A Productive Meeting

[Ashlee]

Adam Copeland stood at the bar of Warren’s Inn, a classic little divey bar in Houston, Texas that he and his best friend and tag team partner, Randy Orton, had frequented for the better part of a decade whenever they were in town. It was a place where the locals hung out, and for the most part, that meant that the two men known collectively as Rated RKO were left alone. Adam was grabbing another round of drinks, which would have made three each for both him and Randy. Warren’s knew how to pour a stiff drink, which was the thing that kept Randy and Adam coming back the couple of times a year they were in Texas. He happened to look back toward Randy, who had moved to his feet next to the two person corner booth where they had been sitting together. He was nursing the end of his second drink when Adam saw it.

At first it was so strange, and now so completely foreign, that Adam had to replay it in his head to make sure he’d seen it right. Adam and Randy had taken turns during their friendship going through periods of complete and utter irresponsibility and bad decision making. They’d been lucky that those seasons never seemed to come at the same time for the two of them. It was part of what made their friendship work. Randy had done a lot of growing up in the last six years or so, and that had contributed in large part to Adam’s current blindness.

Randy had his drink to his lips, and that was when it had happened. His head turned when a tall, pretty woman walked by. She was good looking. She was no Mrs. Nicole Ikeda-Orton, but for the here and now, Adam could see why she looked good. He scooped up Randy’s drink in his left hand and walked back toward him. He glanced in the woman’s direction, but didn’t mention it. He didn’t have to.

Adam Copeland: You want to call it an early night? You know it’s going to be hard work carrying Wes and Lance on our backs tomorrow.

Randy Orton: You sure your neck is up for it? Lance gained a little weight since his heyday.

Adam Copeland: Well, luckily he’s on our team, so we just have to make him look good, not actually… you know, pick him up.

Randy Orton: No, we just need to pick up Brock Lesnar, Ryback, and Wade Barrett. It's like we got picked by the team of nerds.

Adam Copeland: Considering this wasn’t even supposed to be the match. What the fuck is going on with the world title scene?

Randy Orton: From what I can tell? Wes is listening to the internet smarks too much. It's a revolving door of overrated fools who couldn't draw a dime if they had a stencil.

Adam Copeland: Oh, I doubt that’s it. He’s not going to give AJ the rub over some internet smarks, is he? That doesn’t sound right.

Adam looked back in the girl’s direction. She was sitting at a round booth with a few other women.

Adam Copeland: You didn’t answer my question.

Randy nodded.

Randy Orton: Yeah, we should probably head out. Ought to be clear headed for tomorrow.

Without hesitation, both men downed those third drinks and started for the door. Adam had the keys in his pocket and decided not to offer them to Randy. He was fine to drive, and it was only a few miles. They walked out together into the crisp winter weather and made a beeline for their rental car. Randy went to the passenger side as Adam unlocked the door. Once they were both inside, Adam started the car, and put it into reverse heading for the hotel. They were a block away before Adam spoke again.

Adam Copeland: How’s your head?

Randy Orton: Fine. Good enough to work. What do you mean?

Adam Copeland: I just thought you’d been having some headaches lately. You’ve been touching your temples a lot.

Randy Orton: The whiskey helps. Probably just sinuses or somethin'.

Adam nodded. He was quiet for a moment longer, but then pressed on a little further.

Adam Copeland: So things with Nic haven’t gotten much better?

Randy shook his head.

Randy Orton: I'm not even angry anymore. I just don't know how to fix it.

Adam Copeland: Well you guys seem to be making a start. Karlee’s birthday party was nice. Didn’t even feel like anything was wrong.

Randy Orton: That's the sick part. We'll see how nice it is when we're putting it on in public, then it sometimes just gets ugly again.

Adam didn’t know what to make of that.

Adam Copeland: What do you think?

Randy considered that for a moment.

Randy Orton: I think I'm going to have a long holiday season.

Adam Copeland: You want it to work though, right?

Randy didn't hesitate one bit for the response.

Randy Orton: Of course.

Adam Copeland: It will. You can do anything you set your mind to.

Randy silently nodded. He exhaled, grimly accepting what he knew would be a challenge, as if he was resigning himself to being on the front lines of a battle.

Randy Orton: We'll come around. We always do.

Adam Copeland: You were very, very drunk one night when you told me something I’ll never forget. You said “Nothing worth having comes easy”. Then you said it was cliche. And that everything was easy for Randy Orton.

He chuckled a little.

Adam Copeland: I don’t know if she’s your Achilles’ Heel or your poison arrow.

Adam went silent. It was one of those rare moments of clarity that Randy hated him for that caused him to speak again.

Adam Copeland: Shit. She’s both.

Randy heard his friend sigh.

Adam Copeland: I’ve forgotten what that’s like.

Randy Orton: No, you haven't. You like to think you have, but you haven't.

Adam Copeland: Maybe you’re right.

Randy made a sound that was almost a laugh. Adam didn’t concede too much, especially so willingly.

Adam Copeland: If I had really forgotten I probably would have offered to be your wingman back there.

He quickly moved on.

Adam Copeland: Not to mention I’m still not sure whether or not I’m afraid of your wife. So better safe than dead, I always say.

Randy Orton: I suppose I should feel bad for having a brief... "grass is greener on the other side" moment.

Adam Copeland: I know I’m from Canada, but I’m pretty positive the grass is greener where you water it.

Randy Orton: I'm not sure when you became the wise one in the group, but it stops right now.

Adam Copeland: I warned you. Almost six years ago. I warned you. You got rid of the bitch, and met Nic, and something melted in your cold, black heart.

Adam saw Randy trying not to smirk.

Adam Copeland: You have to let her forgive you, Randy. Even if you don’t know what on earth you two are so mad about anymore.

Randy Orton: The truth is, I know what this is all about, and she has every right to be beyond frustrated. There's just a lot of stuff that I haven't... dealt with.

Adam Copeland: You wanna blow off the whole damn show and go deal with him? Because we could do that. I wouldn’t mind watching that fucker bleed a bit.

Randy Orton: I know what you mean, but I wasn't even talking about him.

Adam Copeland: Don’t do that.

Randy Orton: Do what?

Adam Copeland: You’ve let her make this about you. It’s not all about you. I love Nicole. Like a sister. But this is what she does. This is what that fucked up, Ikeda Machine, does. It’s everyone else’s fault. You have to make her own it. You can’t carry it all by yourself. You’ll never fix it if you do. That pretty much sums up my failed marriage in three sentences.

Randy Orton: I ought to start paying you for this.

Adam Copeland: I owe you my life Randy. It’s what we do.

Adam shook his head.

Adam Copeland: But it scares me. I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t scare me.

Randy Orton: I'm gonna make it work, Adam. If for no other reason than me not letting that Ikeda Machine roll over me if it falls apart. The good news is I have plenty of reasons to get this back on track.

Adam Copeland: Then you need to stop saying “I” and start saying “We”. She’ll let you chase her. She likes it. You know it.

Adam accelerated the car a little.

Adam Copeland: I’m not afraid of what happens to you if it stays off of the rails though. Nothing changes you. This could be done tomorrow, and it wouldn’t make the last six years of your life go away. It wouldn’t change what you’ve done, or that you're Karlee’s dad.

He gave a somber sigh.

Adam Copeland: I just worry that… it doesn’t exist. It’s all made up. If you and Nic can’t make it, humans aren’t meant to love each other. We’re just meant to want to watch each other die slowly, and miserable, and blonde, because her brown hair is still stupid to me three years later.

Randy laughed at the obvious reference. He shook his head.

Randy Orton: I hate being the measuring stick for anything other than wrestling ability.

Adam Copeland: I hate for you to be the measuring stick for anything other than wrestling ability. My life was so much easier when you were getting popped for dirty piss tests and shitting in unsuspecting girl’s bags. You made me look like a God.

Randy Orton: These things go in cycles. It'll be your turn by the time you're in your mid forties.

Adam Copeland: I think my days of dirty drug tests and terrorizing women are behind me, thank you very much.

He thought about that for a second.

Adam Copeland: Maybe. I’m probably always going to terrorize women. A little. Charmingly.

Adam pulled into the parking garage of their downtown hotel, rolling down his window only to take a payment ticket, before rolling it back up again and proceeding up a few levels to the hotel entrance. He knew Nicole was in town. She’d have to be for a show like this.

Adam Copeland: I know we left early, but it still might be kind of late. Did you just want to crash with me?

Randy paused, at least giving the impression that he was considering his options.

Randy Orton: Yeah, that'll work.

Adam pulled the car into a parking space.

Adam Copeland: Good. I’ll sleep till I’m dead if you’re not there to wake me up anyway.

Randy and Adam headed up the elevator to the suite where Adam was staying. The room was modest, but not without its fair share of space, including a spacious couch for Randy to crash on. With the pay per view event in the morning, they opted to turn in a little early, rather than hang out at the hotel bar like they would typically do. Adam crashed onto his Queen sized bed, while Randy grabbed two extra pillows from the room closet and laid down on the couch, draping his long legs off the side. Within two hours, Randy finally got to sleep.

7:00 am. The alarm went off on his iPhone and Randy leaned over to silence it. He glanced over at Adam, who didn't even budge at the shrill sound of the alert tone he had selected. It made him doubt the alarm even went off. Randy could have chucked the phone at Adam's head, and unless it was a direct hit, he was pretty sure Adam would be none the wiser. Randy decided to shower, and let Adam sleep just a bit longer. It was after he’d dressed and returned into the main room that he found his phone with two waiting text messages.

Nicole Orton
Someone is bright eyed and missing us this morning. :-)

The first one was captioned simply, and included a photo of their one-year old daughter, back home in St. Louis, sitting on the floor of Wes Ikeda’s living room with her cousin, CJ. The second text was sent over twenty minutes later.

Nicole Orton
They’re rewriting. the. entire. show. You two probably ought to get down here after the gym.

Randy started typing his response, his eyebrow arching at the news.

Randy Orton
She looks beautiful. Be there within the hour.

Randy headed over to Adam's bed and nudged him in the shoulder lightly.

Randy Orton: Hey. We have a bit of a situation here.

Adam grumbled, groaned, and then turned over slowly.

Adam Copeland: The coke isn’t mine, and the hookers were dead when I got here.

Randy Orton: You're going to wish that was the problem.

Adam sat up, his abdomen scrunching as he searched for his discarded shirt somewhere beside him.

Adam Copeland: Oh no.

He looked at the clock beside the bed.

Adam Copeland: This early? What have they been up all night? Which one is it? Joanie or Wes? THIS EARLY. My God? Are they trashing the whole show?

Yes, Adam and Randy had been in this business for a very long time. Long enough to know how far gone a show was by the hour at which the creative team decided to rewrite it. Randy didn't even need to say it.

Randy Orton: We should probably make it a short visit to the gym and head over there. Nic sounds pretty irritated, so it's probably Wes.

Adam Copeland: Fuck the gym. I can’t go to the gym right now. If we waste one second going to the gym I’ll end up eating a bull hammer from Wade Barrett, and that’s not on my list of shit to do today.

Randy Orton: You have a list of things you’d like to get done today?

Adam Copeland: Of course I don’t.

Randy Orton: Oh, and here I thought you were making progress.

Adam smirked, and sniffed his shirt before throwing it back on. He still had on the same jeans from the night before, and he adjusted his belt. Both men grabbed up their gear bags, and Adam took the keys as they left the room and went outside to hop back into their car and head down to the arena. Randy shook his head.

Randy Orton: I wonder what it is this time. Another guy getting upper card exposure that Wes thinks he's better than?

Adam Copeland: Name one guy on the damn roster that Wes doesn’t think he’s better than. One.

Randy Orton: Me.

Adam Copeland: Oh, Randy, now you’ve just teleported into Delusion Land. Chris Jericho. That’s probably the only correct answer to that statement.

Adam made a sharp left.

Adam Copeland: Paul will be in this meeting right? Paul and Chris. This is going to be a non-issue. They’re going to figure out a way to make it make sense that you and I were giving Jericho and his band of merry misfits hell just two weeks ago on that damn show, and now we’re all strange bedfellows. That’s all this is about.

Randy Orton: I was wondering whose idea that was in the first place.

Adam Copeland: We’re doomed. The Miz is the world champion, and we’re doomed. I mean, we’re not on the TV Guide channel, but this…

Randy Orton: It'll be fine. I'm sure you're right. This isn't Vince we're dealing with.

There wasn’t much security around the venue yet since it was 10 hours before showtime, but Adam pulled into the underground garage of the arena and parked not far from the familiar double doors that led to backstage areas like this. There was a security detail at the door, and despite their recognizable faces, Randy and Adam proved their credentials to gain entry. There were crews of people already milling about, setting things up, and running around as they did on high stress show days. Taped paper arrows pointed the way through the backstage area, and it wasn’t long before Randy and Adam found a door marked with “Television Production”. They heard three simple words as Randy turned the doorknob and was the first to step inside.

Wes Ikeda: I said. No.

Randy stepped aside to let Adam in, and the two surveyed the meeting. Chris Jericho, Nicole, Wes, Paul Heyman, Joanie Laurer, and Lynne McClinton were all sat around a table. Lynne was fastidiously writing in her notebook the events of the meeting. You could cut the tension with a knife, and most of it was coming from Wes' direction.

Randy Orton: Alright, what's going on.

Paul Heyman put up a tentative hand as if he were about to explain, but Lynne referred to her notes.

Lynne McClinton: Mrs. Helmsley has suggested that in order to continue the story between AJ Styles and The Miz that AJ be brought into the Survivor Series Match with an as yet to be determined fifth partner, removing Ryback and Barrett. The Survivor Series matchup would then be moved to third on the card, to promote the main event. Mr. Jericho and Mr. Heyman seemed to be in agreement with this decision. At which point, Mr. Ikeda said no. At which point the three of them have spent the last thirty minutes trying to convince him. To which, Mr. Ikeda has stated, and I quote “I am not expletive facing AJ expletive Styles on this or any other expletive planet, so expletive help me.”

It was at that point that Nicole’s eyes landed on Randy’s and she grinned. Just a little. She looked tired. He glanced back over at Wes and cocked an incredulous eyebrow.

Randy Orton: Really? So we got called into this meeting at 8:30 in the morning, the day of the pay per view, because what? Because Wes doesn't want to share his toys with AJ Styles?

Wes Ikeda: I don’t know who called you, but it wasn’t me. I don’t know why you’re here.

Chris spoke up.

Chris Jericho: I think we need to be reasonable about this. The sensible thing to do…

Wes Ikeda: Let me spell this out for you.

It was unusual for Wes to interrupt anyone whom he respected, but it was clear he had had enough.

Wes Ikeda: AJ Styles has been trying to crawl under my skin since he begged his ass back into a job and I’m not letting him win. I am not putting my name on a marquee with his, ever. Unless someone is fucking paying me. And if you try to stand there, Randy, and tell me you’d do it differently then you’re a bold faced fucking liar.

Nicole cleared her throat.

Nicole Orton: What does Natalie think?

Wes’ eyes turned to slits, and he jerked his head toward his sister.

Wes Ikeda: I don’t ask her opinion on who I should put over.

Randy Orton: I'm not even sure why this guy has a job if you're so blinded by rage that you won't spend 120 seconds in the ring with him.

Wes Ikeda: He’s in the world title match! He can’t LOSE. We’d have to lose. I’m not losing to him.

Chris Jericho: Wes do you even hear yourself? Who are you even. You sound like Hogan. Or at the very most, yourself in 1999. And back then you wrestled in bingo halls in Windsor, Canada.

Wes Ikeda: I. will not. put. him. over.

Paul Heyman: So you don’t. Brock pins you, and you never see AJ.

Wes Ikeda: I will not have my name on some Angelfire wrestling match database, put together by some basement nerd, as having participated in a match in which my team lost to AJ Styles.

Nicole Orton: That’s… not even a thing anymore.

Randy Orton: Wait, so which is it? Because I'm no booking genius myself, but usually putting a guy over means something a little more than being on the team that loses to the other team that AJ Styles happens to be on.

Paul Heyman: He won’t face him. Period. In ring time, or not. Won’t hype it. Won’t talk about it. Won’t do it.

Wes Ikeda: And I’m the boss, so you can all live with it.

Joanie Helmsley: That’d be easier to do if our boss wasn’t acting like he’s twelve.

Wes made a wild gesture toward Randy.

Wes Ikeda: He’s the one who got us in this fucking mess, ask him if he has any bright ideas!

Randy's jaw tightened. Nicole saw his posture shift and her eyes widened. She knew exactly what was coming.

Randy Orton: Are you kidding me? I got us in this mess? Are you fucking kidding me?!

Adam and Nicole both flinched. Randy's predilection for avoiding curse words was completely shut off at this point. His neck was almost beet red.

Randy Orton: You let that piece of shit stay on the payroll after he almost killed TWO people that you know! You knew he beat the shit out of his wife, who you claim to like, and you covered for him and covered for him, because he's your cashcow, and I'M the one that got us in this mess?!

Adam Copeland: Was. The cashcow.

Lynne McClinton: I didn't hear any of that.

Nicole Orton: Randy…

Wes turned away and put his hand to his forehead.

Joanie Helmsley: We did have six months of TV planned. I know this is an adjustment for everyone.

Paul Heyman: Maybe… we ought to just put on the match we booked. Miz and AJ have enough history that they probably don’t need the momentum.

It had gotten entirely awkward in the room, so much so that it seemed the discussion was over.

Chris Jericho: I’ll work over Punk. You two work with Lesnar.

Wes Ikeda: I don’t need the three of you to carry me.

Chris Jericho: No one said you did.

Nicole shot Randy a pathetic look that begged him not to challenge that statement.

Joanie Helmsley: We don’t need Wes taking an F5 and a Shellshock though. That’s for sure. We’ll proceed as planned. Productive morning guys. I’ll gather the team.

Randy didn’t often see Wes embarrassed, but his brother-in-law was quiet now. He’d put on quite a production. One that had become pretty rare for him in recent years.

Wes Ikeda: Randy, I…

Randy Orton: I’m going to hit the gym. Try to keep up tonight.

Wes smirked a little bit, and Randy turned, stopping short when Adam didn’t budge. The room had yet to clear. There was obviously something else to be covered after Randy and Adam took their leave. Adam glanced at Randy, then back at Wes. He took a step toward his boss, and kept his voice even.

Adam Copeland: If you don’t want a problem with me I would suggest you never say anything like that to him again in my presence.

Wes’ jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond.

Adam Copeland: If you want to know who got us into this mess? She’s sitting right over there.

Randy wanted to suck those words back up so his wounded wife hadn’t heard them, but there they were, hanging. Without another word, Rated RKO turned from the room, closing the door behind them as they left.

[Jayme]

"Adam Copeland: We’re doomed. The Miz is the world champion, and we’re doomed. I mean, we’re not on the TV Guide channel, but this… " LMAO BAZING!! #LOLTNA

I really enjoyed this. Not only did I get to enjoy the fun dynamic between RKO and Edge, but got a tiny dash of Ikandy in there which is always appreciated. I really enjoyed the intense production meeting and you wrote everyone so well! But then again that's nothing new :P