Tame

Chapter One

"Whatcha talking about?" I ask as I round the corner and see my best friend CM Punk in a seemingly heated conversation with his manager Paul Heyman.
Punk smiles at me and ruffles my hair up some with a shrug. "Just stuff," he replies.
"Yeah, so can you leave?" Mr. Heyman questions, pointing at the corner where I turned at.
I pout making Punk glare at his manager. "Stop being so mean," he scolds as he wraps his arms around my shoulders.
"Me and AJ are having a dance party tonight, just the two of us. Well, three if you want to come," I offer.
"You know I don't dance, Munchkin," Punk says. "And besides, I got a big day tomorrow, what, with getting ready for Survivor Series Sunday." He pulls me into his chest. "But I promise I'll make it up to you next week, okay?"
I nod. "Okay. I should go, I'm meeting AJ in catering." I slip out from under his arm and kiss his cheek.
"I'll talk to you later," he calls out before I disappear around the corner. I skip down the hall, humming and make a left into the main backstage area where the SmackDown interview set and costume designer table was. I see Big Show making conversation with Booker T.
"Yeah, so, I just came over to thank you for removing Sheamus from the building. You're a smart man, Book," Show tells the general manager as I pad closer to them.
Mr. Booker just nods before mumbling an excuse to go to the office and walking away.
"Hey, Show," I greet my friend.
He turns around and grins at me before sitting me up on his shoulder.
"Hey, Ada," he replies as I pat his bald head.
His hand, that's holding onto my upper leg so that I don't fall off, covers the majority of my thigh.
"Heard you got a mystery opponent," I state. "Wanna bet?"
"You're on," he accepts the challenge as he taps his chin in thought. "$20 bucks it's, like, Daniel Bryan or something."
"Why do you say that?" I ask.
"Well, Mick hasn't given him a match tonight and, you and I both know that he wants a crack at someone. Why not it be me?"
I shrug. "Well I think it's gonna be the Great Khali," I say confidently.
"Now, why do you say that?" Show questions.
"Because Mr. Booker T is gonna make the match fair and Mr. Khali is the only person on the roster as big as you are," I explain.
Show shrugs, lifting me a little bit higher. "I doubt it," he admits. "Khali isn't really a wrestler. He only does two moves throughout his matches. I don't think Booker is gonna set me up with him."
I shrug as he wraps his hands around my waist and places me back on the ground. "You never know," I tell him. "I'm gonna head off. Good luck tonight."
"Don't need luck," Show calls out as I skip away.
I sit across from my best best friend, AJ Lee, in catering.
She puts down her water bottle as I grab a styrofoam bowl from the food table right beside us and fill it up with strawberries, the green leaves already cut off. These people get me.
"Hey," she greets, crossing one of her legs over the other. "Punk said no, didn't he?"
I nod sadly as I top the fruit off with extra creamy Reddi Whip.
"I don't know why you try," AJ says. "I mean, one, he doesn't dance and, two, I don't like him. I have no problem with you guys being friends, but don't bring him around me."
I blew my auburn bangs, that were cut straight across my forehead, up into the air. "Lately he doesn't do anything with me. Ever since Hell in the Cell, our friendship hasn't really been the same," I confess.
"Maybe he's giving you a sign," AJ suggest.
"To do what?"
"To get the hell away from him," she answers. "He's probably been distancing himself with you because he's guilty and he doesn't want you judging him."
"Judge him of what?" I question.
AJ throws her arms up into the air as I tighten the shoelaces of my left beige colored Converse boot that matches my Geek Chic crop top.
"Did you not see his match at Hell in the Cell?" she asks. "He and Heyman totally paid that referee, if he even was one, to help with retaining Punk's championship against Ryback. Did you not see that?"
"Oh, I did," I assured her. "But you don't have any real proof that Punk or Mr. Heyman had a hand in what that Maddox guy did."
AJ rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything else as the Great Khali's theme blares throughout the Quicken Loans arena.
"Yes!" I squeal, jumping from my seat.
Everyone turned to look at me, but I didn't care.
"What has you so happy, Mousy?" Randy Orton, another good friend of mine, asks from the table next to ours.
He started calling me that when I debuted as a predator/prey joke that I had once taken offense to, but now it sounds cute.
"Show and I bet twenty bucks on who his opponent was gonna be for tonight. I had my money on Mr. Khali," I explain as I look up at the TV screen and see Big Show with a smirk on his face.
"You're so weird," Randy states.
"Aw, thanks," I reply, pulling his head against my shoulder in a hug. With him sitting down I was only taller than him by an inch or two.

"I just don't understand how you get a match and I don't," Daniel tells Kane after the show as I wait outside the divas locker room for AJ.
"Mick sees a lot of promise in me," Kane says.
"What about me?" Daniel questions angrily. "If anything, I'm better than you. I'm the star on this team."
"Well how about I punch you in the face and see if you can see a star then," Kane threatens menacingly.
"Enough!" I shouted. "Get over yourselves. Why do you always have to pick with each other?"
"He started it," Kane accuses, pointing at Daniel.
"Well I'm finishing it," I state. "Now cut it out."
The locker room door opens and AJ comes out. She takes one look at Kane and Daniel and shakes her head. "Pathetic," she mumbles as she loops her arm around mine and leads me away from Team Hell No out into the parking lot.
The Hyatt hotel that we are staying at has been decorated for Thanksgiving next week. The concierge desk has small pumpkins with artificial candles in them on both sides of the table with a woven cone filled with plastic leaves, fake pumpkins and real pinecones beside the bell. Hyatt is a very open hotel so you can see all the hotel floors that are closed in by black railings surrounding the perimeter of the building. The balcony railings has strings of plastic red, orange, and yellow leaves woven through. The tables on the first floor for the restaurant had a Thanksgiving theme centerpiece and a Yankee candle that fills the area with the scent of pumpkin pie. AJ and I make it to our room where we find a gift basket on each of our beds filled with the same Yankee candle that's advertised in the lobby, a caramel apple, chocolate in the shape of a turkey and a mini-sized pumpkin pie.
"Want my pie?" AJ asks as she pops the top of the candle and sets it beside the flat screen, fishing around in the basket for a lighter. The air immediately smelled like home.
"Sure," I answer and she tosses it to me.
"Now," she says. "Time to party."
I set my gift basket on the bedside table and grab my phone, connecting it to my speaker through bluetooth.
"Gone Forever" by Three Days Grace pierced the quiet air.
All the bedrooms at the Hyatt are sound proof making our parties easier to have and enjoy without complaint.
AJ starts twirling around the room in beat with the music. "Come on, Ad," she encourages, sticking her hand out to me. "Come dance with me."
I grab her hand and she spins me around under her arm.