crew that got to polish up Emery's gems.

"Welcome aboard, I wouldn't want this any other way except being your assistant because you're just as good as I am." Emery meant that truthfully.

Cheryl was the only one on the writing team, along with her, who actually came up with decent ideas that Emery twisted to her liking. The basics of the ideas were still kept and Cheryl had thanked her several times for keeping it 'authentic'. There was a lot to fix; Matthew honestly didn't know what the hell he was doing when it came to writing…at all.

"Okay, tell the others not to send any more ideas until I get this all sorted out and we'll go through them one by one. Oh, I need to call Karen over on Raw, that's my first priority." Fixing No Way Out had to come first and then everything else afterwards. "You rock, Cheri."

"Karen is on a plane right now, but I have her schedule," Cheryl shuffled through some paperwork. Being an assistant was natural for her, she had done it before landing this gig. "I'll email her for you and set up a time for you guys to talk, okay?" She glanced at her watch. "All right, I've got to go let the others know what's going on." She handed over a business card. "Just text me if you need me. I'll be back later to check in." Cheryl also had to go find Matthew since the little ass had gone into hiding when he found out his new job.

Emery saluted her, both women giggling at each other as Cheryl bounced out the door, letting the lead get to work doing what she did best. Randy and Paul were ecstatic to have her back on the road. There was one person she hadn't told yet, figuring he'd find out sooner or later. It'd been such a whirlwind day and…Emery had forgotten to snatch his number off of her bulletin board at home. What the hell? Matthew was out of his mind as she tossed all of it and cracked her knuckles, beginning to start from scratch, including the match for No Way Out.

"Idiot." She muttered, shaking her head and began going over the paperwork, frowning at all the scribbles and changes to her original ideas.

"Room service." Several hours later, there was a knock on the temporary office door followed by Paul and Randy sweeping in. "Uh, wow…"

It was like she had never left. Emery had utilized the walls for visual mapping of the storylines, who was involved in them, if there were any offshoots… it was dizzying. "We brought you a snack; you've been in here for hours apparently."

They were dropping and going, because Matthew had been found and he was not having a very good time. Paul wanted to go see if the idiot was any better as an assistant to the wrestlers then he had been a writer. Randy just wanted to go gear up and do his thing, but… what kind of friends would they be if they didn't welcome their girl back?

Emery smiled at her boys, deciding taking a 5-minute breather wouldn't hurt anything and turned since she'd been standing, staring at the visuals on the wall. "Thank you boys." She kissed their cheeks, hugging them and took a bite out of the chicken sandwich Randy held, groaning. "Oh my god that is so good!" She said through a mouthful, her stomach rumbling with life. Emery had been so consumed with fixing these storylines, she neglected to take a lunch and thankfully, her boys watched out for her. "Okay, so I have everything worked out for No Way Out and the next week, so far. I just need to get a few more things done and – OH!" She swiped something off her desk to hand it to Randy. "Our meeting has been postponed until tomorrow and one of our has betrayed us. So we're going to expose that son of a bitch." Of course she was talking about WOW.

"Oh that is just… not okay – not okay." Randy grunted, agitation in his tone as he went over it, shaking his head. "Can't trust anyone these days, this is sad."

"What's going on?" Paul began shaking his head when they both just said WoW, rolling his eyes. "Really? That much drama over a computer game? You know they have a website for that game right? Widows of Warcraft or something?"

"Maybe you should join. You just don't understand; some things are sacred, man."

"We've been trying to get you to join for a while, Paulie. You might as well bite the bullet, join our guild and help us reign over everyone." Emery stated matter-of-factly, taking another bite out of the sandwich and then walked back over to the wall, moving one tab to the other side. "Okay, that makes more sense now." She was back in the zone, her element and didn't hear the boys leave, moving another tab. "Okay, I think I got it now." Walking back over, she began typing and let her fingers fly over the keys, pushing her glasses up on her nose. Vince would be ecstatic with these changes, she was sure of it, and if not, then Emery was losing her touch. "Like riding a bike…"

Paul would never play World of Warcraft. For one, he didn't have the patience for the online communities when it came to multiplayer games of this sort. Nothing like arguing with a thirteen-year-old kid about situations to make him realize he was borderline pathetic. Second, he preferred consoles. About the only PC came he did play was turn-based ones like Civilization, or the earlier Fallouts.

"She's back in the zone, let's get out of here."

Nodding, Randy called out a goodbye to Emery, but she was so absorbed in her work, she didn't even notice. Yeah, she was definitely back. He grinned as they closed the door behind them.

It was nearing midnight by the time Emery left the building, dead on her feet and ready to get back to the hotel for some much-needed sleep. She didn't realize the time, too engrossed in fixing everything Matthew messed up in her absence. The arena was rented out by the WWF for 24 hours, so she could stay there up until noon the next day. Paul and Randy had come by again to ask if she needed a ride back to the hotel and all she'd done was shake her head at them. When Emery was in the zone, nobody could pull her out of it until she was ready to leave. Yawning, she pushed open the door that lead to the parking lot and headed toward her rental, the cool wind feeling good against her skin.

"I don't give a fuck what you were promised or told, I'm not-" Mark growled when David actually shoved him, digging his heels into the pavement before he actually was moved. He'd give the punk one thing, he was very strong. "You mess with me, boy, and you'll find yourself six feet under."

"I'm not afraid of you, Calaway." David didn't care much for being referred to as boy, not when Taker wasn't that much older than him. "And you will do this, you have too." It was an order, delivered in a gravelly voice.

"Fuck if I do."

Naturally, this altercation was happening right in front of her rental vehicle, preventing her from leaving and minding her own business. Great. Emery was too tired for this, clearing her throat loud enough to where both men snapped their eyes to her. When would they stop acting like children? She realized Mark was not happy with the line, but to get into an altercation outside of the arena was unprofessional, to say the least.

"Do you two mind taking this little pissing contest somewhere NOT by my car? I'd like to leave and go back to the hotel. All you gotta do is move about 20 feet that way," She paused briefly to gesture the direction she wanted them to move. "And I'll be able to pull out without running you over."

This steroid munching cock bite had started it, but there was no way Mark would say as much, not wanting to sound like a whiny snitch. He folded his arms over his chest and took Emery in, his lips curving into a half smirk. "When'd you get back?"

"Today, asshole." David cursed when he got a fist in the face, hands flying to his mouth. "What the hell?"

"Didn't ask you."

Wincing at the sucker punch, she smiled back at him tiredly, nodding at what David said. "Yeah, today. I was reinstated, thanks to Cheryl, who took over for Matthew. He's been demoted." That was a kind way to put it. Her eyes drank him in, missing him far more than she'd ever admit, even though it'd been a couple days since he left her home in Sedona. "That was her request – my reinstatement in exchange for the promotion Vince pushed on her. She wouldn't have taken it without me on her team, I guess." Why did she feel bad lying to Mark about this? He had completely warped her mind!

"Makes sense I guess, it seems like a pretty overwhelming job…" Mark trailed off with a shrug. "Writing don't seem that taxing to me, but whatever…"

"Writing? They have to coordinate individual storylines, reference them with others going on, worry about little branches from a line, plots, and do you know how many each show has going on?" David had slept with a writer for a while, learning quite a bit before they had split and she had gotten fired.

"How the fuck would YOU know?"

"Pillow talk."

"That's not even half of what the writing team deals with either. For instance," Emery gestured to the two of them at each other's throats, raising a brow. "Wrestlers who are not happy with the lines and try to take matters into their own hands, for example." Not that she blamed Mark and had already told him back in Sedona. This was here and now, however. "And it's not just Mark either, Batista. You've been hounding him and he's getting tired of it. He doesn't like the line, that's on him. Just focus on you, do your job the best you can and everything will work out as it should." Since when did she become the mediator between these two? "Or rip each other apart, but kindly do it away from my car, please and thanks."

At that, both men promptly, in unison, leaned back against her rental and crossed their arms over their chests, staring at her intently. Mark knew he could use Sedona to tear her down, but… that wouldn't be very nice. They had called a truce and he wasn't a big enough asshole to make her first night a drag.

"Queenie, all the other writers have gone, even the head. What're you still doing here anyway?"

That was actually a good question. "Queenie?"