Dirty Deeds

CH 8: It Stands For...

                I've never asked for show tickets before, so the guys who run the box office are surprised to see me. "I need to reserve some tickets for some friends of mine," I say, before passing along Marissa's name and the number of tickets I needed. When I'm sure that my new friends will be taken care of, I head for the back. There's always so much to do, even at a house show. I've got a lot on my mind, which is how I find myself suddenly among the Straightedge Society backstage.

"Are you all right, McCool?" Punk asks me. "You haven't been doing drugs, have you?"

"I'm fine," I say, frowning at him. "I just need to get to my locker room and get ready for the show."

Luke Gallows and Serena both look to Punk, waiting. He seems to sense their anxiousness. They remind me of small, yappy dogs, looking to the slightly bigger yappy dog for guidance. Punk sighs. "We really need to talk."

"I said I'm fine."

He shrugs and takes my arm. "Then let me walk you to your locker room." He turns back to his disciples. "Stay here. Keep an eye out." They nod in unison, like some kind of creepy bobbleheaded dolls. I allow Punk to lead me away because right now, it's easier than the alternative. "You know I was kidding about getting Hardy drunk, right?" he asks in a low tone, when we're out of earshot of the rest of the Straightedge Society. "I don't advocate drinking in any way, shape or form."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Punk, I know you were kidding. And don't worry, I wasn't planning on taking that advice, anyway."

"Good," he says with a nod, dropping my arm. "I would hate for it to get around that I was telling people to get drunk..."

"That's what you were worried about? Me telling someone that you suggested I get him drunk?"

C. M. Punk shrugged. "A man is only as good as people perceive him to be, McCool. And I'm better than that comment."

I smile. "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to say anything. Your secret is safe with me, Cuddle Monkey."

Punk stares at me. "Cuddle Monkey?"

"Hey, you stick random letters on the front of your name, and I'm going to make up something for them to stand for, since you won't tell me what they really stand for."

He sighs. "Fine. Just don't call me that in public, okay? It's humiliating."

I smirk and hug him. "Poor Cuddle Monkey." We stop in front of my locker room. "Well, this is me."

"Oh, thank God," he mutters. "Don't forget..."

"Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah, straightedge is awesome," I say with a wave. "See you later, Cuddle Monkey."

Punk walks away, grumbling and I let myself into my locker room. Layla's already there, pacing the floor. "Oh my God, Michelle!" she says, rushing to me when I step inside. "Are you okay? I've been looking for you all day!"

"I'm fine."

"I called you like twenty times, and I must have texted you at least fifty. Where have you been?"

"With Matt Hardy," I say in my most casual tone.

Layla stares at me. "You're kidding!"

"No. We went to a food bank to take some canned goods... why are you looking at me like that?"

Layla's nose is scrunched up. "A food bank? You spent the day with Matt Hardy and you went to a food bank? Why?"

"Because he asked me if I wanted to go?"

"I don't know how you swung that, but good job. So are you going to be ready in time for Wrestlemania?"

"Yeah." Even as I say the word, I can feel doubt coiling in my stomach. I spent the best day I've had in months hanging out with Matt and doing something nice for someone else. Even so, a bet's a bet, and I hate to lose. "I'll be ready."

"Good." Layla smirks. "Looks like loverboy and his valentine are on the card with Khali again tonight." She rolls her eyes. "Are you going to go out and be ringside?"

"Please. Why would I be?" I say.

"Because you want him to wonder?"

"Good point." But even as I say it, I know that the last place I want to be is front and center, watching him with Maria. I already don't like her; seeing them together in the ring will make me hate her even more. "I do have a special fan coming in to see me. I'm going to give her and her family a tour of the backstage after the show."

"Some kind of Make a Wish kid or something?"

"Just a girl I met today at the food bank."

Layla frowns. "What is going on with you, Michelle? First you blow off shopping to talk to Punk, then you disappear for the day and I find out you're with Hardy, and now you're going to hang out with some random kid and her family after the show? That's so not the Michelle I know."

I want to tell her, Maybe you should know her. Maybe this Michelle is who I want to be. Instead, I say, "I've only got a few weeks to convince Hardy I'm worthwhile. This makes it easier."

That makes her smile. "Ah, gotcha. You're playing the game. Good one."

There may be a game being played, I reflect, but at this point, I have no idea what it is and I'm completely in the dark when it comes to the rules.