new update, here you guys go, how awesome is Raw at the moment, Money In The Bank was just as awesome, although my favourite otp's were officially broken, thanks a lot WWE!
Here's Chapter 4 guys, enjoy, fav/follow/review/SPREAD THE WORD
Phoebe tried denying what she saw for many different reasons, one being she thought Amy was genuinely a nice person and saw the best in Punk, something Phoebe did not; two, Punk didn't need this right now, he was a focused wrestler with the WWE Championship and he was in love, anything Phoebe said about what she saw would be pointless, who was he going to believe, his long term girlfriend who he's known from over a decade, or a 20 something assistant who he's only known for a week? Three, she wanted to believe it was just the one time and something Punk would forgive and forget, somewhere inside of her she knew how hurt Punk would be and the thought twisted her insides. No one deserves to be cheated on, have their heart stomped on after putting all their trust in one person … but she needed to tell him, it wasn't a case of not wanting to or didn't want to, she had to.
By the time she reached down to the lobby, she had realised that she had held everyone up, they were going to be late and most importantly, she was going to tell him. After the match perhaps, she didn't want it to affect him during the match, emotionally.
"What took you so long?"
Phoebe sat in the front passenger seat, giving Punk privacy so he could change into his ring gear.
"Sorry Punk, it won't happen again, let's go," luckily the driver knew certain detours, the drive to the arena was quiet and it was driving her insane. She kept contemplating on whether it was the right thing to do, of course it was the right thing to do. Hands trembling and mouth dry, Phoebe unlocked her car door and rushed to open Punk's side – he had slipped on sweatpants and a Best In The World t-shirt but she knew he was wearing his ring gear underneath. Something stirred inside Phoebe, as an image of Punk in just his trunks flashed furiously in her mind.
"For fuck's sake we're late, could you hurry up please."
Phoebe noticed Punk getting agitated as she saw a sea of fans surrounding the arena, Punk would never get by without signing a few autographs and taking a few pictures but now was not the time, thinking quickly she threw him n hoodie and a pair of sunglasses, since the tattoos were covered Punk was good to go and walked around the hyperventilating fans without getting noticed.
As soon as the two got inside the arena, Punk jogged off without saying goodbye, preparing for a match he had against John Cena, a definite crowd pleaser. He sensed the awkward attitude from Phoebe but brushed it off, she was always strange and noticed it the moment he met her, Kofi's words echoed in his mind, she's a fan just us and the people in that arena. She was a creep and shitty assistant that's what she was.
She got us late into the arena, she clearly didn't know that much about wrestling and quite frankly she was sloppy and didn't know much about anything. Aside from the overbearing and suffocating assistant, he had to go find Cena, the WWE Creative Team weren't just quite finished yet with the babyface vs the underdog.
"Hey Punk, Stephanie wants to see you," a stage hand notified Punk and to be honest, he didn't know how to look at it, either creative thought of something creative for once, or .. well Punk didn't want to think about the or. Punk turned up the volume on his IPhone and made his way to Stephanie's office.
Let's see what you have for me bitch.
Phoebe stood idly by as she saw the end of John Cena vs CM Punk, Punk won and Cena rolled out of the ring, the GTS must've hit him pretty hard since it took John almost 5 minutes to get up from the floor and hobble up the ramp and back into the gorilla area. Punk shared a couple of words on how he was going to do the same thing at Summerslam and how he deserved the Championship, the usual Punk spiel to get the crowd screaming and whooping. Punk went to visit a couple of fans, having a chat and then decided to exit the main stage and walk into the gorilla were Cena was waiting.
"So you're going to GTS me at Summerslam then?" John winked, slapping Punk on the back, he immediately regretted doing since his hand was now soaked in sweat.
"Yeah I guess so," John noticed something was bothering him, he could tell during the match up that he was not in his usual sadistic, game mode – but just wanted the match to end as soon as possible.
"Buddy, what's wrong?" John asked, lowering his voice, he thought Punk was happy now that WWE had signed him as champion.
"Creative haven't told you yet?"
"Told me what?"
"Punk, I really need to talk to y…" Phoebe approached the two men, she couldn't help but noticed how sexy the two of them looked, while one in jean shorts flashed a charming grin, the other growled in frustration.
"We were having a private conversation and you interrupted us! Don't fucking interrupt me again, you – "
"Hey man, it's cool, leave the little lady alone. What were you telling me?" Punk didn't want to tell John while Phoebe was around, she wasn't someone he wanted in her life, not as friend and not even as an employee, this was none of her business and she would find out with everyone else, just like a fan.
"I'll tell you later," Punk said through gritted teeth, he walked away from John, while he cast a sympathetic look towards Phoebe, poor girl he thought.
"Punk, wait up, I have something important to tell you and I know you're angry at me right now but I have to tell you this," they had reached Punk's bus, Kofi was already inside and she knew all Punk wanted to do was just go inside and probably sink his teeth into a comic book. She repeatedly called his name but he made no effort to turn around, eventually he reached the door and flung it open and then slammed it shut as Phoebe made an attempt to enter the bus.
Would she try banging on the windows, like that would get his attention she bitterly thought; and before she knew it, the bus's engine roared and it began making its way out of the arena, setting off in the opposite direction, finally, I escaped that bitch, Punk thought.
The bus dropped Punk off by his apartment, thank god they were in Chicago because Punk really needed to see Colt, anyone, Amy preferably but she said she had some business to take care of with her band. He thought that he had proved his point already, he had supposedly "made it to the top" already - yet he knew he had spoke too soon when he left Stephanie's office. It wasn't even her idea, or any of the creative team – Punk betted on his WWE Championship that a certain superstar who just couldn't stand the fact that someone of his class had got the gold, a tattooed dirty kid who came from nothing, now had something that everyone else wanted.
Punk made his way up the flights of stairs, the block of apartments was simple and not something you'd expect a WWE Superstar slash Champion to live in, except, this is where Phil Brooks lived, where he lived next door to Colt Cabana.
"Colt, you in bud?" Punk knocked a little harder than usual, he was hoping for some more advice, on generally everything.
"No I'm not," Colt flung the door open and pulled Punk in for a hug, "How's my favourite tattooed motherfucker, or should I say, W – W – E Champion?"
"Shut up," Punk walked in, and embraced the familiarity that was Colt's apartment, clothes everywhere, a bra from one of Colt's random hook ups, film posters, podcast equipment, latest merchandise – it was safe to say, Colt was doing well for himself, on his own, without an assistant and creative team breathing down his neck.
"Crabbier than usual, I'll get the Pepsi's," Punk made himself comfortable on Colt's coach, putting his feet up and waited for Colt to return. It was only a couple of weeks ago he was contemplating leaving the WWE for good, spending time with family more and relieving him from all the stress of should I, shouldn't I.
He returned, a Pepsi in one hand and a Coke in the other, "I don't really know where to start."
"Then don't, hey by the way did you sort out your assistant problem?"
"Man, she is like a thorn in my backside, she's the least of my problems to be honest but if she wasn't around it would solve almost all of my problems. I bet she had something to do with the change in storyline." Punk had finished all of his Pepsi, and he was shaking – Colt immediately regretted bringing up the subject. He highly doubted that was the case, but Colt knew himself first-hand how frustrating the company could be, although he needed to change the subject, he couldn't help but feel intrigued.
"What's happening Phil, tell me?" Punk knew Colt only called him Phil when he was being 100% serious, zero shit type thing.
"CM Punk vs John Cena at Summerslam, CM Punk wins." Colt sat silently, patiently waiting for the catch, there was always a catch.
"Del Rio cashes his briefcase. I don't know why it's bothering me so much, I feel like I've just got the championship, and then I got it taken away from me, am I - overreacting."
"Yes, you are. But, you know, you're right, you only just got the championship and you're right, it's getting taken away from you I mean, after your win at Money In The Bank, like it's not fair and I get it – but you'll get it back. You'll be the WWE Champion for a long time, things will pan out the way you want, you just need to be patient, you know this."
Punk's body seemed to settle, and somehow he began cursing himself, why was he worrying over the littlest things, he even botched up his own match for god's sake. Colt was getting ready to respond when his door buzzed, walking over towards the door, he held down his buzzer. "Yeah, who is it?"
"Is this Colt?"
"Who wants to know?" Punk knew who's voice that was, and all calmness evaporated and was replaced by frustration and anger.
"Phoebe, Punk's assistant, there's just something urgent I need to tell him," Colt turned to look at Punk, who thought it would be fun to leave her in the pouring heavy rain, but then again, he'd have much fun screaming at her.
"Buzz her in," Punk whispered.
Couple minutes later the two heard a light knocking at the door, Punk heaved a sigh while Colt went to go get it, swinging it open, he was immediately surprised, in his head he was expecting a middle aged,, batty, moth ball smelling biddy – instead he came face to face with a gorgeous brunette, a short, wrinkle free red dress, with a black fitted blazer and 5 inch heels that made it so she was almost 6 foot, her legs just never seemed to end.
"Phoebe?" Colt spoke, shocked at the surprise in his own voice.
"You must be Colt Cabana, I loved your last podcast."
Colt couldn't wait to let her in, with an amazing front, there had to be an amazing behind, he held the door open a little more and in walked the petite assistant, she had gotten wet from the rain nevertheless, she still looked stunning in Colt's eyes.
You can't think about banging Punk's assistant, that would really piss him off, she doesn't seem like the one night stand type anyway.
Punk had stood up and was directly staring at Phoebe, he wasn't exploding , he wasn't screaming at her, he was calm. This had only scared Phoebe even more.
"You just couldn't stay away could you? You couldn't leave me alone for 5 minutes!"
"It is my job to make sure you're okay, and that I fulfil any needs or wishes you want!" Phoebe fought back, trying to steady her voice.
"Well what I want is that you leave me the fuck alone, instead you've turned into some psycho stalker who found my apartment! How did WWE even hire you anyway? You're just a dumb fan, what, are you obsessed with me or something?"
Phoebe was shocked, stunned, she had walked over here to tell him what happened in the hotel room, what she saw – yet here he was. Here he stood, the WWE Champion. No Phoebe, he's your boss, you have to swallow whatever pride you have and you bend over backwards for him, do whatever he wants you to do.
"Listen Punk, I - " Instead of listening to her, he strode over towards her, grabbed hold of her wrists and dragged her out of the room, down the flights of stairs and out of the building.
"What I want is for you leave me alone, what I want, is that you fuck off out of my life," he spoke through gritted teeth, pulling harder, tightening his grip.
He ignored Phoebe's attempts to escape his grasp and the slight whimpers and squeaks.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are not my friend, you never will be. You're my assistant, and that is all you'll ever be – if I want something, I'll tell you and when I tell you to leave me alone, you fucking do it. When I say I don't need you, I fucking mean it."
They reached the end of the stairs and Punk kicked open the building's main entrance door, grabbing hold of Phoebe's waist he flung her outside, he watched as her body hit the concrete and the rain pummeled onto her, soaking every inch of her body.
"See you Sunday, cunt."