Published September 2011; This didn't come from the public Beyond The Mat roleplay website. This came from elsewhere; Randy's character with another writer's OC diva character were in a long-term relationship. This relationship's beginning can be found in our story "Ladies, Do Not Let RKO Buy You Anything". The near-meltdown with Hunter is in "Intricacies of an ugly breakup." It ended badly, and this is the 'official cleanup', how Randy handled things at home. Some might think it was an "I don't give a fuck" attitude. Quite the contrary. But it is easier to remain behind an emotional wall.

Reviews welcome. This is also being published for our current, public Beyond The Mat players and followers to understand our Randy a bit better; this breakup was recent.

Well, they hadn't needed him. Randy had given Eve the date of when shit was going down and to be honest, he half-expected, maybe half-hoped she'd have shown up to assist on this. But that hope was probably fucked up. Because then shit could've gotten bad real fast. They'd been keeping their distance and that's how it should remain. Unless she brought a cop with her to protect both of them from he said/she said, yeah, it's better she doesn't show up.

Might've been nice to see her, though, he thought to himself.
STUPID! STUPID! NO! It's OVER, it's DONE, the FUCK are you thinking?other thoughts came in, berating himself. No, he wasn't wishing her back, he just wished that they'd parted on better terms.

Her abandoning her shit here though put him at a liability.

You ain't a free storage bin.
Fuck you, I'm not even thinking like that.
Her shit's here, guess who's responsible for it? Even the attorney said this is the only way

Conflicting thoughts, then the voice of reason stood out. Yes, the attorney said this is the only way.

Randy heard the beeping of the flatbed backing up into the driveway. The flatbed was from a local repair/wrecker place, not the movers themselves. Randy went out to go watch the flatbed driver get the Rover onto the bed. Now, had Randy been an asshole, he'd have called for a "hook," the simple tow truck that simply lifts one end of a vehicle and drags it on 2 wheels. Luxury vehicles suffer when treated that way.

So a flatbed it was.
Wasn't cheap, either.

Never let it be said that he was a fucking asshole about how things went down. From having the presence of mind to consult with the attorney, to basically -giving- her a settlement (property)...the only woman who'd ever "profited" more off of him was Sam. And Sam gave him 2 children over many years. Eve gave him, what exactly?

A hell of a year. Ups and downs, but then leaving her shit here, for him to clean up the mess. For him to deal with.

Yes, he was a dominant man, and yes, he liked being in control of shit, but was realizing that he had left himself way too wide open for trouble.

And maybe it would've been nice to have felt like every now and again, he was being taken care of, more so than being the caretaker. He'd never be 50/50 with -any- woman, but even 70/30 might've been nice.

He knew that should there be another serious relationship, it would have to be with a woman who had more of a normal life. Who wouldn't be sneaking around making videos with some fucking guy spilling ice cream and whipped cream on him and shit. Who wasn't singing songs that some rumored were about Randy. Who wasn't seeking attention lke that. Who hadn't fucked Batista. Who just...wanted to be part of his life, but not compete with him on certain levels.

Sure, Randy had a lot of conquests. Didn't mean he wanted his female partner to have that sort of vast experience. If Eve had told the truth (and he suspected she hadn't) about only having 3 partners prior to Randy, well, Dave counted as 15 by himself. Randy had seen that forearm passing itself off as Dave's dick in the locker room.

Sure, Randy wanted to make more movies and DVDs. But didn't want to feel like there was some sort of competition going on. That if he had a photoshoot, his girl would have to have bigger and better. It wasn't fucking healthy. At all.

He thought of his parents. No, Cowboy and Mom, they were too different. She was tethered to Florissant by her job in those days. Same went for Ted and Kristen. But Ted seemed to have hit a secret formula. Somebody who travels with us but who isn't doing what the fuck we do. Who isn't seeking attention. Cody seemed to be doing fine, holding his own, but Cody was private like that. Was he banging Layla anymore? Didn't know. Didn't ask. Wasn't like Layla came over here, so Randy had no insider knowledge on this. He did NOT want to end up like Cena, banging rats once a year like birthday sex because nobody was putting out in relationships.

He watched as the Rover left on the flatbed and went back in the house, to find that the movers were now transitioning all boxes downstairs. The foyer was holding many boxes already and there were only a few more trips upstairs before they started loading the truck.

It was almost over.

And...now it was over.

The guys had packed the truck and Randy had signed the paperwork stating that he'd been present for this leg of the job. The packing of the belongings as inventoried and the packing of the truck. This covered Randy's ass, basically, this paperwork. Disreputable companies don't even offer this to sign. It wasn't a paper that said "They packed the shit and nothing broke". No, it was simply "They packed the shit."

Anything that might break is covered by the movers' insurance.

None of the movers took a ride on the stairs or walkway, which meant Randy's homeowners insurance wouldn't need involvement. Yet another reason to work with a company with a good reputation.

He thought about moving companies like wrestling companies. Work with the 'E, and those are the optimal conditions, given the nature of the business. Work with a shitty company like TNA, that's gonna be the company full of felons and druggies and thieves and shit.

Randy had called ahead to the front desk at what was now going to be the condo under Eve's sole ownership, once the last belonging touched the ground, so maintenance would go up with the building's set of keys to let the movers use the freight elevator as well as let them in. The flatbed had already dropped the Rover off at the unit's assigned parking space. The keys to the Rover were given to the concierge, who would give them to the movers to leave on the table inside the condo.

Everything was above-board.
Nothing had been done in a shady manner.
There was no room left to question how shit had been run. It had been top of the line. No running around to liquor stores begging for boxes, no asking buddies to come help, no spitefulness.

Simply, professionalism. Legal methods employed.

While he might be white trash at heart, when it came to certain shit, even white trash, when they had the money, could buy advice on how to do shit properly. That's what he'd done, that's how it went.

The movers called Randy 2 hours later to let him know that all boxes were off the truck, now in the unit, and the keys to the vehicle (which wasn't the moving company's responsibility, but was a courtesy) were on the kitchen counter, "Which is more visible than a table."

The condo had been locked up and the keys to the unit left as instructed.

It couldn't have gone any better.

Damn shame it ever had to go at all, but such is life.