12/17/99
NP: Dream Theater - Scenes from a Memory
Hello Jerichoholics!!!
Well, the days are getting closer and closer to one of my favorite times of the year. I hope everyone's gotten a lot of Christmas shopping done, there's not a lot of time left!!
As we all know, these past few months have been really hectic for me in the WWF. But I'm hangin' in there and there is no doubt that it is the place that I belong. I know there's a lot of internet speculation about ECW and the so-called problems that it's having lately, but from what I know about Paul Heyman, he is an excellent showman and can handle business with the best of them. Coming from a perfectionist like me, that is a true compliment.
Thanks to everyone for their kind e-mail messages about my "budding relationship" with Ms. McMahon, as the people on WWF.com called it recently. I think Stephanie is a wonderful, wonderful girl and the support that she has given me since I first came to the WWF has kept me going strong. She is a true lady in every sense of the word and I do indeed love her very much. And for those that have asked, yes, I will be spending a few days out of the Christmas season with the McMahon family! It'll be a first for me to be in the presence of such opulent wealth. What a harsh adjustment, huh?
The movie of the week, of course, is A Christmas Story. How can you not watch that over 100 times from Christmas Eve to New Years?!
Here's hoping that everyone has a happy and safe holiday. Please remember to stay safe and love your family with all your heart. God has blessed us all with an awesome day out of the year to celebrate what is His own, and we should take a moment to remember this when we're opening all our cool Christmas presents! I'll see you at the verge of the millenium!
Until then be good to each other and God bless you guys!!
Chris finished typing out the message and settled back in his chair, clicking his mouse around to run a spellcheck. He wasn't lying when he said he was a perfectionist.
Actually, although he was taking time to correct any mistakes, he was in quite a hurry. He still had to finish packing up, which would signal the end of his second trek back to the beach house in 4 months. This time, however, he'd gone alone. Not willingly though, since he wanted very badly for Stephanie to come back with him. Yet, she was wrapped up in her work, and this was her excuse, but she promised him she'd make it up to him over the holidays.
So CJ spent a lonely week alone in the beach house, calling her morning and night, just to make sure she was "okay," telling her how bored he was without her there with him.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," was all she'd say. CJ could tell she was grinning on the other end of the telephone, a thousand miles away. What a tease. He loved her so much. So much, as a matter of fact, he'd call her right now.
"Aren't you getting ready to go? Your flight leaves in 2 hours, doesn't it?" Stephanie was still in New York, working with whatever account executives work with. He'd interrupted her on the job, but of course she'd pick up the telephone. That's what you do when you love someone after all, you make allowances.
"An hour and a half, but I'm not worried." The clothes could pack themselves. He didn't care, he was satisfied just to hear her voice now.
"Well I don't want you to miss it, you'll be delayed and then you'll never get here. It was hard enough booking the flight, being that everyone's traveling right now."
He pouted a little. "I love you," he replied then, trying to sound as flippant as possible.
A chuckle on the other end. "I love you too, but if you miss your flight I'll dump you for some hockey-playing bum from Toronto."
"Oh, another hockey-playing bum. I thought I was the only one you'd ever care about."
"You're a dime a dozen," Stephanie sighed. "Go get ready, if you get there and it's gone, don't come whining to me."
"Kiss me first."
"Chris, stop being silly..."
"I'm not. Kiss me!"
Stephanie rolled her eyes and kissed the phone reciever. Chris responded in kind. "I adore you, if you didn't know it."
"I knew it."
"Marry me?"
"Go pack," she snapped, with a hint of laughter in her voice. With that, she hung up the phone and thought twice about calling him back just to slam the reciever down in his ear.
Chris rummaged through his dresser drawers and quickly tossed varied articles of clothing aside, looking for his camera. He knew he was making a mess, but didn't really care. Steph was right; that flight was going to leave whether or not he was on it, and being late would mean having to sit and wait forever. He berated himself for stretching the truth...he'd told Stephanie the flight left in an hour and a half, but in actuality...well, it was half an hour, just about.
"Damn it to hell, where did I leave that thing?" He glanced over his shoulder at the already torn-through closet. He took his camera everywhere with him, he had to have left it someplace where he could find it easily enough for the next time. That's what any other normal-thinking person would do, after all.
"Yeah," he scoffed, thinking aloud. "Emphasis on normal there, bud."
His wristwatch beeped, and he swore aloud. 30 minutes to get to the airport now and get out of Florida until 2000. As CJ softly cursed, he ran his hand along the base of his desk drawer, moving his fingers blindly along papers, a pencil here and there...hey! Damn, eyeglass case. More papers, pens, and then he felt his hand against something that felt...vaguely...like...
Paydirt! Chris yanked his 35mm friend out of the mass of papers and varied supplies and quickly shoved it into his stowaway bag. "Gotcha," he murmured proudly, zipping up the bag and looking around the room one last time. It was a mess, but that was no matter now. There was a 20 minute drive ahead of him to the airport, and his flight left in half an hour. It was time to move. And then the phone rang. CJ almost jumped out of his skin.
"Christ, as if I wasn't in enough of a hurry," he muttered as he flung aside clothing to get to the telephone. In a quick movement, he snatched up the phone and shouted into it at the same time. "Steph, I'm gone. Seriously, I'm out the do..."
"Well that's good to know, I guess I'll tell her for you, hey?" Lance chuckled on the other end.
Chris exhaled a little. Whew. Only Lance. Only Lance Evers, his buddy, pal, and fellow Canadian for life. "Thank God, I thought you were her calling to make sure I was gone already."
"Not exactly. Am I holding you up?"
"Are you ever? I've got a few minutes, what's up?"
Lance paused for a second. Chris could literally hear the smile leaving his friend's face. Then he spoke again. "I shouldn't have bothered you, man. Really. You've got things to do and I shouldn't have called."
"What? Lance, I've always got time for you. You're my friend."
A sigh on the other end. "It's gonna take more than a few minutes to say what I need to say...to someone. Anyone."
"Lance..." Chris noted the clock. Already 6:05. "Lance, look...call me at her house. I'll be there later tonight. I know it's important and I know you need to talk to me."
He murmured resignedly. "All right. Whatever, man."
"Hang on, let me give you her number." Chris ticked off the extension by rote memorization. He knew it by heart. "You'll call me when I get there? Don't go through whatever this is all by yourself, okay?"
"I'll call you," Lance said softly. CJ could have sworn he heard a stifled choke or sob as Lance hung up the telephone. As Our Hero stood there with the phone in his hand, he took one last look around the room, then realized what the problem was. And he knew that he could help; if they were willing to let him do so, that is.
And then he left for the airport.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, in a little office overlooking South Street in oh-so-luxurious Philadelphia, PA, a little man with big problems stared out of the window's open blinds. The sun was setting and there were bills to pay. People to pay. People to keep happy. In his hand was a Rolodex card with a number that had been changed numerous times. But their offices were closed for the day. There's always tomorrow, though.
At the same time, at a little further distance from Philly, another man lay on his hotel bed, looking up at the ceiling and then over at the phone that he'd just hung up. He was waiting on his wife to call, to tell him that she'd been to see her lawyer again, or to tell him that the damned creditors called earlier for the second time that day and she'd promised him that next week, next week there'd be something.
You're taking so much away from our baby, she'd say. Look, Lance, I know that you're one of the most loyal guys out there but he's starving us to death. I can't live like this anymore...
He closed his eyes and tried to time how long it would take for a flight from Florida to Conneticut.
It wasn't as if Chris Jericho wouldn't do anything for Paul Heyman anymore. CJ still had strong ties to Philly and the Bingo Hall, and from what he'd been hearing from friends and the general word backstage, Heyman was desperate for help.
CJ knew that was what Lance was calling about. He knew Lance and their friendship had advanced to a point where words weren't all that necessary all the time. And what worried him most was what Lance wanted, and what Heyman would want but had too much pride to ask.
They wanted to get to McMahon, as soon as they could. Another talent exchange was needed.
But what could I do? Chris settled back in his airplane seat and adjusted his headphones. I've barely got my foot in the door and now they decide they want my help?
He didn't mean to seem at all ungrateful. Heyman had done a lot for him, and helping Heyman and his promotion was a direct boost to his friend Lance and whatever it was he needed right now. What a wonderful Christmas present CJ was all of a sudden turning out to be.
Chris turned up the dial on his discman a little and thought of Lance. Lance Evers. Lance Storm. Having him in the WWF would be a big plus; a friend to help out in this big "lightweight" movement that the Internet loved so much. And of course he'd steer him away from the bad spots. God knows I've had enough of those this year... He wouldn't dare let Paul and his clique of friends drag Lance down the way they'd dragged him down, damn near causing him his career. But he came out the victor in that fight, and he'd brought someone along with him out of it. And now he was happy...now he could relax and work like he'd been asked to from the get-go. Chris could plan his future with the company, and just as well with Stephanie.
So yeah, things were going great for him. Why not help out the old arena, indeed? Chris closed his eyes, trying to catch some rest before they landed in Conneticut.
I'll tell you why not, something inside him said. You've got her...HER...to think about.
Stephanie. Of course he'd think about her. That came as natural as breathing now. But why would she be against it? He was willing to help someone out, surely she wouldn't object to his reminiscing in ECW for a little while with an old friend, or bringing someone new around to her father's company. Everyone wins in the end.
No, the something returned. You know that she wouldn't be against it. At all. In fact, you know that if you go back to Philly, she'd want to go right with you, wouldn't she?
Chris opened his eyes again. No. That would never happen. Ever.
Don't be so sure, answered the suddenly annoying voice inside his head. Don't you be so sure about that. You know if she goes back with you...you know what would...
"Shut up," he whispered, unknowingly out loud. "Don't even think that..." He looked around, over to the sleeping passenger beside him, ahead at the two ladies in the seats in front of them, their backs to him, chatting it up. No one had heard his outburst. The little voice inside his head was quiet.
That didn't mean the thought itself was gone, though.
Shane McMahon sat in his father's chair, in his father's study, listening to what should have been his father's voice mail messages. Not that it wasn't a common practice for Shane to listen in or check on any of Vince's messages, yet this one in particular was of interest to him.
The McMahons hadn't had any direct contact with Paul Heyman in quite some time. However, Heyman hadn't been in such dire straits until recently, or at least it wasn't until now that he was reaching out for assistance. Shane, of course, was more than happy to listen in on any potential business transaction that may occur. He listened to Heyman's words in the message, his voice controlled but quietly desperate.
It wasn't as if Shane hadn't seen this coming. The New Media networkers had been buzzing about this for a couple of weeks now. Still, when he first heard about Heyman's troubles, Shane took the rumors with a grain of salt. After all, how many times had people been predicting the downfall of the Philly promotion? But now that he was listening, now that he heard Heyman's message, he realized how correct the naysayers had been. Tried to get in touch with you. Tried to have someone return my calls. I know I've made a few bad decisions...maybe our people could get together and try to work out something soon? Shane made mental notes as the message continued. It would be good if we could try something out in time for the next pay per view in January. Like old times.
By the tone in the promoter's voice, it sounded as if he'd unsuccessfully tried this for many times, yet this was the first time he'd gotten ahold of Vince's private line. Shane was glad he'd found the message before his father had, as obviously neither Vince nor the other members of the front office gave a damn about Paul Heyman's troubles. He'd made his own mess, let him clean it up.
But Shane decided to give a damn. As he thought of the possibilities of another ECW talent run, he pictured the headlines on every cheap free-hosted "news" site...WWF GOES EXTREME ONCE AGAIN! The box office would jump for this one. God knows they could give Heyman exactly what he needed, but it was up to the suits and ties to finalize such a decision. Why hadn't they come to him with this, anyway? It would have been crazy to turn this down just because his father didn't approve of Heyman as a businessman.
Shane's thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he heard the doorbell ring downstairs, signaling the arrival of Our Hero to the McMahon homestead. Quickly, Shane ran the message back one last time, then erased it from Vince's voice mail box. He would leave the talking up to himself for now.
Just down the stairs from the study, Stephanie greeted CJ with open arms and kisses before he could even have a chance to drop his bags. "I was so scared you were gonna miss that flight...and I just know you waited until the last minute to leave," she said, fussing over him and removing whatever luggage she could carry from his hands. "Is everything going smooth back at the beach?" He followed her as she went to park his things in the downstairs guest room.
Before he could answer, Stephanie looked around the room and sighed, then turned to him with a slight smile and a look of defeat. "I tried, babe. I tried so hard to persuade them to let you stay upstairs."
Chris stashed the rest of his luggage on the floor and wrapped his arms around Stephanie, stealing a kiss as well. "You mean upstairs in your room, hm?"
"Definitely. You know that I don't see anything wrong with it, naturally, but it's just..." She huffed again and rolled her eyes. "...their little rules."
"Yeah well," he replied slyly, "who says we can't bend the rules a little? I mean, your folks have to go to bed sometime, don't they?"
Stephanie played coy. "Mr. Irvine...are you suggesting I fool around behind my parents' backs tonight?"
He shrugged. "Just call it welcoming you into my room annnytime you damned well please. Preferrably after they've fallen asleep."
They embraced again to kiss, but this time Stephanie pulled away with a crestfallen expression. She didn't look up at him as he spoke, even though he still held her. "It's just that I think that they're a little worried about...I don't know...the age thing, Chris."
"I didn't know there was an age thing," he smiled, stroking her hair.
"I know, believe me, I know...but...I think they realize that you've got seven..almost eight..years on me, and I don't know if that's why they're trying to keep us so separate, you know?"
"Good luck to them in trying," he murmured, leaning slightly to kiss her. "Are they home right now?"
She grinned devilishly and shook her head. "They're both gone, oddly enough...and they won't be back for the next few hours, if you can believe that..."
Chris feigned shock and nodded with approval. "I think that will give us...plenty of time, don't you think?"
"Oh? Plenty of time to what?"
He motioned towards the bed, then patted it. "Let's just say that I need your help in testing the mattress for sturdiness. Just to see how firm those springs are," He paused and reached around to pinch her rear. "Among other things."
Stephanie gave a cry of surprise and swatted at his hand. "You're a loon. And a pervert!"
"Of the highest quality. Now go make sure the door's locked...we bedroom experts need our privacy."
From upstairs, Shane had watched the two of them make their happy exit into the guest room. He knew, of course, what they planned to do, but as long as Stephanie was satisfied, he wasn't going to raise a fuss. Shane McMahon had bigger things to ask of Chris Jericho anyway. Little did Shane know, however, that as the business wheels in his head were turning, someone else was a step ahead of him with the same goal in mind.
An hour passed after CJ's arrival to the McMahon household, and Lance made his call. Chris had forgotten all about what he'd told his friend to do earlier, as right now Our Hero was finding himself preoccupied with coital bliss. Shane, luckily enough, was there to pick up the phone as he was about to leave to his own house.
"Hello?"
Lance hesitated, but spoke. "Is Chris there?"
Shane looked toward the guest room, the door still shut and more than likely locked. Guess we should keep him happy, he thought as he chuckled to himself and answered. "I'm pretty sure he's busy right now. Can I take a message for him?"
"I...well...no, I guess I can call him back later."
"It's no problem. I can still tell him who called, right?"
"Yeah, I guess..just tell him Lance called."
"Right. I'll leave him a note."
"Thanks." With that, Lance hung up the telephone and lay back on the hotel bed in frustration. What the hell was he doing to where he couldn't come to the damned phone, anyway?
Shane placed the phone back on the hook and started to write down the message, but stopped to think. Lance calling for Chris. Why did that name sound so familiar to him? Lance... He stood there for a moment, trying to recall. Being the somewhat novice detective that he was, it didn't take Shane McMahon long to put two and two together and run from there. As the revelation hit him, he dropped the pencil that was poised to write the note. Of course. Heyman's Lance. Chris' good buddy Lance from ECW. And it was no coincidence that he was calling here looking for Jericho. Not at all.
The junior McMahon again chuckled to himself. This merger was going to happen. It just had to, seeing that Heyman somehow got smart enough to have his talent network themselves to higher-up friends, just as Shane had been planning earlier to network CJ to his former ECW friends. Good businessmen always think alike, after all. Now if he could just get it past Vince...
Shane thought twice about leaving the message. Instead, he took up his coat and left for home.
As he closed the door behind him, not too far away over in that private little room, Stephanie gasped a little and looked towards the door.
"What?" CJ still lay there as she continued staring into the darkness.
"I thought I heard the door close."
"And?" He pulled at her arm a little.
"It may have been them coming home early. I heard the phone ringing too."
He scoffed. "I didn't."
"It did, though, honey. It rang! I didn't hear if someone got it. Chris, it may have been them calling to say that they're on their way, and if they catch us like this..." Stephanie's voice rose with anxiety, causing CJ to stroke her hand in order to calm her down.
"It's not them. Come on, it could have been someone leaving. Shane's car was parked outside, I'm sure it was him."
She settled a little, back into his arms. "Then who was that on the phone? I wasn't expecting anyone."
Chris was quiet for a little, thinking, then his eyes widened. "Oh damn..." Lance! Christ. He'd forgotten all about him, the poor bastard. No telling what he was saying about him right now for not taking the call as promised.
"What is it?"
"I told Lance to call me when I got here. That was problably him."
"Ohh," she replied, sighing with relief. "That answers it then. Don't worry, he'll call back."
"Yeah, but he was pretty worried when he called me at the beach house. And I think I know what it was about."
"And what was it?" Stephanie tried to overlook the seriousness in his voice by pinching at his arm. Chris didn't respond, but looked thoughtful.
"He wants me to get the guys up here to help the people in Philly out."
That secret something inside CJ started to surface again, and he tried to quelch it but couldn't. You shouldn't have told her that...
"You mean another promotion exchange?"
She's going to say it. You know she is. It's only a matter of time and then all hell will break loose. You shouldn't have told her.
"Yes."
"Ah," she smiled, resting her head on Chris' shoulder. "Sounds like a worthy cause." She yawned. "Something I wouldn't mind helping with if I had to."
Chris's heart lurched. Just what he didn't need to hear.
"Steph..." He looked toward her, knowing he problably couldn't see much in the dark anyway.
"Mmm?" She barely answered, already falling asleep there against him.
He shook his head. "Never mind."
Still, Stephanie wasn't incorrect. Lance did indeed try the number again, and this time CJ was around to answer. As a matter of fact, he'd been waiting most of the evening to hear from his fellow Canadian and best friend. When the call came, Chris was ready.
"Sorry about earlier," he said. "I was pretty well occupied."
"I heard," Lance said, stifling a smirk. "I won't ask any questions, it's not like me to invade your space."
"Well then let me ask the questions...like what was going on earlier when you called?"
"The same thing that's going on now," he answered, much more seriously. "I need to talk to someone."
"You know I'm always here," Chris said, reading out the trouble in his friend's voice. "Things aren't looking very well, are they, Lance?"
A frustrated sigh. "Nothing is looking right."
Chris softly murmured his understanding, then spoke again. "It's the promotion, right?"
"Well, yeah," said Lance, a little uneasily. "Among other things."
"Did Heyman tell you to call me?"
"No," he answered quickly, much to Chris' surprise. "No, he didn't. I'm doing this on my own, but I wouldn't be too astounded if he's trying to get in touch with your bosses anytime soon."
Chris shook his head. "Something else is wrong then, I take it. Something other than ECW."
"You always were the mind-reader in this outfit."
"Talk to me."
Lance paused, unsure, then spoke again. "I don't know. I thought I could say it, but I can't. Not right now, at least, Chris. I can't really get into it over the phone. It's something I'd rather talk to you face-to-face about."
"That bad?"
"It's not good, if that's what you mean." Lance's tone changed to more of a pleading one then. "You'll be back in town soon? So we can talk?"
"I'll be back with the folks this time next week if you'll want to meet me somewhere."
Lance chuckled in spite of his worry. "It'll be good to get away from the folks for an hour or two." His voice trailed off, then he tried to up himself again by changing the subject. "So how is it down there in Conneticut?"
"Cold," Our Hero answered bluntly. "Damn cold, and I miss the beach."
"You and me both. Why didn't she want to go down there for the holidays? Couldn't get away from the family?"
"I think they had their problems with letting her go down there with me again. Alone, that is...and get this...they put me up in a guest room when I got here."
"They just want to keep you a step ahead of the shotgun, I guess."
"Vinnie doesn't trust me yet...I don't think."
"So why'd he let her go down to Florida with you to start with?"
Chris smirked. "Well, that was before he knew that she wouldn't be staying in a damned guest room when she was home with me."
"Shit..you mean he found out the sleeping arrangements?"
"Not directly, but I know he had a clue what was going on between me and Steph. He didn't break it off, though, thank God. He wants his princess to be happy."
"Is she coming with you to Winnipeg?" Lance satiated his curiosity by asking. "I've never even met her yet and this is the girl you might be settling down with?"
Now it was CJ's turn to feel slightly morose. "No."
"No she's not coming or no she's not settling down with you?"
"She won't be there. I wanted it, but...you know."
Lance didn't press the issue. "Sure. I know."
"But I'm going to ask her something," CJ then said, brightening. "Soon."
"Huh," chuckled Lance. "I wasn't far off with that shotgun joke, was I?"
"Not that, loser," Chris said, still beaming over his thought. "I'm gonna present an idea to her really soon...when I give her my Christmas present, I'll say it then...but I don't see her saying no."
"What is it?"
"I'll tell you when I get there. I can't say it over the phone."
"Oh, that's good, keep me in suspense."
"Excuse me, but aren't you the guy that can't tell his best friend his problems over a telephone line?"
"Touche," Lance replied. "Got me there."
"Now that I think about it, how is old Paul? I haven't talked to him in months. Not since I got to Conneticut, I don't think."
"Not good. He's really on edge lately, but you and everyone else knows why. He fucked himself over completely, Chris, and now I guess it's time to pay the piper." Lance sighed a little again. "I can't say I'm too different sometimes, but I feel bad for the guy."
"We'll see what happens, I guess," Chris said. "Coulda sworn Paul put you up to this call though."
"Not today," Lance replied softly. "But hey, I guess I'll be seeing you next week. Call me at my dad's place, I'll meet you for a beer somewhere."
"Right. Talk to you later."
Lance hung up the telephone, then took a moment to reflect. He dabbed at his eyes and picked up the phone again to call his wife, and talk to his baby girl before her bedtime.
God, I miss you, he thought.
Chris shifted in his seat uncomfortably, as he was apt to do whenever around Vince or Shane. This time, he was dealing with both of them. Our Hero felt so much like a square peg trying to fit itself in a round hole, trying to assimilate, or at least associate, with the McMahon men. Not that CJ wasn't a man of the world, indeed...but he was nowhere near the classification of a Shane or Vince McMahon. Then again, he wouldn't even be here if he didn't love Stephanie so damned much.
He wished she could be here right now with him as the three gentlemen sat in Vince's study, a couple of days after Chris had last spoken to Lance. Back then he felt normal. Now...this "bonding" experience seemed like yet another exam that CJ would have to pass in order to be worthy of being anywhere near Stephanie. It was all so fake he couldn't help but stifle a laugh over his still-unlit cigar, pretending to laugh at some boring and long-winded anecdote that Vince was sharing amongst the trio.
"So what's new in the backstage world?" Vince looked from Shane to CJ. "I've been so busy with my mind on all the numbers that I haven't had much word on what's been going on with the boys in the back."
Shane surreptitiously glanced at CJ then, having planned this ever since he'd arrived on the day that Heyman left a message. He grinned at him and looked back at his father. "I've heard word from Philly the other day. They're anxious to talk with us."
Chris shifted again, almost unconsciously. Why'd he look at me like that? And how did Shane know...?
Vince's warm exterior all of a sudden looked very icy. Then he scoffed. "Again, huh?"
Shane glanced over at Chris once more, as if looking for some assistance. CJ had none to offer, still trying to figure out where Shane's part in Heyman's problems came to play. "Well," Shane said, after a moment, "I don't know, I mean, I know how you feel about their business and everything, I just..."
"Shane, what they do isn't business. What they do is a little above illegal." Vince was staring his son right in the face. "You haven't had to deal with this...man, this...Paul Heyman like I have. He's trouble. And whatever trouble he's gotten himself into now, I'm quite sure he could weasel himself out of it."
Chris bit his lip. Not gonna say it...
"Yeah, but I wasn't out to help him, in itself," Shane persisted. "I was thinking more along the lines of what everyone wants to see now."
I won't say it...I can't say it...even if old Paul was good to me, I'm not gonna get involved...
"I've said it once and I'll say it again...his practices are a little above illegal, and I'm not gonna mire my hands in that kind of thing and put my own company in jeopardy..."
CJ spoke before he could think, blurting his words out then sarcastically, as if to mock Vince. "Again, huh?" Oh shit...
Shane's fervor came to a quick halt. Vince paused in mid-sentence. Even the blaze in the fireplace seemed to stop crackling at that moment. Both McMahons stared at Chris, who couldn't think of anything else to say, simply folding his hands in his lap and looking away. In a small, quiet voice, he spoke again. "Sorry..."
They didn't answer. Chris swallowed hard, still looking away. His face was turning red, he knew it. Damn it, he always had to go and say the stupidest things. He'd screwed it up now...
Finally, Vince laughed. "Touche, son." CJ inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the Lord he hadn't messed anything up yet. He cast a sideway glance at Shane, who was nodding with some kind of approval. Whatever test this was, CJ was sure he'd just passed it. Or was he just overly paranoid all of the sudden?
Shane saw his opportunity. "So Chris, you know, I know that you have buddies over there. In Philly." His words were neither friendly nor conversational. They had business written all over them. Not that Chris had expected any kind of real warmth from Vince or Shane, really.
CJ looked down again, suddenly very interested in his hands. "I've got a few friends there."
"You know, ah...Heyman's promotion is problably on it's last legs." Shane said this, then took a quick look over at Vince, who was studying CJ's reaction with interest. Shane had gotten them both where he wanted them.
"Mmhm." CJ inspected his fingernails, trying to seem just as disinterested as Vince had been. He felt both of them staring at him, and he fought to control the natural onset of turning beet red.
"Well...I'm just saying...you'd help them if you could...right?" Shane was a persistent bastard, anyone could give him that.
Chris gave up the charade then, feeling the anger rise within him. Chris thought of Lance, poor Lance somewhere problably going dead broke. However he'd gotten this news on ECW, Shane McMahon could problably give less of a damn about any of CJ's friends anyway. He looked up at Shane then, his blue eyes steely. "Wouldn't you?"
Silence. Awkward, at that. Chris went back to staring downward. Shane didn't speak again, leaving it to Vince to pick up on the conversation. "If it's what you think will work, Shane, then have at it, talk to the rest of them about this," he said with a rushed finality and a wave of the hand. "But don't expect me to have a hand in dealing with...them."
Shane won. He accepted the power with both hands and a pleasant grin on his face. "I won't let you down. At all."
"I figured you wouldn't." The elder McMahon stood. "If you fellows would excuse me?"
"Of course," CJ murmured as Vince left the room. He didn't look up at Shane, who didn't talk to him for a second.
"You didn't know that I knew," he said then after he was assured they were both alone. "Did you?"
"It's not my business," Chris said, looking away.
"It is your business." Shane got up and sat closer to him, speaking now in hushed tones. "I'm going to need someone with ties. You've got the closest ties to Heyman. Hell, you're one of the only ones that left Philly with a smile on your face. I need you. I know you to talk to people...to whatsit...Lance. Your bud. He's your man, he's a big player there. Tell him about this. They'll be more than happy. It'll be our gift to them, you know. Tis the season and all that."
"Is that all this is to you, Shane?" Chris was glaring at him now. "An easy score?"
Shane shrugged. "I know for a fact that they need us more than we need them right now, if that's what you mean."
CJ opened his mouth to speak again, but decided against it. Instead, he got up. "I'm sure you'll excuse me," he said, placing the unlit cigar on the table beside him and leaving the boy wonder behind.
Apparently, as the week passed, Shane decided to forget the meeting he'd had with CJ, or at least put it off for a little while. He'd not spoken about his proposal to either Vince or Chris since their last talk on the subject. CJ refused to worry about it. It was his vacation time, after all, and he was spending it just how he'd planned, with Stephanie only. Whatever Shane would do, well then Chris would simply let Shane handle it, then. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what direction the boy wonder would be going with his idea.
Briefly Chris thought this over as he sat there with Stephanie in the decorous little sitting room that they'd dubbed the "Christmas" room. It surely lived up to its name, being covered in all kinds of holly, mistletoe, and other holiday greenery. The windows were framed with outside lighting, and at the center of the artistic area was the McMahon family Christmas tree, with all kinds of carefully wrapped gifts underneath. CJ looked around at the work of art now, then over at Stephanie, whose attitude at the moment didn't reflect the seasonal quality of the decor.
"So what's wrong?" He put his arm around her as she stared out at nothing in particular.
"It's all so pretty, isn't it?" She glanced around the room.
"Well, sure. They spent a lot of time on making it all look good, right?"
"Of course," she said, sadly. "We had people spend a full two weeks in making this sitting room look like this. Just for those stupid magazine articles and photographers." Stephanie folded her hands in her lap. The bitter tone of her voice changed then as she reminisced. "I remember when I was really young, and what I'd look forward to the most out of all the season is having the tree...the merry Christmas tree...having that Christmas tree smell, you know?" She chuckled sarcastically then, looking up at the masterful centerpiece with all its decorations. "This tree...this pretty tree that all those decorators spent such time on...did you know it isn't even real, Chris?"
A lot of things in your family aren't what they seem, though, he thought.
Stephanie went on. "All artificial. I'd apologize to my family if I could about not getting into the spirit and all this year. I don't know what it is, exactly..."
CJ nudged her a little in an attempt to cheer her up. "Maybe it's because I haven't given you your gift yet?"
She smiled slightly. "Maybe it's because you're leaving for home tomorrow and I can't go with you."
Chris shrugged. "Yeah, but I can still leave you with a smile on your face. At least I hope I can." Another nudge. "All those nights of sneaking in each other's rooms here recently, God knows I'm gonna leave with a smile on my face."
This time she laughed. "You're a pervert." Chris applauded himself silently on his success.
With that, he reached over to the table beside him. "I'm surprised you didn't spot this when I invited you in here. You knew I had some ulterior motives, right?" Stephanie looked over and saw the small little gift-wrapped box he held in his hand.
"And what's this, praytell?"
"Your Christmas gift," he said with great pride. "I spent a lot of time picking this out. All by myself, no less. You should be happy for me." Chris took Stephanie's hand and placed the box in it. "So open it already."
"But can't I wait till Christmas? I mean, I gave you yours and made you promise to wait." She grinned. "I feel like I'm cheating or something."
"I'll hold up my end of the promise. And sure, I guess you could wait, but it would really ruin what I have planned..."
Stephanie noted the shape of the box, then smiled a little. "Okay..." She unwrapped the little gift and paused when she realized what it was...a ring-box, obviously containing what she thought. She looked up at him. "Chris, oh you didn't..."
"Open it already, you're not done yet."
Stephanie flipped back the lid, then gasped. It was indeed a ring, and a beauty at that. Diamond-centered and well cut with other little diamonds encircling the center gem. "Oh God, you did..." She couldn't hold back the tears.
"I'm supposing you like it?" Chris was bubbling over with excitement.
"Sweetheart, of course...I...don't know what to say, I'm so happy!" Stephanie found it hard to speak through her quivering voice. Chris took her hand.
"Good," he said. "That's the reaction I thought I'd get." He rubbed her hand while continuing. "And it's a promise."
"Promise?"
"I want it to be your promise ring. For the promise I'm about to make."
She shook her head. "I don't understand..." Chris shushed her by putting his finger to her lips.
"I want us to be together, Steph. It's taken me a while to say what I've wanted to, but this is what I need. I need you. I'm...I'm leaving Florida."
She stopped him. "Why? I..."
"Because I want to. I want to be here. I want to be with you, Stephanie. I want to...live with you. And I promise that it'll happen as soon as I can get to where I want to be."
She was speechless, just staring at Chris with tears streaming down her eyes. Stephanie sought out words to speak, but he took them before she could say anything.
"I love you," he said, still holding her hand. "I love you so much, Stephie."
"Love you too," she sniffled as he embraced her. Stephanie leaned closer to whisper. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you...and only you..."