Interstate

Summary: Best friends, Randy Orton and John Cena are forced to drive thousands of miles from New York to L.A. with two WWE talents. Little do they know that these two people could cause drama and surprises to one long road trip. Randy – Stacy. John – Trish.

Disclaimer: The names of all WWE programming, talent, images, likenesses and logos are the exclusive property of WWE. All other trademarks, product names, company names and logos cited herein are the property of their respective owners. All created characters, places and objects are my property.

Chapter 1

Simple Addition

"I hate Bischoff! God, I'm not even from RAW and he has to be all up in my business." John Cena complained to his best friend, Randy Orton. John kicked the dirt with his brand new Zoo York sneakers but Randy wasn't paying any attention to him or to his soiled shoes. John nudged Randy, hoping he'd listen. "What," Randy said irritated. "Dawg, you've got some chillin' to work on." The self-proclaimed Dr. of Thuganomics notified. Randy scowled. Ever since John got the push for WWE Championship material his best friend wouldn't stop the act. He wasn't jealous. John just got frustrating and childish.

John disregarded Randy's indifference but he continued to protest. "So what if we stayed a little late in the club it's not like we planned on sleeping over. Things just happened and we got wasted." John's defense was pretty horrible and even he was smart enough to know that The Bisch was all about following curfew, particularly when you have RAW and Smackdown tapings the next day. Randy spun the rental's keys around his index finger as John bawled. "What the hell was Eric doing by our door anyways? It's as if he planned this all along." John was a bit suspicious. Randy thought he was overreacting. So what, it was actually a pretty cool punishment- at least Randy thought so.

Eric Bischoff talked to Vince McMahon and they deliberated on the guys' punishment. Instead of taking a plane on Friday to Los Angeles for Wrestlemania 21 Randy and John had to drive themselves from Connecticut to L.A. John was too respectful not to bash the big boss but he didn't have much problems not to carp on The Bisch. To him Eric was all bark with absolutely no bite. To him, all that Eric is is the king of kissing ass; both literally and figuratively.

Randy stopped in front of their rental- the rental that they'd be driving from one side of America to the other. Randy smirked. He knew John was standing speechless behind him. They gazed (No, actually John was gazing. Randy was grinning) at the 1965 Mustang Convertible. John stroked the sleek red paintjob as Randy laughed quietly to himself. "No Randy," John said. Randy nodded and raised his eyebrows. "Holy Shi-" Randy covered John's mouth and pointed to Shawn Michaels and his kid Cameron, who were only a few feet away. Shawn was a pretty religious guy but he wasn't edgy with reference to it. He waved at the two and placed a finger on his lips. Cameron turned to where his daddy was looking and his eyes lit up when he saw his 'unkie wandy'. Randy opened his arms to let Cameron in for a hug. John and The Heartbreak Kid watched as Randy played with the three-year old.

"Nice Mustang," Shawn complimented, pointing to the vehicle. "Yup, it's the only good thing that's happened tonight." John sighed. Shawn turned around to see Cameron being chased. Evidently, Randy made himself run slower. "I heard about you two guys coming in at four in the morning." Shawn said, "So what was Eric's retribution?" John leaned on the hood of the car and crossed his arms. "We have to drive from here to L.A. starting right now." John informed. Shawn was nearly speechless, "John, right now is tonight. It's half past eleven. You boys might as well drive tomorrow morning." John shook his head. He adjusted his cap and spoke, "We have to leave tonight so we can at least exit New York before morning rush hour." Shawn nodded and Randy came up to them. "Shawn, Cameron's getting faster ever considered track and field for the kid?" They all laughed before Cameron asked his dad to carry him and bring him home. "Well, I'll see you guys on Saturday." He said, "Now say bye-bye to your uncles, Cameron." Cameron waved. "Buh-bye Unkie Wandy, Buh-bye Unkie-" John was from Smackdown and since Shawn was from RAW the three-year old hardly ever saw the Dr. of Thuganomics. Shawn whispered into the boy's ear and the next second later, "Buh Bye Unkie John!" They both waved goodbye as John and Randy watched them go. "Ha, he said my name right." John scoffed.

John walked around the car to the driver's side but before he could get in Randy blocked his way. "Uh-uh, my rental so I'm driving." John groaned defeated. Randy smiled and told John to place his bags in the trunk. Randy revved up the engine and even John couldn't help himself. He was impressed.

John slid into the passenger's seat before they took off from Stamford Connecticut. John looked through his CD collection, "Jay-z, Eminem, Snoop Dogg, Twista, Busta Rhymes, ah Ludacris!" Randy groaned. He was more of a rocker than a rapper. "Come on, man! I could listen to my iPod but it's better when the sound's coming from everywhere." John claimed. "Fine, but keep it low." John shoved Randy on his good shoulder and Randy jerked the car. "Shit," John said, readjusting his red and black Nixon cap. Randy chuckled and his best friend glared at him. The car was from the 60s but whoever fixed it up must have been one of those guys from 'Pimp My Ride' only the team had a tight budget. The car's interior was pretty much the same with the original version but this one had one hell of a CD player and sound system. Other than that everything was the same.

Ludacris was in the middle of "Act a Fool" when Randy's cell phone rang. He read the ID and answered, "Hello?" He said, he could hear a faint sound but John's music was too strident, "Hello?" Randy tried once more. There was still no reaction. Randy turned the knob of the stereo down to John's dissatisfaction. "Eric, what's up?" Randy asked. After hearing the boss' name John kept quiet and even turned the volume down further. "I should be asking you. What's with all that noise?" Randy almost laughed. Now, there was something they both had in common. "It's just John- you know, him and his music." The third-generation superstar explained. "Well, I called up to tell you that you two aren't going to be alone in this expedition." Randy could almost visualize Eric's sneaky smile forming in his face. He always chose those words hardly anyone used. It's as if he had a thesaurus with him every single time garbage came out of his mouth. "What are you trying to say, Eric?" John was mouthing something to Randy but Randy was too bemused to understand either of them. "It's just simple addition, Randy Orton." Eric said cleverly. Randy just wanted to yell at Bischoff and tell him to get to the point. "Two plus two is four. Right now there are two superstars in that car and after you pick the other two up at The Hilton you'll be four." Randy felt insulted and aggravated. He didn't need to be spoken to as if he never took up first grade math. "They know they're penalized but they don't know who's coming with them. And so do you, boys." Eric said cunningly. "So we won't find out until we ask them? Eric, just tell me. Who are we going with?" Randy asked. There was a long pause, "That's for me to know and you to find out." How cliché can you get?

As they were entering Greenwich Randy told John about what The Bisch said. "So who do you think it is?" John asked. Randy shrugged his shoulders. John turned the volume down and spoke, "Maybe it's Austin- he likes to drink and get wasted, right?" Randy shook his head. "Nah, Austin's in LA already and besides who's brave enough to go into a pub with Stone Cold?" John agreed and thought some more. "That Chris Masters dude, he's kind of like you, man." Randy turned to John as if the Boston local had grown a second head. "Masters is a condescending asshole who talks a lot of bullshit. If you think we have any similarities I might have to kick your ass, John."

John was thinking. Eric said superstar- not necessarily a wrestler. Maybe it was an announcer, a manager, maybe even a diva. The possibilities were pretty extensive. It could be Simon Dean and Maven. Who knows, maybe Adam Copeland and Amy Dumas. That wouldn't be so nice. It could be Conway and Grenier; they were practically inseparable. How much fun could they have if it was The Hurricane and Rosey? It could be anyone, okay maybe not Triple H. Vince would never do such a thing to his son-in-law.

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"Bischoff is such a nosy jerk." Trish complained, falling down on one of the many couches in the hotel lobby. "I know. We could be spending the next few days shopping. Instead we have to take this ridiculous road trip. I doubt it if we can ever make it to LA in time!" Stacy cocked her head to the side as did Trish. "LA's like a kazillion miles away! I can't miss my match against Christy." Trish was on the verge of being whiny. "You know what I need?" Trish's face lit up. "What," Stacy asked. "I need to get in that bar!" Stacy couldn't even respond. Trish almost literally dragged her into the place.

Trish sat on a barstool and her best friend sat sluggishly beside her. "Come on, cheer up!" Trish encouraged. Stacy shot her a feeble smile, making Trish give up on her. Trish asked for a Cosmopolitan while a middle-aged man tried to invite Stacy over to his table. Stacy politely declined.

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Randy was entering White Plains in New York when a car behind them swerved by. Randy lost control of the vintage car for a second, causing his wallet to fall on the floor. "Jackass," Randy grumbled. He picked up a few dollars beside his Nike Airs and stuffed them in his pocket. The cars were moving pretty hastily so the Legend Killer didn't have much time to pick up his wallet behind the brake pedal.

John popped in another CD and this time it was Tupac Shakur. "Wasn't it depressing?" John asked, listening to the first cut. "What was," Randy queried. "When Pac and Notorious B.I.G died. I mean, I was depressed- so depressed that it was the first time in my life I thought I'd kill myself." John confessed. Randy was taken aback. He wasn't expecting John to talk about suicide or death for that matter. "Honestly, I didn't think so. At the time I could care less about those guys but I guess it would be pretty wretched to have someone you idolize killed." Randy replied, stopping to a traffic jam. John fell silent. "John," Randy called out. John clenched his fists before speaking, "I shouldn't have told you about that. Not you."

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Trish was in the middle of her third Cosmopolitan when Stacy decided a little drink won't hurt her. She was about to order a shot of tequila when she heard two familiar Mexican voices. She turned around to face Eddie Guerrero and Rey Mysterio. "Hola, Como Estas?" Eddie asked. Stacy knew the basics of Spanish so she didn't have any difficulties absorbing the question, 'Hello, how are you?' Stacy smiled and spoke, "I'm fine but Trish will be a little intoxicated if she plans on keeping this up." The two friends laughed as Trish glared at them.

Stacy glanced at the screen of her phone and found a message from Eric Bischoff. "Hold on, guys." She told the two before checking on the text message.

Your drivers should be there in a few minutes. May I remind you: it could be anybody…

Stacy stuck out her tongue. Eric was always trying to form a conspiracy yet he always failed to make the impression of cunning and underhanded. "What was that about?" Eddie asked, noticing the look on the pretty blonde's face. Stacy's eyes lit up. It had to be them!

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Randy drove up to the front of the prestigious five-star hotel and climbed out of the shiny convertible. The top was down but the car still looked pretty incredible. A valet- about a foot shorter than the majestic St. Louis native, asked for the keys to the Mustang. Randy smirked and shook his head, "Don't even think about it." He pocketed the keys and entered the hotel.

Randy wasn't vexed about causing traffic in front of the place. It was a two-way lane, plus The Bisch said the two superstars would be waiting for them at the lobby. How hard was it to find two faces you see practically everyday?

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"Eddie, Rey, you two guys are taking us to Los Angeles!" Stacy exclaimed. Trish almost spat out her drink. The two blondes loved the idea of a road trip with two life-loving Latinos. Eddie and Rey turned to each other, confused. "Can you believe Eric? He's sending us to the middle of nowhere just because we went past curfew. What are we anyways, teenagers?" Trish nagged. Eddie shook his head as the five-foot-six luchador laughed quietly. Stacy noticed it but Trish continued her rant. Trish stopped when everyone burst out laughing. "Huh," was all the Canadian could say. "We're not the ones you're talking about." Eddie said, "Besides, we don't go past curfew. We don't go to the disco like you young people. We have la familia to think about, you know what I'm saying?" Rey nodded in agreement.

Trish sighed and fell back to her stool. She drowned the last bit of alcohol into her system before asking for one more. "Thanks anyways, guys. You're right. You guys have families and they wouldn't want to hear about you partying." Stacy said. The two Latinos smiled and waved goodbye but before they could go outside Stacy called out, "Oh, and guys, discos are so 70s"

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Randy and John searched for any familiar face. Unfortunately there wasn't much luck on their side to help them out. "Where the fuck could they be?" John groused. He knew the trip was already as demanding enough as it is. They certainly didn't need two other superstars holding them back. "Don't ask me." Randy retorted, walking over to the hotel receptionist.

"Hello Sir, Welcome to The Hilton New York. How may I help you?" She asked. She was one cheerful lady- surprisingly, at twelve midnight. "Hi, I'm wondering if you have any wrestlers checked in." Randy inquired. She adjusted her earpiece before she spoke to the wrestler. "I'm sorry sir but we don't give that kind of information." She answered. It was obvious she memorized it from the 'receptionist's handbook'. "Next please," she gestured for the old lady behind the two. "Wait, hold on a sec. In case you don't know I'm a wrestler so technically I'm not going to be a problem for the ones checked in here." She shook her head. "Sir, I'm very sorry but we don't give away that kind of information. If you have an ID specifying your profession then I will consult the management." She was really getting on Randy and John's nerves. Randy clenched his fists in order to control his anger. "Look here…Martha," Randy read from her name tag, "I don't have much time. I've got a 1965 Mustang Convertible waiting for me outside and the biggest event of the year is in six days and I have to fucking drive through God knows where to get there. Now, please, tell me if there are any wrestlers in this goddamn hotel."

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'Wait there a second! I know these boys." Eddie cried to the six security guards who were attempting to throw John and Randy out of the hotel. Randy turned to John with a small grin on his face. John smiled, he got the picture. The security guards let go of the two and stood behind them with their arms crossed. "What's going on?" Rey asked. "Thank God you guys are here. We've been looking for you and Randy, over here, got so pissed off with the receptionist, which explains these guys." John sighed, pointing to the beefy men behind them. Randy shook his head. He knew he could be such an ass at times. Rey was about to say something but Randy's sudden clap interrupted him, "So let's go!" Eddie and Rey could tell they were as happy as Stacy and Trish when they believed the two Latinos were going with them. "I hate to break it to you but we're not the people you're looking for." Eddie reported, chuckling along with his best friend.

"Great," Randy said sarcastically. "But do you guys have any idea… I mean, you two probably know who's in the hotel." John was optimistic they did and by the way they acted prior to the 'false alarm excitement' earlier it seemed like they knew something. "Actually, esse, we do know your two new friends." Eddie was on the verge of hilarity. "You know what, they're in the bar so why don't you go meet them." Rey added. Both boys knew something was shifty. Why were these two people such a big deal for Eddie and Rey?

Well, it made them more energized to find out.

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Stacy answered her little silver cell phone, "Rey," She said. Trish tried to listen closely but Stacy waved her off with her hand. "Uh-huh. So they're coming to the bar. Okay, I'll try to keep and eye on the door. Yes, Trish is fine and no way will she ever drive in the next forty-eight hours. Okay, see you. Bye." Stacy ended the call and turned to her friendly companion. "They're coming so you better lay off the drinks." Trish rolled her eyes, "Gladly, mother."

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It didn't take John a second to figure out who the other two employees The Bisch were talking about. He looked straight at the bar where he found Stacy Keibler ready to barf. Trish was too busy flirting it up with the bartender she hadn't realized her best friend, who was now pale and speechless, nearly falling off the barstool. Randy, on the other hand, was on a record for the longest row of invectives muttered under one's breath. He was ready to go back to Stamford so he could kick Bischoff's ass and dump him down one of the many manholes of New York City. John looked at Randy: red and incessantly swearing. Stacy: pale, speechless and literally on the edge of her seat. Trish: kind of sleepy-looking but still as beautiful as ever. All he knew for sure was that no matter what happens this so-called joyride will be one hell of a trip… Just not sure whether it's a good hell of a trip or a bad hell of a trip.

Author's Note: How was it? Please read and review... I'd love to hear your comments and if you have any suggestions just tell me I might use them. Thanks. -pancakes