I'm not crazy about this. Some chapters aren't that fun to write but kind of have to be done. This is one of those and I always tend to drone on with ones that I want to be brief. :/
Anywhoo, I forgot to thank morrowsong for the review of ch.25. Also, thanks Idcam for the review of the last chapter. No spoilers, but your thinking is headed in the right direction.
A couple of days later Heather found herself on a plane, heading for Stamford, Connecticut with her father and sister. They had an appointment at WWE headquarters for their contract signing. Heather was stunned when Vince McMahon called and had reached a consensus with her father. Her mother had been rather indignant the remainder of their time, though she too had eventually acquiesced.
It wasn't until the plane had lifted off that Heather felt the apprehension set in. She hadn't given much attention to what it would mean in the coming hours. Following the Bedson's party, Heather had been anxious to get back on the road. It was a curious phenomenon that life on the road was beginning to feel more normalized than being at home.
Either way, she was relieved to be far from her tormentors, and the farther travel the further they became from her mind.
When she had told Reves of the experience the next morning, her sister had seemed contrite as Heather regaled her hardship and her sister had told her, "Next time I see that skank, I'm gonna knock her teeth down her throat."
Heather failed to mention the had she not coerced her into going to the party in the first place, it wouldn't have happened.
On the contrary, she would have not met Jeremiah, who was fiercely affable and accepting of her. She had only known him a few days, but there was a quality about him that made her feel comfortable like she could be herself.
However, she regretted having divulged to Reves her new acquaintance, for she had been incessantly teasing and interrogating her. Certainly, he was amiable and she felt they were becoming fast friends, but it still stood that they were barely acquainted.
To Reves' credit, that was her being as agreeable as she might be. For the most part, she had been in a foul disposition since the party herself. It was infuriating enough to hear of that bimbo humiliating her sister, but she had experienced her own issues. She found Erik alright – sucking face with that wench, Sydney. It seemed Sydney had only wanted her to attend so she could shove it in her face. Well, fuck them both. She was going to be on TV. Then they would be kissing her ass, big time.
When the plane landed there was a limousine waiting to take them to WWE headquarters. They pulled up in front of the large dark building designed with several rows of huge glass windows on the face. The sisters had never been there in person, although they had seen the building on television several times.
The family entered inside the lobby and were greeted by a young and attractive blonde receptionist. "Ah, yes," she smiled when Mark informed her of their meeting with Vince. After a few taps on her keyboard and a click of her mouse, she looked up from her computer screen. "Mr. McMahon is waiting for you in conference room C. Third floor," she informed them, then added, " Have a great day!"
Mark thanked her curtly before heading to the elevator with his daughters in tow.
They arrived at the appropriate room, stepping inside. Within the room, was a long table to accommodate several people.
"Alright. Here they are," Vince grinned as he stood to greet them.
Five other men quickly shuffled to their feet. They were what some talent may refer to as "the suits"; the ones behind the scenes, pulling the strings. The only ones the sisters recognized were Pat Patterson and Gerald Brisco, McMahon's lackeys both on and off screen.
After the introductions were made, everyone sat and they got down to business. Vince sat at the head of the table, with the suits on one side and the Calaways on the other. A thick packet with a bunch of legal jargon and mumbo jumbo was placed in front of each Calaway. The purpose of Mark's however was more parental consent what with Heather still being a minor. Ultimately, Mark would have a sense of creative control over Heather's character with the ability to veto nearly any aspect of her persona or potential angles. It was quite extreme, but it was the only way they could come to an agreement. Mark, was one of the few superstars who would ever be handed such a privilege.
Heather touched the hefty contract, feeling the smooth paper underneath her fingertips. Right now, this was just words on paper – until the ink dried. Then everything would change. She simply didn't know at the present time just how much it would.
A man who was apparently an attorney for WWE went over some of the finer points after Vince gave an overview of the contracts. The man droned on, but all Reves heard was, sign here, initial there. She was eager to have the process complete. The man suggested that they read over everything carefully before signing.
Heather proceeded to do just that, but Reves already had the pen in her hand. "Just sign the damn thing," Reves said to her sister in a hushed voice.
"And how am I to know if I do something that is in breach of my contract?" Heather questioned in an equally low tone.
Unfortunately for the sisters, when one is mere feet from others, there is not much that is secretive. Vince chuckled and Heather couldn't decipher whether he was truly amused or being sardonic. "Don't worry, dear. I'll be the first to let you know when you step out of line," he told her with a grin. A creepy-crawly sensation ran under her skin as she lowered her head to the paperwork again.
Heather picked up her pen and it hovered over the first space to initial. She was hesitant. She never had any intentions to be any closer to the wrestling business than she was. Yet Reves had attempted to convince her that this was an opportunity and may even lead to being picked up by a record label if they played their cards right. That seemed a little deceptive to Heather, but Reves argued that females did it all the time and tried to use wrestling as a stepping stone to acting careers and the like. Heather assumed that was likely true.
In addition to that prospect, there was somehow a minor fraction of her that wished to prove to her bullies that maybe she wasn't such a loser and a freak after all. She knew her latter motivation was absurd. She didn't belong on television, let alone a member of one of the most fearsome entities in wrestling history (even if it was in truth, currently a shell of its former self).
Despite all her ponderings, the pen came down and she proceeded to proverbially sign her life away.
When the last pen stroke had been made Heather stacked the pages neatly in a pile once more and pushed them across the table towards Mr. McMahon.
He smiled and it seemed almost perverse. Then again, the man had a bit of a sadistic characteristic about him, even in real life. He did to Heather, at least. "Alright, this is great. Now what I'd like to do is have them do a couple of screen tests to see how they look on camera," Vince said, primarily speaking to Mark.
Mark had sat there the entire time with a dour expression on his face. He was far from pleased about all of this. Although he hated to admit it, he felt he was obligated to agree given all that Vince had done for him and his family. Still, he had to wonder, at what cost? He and Sara had argued the entire time he had been home, even if it wasn't about this mess. So much so, Mark couldn't wait to get on the plane this morning. "Sure. Whatever," he groused.
Just as Vince has said, the newest editions to the rosters were sent down to a room with a studio set up to capture some promo type test shots. Vince wasn't present at that time, much to the girls' relief. He did however watch the shots back later in the day. The blonde did rather well. He was somewhat pleasantly surprised. A little coaching and she could pull off a lot. She had an alluring quality the likes of Sunny or Sable but with a darker edge.
The dark hair girl on the other hand was, unfortunately, a disaster. She had that deer in the headlights expression on her face in every shot and her movements were rigid and robotic. He only had a couple of weeks before he wanted them to debut on television. What the hell was he thinking?
No matter. She would serve her purpose he was sure. The nWo was too over and the rest of the boys in his locker room were not too happy.
Following their meeting with Mr. McMahon, Mark was due for a house show a couple of hours away. That evening after the event, Mark had slipped out to the bar with Glen and a couple of other guys. Butting heads with Sara over the past couple days had put a mental strain on him.
Reves had taken the occasion upon herself. She wasn't going to sit around and mope about Sydney and Erik betraying her. In just a couple weeks they'd be sorry, the fucking trifling cowards. For once, she didn't feel an ounce of guilt about leaving her sister to her own devices. She was astounded to see her on her cell phone, apparently talking with this mysterious Jeremiah kid. Well, good for the little dork, she supposed. She heard Heather giggle as she smirked to herself while closing the door behind her.
Reves found her destination quickly. She happened to catch a glimpse of him entering his room earlier and she hoped he wasn't out at the bar. She knocked on the door and waited. When the rugged, dark-haired man answered the door, her crimson painted lips stretched into a sultry grin. "Hey yo," she greeted him by snagging his signature catchphrase. "Miss me, Bad Guy?"
Scott's eyes brimmed with desire as soon as they fell upon her. "Like a fat kid misses cake, Chica."
Unexpectantly, Nash emerged from the bathroom making a joke about something or other and laughing. When he caught sight of Reves his demeanor changed to that of an angry bear. "So, I guess I'll tell Kid you won't be coming out tonight," he practically growled.
When he left the room, Reves noticed he was glowering at her as if she had just insulted his mama or some stupid shit like that. "What's up the Jolly Green Giant's ass?" she asked, though her interest had passed as soon as he left the room.
"Fuck if I know. He's been in a mood ever since Vince brought it up to bring you two on," Scott shrugged. "I don't call him Big Grouchy for no reason," he said followed by a smirk.
"Perhaps he's manstruating," Reves chortled. "Anyway," she continued as she slowly unzipped her leather jacket, "I was wondering if maybe you would appreciate a little sneak peek of what's to come in a couple weeks?" She opened the front of her jacket, revealing the nWo tee shirt she was given earlier in the day. As she removed her jacket, he could see that she had fashioned it into a sleeveless crop top, and damn, it looked sexy.
Scott removed the toothpick from his mouth. "Shit, I don't think that shirt's ever looked better, doll," he said with a sexy grin. "But you know, it would still look best on the floor, I think," he hissed in her ear, causing her to shudder. He wasted no time putting it there, along with the rest of her clothes.
The next morning Vince had summoned the Calaways and nWo members down to the ring in the empty arena. They had a lot to accomplish and very little time in which to do it. He had seen the way they played to the camera – or lack thereof. Now he wanted to know how they did in and around the ring, as well as making an entrance.
The Calaways arrived at ringside first, as Mark was a stickler for punctuality.
After a fifteen-minute wait, Vince addressed Hall, Nash, and Waltman as they came in from the side of the ramp. "Thanks for joining us, men. I had no idea my watch was fast," the chairman said irreverently as he glared at them.
"Sorry, boss. Won't happen again, " Scott promised.
"Yeah, yeah. Where have I heard that one before?" Vince waved off his remark.
Heather stood near the lower-left corner of the ring closest to the stage, flanked by her father and sister. When Mr. McMahon had greeted the three men they came into her peripherals as they took dwelling on the opposite side of the ring. Once the blonde giant came into view, she quickly forced her gaze on Mr. McMahon standing in the ring. She felt her cheeks blaze as her heart began thumping inside her chest. She silently pondered if everyone else could possibly hear it as well.
"Let's get started," Vince announced. "We'll start with you, sweetie," Vince pointed at Reves. "I want you to head up to the gorilla and show me how you would enter. Afterward, I'll tell you how you did and what you need to improve."
"Sure thing," Reves said with a smug quality. As she passed the three men, she winked at Hall whose mouth stretched into a subtle smirk.
"Bro, did you see that? She winked at me. She fucking wants me!" Waltman whispered to Hall.
"Sure thing, Kid," Scott responded, amused by his friend's cluelessness.
Nash was beside the two men and snorted like a riled steed. He had worn a furious scowl since he entered the vicinity. He couldn't believe Mark was going through with this. This was going to be a disaster on every level. But Vince had a hard-on for this idea and when he got something in his head, there was usually no stopping him.
He didn't even see why they needed to be present for this bullshit. It was all a waste of time he told himself as he sat on the concrete barrier, his arms folded across his chest in annoyance.
Heather's stare drifted cautiously towards the three men some feet away. Her attention fell subtly on the blonde behemoth. She had noticed his indignant disposition once he had appeared. He seemed to have a permanent glower etched on his handsome face. His sordid expression continued as his eyes shifted in her direction. Eyes that were filled with wrath looked towards those of the timid girl. Heather felt her stomach leap into her throat as she swiftly turned. She was clearly a fool to think he had attempted to give her any type of affection or care. It was plain to see, he despised her. The disdain was evident on his face. She was crestfallen as she reprimanded herself for such arrogant misgivings.
Nash's anger was beginning to taper off after his gaze met the young girl's and was quickly replaced with remorse when she turned away in horror. His fury was not directed towards her, but at the situation. It was towards Vince for his ridiculous schemes. Even towards Mark for going along with these idiotic shenanigans.
Both Heather and Kevin were only vaguely aware of Reves passing by on her way to the ring. She got inside, making a display of it and stopped in front of Mr. McMahon.
Vince smiled at her, apparently pleased. "Not bad. Actually, that was quite good," the gruff voice of the boss called everyone's attention towards the center of the ring. "It's a little rough, but that's to be expected. I'm sure once you learn to play up to the crowd, it should be great."
"Thank you, sir," Reves beamed at him before getting out of the ring. She gave a coy glance in Scott's direction before hopping off the apron.
"Okay, sweetheart. Your turn," Vince commanded, pointing towards Heather.
It wasn't until that moment that she found herself gripped by dread. She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts concerning the attractive male standing just feet away. She hadn't even entertained the fact that she would be required to perform in the same manner. "M-me?" she murmured as she forced her gaze upon the chairman. Mr. McMahon's presence was so enormous and so intimidating, it was nerve-wracking just to be in the same room as him. The prospect of him judging her every movement was enough to make her want to faint.
"I don't know who else. Unless you think I would be calling one of these men here sweetheart," Vince commented with an air of annoyance.
Heather's mouth went dry. She felt her palms become clammy and she could hear her heartbeat in her chest. "R-right," she meekly attempted to project her voice. Her feet felt like lead as she began to trudge up the ramp towards the gorilla.
Nash exhaled sharply and combed a hand through his hair as he watched her go. Her countenance would have suggested Vince had instructed her to drown a basket of kittens. She didn't belong in this cesspit. She should be concentrating on graduating high school and preparing to enter college. He acknowledged that sentiment proved how lecherous his attraction to her was. How was he to get through this with his sanity intact?
When Heather reached the gorilla and stepped behind the curtain, she heaved a sigh. She knew she needed to emerge from her hiding place, but found it difficult to quit it.
"You can begin any time," she heard Mr. McMahon call from down in the ring.
She knew it best not to delay as he was a man of little patience. She felt the knot sitting in her stomach tighten. This was madness. Why had she agreed to such lunacy? She recognized this was the very least of it, unfortunately.
She willed herself to move, though her body felt as if it were frozen. She sauntered down the ramp with her head bent. She carried such a stiff posture it was as if she were made of wood. She knew there were a dozen eyes on her, but kept her attention locked onto her worn sneakers. If anyone could see her expression beneath the curtain of hair, it would have given the impression that she had been sentenced to the gallows. She could not deny that is how she felt as she clambered up the steel steps. They echoed loudly in her ears with each footfall. She stopped and stood on the side of the apron. She dared to drag her timid gaze towards Mr. McMahon and he cleared his throat as he stared back at her impatiently.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and crouched down as she began to slide under the second rope - that's how she had seen most of the other women do it, anyway. As she went to stand, her foot caught on the bottom rope and she tumbled to the canvas with a thud.
"Christ!" Vince growled, turning away as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exacerbation. "What the – just get out of the ring," his gravelly voice instructed her. "And don't hurt yourself on the way out."
It took Heather a few moments to gain control of her extremities due to the mortification caused by her blunder and the snickers she heard from the others.
"Come on, girl. How can you be so clumsy?" Mark reprimanded her as she moved cautiously down the steps.
She sensed the tears threatening to spring from her eyes. Why had she ever entertained this absurd notion that she could overcome her uncertainties and gain any measure of success? It seemed as if the kids from school were correct. She was a klutz and a loser and she couldn't manage to do anything right. She ran past everyone to the area at the side of the stage.
"We've got a lot of work to do with her, Mark," Vince said to her father ruefully.
Nash stood abruptly and found himself speaking before he even realized. "If you want her to do it right, you could probably start by not belittling and humiliating her," his words came out unexpectedly cool considering how worked up he truly felt. Everyone gawked at him as he followed in her direction.
Her back was turned to him as he approached. He stopped several feet away, being sure to maintain a safe distance. "Well, this is certainly an odd turn of events," he offered.
The young girl's heart skipped a beat when the large man's bass voice came over her. It was remarkably smooth and free of any harsh tones.
After wiping her eyes, she slowly circled to face him. "I haven't the slightest inkling as to what I am doing here, nor for what purpose. I should think that to be painfully obvious," she uttered passively. It took her a few moments to meet his gaze. When their eyes connected, she noticed a fluttering in her abdomen, and her visage bled with a crimson hue. He wasn't staring at her with that hateful scowl he was wearing only minutes prior. Alas, it was a tender, empathetic expression, which left her perplexed.
For the love of everything holy, why was she peering at him like that? He swore he could feel an electricity crackling in the space between them. He shoved his hands in his pockets out of fear that he would impulsively reach out and grab her, pulling her into him.
"You don't have to go getting all philosophical on me, but I suppose it wouldn't help to tell you to picture McMahon in his underwear," he teased. It was his way of defusing the situation.
It had the intended effect as her sullen countenance filled with alarm, then twisted with disgust. "I've already had the misfortune to bear witness to such atrocities," she whispered flatly.
"I won't ask how," he goaded her.
The teenager's mouth hung open as her face exploded in a burst of red. "N-no! I've never…" flustered she stumbled over her words. "Y-you've seen the man's outrageous antics," she mumbled, praying no one could hear them.
The big man chuckled. He got a kick out of playfully riling her. He could only imagine the other ways that he could stir her up. Take it easy, you gigantic moron, he warned himself.
"What's your favorite song?" he asked suddenly out of the blue, taking her back.
Her brows furrowed in confusion. "From which genre?" she inquired.
"It doesn't really matter."
"Well, forgive me. I beg to differ-"
"That's not the point, little one." He smiled as he shook his head. "What's the last song you listened to, how about that?"
"It was Don't Stand So Close to Me by The Police," her mantle deepened as she spoke. "I was listening to their Greatest Hits album earlier this morning," she justified her response.
He gawked at her. She was ribbing him, right? She had to be. That was it. He was convinced she was a little vixen behind a façade of naivety. Fat fucking chance. He studied her expression. Although sheepish, it was quite sincere. Yet, for all her innocence, the girl treaded some serious territory.
Yes, he knew the popular song detailing a teacher having the hots for his jailbait student. The song even referenced Nabokov's famous novel. He had known the tune for years, but he never thought he would end up sympathizing with the unfortunate bastard.
"What's the purpose of all of this, might I ask?" she wondered.
"You need to shift your focus from everyone looking at you and what they're thinking to just getting the job done." No. She needed to go far, far away from him, and stay there.
"H-how do I accomplish that?" she questioned, thoroughly confounded. " I couldn't even land the solo in the showcase at school, last fall," she mumbled.
"But you sang in front of all those people in that club."
"Yes, but that was a couple dozen people. Not th-thousands."
"It's the same idea. You just need someone to believe in you." He paused, not realizing how true his words were until he uttered them. Despite not being a touchy-feely person, he knew Mark loved his daughter immensely. However, he was not very adept at showing that love or encouraging confidence in her. Coming out of his own thoughts, he told her, "Just pretend you're up there, performing a song. Sing The Police song – or any song really, in your head and only focus on that. If you can get used to being out there, the rest will come to you. A kind of fake it 'til you make it deal."
He had no idea why he was sabotaging himself like this. Every bit of logic in him said it was best to separate himself from her as much as possible. Yet he was inexplicably drawn to this docile creature.
She laughed, almost scathingly and there was a dark glint in her that he had never witnessed before. "I disagree," she cut her eyes away and her head dropped. "I wish I had never signed that preposterous contract," she admitted in a nearly inaudible tone.
Hell, me too, he almost blurted out. Instead, he breathed a heavy sigh. "I don't think there is much to be done about that now," he told her sympathetically. "You want to give it another go? For what it's worth, I believe you can do it."
Her heart swelled upon hearing his words. "R-really?" she was asked breathlessly.
His heart wrenched as she stared up at him with the forlorn eyes of a puppy that was starved for affection. It made him question whether his attraction to her was merely a means of taking advantage of her vulnerability. Nevertheless, he acknowledged how fucked up he was.
"I'm terrified of Mr. McMahon," Heather divulged meekly, "but if you insist." It then took every measure of courage to maneuver her body back to ringside.
Mark watched her return and take residence in her former position. Next, his narrowed gaze followed Nash as he too returned moments later. They had been within sight throughout the entirety of their conversation, but Mark studied them the whole time, his eyes glued to Nash in particular.
Vince still stood in the ring, leaning over the ropes. "How about we try again, sweetheart?" he crooned.
Heather established fabricated politeness to his demeanor. Beneath that, however, he was still quite exasperated by her.
She peered cautiously at Nash. He granted her a reassuring glance and nodded.
Mustering all her strength, she squeaked, "Y-yes, sir," forcing herself to glance at the intimidating man.
Returning to the gorilla, she inhaled deeply in order to fortify herself. She focused on a song she could use as an escape. Her mind recalled Glycerin by Bush. She was astounded by her performance that night.
She emerged from the curtain on her cue and while she didn't offer a flawless demonstration, she didn't falter on the rope at the very least.
"Well now, that's what I want to see!" Vince grinned. It was still atrocious, but there was a little time.
How did you get her to do that? What did you tell her?" Mark inquired, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Nothing really," Nash replied nonchalantly, shrugging his huge shoulders.
"Regardless, that's great!" Vince interjected. "If you can get her to cooperate, you can have a hand in training them. After all, you will be working with them," he informed Nash. "That is, if you agree, Mark," he added, turning to the girls' father.
"I suppose that'd be ok – as long as I'm around," Mark replied indignantly.
Nash's face morphed into a furious sneer. "Hell no!" he roared.
His outburst startled Heather. She witnessed his deportment alter. These conflicting attitudes he displayed confounded her. How could he be so gracious one moment, then apoplectic the next?
He continued, "I'm going along with this bullshit angle, but I didn't sign up for all this fuckery, too!" he bellowed before storming off in a rage.
His hand shaking, it raked through his hair. He was a fucking jackass. He lost his cool back there. He knew this it was coming, but he dreaded hearing it. There was no reprieve for him and every moment of this was becoming a nightmare. If he was made to physically put his hands on her, he wasn't sure how long he could hold out against his overwhelming desire.