Thank you to Morrowsong, Idcam, and KyriaEternal for the reviews. You all keep me moving along!
"I'm telling you, Snow, these prequels just blow," Jeremiah said to Heather as they filed out of the theater along with the other divided movie-goers. The friends had just finished viewing Attack of the Clones, the second film within the Star Wars prequel trilogy.
"It wasn't that bad," Heather replied weakly.
"Did we watch the same movie? Hayden Christensen is God awful and the lightsaber battles were just randomly slapped in there to keep the audience from falling asleep."
"Did you not find the side story involving Obi-Wan and the clones mildly compelling in the least?" Heather questioned, attempting to save face.
"Okay, while this one was marginally better than The Phantom Menace, I'm telling you; George Lucas will never make another Star Wars movie after all this. Especially if the next one happens to be worse, but I can't see that."
Heather shook her head at his melodramatic soliloquy. "Let's agree to disagree, shall we?" she chuckled as they made their way to Jeremiah's car.
"Whatever you say," Jeremiah shrugged as he opened the car door for her.
She thanked him, flushing at his chivalrous action, and slipped inside.
It was just after ten o'clock and Jeremiah had been given strict instructions by Mark to have Heather at the front door, not a minute later than eleven. As it were, they still had time to share an order of McNuggets at the nearest McDonald's.
"Snow, you really gotta be gone all Summer?" Jeremiah asked as they slid into a booth.
"I'm afraid so. It is quite a rigorous schedule, but I will have some time off as a reprieve at least," Heather answered.
"Oh sure. Go off and become a big wrestling star and just leave me here to waste away in boredom."
His feigned pitiful tone caused Heather to give a wide smile and she paused a moment before speaking, "I just happened to have a thought. Seeing as school will soon release for Summer as it is, perhaps you would be permitted to join us on the road for a week or so." Her face lit up as she relayed her suggestion to her friend.
"That'd be awesome, but do you think your dad will really go for that? He is quite grouchy and a little scary if I do say so myself. No offense,"
"That he is," Heather agreed, "However if I can beseech him while he is in the proper disposition he may acquiesce."
Jeremiah shook his head, grinning at her. "I wish you all the luck in the world with that one." This would be a perfect way to start the Summer. Jeremiah was already decidedly bummed that he would miss getting to spend time with Heather as frequently as he liked. He had been contemplating for a few weeks how he would spend his vacation being in a new city. Ordinarily, he would work part-time with his dad's lawn care service. His free time would be spent in jam sessions with a few musicians he knew or taking Jazzy to the local water park.
"I thank you kindly. I am positive I will have great need of it," Heather wished she could have spoken in jest, but her statement felt all too earnest.
They finished up and Jeremiah told her, "I better get you home. I don't want to be buried among the other bodies in your backyard."
"This is true. Then who will indulge me in the next Star Wars film?" Heather giggled shyly.
"Let's see. Bored to death by another Lucasfilm or at the hands of your old man? I can't decide which is a worse fate," he clucked as his arm came around her shoulder and he pulled her to his side on their way back to the car.
"Mark, will you get out of the damn window? Heather is responsible and respectful of the rules. She'll be here any minute," Sara scolded her husband, tired of seeing him stride over, looking for their daughter every five minutes.
Like hell she was. She was apparently just as sneaky as the rest of them, he learned. He never thought she would be capable of the bald-faced lie she told him to cover up whatever shenanigans they had going on. She was obviously being influenced by all the conniving snakes that were in the business. Instead of divulging all of this to his wife, Mark announced flatly, "She's got five minutes, " barely glancing over his shoulder at her.
At 10:57 p.m. Mark saw the headlights of the vehicle shining in the driveway. Sara was positive that Mark would have run to the front door, ripped it open, and demanded Heather hurry into the house that second had she not been eyeballing her husband in such a scrutinizing manner. Due to her watchful eye, Mark sat down impatiently beside her.
Outside, Jeremiah had walked Heather to the front porch and they stopped in front of the door. "Well, even though the movie kind of blew, I loved getting to see you again, Snow."
"I concur," Heather murmured as she flushed. "I will pray that my father may be prevailed upon."
Her unorthodox dialogue still gave him a chuckle. "Me too. I'd really like to see what goes on behind the curtain, so to speak." Jeremiah beamed and then without warning took her into his embrace.
Caught off guard Heather momentarily stood frozen. Physical affection always caused her to be rather skittish. There was a portion of her that wanted to pull away, but deep down she yearned for such a manner of attention that in truth she had not only been deprived of over the years but that she also deprived herself. Her arms came around him slowly and she had never been more grateful that she had someone in her life to call a friend. She never thought she would make such an affirmation, but she was glad that she went to the Bedsons' party that night.
Releasing the girl, Jeremiah said to her, "Call me as soon as he says yes."
"You mean, if," Heather corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips.
"If is good."
"How so?" she questioned with a peculiar look.
"Because if is still a probable and favorable outcome," he grinned as he leaped from the porch and strutted to his car.
"Now you sound like me," Heather beamed back at him.
"Night, Snow," he said as he opened the car door.
"Goodnight," she murmured back bashfully.
Heather entered the house to find her parents watching television in the main living room. That is, her mother was watching television. Her father, however, was glaring at the doorway where she had entered. "Good evening. I'm home," she muttered timidly as she stated the obvious.
"Hey, Sweetie. How was the movie?" Sara asked her with a smile.
"It was to my satisfaction. Although I could not say the same for Jeremiah."
Sara's lips formed a slight frown, but her eyes still sparkled. "Well, I'm sure you two had a great time anyway." She couldn't be more delighted that her daughter had finally made a friend with whom she could share her interests. She seemed much more joyful after their visits as well.
"I believe we did," Heather spoke with the faintest grin on her face.
Silence fell and she stood there awkwardly for a minute or so. She began to apprehensively twist a strand of her long hair between her fingers. She wished Jeremiah had been there. She alleged herself to have much greater confidence in his presence.
"What's wrong, honey?" her mother questioned when she noticed that Heather would open her mouth as if to say something but couldn't or wouldn't.
"Well, I…I h-have a proposal – but I thoroughly comprehend if the answer were to be negative…I…I'm sorry. Never mind…" Just as swiftly as she had gathered it, her resolve had left. This was an absurd request that her father would never acquiesce to.
"What are you talking about, girl? Get over here. I can't even hear ya, always mumbling like that," Mark commanded impatiently. His words carried more bite than he intended, but it was always taxing trying to listen to her.
Hesitantly, she moved further into the room until she was standing in front of the two of them. "I-it is nothing, really. I am sorry to b-bother you…"
"No. It's something. What is it you need?" Sara asked in a firm yet mild tone.
"J-just that…well, the S-summer holiday is approaching a-and what with our infrequent engagements, I…I w-would like to inquire whether it c-could be at all probable that J-Jeremiah may accompany us for a short period in the midst of a run?" Heather felt breathless once she had finished and she was staring down at her shoes. She had regretted inquiring before she had even completed her request.
Before Mark had even opened his mouth, Sara piped up with, "I think that's a wonderful idea!"
"You do?" Mark asked incredulously, an edge of irritation to his voice.
"Yes, I do," Sara replied as if it were so obvious it shouldn't even be questioned.
"Then maybe you should take them," Mark glared at his wife. She was going to make him agree to this and he was not happy about it whatsoever.
"Mark, really!" Sara scolded him as she stared back at him through narrowed eyes.
"Yeah, really. Fuck, why do I always have to be pressured into this shit?" Mark snapped.
Heather's countenance had lit up like the Fourth of July when her mother offered her approval. Now her face had fallen just like her spirit. She knew this was a futile endeavor. It was compounded by the fact that she was yet again the source of a dispute amongst her parents. "I apologize. I should have known better than to ask such an indulgence from you," she lamented as her eyes glossed over.
As she turned to exit the room, Mark let out an exasperated growl. "Oh alright. I suppose he can tag along, damn it," he said grudgingly through gritted teeth.
Heather's eyes widened in astonishment. "Are you sincere, in that, Sir?" she wondered, not wanting to get her hopes too high.
"Yeah. I am," Mark relented. "But I'm tellin' ya, no funny business and no bullshit. I mean it," Mark commanded firmly.
"Of course. I wouldn't dream of it, Sir. Nor would Jeremiah!" she said assuring him of their agreeable comportments. "I thank you, so much. I am so very happy that you approve." With that, Heather exited the room, practically skipping away. She was in the brightest mood that Mark and Sara had the privilege to witness in quite some time.
Sara's rebuking gaze fell upon her husband. "Do you see how happy you've made her by agreeing to one little thing?" she asked of him. "She needs this Mark. She needs some semblance of normalcy in all this craziness. She hasn't had a real friend her own age since Brittany and it's taken a toll on her, I know you can see that."
"Yeah, I know that," Mark replied defensively. "You gotta understand though. It's a lot of fucking work doing my job and looking after these kids. Not to mention all the shit I have to keep after for Vince."
"Imagine how your daughter feels, being thrown into all this madness when she was already struggling as it were." Sara stood up intending to go to bed. "And you know, try as you might, you can't run Vince's company for him," she chided him as she walked off.
The school year for the district was winding down and school would release for Summer vacation in just a couple of weeks. Thanks to some advanced classes taken at his previous school Jeremiah had met all of his credit requirements for that school year. Therefore he was technically not required to attend the remainder of the school year. While the current week was filled with testing as it were, Jeremiah opted not to attend. He wasn't much for the end of the year festivities as he had left his friends at his old school and he hadn't gotten to know anyone too well aside from his cousin, Tayvion, and his friends.
With that, Jeremiah was free to take Heather's proposal to accompany her, her sister, and her father on the road for a stretch. He had been looking forward to it ever since they hatched their little scheme and he was astounded and utterly grateful that Heather's dad had agreed. He was admittedly a little nervous about spending so much time around the man. He was austere and intimidating, not like his own dad who was easy going and always up for a laugh. The teenage boy tried not to let that bother him too much though. He was excited to spend time with his friend, visit new places and learn more about this enigma that was the wrestling industry.
They had arrived in Rochester, New York the previous evening and headed to the arena mid-morning. Apparently, Mr. Calaway was not only one of the top stars in the company as his character, The Undertaker, but a prominent figure backstage. Heather had told him that people always came to him for advice and he was usually charged with keeping the peace among the ranks.
Jeremiah could certainly see this, as the man had a very dominating personality and seemed to command respect by simply stepping into a room. This occurred not only amongst men who were smaller but also amongst those who were equal or in one or two cases, greater in stature than himself.
However, their first stop upon arriving had been the office of Vince McMahon, the owner, chairman, and on-screen villain. Mark was checking in with Vince has he had always done. He also wanted to introduce Jeremiah and make certain that Vince knew who was running around the facility.
"Mark!" Vince greeted him with the same enthusiasm he always did, no matter the behemoth's mood.
Luckily for everyone, he was in a neutral disposition at the moment despite his opposition to having Jeremiah tag along with them. "Hey Vince," Mark returned.
Vince's eyes fell on the addition to their party. "And who is this young man?" he inquired as he stood and made his way around his desk.
"This is Jeremiah De Sanchez. He's Heather's friend. He'll be traveling with us for the week," Mark told him in his gravelly voice. Mark turned to the boy. "Jeremiah, this is Vince McMahon, the owner of WWE and the chairman, as well."
One of those oddly unsettling smiles came over Vince's face. "Well, anyone who can befriend our little wallflower is alright in my book. Put 'er there, pal," the older man piped as he thrust out his hand. In his straight forward fashion, Jeremiah grasped Vince's hand for a sturdy shake. "Now, that's a firm grip. Are you a WWE fan, young man?"
"Well, I only recently started watching when I met Heather, but it's some amazing stuff, to say the least," Jeremiah answered glancing back at his friend who stood just a little behind him. He remembered that she told him how terrifying Mr. McMahon was to her, but he didn't seem all that bad.
"Of course it is! I took this company from a small territory to a global corporation, you know. I like this kid, Mark. You know I'm an excellent judge of character. Anyway, I do have to get back to work, but Mark, give him the full tour. Show him the ring and the production truck, the whole nine yards. Here, let me call JR." he said, picking up the receiver to the telephone on his desk.
"It's alright, Vince. I'm sure Jim is very busy as it is," Mark assured him.
"Alright then. I'll see you all later on," Vince said as they bid farewell.
"That was weird. Like super fucking awkward," Reves observed in a low voice as she walked beside her sister.
"It was rather peculiar," Heather concurred. She thought about Mr. McMahon's capricious manner. He was certainly something of an enigma. At times, one could never quite be sure of his comportment from one encounter to the next.
They presented Jeremiah with the Full Monty, from the production truck to the stagehands running to and fro creating backdrops for backstage segments, along with pyros and effects, to the focal point of the whole production: the squared circle.
Inside the ring, Heather and Reves demonstrated a few bumps and gave Jeremiah a crash course. Mark could have easily gotten in there and given him the proper pointers as the girls were still quite stiff on many things, but the fact that he was coerced into all of this (first by his wife, for bringing the kid along in the first place. Next by Vince, insisting that they show him everything) didn't lead him to be in a very giving mood.
Mark sat on the cement barricade, watching intently to what was taking place in the ring. He could say she was different when the boy was around. She seemed more relaxed and confident as she showed him how to take a basic back bump and run the ropes. Obviously, they were friends, but Mark wondered if they liked each other as more. He would certainly keep a watchful eye on that. He was that age once and all these boys wanted was to hit it and quit it. If that boy ever even thought of it, Mark would break his damn arm. At the same time, he didn't think he had any worry about that. The boy seemed to have the fear of God – or the Devil – in him when he looked at the man sometimes referred to as Big Evil. "Alright, ya'll. Let's go. I got other stuff to take care of," Mark called to the teenagers as he stood.
They found themselves in catering before Mark got started with any of his other tasks. It was a good thing too. The physical exertion had famished the teens. Jeremiah was even enthused by the catering spread. As a teenage boy, it was no secret that eating was one of his pastimes.
Nash and the rest of his gang stepped into catering. His gaze dragged lazily over the room and spotted Mark. Immediately following, his eyes zeroed in on the cascade of violet-black hair and he felt a subtle smile pulling at his mouth. That is until the random dude standing beside her bent down speaking into her ear. She tucked part of her hair behind her left ear and she gave an adorably timid smile up at him. Who was that guy? Nash had certainly never seen him around before. He had rich, dark skin and wore his hair in dreads. After getting a better look, he realized he couldn't be much older than her. A high school friend? As far as he could recollect, she mentioned not having many -if any- friends left at school.
Nash ambled in their direction and the rest of the boys followed. "What's up, Mark? Have you talked to Vince about the plans for tonight?" he asked casually. He conveniently fixed himself behind the girl, not close enough to garner suspicion, but enough for her to take notice of him. That was his intention, at least. It was the boy who turned to gawk up at him with a look of surprise in his onyx eyes.
"Bro! Jesus, what are you doing standing there all freakin' tall and ominous like that? You all put that on your resumes?" Jeremiah asked, taking in the lot of men.
"Excuse me?" Heather questioned and turned around, coming to face Nash. She was scarcely half a foot from bumping into his chest. "Oh," she squeaked and took a step back. That signature blush painted its way across her cheeks, but instead of lingering on the blonde man, she turned back to her acquaintance. "Miah, allow me to introduce Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, Sean Waltman is known as X-Pac and Paul Wight, or The Big Show," she pointed at each man respectively.
Jeremiah's eyes bulged when he got a good look at Paul. "Woah, Dude! You're even more huge in person. TV doesn't do you justice," he complimented the giant who was larger than any of the men that were present and he took it graciously. It wasn't as if he didn't hear it every day.
"The New World Order, a lethal dose of poison," Heather chirped in a melodramatic voice as she leaned into her friend. Turning back to the men she continued the introductions. "Everyone, this is a friend of mine, Jeremiah De Sanchez." Her timidness returned as she addressed them, her mantle deepening.
"This is a friend from sc-" Nash began to inquire but was cut off by the girl's sudden outburst of joy.
"Miah, there is Amy and the boys. They are brilliant friends to Rev and me. I shall introduce you. I am positive you will be delighted by them." Heather exclaimed as she took hold of the young man's arm and began steering him towards the table of the ones known as Team Extreme.
Kevin looked on, dumbfounded by the display that had just unfolded before him. He knew he had an overblown ego, but he could hardly fathom that she had essentially snubbed him, whether intentional or not.
Nash stood at the drink station preparing his coffee. Periodically, he would glance over at the table where the little one sat with her friends. He didn't know if he had ever seen her glow so bright as she threw her head back, laughing in such a carefree manner as if she had never known an ounce of sorrow in her life. When she laughed it was like she was reaching into his chest and clutching his heart in her tiny hands.
It wasn't that he begrudged her joy (God knows she deserved it more than anyone) or the company of friends, but an ugly bitterness was beginning to take root in him as he thought about the liberties with which that boy was able to flirt with her and draw her admiration towards him. He told himself he was being absolutely asinine. Then he witnessed the little punk attack her midsection, tickling her relentlessly as she squealed and squirmed under his ministrations. Exasperation swirled inside him like a storm as his eyes narrowed towards the display. It took an exceptional amount of composure to not descend on the punk, like a maniac. Regardless, he'd fix Casanova, that was for sure. Or rather, Daddy Deadman would take care of that for him easily.
Kevin walked over to the table where Mark and Glenn Jacobs were seated, talking to a couple of other guys. He sat down in his customary unflappable manner. After a couple of moments he commented to Mark with an air of insouciance, "Your boy there is awfully handsy, isn't he?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Mark narrowed his eyes at him.
Nash didn't have the need for further words when he nodded in the direction of the flirtatious teenagers. A furious glower overtook Mark's visage as he shot out of his chair and swooped down on them like a harbinger of doom. Everyone present at their table stared up at the irate seven-footer in bewilderment as he rebuked the two teens with incessant rage.
A satisfied smirk played on Nash's lips as he observed the way the boy appeared to be on the verge of shitting his pants. However, his satisfaction came to a screeching halt when his gaze shifted to the bashful creature whose eyes were welling with tears as she stared up at her father. Her lovely features that had once been illuminated in bliss, were now painted with degradation, as everyone's attention within the vicinity had been drawn to the scene.
The smug grin had long left his face and was replaced with a grimace of repentance as he stood and abruptly exited the room. He was too disgusted to continue watching the spectacle unfold which had been his own design. What the hell was he thinking, riling Mark like that? It took nothing to set him off and Nash had purposefully egged him on, all because he was envious of a fucking teenage kid with no cause to be. The girl was not beholden to him, yet he was acting like a possessive jackass.
Even still on the one hand truly, he didn't fault himself. He had been the one burdened to look after her since this whole ordeal started if he could even confirm that he had been burdened and not driven by some baser instinct to protect her. He shook his head and expelled a heavy growl of a sigh. This was what happened from allowing himself to become too involved. He should just leave her be. It was her prerogative to flirt with or even date whomever she liked.