i am so sorry i started a new story, I just couldn't help myself, this idea has been nagging me and poking me at the back of my mind - i don't know if you guys think this will be a good story, check it out first and see what you think. i'll continue with my other stories as best as i can, thank you lovelies and enjoy the story :)))) review/follow/fav
Monday July 25th 2011
"But Paul, I don't need an assistant, I am capable of achieving things on – my - own you know, just because – "
"You're the WWE champion doesn't mean you should get an assistant I know, I get that, but it's in the contract, right there in black and white. Mr McMahon has said so himself and right now, it looks like I'm not always gonna be here with you for very long, until creative think of something else."
"I don't care what old man Vinny has to say – and I know this new storyline with Brock and Triple H is your main focus and I don't really care, do what you want but I'm not having a goddamn assistant that's going to follow me around like a fucking dog. Fuck that."
Ruby Soho came blasting through Punk's headphones as he grabbed his WWE Championship title and threw it over his back, lugging it as he made his way out of the arena. A week had passed since his win over John Cena, his voice had been heard my millions, his passion and desire to wrestle on live television, and of course to own Vincent K. McMahon's ass. His grudge against the suit had been planted ever since his best friends had gotten fired from the company, for no legitimate reason or explanation from the big man himself, he wanted to make him pay, he wanted to walk out. Did he? No he didn't – he wanted to be the WWE Champion and shove it up Vinny's asshole, he didn't want to win the championship belt for more fame, fortune and fans – he wanted recognition, he wanted to do what he loved, he wanted change. How was he supposed to change anything when a stupid pencil skirt wearing suit was going to follow him around all day? If Punk wanted coffee, he's get it himself, if he wanted his arse wiping, he would do it himself.
The cool night air nipped at his skin as he made his way towards the hotel room he was staying at – the only thing that was keeping him sane these past few months was Amy, the firey red head would be waiting on his bed for him, ready to give him a hug and kiss as soon as he strolled in. The thought caused a smile to tug at his lips, he was a lucky man, wrestling always came first and Amy understood that perfectly, she occasionally would come along with him on his tours when she wasn't busy promoting her radio show or touring with her band.
"Hey Phi – shit, what's wrong?"
Punk threw his belt across the room like it was trash, along with his gym bag. Clenching his jaw, Punk swivelled round to see Amy perched at the end of the bed, her face etched with innocence and concern.
"They want me to have a fucking assistant following me around all day. I thought once I became champion, I would have more freedom to speak my mind about things and change whatever the hell I wanted to change, but no – I didn't sign up for this shit! More appearances on talk shows and radio's, more pointless interviews from people who know nothing about wrestling – I could live with a tour bus and jet and the meet and greet with fans, but there has to be a fucking limit!"
Amy's brows furrowed, a soothing arm wrapping itself around Punk's tattooed one.
"You need to relax, why is it so bad to have one? It will save you from doing little insignificant things and leave you to concentrate on bigger and better stuff, look I know it goes against every fibre in your body, but it's a sacrifice you're going to have to make. You know that, I know that, and unfortunately they know that – if it means you get to keep the gold then you're just gonna have to swallow your pride and suck it up. It's the easy way, but you've had way worse happen to you, this is supposed to help you. Just thinking about it, don't make a decision right now, just relax Phil, you should be happy, that championship is all you've ever wanted."
Punk heaved a sigh, everything that came spilling from Amy's mouth was right. The thought just made his insides squirm and cringe internally – this certainly wasn't what he signed up for.
"Amy, I don't want to turn into one of those corporate bastards, everyone one of them has an assistant."
"You're not one of them and you never will be. I know you Phil," Amy spoke softly, caressing his scratchy beard.
"They're not trying to punish you, they're honestly trying to help the new WWE Champion, you're reading way too much into this."
Phil released himself from Amy's grasp and made his way towards the hotel bathroom, shutting the door in the process. Punk ran a hand through his tousled hair, sweat speckled on his forehead. What was really bothering him? The prospect of change – scared him, he was no longer that dirty punk kid that everyone avoided like he was trash, he went from wrestling in his backyard to becoming the W – W – E Champion.
"Phil, come on out, come to bed," Amy's voice snapping Punk out of his thought, echoing around the hotel room and into the bathroom.
"It's not like I'm going to sleep anyway," Punk grinned calling out – he splashed cold water onto his face, stripping down to his shorts before getting into firm hotel bed. Automatically Amy's head rested on his shoulder as his wounded around her tattooed arm and hers snaking around his bare torso.
"It'll be okay Phil, you have nothing to worried about," her voice barely audible in the dark, Punk responded by tightening his grip around Amy as she snaked hers around his torso. He heaved a heavy sigh, this was going to be another sleepless night and tomorrow was going to be another frustrating day.
Tuesday 26th July 2011
Phoebe wasn't expecting to get a call back on this job, it's not what she wanted and it was certainly very unexpected, she had initially signed up for creative writer and instead landed a job assisting WWE Champion – this had not only sent her career back a few steps but it had also meant that she would be leaving her family for something she wasn't entirely happy with. Creative writing would've meant travelling the word and creating storyline enticing millions of viewers, instead she would be running around fetching coffee and organising flight bookings for the rich and famous.
She wasn't as enthusiastic when she saw that John Cena was the champion, however Money In The Bank rolled over thus sparking an interest to stay, she was a fan but it wasn't the only reason – she figured if she stayed long enough maybe she could work her way up to the top. It made sense that she didn't get the job she initially wanted, she had just finished university and had hardly any experience, you could even go so far as to say she was lucky they had even offered her an alternate. Stephanie and Paul were extremely kind to her on first visit, for confidentially reasons they never told her who she'd be assisting, but now she knew and even though this job wasn't ideal it still gave her a buzz of excitement, not only will she be working for a company she admired, she would be working for CM Punk.
Punk had just managed to fit in a quick work out, nothing too strenuous or intense, just some lifts and a good 30 minutes on the cross trainer. The thought of having an assistant had washed over him, he hadn't give it much thought according to Paul he was supposed to be meeting the lucky bitch today.
Stephanie Levesque kissed her teeth and tapped an impatient foot as she waited for the straight-edge superstar to walk through the door. For some bizarre reason Paul had the utmost respect for the greasy haired kid, whereas Stephanie begged to differ, there feelings weren't exactly mutual and she felt sorry for Phoebe who would have to be stuck with the moody prick. Punk wasn't at all respectful to many people which worried her seeing as she knew Phoebe would eventually have a future within the company – she could potentially have the power to change Punk's future here. If it wasn't for Paul she would've hired her straight away for her to be part of creative team – but Paul had a valid point, she had absolutely no experience, she was a fish out of water regardless of her being a fan of the company.
"You took your time," the billion dollar princess snapped as Punk had his back turned towards her, he shut to door and turned to look at Steph.
"Always a pleasure Mrs H-H-H," Punk had a toothy grin stitched across his face, Phoebe sensed tension that made her squirm awkwardly, there intense gaze was almost mistaken for a stare down in the ring which caused her to clear her throat.
"Punk this is your assistant, Phoebe Walker," Phoebe stood up from her chair and strode over towards the 6ft tattooed wrestler holding her trembling hand out to shake, Punk took it briskly - Punk had to strain himself from rolling his eyes, she was clearly a fan and an awkward one at that.
"Mr Brooks, Punk, Sir, Phil, I –"
"It's Punk. My friend's call me Phil," He spoke, almost too bluntly, Stephanie bit the inside of her cheek, hoping that Phoebe was stronger than she looked, Phoebe slipped her hand out of his grasp and looked down at her feet.
"Have you been an assistant before?" Punk asked, and Phoebe shook her head. Great, Punk thought – an inexperienced, probably a college drop out looking for something easy.
"I'm pretty new to this, so I apologize in advance if I do something wrong or just mark out on you," Phoebe let out an awkward laugh in which Stephanie reciprocated only to be followed by a cold stare from Punk.
"Right you two, I should be off – I have a meeting with the Board of Directors so, Phoebe it was really great meeting you, good luck on your first day. Punk, always a pleasure," Stephanie set off walking out of her office, the clicking of heels slowly fading.
Phoebe tucked a lock of loose brunette hair behind her ear, waiting for Punk to say something, she felt as though Punk glare was burning a hole through her head. He let his gaze trail down the young woman, he had been distracted while Vinny's daughter was in the room but now he took the time to see who would be tagging along with him for the next few months. Her long, dark hair had been straightened it, it looked real but you never know – her makeup was subtle but noticeable and her attire was very predictable for an assistant. That didn't mean he didn't like what he was seeing. A cream coloured, silk blouse accompanied by a pencil skirt that rid up to her mid-thigh, with a blazer hugging her at the waist, no doubt those 5 inch stiletto heels were murdering her feet.
"Would you like me to get you some coffee, water – anything?" Phoebe's voice startled him and his eyes trailed back to look at her timid face, she had kept her distance away from him and had a notepad and pen ready in her hands. Phoebe noticed how tired looking CM Punk looked, she could see it in his body language and in his eyes.
"I need you to go find John Cena, and tell him to meet me at the catering area at 2," that seemed simple enough and easy, Punk hoped that she wouldn't fuck this up, Phoebe was a little startled but she was glad that there was no messing around and that they just got straight to business, she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He didn't at all seem enthusiastic about this whole arrangement, yet again – neither was she.
She had asked at least 7 different people if they knew where John Cena was, he was impossible to find and what had annoyed her even more was that Punk gave her no indication as to where he might be. The arena was like a goddamn maze, she kept looking out behind her and around her as she ambled her way down various corridors. Deciding on calling Punk she fished out her phone while walking, she began dialing the number Punk had given her until she slammed face first into some toned, tanned abs, she didn't have much time to respond she crashed into somebody.
Locking her phone she turned to stare at a pair of piercing blue eyes. He was incredibly tall, and not to mention – shirtless. She opened her mouth to apologize but was silenced by the cool, raspy voice of the Viper.
"Want to watch where you going?" Phoebe backed away a couple of steps, still quite shaken up from the encounter, she bit back a sarcastic comment and thought it was wise not to cause trouble on her first day. She then took notice of the man stood next to Randy Orton and was ecstatic to see that she finally found John Cena.
"Give her a break Orton, she looks new," Phoebe noticed that he rolled his eyes but then turned her attention to Cena.
"Phoebe," she outstretched her hand for John who willingly shook it, "CM Punk wanted me to tell you to meet him in the catering area at 2 o'clock, I believe he wants to discuss tonight's promo with you."
The second WWE Champion raised an eyebrow at her, he was surprised to see this girl as Punk's assistant, she must be having a blast with him, the thought alone made him laugh.
"Will do. So, you're his assistant huh? Where's my sexy assistant huh?"
Phoebe blushed immediately, but she swore she could hear Randy scoff at the comment.
"I believe it's because Punk won Money In The Bank, but I'm sure you'll be getting your very own assistant in no time."
"Wait, do you know the results for Summerslam?"
"Maybe."
Phoebe winked before she turned on her heel, walking away from the pair, smirking as they moaned as she left them hanging.
Randy turned towards her friend, chuckling while he spoke, "She's not gonna survive, she's too soft, and well, she's going to be the first victim of all of Punk's constant back lashes, moody and sarcastic comments. A nice girl like her shouldn't be here."
"Sorry Punk, it took me ages to find John Cena, but I did find him," Punk shrugged, acknowledging Phoebe's presence.
"That's nice." Punk blurted out instantly – he was obviously bust texting somebody or tweeting, god knows what. Phoebe stood waiting patiently for the Champion, she couldn't help but feel out of place but the feeling was brushed aside – it was her first day after all.
"Is there anything you'd like me to do Punk?" Phoebe asked politely after waiting in silence for 5 minutes.
"No, just leave me alone - why don't you walk around for a bit and I'll call you when I need you?" Punk ushered her out of the door and slammed the door shut as he returned back into his room. He needed someone familiar to talk to, not John, Miz, Daniel or Randy – Colt.
Meanwhile Phoebe couldn't help but feel a little flustered, and confused and maybe just maybe a little pissed off. The thought of getting paid to do nothing sounded delightful, yet she felt like an alien standing there on her own in place she wasn't at all familiar with.
"Hello again," Phoebe jumped, startled by the voice that came from behind her, she pivoted round to see John Cena leaning against the wall, he smirked as Phoebe gained back her composure.
"Punk kicked you out huh?" She responded with a nod, straightening herself out and wafting a few strands of hair out of her face.
"He's … different. I've never met a person like him, and I don't know if I'm warming to the idea, even though I'm a big fan. Guilty as charged."
"Punk didn't show you around, huh?" This time Phoebe responded by shaking her head.
"I've still got time before I need to meet Punk, why don't we grab a coffee and I'll show you around?" Phoebe took a moment to realise what John had just said, still wondering if she had heard him right.
"Relax, it's only coffee not a date, besides I'll bring some of the other superstars round if that makes you comfortable," that didn't make her comfortable at all, "Great, come on, if you're lucky I might treat you to a doughnut."
