Disclaimer, etc., in part 1.
Part Seventeen
She had no idea what she was doing.
Eve lay there quietly on the bed of her hotel room, the diva staring up at the ceiling as she tried to figure out just what in the hell was going on. In the past month, she had gone from reasonably happy as Jeff Hardy's manager to... This. Now, she couldn't stand the man. She was sick of his crap, she'd had enough of being around a guy who was drunk or drugged out something like half the time. Even tonight, before his match, when he'd looked at her, his eyes had been dilated beyond what they should, a sign he was probably on something again, and the thing was, Eve wasn't an idiot. She knew what drugs did to a person; she understood that the body built up resistance to drugs and alcohol, meaning it took more and more to get drunk or high or whatever and Eve also knew that Jeff Hardy had been doing drugs for quite a long while now, and well... She couldn't help but wonder what it took now. What it took for him to get that high he craved. How much he was actually doing now. How much his body could take.
The diva swore at that, covering her face with her hands, not sure what she could do about it. Call the cops on him? Maybe. But what kind of a sentence would he get for a first offense? His biggest hope was to get forced into rehab but, once again, how likely was that if it was his first offense? And how likely was it if he was only caught with whatever he carried on him? She didn't know where he carried his drugs or where his stash was, though she supposed she could guess. He had to keep it close. He had to carry it with him... Or maybe he just knew where to get it when he went from city to city. The way they traveled, constantly from town to town, flying out to the first city and flying home from the last one... He had to be careful when he was flying; the way the agents searched people's luggage, it had to be a lot more difficult to sneak drugs on board than it used to be. Or at least she thought it had to be. She didn't exactly know the ropes when it came to things like that.
And why in the hell was she suddenly worried about trying to find a way to help him now, after everything she'd seen him do? After the way he'd just left her at the side of the road... after the way that he'd threatened her in the locker room the next day... after the way he'd thrown her into the wall back on Monday... Why did she care at all? Was she just an idiot for still caring somewhere deep down inside?
"God, I'm going crazy," Eve muttered, rubbing her hands over her face, telling herself once more the truth of the situation: if Jeff didn't want help, then he wasn't going to be helped. And that was the truth of it, wasn't it? No matter how badly she - or anyone else - wanted to help him, they wouldn't be able to help him unless he wanted the help. Unless he was willing to put some effort into it and actually try to quit going down the path that he was on. The problem was that Jeff didn't want help. The fact that, back in 2002, he'd actually quite the WWE instead of going to rehab - or so she'd heard; she'd never actually had the guts to ask him and didn't figure he'd be honest about it anyway - well... That just showed how much he didn't want to stop and how long his problems had been going on. And after he'd come back from his sixty day suspension a year ago, she'd actually believed him when he'd said that he wanted to clean up his act. That he *had* cleaned up his act. Maybe, at the time, he'd even believed it himself. But as time had gone on, well... It had become clear to her that he wasn't as clean as he claimed to be, and he'd brushed off any attempts she'd made to help and then... She'd just sort of let it slide. That was on her, really. When she realized he was using again, she should have just said screw this and left. Found someone else to manage or something. So yeah, the fact that she was still managing him was on her. But that didn't mean what he'd done to her in the past month was her fault or that it was okay. Because his actions weren't her fault, and what he'd done *wasn't* okay. She knew that, she understood that. And she knew that what she did now was up to her.
If only she could decide what that should be.
Yes, she should ditch Jeff. She knew that... But part of her was still reluctant to do so. Not because she had any delusions that she would somehow save him from himself or that he would change, but because she wanted to pick her spot. She wanted to hurt him, to cost him, just as Jeff had hurt her. And if that made her a vindictive bitch, then so be it. But picking the right spot to get back at Jeff wasn't the only reason Eve was still going back and forth about how long to stick by him. She wanted to find a way to help make sure that CM Punk stayed the champion. She wanted to help him now, too.
And Lord, but she didn't know what she was getting into with CM Punk. She didn't know how it had gotten to this point... From him just being the guy that had helped her to him being the guy that she'd ended up kissing in a damned storage closet earlier tonight. What worried her the most was that she wasn't sure what would have happened if her back hadn't hit that shelf and she hadn't winced because of the stupid bruise on her shoulder. She liked to think that she would have put a stop to things before much longer, but really... She didn't know. She had no idea how long they would have been in there kissing if it wasn't for her shoulder, and she had no idea if it would have just been kissing. She liked to think that she would have kept her head enough not to let it go too far - because it was a storage closet for goodness' sake - but there was just something about Punk that made it hard for her to think clearly sometimes.
And that was just crazy. Eve Torres was *not* the kind of girl to lose her head over some guy. She never had been. She was logical. She made plans and stuck to them and... Well, she certainly hadn't been sticking to them when it came to working with Jeff Hardy, had she? Because a long time ago, she'd told herself that she would never in a million years let a guy treat her the way Jeff had treated her. And while Jeff wasn't her boyfriend, never had been, that didn't change the fact that she had made excuses for his behavior and let him treat her like crap for awhile before everything had gone into motion to put her where she was now. Because while it had shocked her to have Jeff leave her on the side of the road, she couldn't say he'd been treating her all that well before that, either. He'd even gotten to the point where he just expected her to cover for him when he was high or drunk or whatever. She'd fielded phone calls from his father, telling the man Jeff was sleeping when he was really puking his guts out after a night of too much drinking. Or he had a stomach bug when he really had a hangover. She'd freaking enabled the guy when she should have been telling him to deal with it himself. So no, Eve wasn't exactly doing things the way she'd had planned... And really, in the grand scheme of it all, she figured that what was going on with CM Punk wasn't as worrisome as what was going on with Jeff Hardy.
Grumbling to herself, the diva shook her head, then jerked at the sound of the knock on the door... Frowning a bit as she rolled off the bed, landing on her feet and making her way across the room. Since there were only two people in the company that she really talked to outside of the shows these days, she had to figure that it was one of them knocking on the door... And she couldn't exactly say she was surprised when it was CM Punk standing there. After all, before she'd left him in that storage closet, hadn't she told the man that she'd see him later? And hadn't he told her to 'count on it'? She shouldn't be surprised that he was here. Though she was a bit surprised to see that he was carrying what appeared to be a pizza box.
Quickly, she opened the door, arching a brow as she looked at him. He glanced up and down the hall - which was thankfully empty of coworkers, then lifted the box of pizza and the plastic bag in his hand.
"I come bearing food. And Pepsi, actually. So if you'll let me inside..."
"What kind of pizza?" she wanted to know, and he smiled slightly.
"I wasn't sure what you would like, so half of it's just cheese, and the other half has mushrooms and peppers and all the good stuff on it. So... You gonna let me in? Or do I have to sit and eat pizza in the hallway?" he asked, and Eve rolled her eyes before stepping back and letting him enter the room.
"How, exactly, did you get my room number this time?" the diva couldn't help but ask, and he smiled at her.
"Kelly thinks I'm good for you," was his only reply as he made his way across the room and put the pizza box down on the small table in the room, the man arching a brow as he watched Eve close and lock the door, the diva seemingly a little hesitant. Or maybe just uncertain. "I'm not going to jump you, you know."
She cleared her throat. "I didn't say you were."
"Well, you kind of looked like you thought I might," he replied, and Eve heaved out a sigh.
"I have no idea what I'm doing here," she told him as she crossed the room to the little table, the diva blinking when he pulled out one of the chairs, clearly intending for her to sit down on it. When she did, he eased the chair a bit closer to the table, then went around to the other side and took the second seat for himself.
"I don't know about you, but I'm planning to have some pizza. That's what I'm doing here," he said as he opened the pizza box, then frowned slightly. "No plates. Or silverware, for that matter."
"Yeah, well, pizza can be eaten with your hands," Eve replied as she carefully pulled a slice of cheese pizza away from the rest of it, setting it lightly on the open top of the box, which was what was closest to her. She blinked as a can of Pepsi was suddenly held in front of her face. She reached up and took it, then popped the top. "Thanks."
"No problem. So... I'm guessing you're having second thoughts about what's happening between us," Punk said, and though he sounded casual, there was something in his dark eyes that let the diva know he was paying very careful attention to what she said.
"I... It's not like that. I don't regret kissing you. Tonight, or the other night. I just... I don't know what's happening. I like to be the girl with the plan, and lately, it seems like all of that has totally gone out the window. And it's not just with you. I mean... All my plans were out the window weeks ago, before Jeff even ditched me on the side of the road, and I didn't even realize it. I mean, I definitely never planned to end up becoming some sort of enabler for the guy I managed-"
"Do you buy drugs for him?" Punk asked, the man casually getting a piece of pizza for himself, and Eve sent him an incredulous look.
"What? No! Of course not. I wouldn't even know where to... And even if I did know, I would never... Geez-"
"Then it's not on you. It's his choices, not yours."
"I know that, I just... I made excuses for him. Sorry, he can't talk because he's not feeling well, when the truth was he had a hangover from the night before or... he was high and slurring his words and I knew better than to put him on the phone," Eve said, shaking her head. "That's enabling, too, you know. Making excuses. Making it easier for him to get away with the things he was doing. And that is on me."
"When's the last time you made an excuse like that for him?" Punk wanted to know, and Eve heaved out a sigh, taking a small bite of her slice of pizza, taking the time to chew and swallow before she spoke.
"Since before you picked me up on the side of the road. I avoid spending time with him as much as possible now. I walk out with him at the shows, and that's it."
"Which makes me think that, even if you did enable him before - and I'm not saying you did - you're not doing so any longer," CM Punk said reasonably enough his eyes on her as he lifted his own piece of pizza and took a much larger bite of it than she had of hers. He took a moment to chew and swallow, then grabbed his Pepsi and took a drink. Once he put that down, he spoke again. "The way I see it is this... He had problems long before you ever started managing him. Right?"
"From what I understand... Yes," Eve said, and he snorted.
"From what you understand... Please. He's been suspended twice. And we all know the rumors about why he left the WWE back in 2002. The company wanted rehab, and he said no. It wouldn't be the first time they got rid of someone for having issues. Granted, I figure the company mostly only gave a damn if it was causing problems at work, so... He was bad enough off that he was showing up high or late or not at all, and when he wouldn't get help, they got rid of him. Now he's back. With two strikes. He mostly shows up on time, and he knows he has the two strikes hovering over his head, so they leave him alone. That's not exactly helping the guy, either."
"He makes the company money. They don't care. And he's still mostly showing up on time because Maria makes sure he gets there on time now that I don't. I guess she's taken over on the making excuses for him thing. But she thinks the sun shines out of his ass or something, so..." Eve shrugged. "Then there's his brother. I mean, they haven't started talking again yet or anything that I know of, but the truth is, from what I saw when they weren't trying to beat each other up, Matt's as much of a jerk as Jeff. Maybe worse. And when they get together... It's weird, really. I've met their dad. He seems like a decent guy. I think he did the best he could with them, but... Well, he ended up with those two for sons." She made a face. "And I really don't want to talk about them anymore. Jeff... Matt... Maria. Any of them."
"Then we won't talk about them. We'll just eat our pizza... Then maybe figure out something else to do," he said, and Eve arched a brow at him as she reached for her Pepsi.
"And what, exactly, do you have in mind for the 'something else to do'?" she asked, and he smirked slightly, fully aware that they were both thinking about what had happened in the storage closet earlier at the arena... But he also knew she was a bit uncertain about things with him, which meant he wasn't going to push. So instead of saying anything about kissing - or more - he gestured with his pizza toward the small couch in the room.
"I was thinking that maybe we could curl up over there and find a movie to watch. Maybe something scary. You know, so you'll hide your eyes and bury your face in my shirt a lot," he told her, and though she rolled her eyes at his words, she still smiled at him.
"I think I'd like that."