Ch13

Honor

"Randy, pick up the damn phone. I'm starting to worry." I punch end on my screen then toss the phone on the bed behind me. It's four in the morning and Randy hasn't returned any of my texts or calls. Where is he?

Around twelve I decided to change out of the lingerie that I bought for tonight. I figured he would be too plastered to enjoy. Each time I phoned him he never answered so I guess he stayed with John. I roll over on my stomach and reach for my phone to text Avery:

Whatcha doing?

4:08A.M.

~Charisma

I WAS sleeping…don't you have Randy to fuck?

4:10A.M.

Magick Bananas 3

Well now you aren't and normally yes but he isn't here.

4:11 A.M.

~Charisma

Where is he? Punk's here…I'm sitting right next to him…

4:11A.M.

Magick Bananas 3

Idk. What does Punk have to do with anything?

4:11A.M.

~Charisma

He had dinner with John and Randy…duh

4:12 A.M.

Magick Bananas 3

What? He never mentioned Punk. Well where are they? He said he'd be ready for us to pick him up by one, and like ten centuries have passed we need to be in Richmond by tomorrow morning…

4:13A.M.

~Charisma

No we saw John about two hours ago, when we picked up Punk, Randy wasn't with him. Come to think of it…

4:14 A.M.

Magick Bananas 3

What?

4:14 A.M.

~Charisma

Nothing.

4:15 A.M.

Magick Bananas 3

Okay? I'll txt you in a bit, Randy is calling right now.

4:16 A.M.

~Charisma

"Where the hell are you?! Randy, you had me going insane in here… Now Rob's got to rush to get us to Richmond."

"Come get me. I'm at the Best Inn next to the arena…" he scoffs on the other line then it dies.

At almost five in the morning the door to the bus flies open and Randy growls something to Rob. He then stomps to the rear of the bus where I am, lying in his bed. Since I am a light sleeper I hear him rustling about the room but I stare at the window thankful he didn't cut on the lights. He slides in the bed behind me pulling me into his arms. "I don't know what I've gotten myself into with you Honor. I hate you, because you make me want to go back on every promise I've ever made my wife. … the bad thing is: I hope I don't somehow manage fuck this up."

I don't move until all the tension in his body drains and his breathing is even and relaxed. Wriggling my way out of his embrace I turn and curl up into a ball on the far side of the bed. He knows I heard him. He knew I wasn't sleeping just yet but I was ignoring him. The rest of the morning I try to drift off but Randy's tossing and fussing prevent me from fully drowning into the sea of dreams.

"You look like Hell." Punk has pulled off his headphones and is now looking down at me while he's stretching by jumping up on top of one the stage crates, warming up his body he's in the dark match up tonight.

"Gee! You sure do know how to make a girl's panties wet, don't you?" Half of a smirk lightens my face. "I thought you would be gone by now…wait, never mind."

"I am 'Chick Magnet Punk'," he chuckles using his fingers as quotes. Quickly examines my face then unfolds himself and jumps down from the crate. "How did your match go? I didn't see it but I heard it was pretty mediocre for a bunch of rookies."

"Is that what the C-M stands for?" I goad him before answering, "The crowd wasn't exactly welcoming, that was to be expected, but all in all I guess it was okay. Avery is still having some trouble…"

"Girly I got your bag," Avery crashes into me hugging me from behind. "You're riding with us tonight. Hey Punk is it okay if we head on to the bus?"

"No you guys wait for me." He says to her flatly. Changing the subject quickly she turns to me, "Okay," I wanted to say this earlier but those bags look atrocious," she girls mocks me by cringing.

"I know, Randy kept me awake all night..." Punk and Avery exchange knowing glances, misinterpreting my words, "Get your minds out of the gutter, nasty. That man does not know how much he speaks during his sleep." I rub my eyes, "He did say something that was fairly intriguing though."

"I'll be in the locker room if you need me darlings," Avery hastily retreats down the cluttered hall, realizing what I'm getting at.

"What would that be?" Punk smiles naughtily, forcing the dimple on the right side of his face to pucker. He knew just as well as Avery that I'm fishing for something, the question is will he give me the answers.

"What did you say to him last night?"

"That is none of your business… but I will say that I did derive a particular pleasure in delivering him his ass in the form of a verbal bitch slap."

"You two just can't help yourself can you?" I shake my head, "You two are always down each other's throats…about what? I'm not trying to establish world peace but can you two try to get along?"

"Highly unlikely, considering I'm a jerk and Randal is a ginormous prick." He tilts his head back, staring straight at me and gives me a jeering chuckle.

"Sometimes I have no clue which of you is worse. After you guys I'm exhausted," I dramatically punctuate that remark by play fainting.

"You're leaving me wide open to assumptions Honor…" a full-fledged grin swallows his face offsetting the dimple at the right side of his boyish face once again.

"Whatever it's almost time for you to get out there… good luck!" I give him a quick hug.

"Luck is for losers," he ruffles my hair because he knows I hate it, "You should know that, kid."

"Way to be a narcissist, your DVD?" I ask sitting Indian style on his bed towards the back of the bus. The thick cloud of fluff on my head has now been parted into thirds and I am pulling a wide flat iron through a section of hair. Avery was helping me until she opted to go to bed. I worked my way through half of my hair while we watch some Bret Hart classics and stuff on the Four Horsemen.

"It's been three and a half hours from the time you got out of the shower until now, how is it that you aren't finished with your hair yet?"

"I'm black." Through the mirror I smirk at the scruffy man lounging on the bed behind me, with his hands folded behind his head. Between us lies a small stack of comics that one of the guys gave him before we left the show.

"And here I was thinking you had an extremely nice tan…"

"Meanie. I have super thick curly hair and it requires some TLC, particularly since I wear my own hair most of the time. Usually it takes longer for me to get to this point," I say picking up the second flat iron and glide it through the wavy strands on my right side. "You mean you don't wear a weave, or whatever you call it. And why do you need two of those things?" all I can do is smile at his complaints because he doesn't want to understand why it takes me forever with my hair. The smell of cooking hair and smoke fills the air. I'm used to the smell because it's a necessity during this process. I shouldn't be enjoying hanging out with Punk this much, "It does not take this long to do hair." He rolls his olive green eyes incredulously then adjusts himself on the bed. "Not even Alicia, Cameron, or Naomi take this long backstage."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"They wear weaves, Punky Boo," I chuckle.

"Eww… don't call me that. Ever. Again." Yet again I giggle and return my full attention to my hair, watching through the mirror. Punk explains some of the inner workings and in-ring psychology taking place on the footage for the better part of another couple of hours.

"Phillip!" I scream his name and jump on him feigning an elbow drop, laughing as my random screech alarms him.

"What are you yelling for?" He had been so entranced with the match on the screen; he failed to notice that I still existed or that I used his legal name for that matter. "Your voice carries!"

"I'm finally done…you stopped talking." I watch Jeff Hardy climb a ladder and dive into a perfect execution of the Swanton Bomb onto a vulnerable CM Punk, whom is lying on the Spanish announce table. The match we're looking at occurred some years ago at Summer Slam of '09. "What is wrong?"

"Huh, oh nothing I just saw a spot. I didn't notice it before…" He scratched his arm then looked over at me.

"Okay," I stretch out beside him, relishing the softness of his comforter, my body melting into the firmness of the mattress, "God, I am like seriously in love with this bed. I could sleep for days…"

"Too bad, that is why I have bunks." He arched an eyebrow at me, and then flexes his bicep. He didn't have a shirt on, just a pair of cargo shorts.

"Yeah, I'm gonna stay right here sir."

He doesn't say anything for a long while, so I start to play with my long locks eventually almost drifting off down the river of sleep.

"I am going to make this very clear, I am not about to have sex with you," I shoot up laughing at the absurdity of the comment.

"I'm highly offended, no dinner and a movie first. I am not easy, mister. Where did that come from?"

"I know exactly where this is going… you're a highly talented and attractive woman but sleeping around won't get you very far and I don't do sex with random chicks, ever."

"Random chicks? When did I become some random chick?" That was more of a statement than a question, "You really think that I'm here to fuck you, just to get to secure a permanent spot on the roster?! When has that ever worked?" for a moment a dumbstruck expression consumes my face then it is followed by an ireful glare. "You are supposed to be 'Best in the World' right?" I ask, jabbing him in the chest. Instantaneously he pulls out of my reach. "We both know I'm far from stupid. If I wanted what is in your pants, I would have it. Make no mistake Punk if I wanted an easy route, Orton is putty in my hands. Easy is not what I am looking for." He's the last guy I'd have thought would accuse me of this. "You have no idea what I am capable of."

"Do you hear yourself? You sound exactly like a whore…" Punk grabs me crudely, and places me on the bed far away from him. He's scowling with his cheeks burning red, "This is what I get for trying to help, huh? I get used. You are no better than some of the bitches that have come through this company in the past."

"No I'm not. I am something else altogether, do not group me with those women," I crawl away from him frowning. Punk stares at me heavily, his mouth thinning out into a line, "Punk, chill out I'm only playing with you." I start cackling like a witch at his reaction, "So Avery must be doing the same thing eh… You are guilty of playing the same game you attempt to deter Randy from and the same thing you chide me for; I can read it on your face," I pause as he fumes, beckoning him back to the bed as I remove myself from the soft bed on my way to the bunks to join Avery. After this I'm more than likely not allowed on his bus ever again. Oh well.

He blew a gasket, his face was rabid. "You don't know anything! Now you are speaking out of your ass Honor. Don't you dare try to turn this around on me. I don't hav anything to do with how much dick you suck to get what you want." I glare at him, waiting for him to finish his rant. "You are just another slutty wanna-be wrestler who fucks her way to the top. At the rate you're going I don't expect you to be here very fucking long, even if you do succeed getting to the championship spot. Filthy bitch."

Before anything nastier leaves his mouth, he slams the door in my face then I storm to the front of the bus for the remainder of the night.