Dirty Deeds

CH 22: An Invitation

    For a change, Layla and I don't have a match. That's a good thing, because she's still in a bad mood. She leaves for the arena without me, leaving me to bum a ride from Matt. I don't mind; we're comfortable again. It seems like a lot of the tension I was feeling with him eased when he kissed me. When he asks me if I'll be ringside for his match, I don't even hesitate. Matt's match is early in the show, after an announcement by Teddy Long about McIntyre's loss to Kane last week being expunged from his record. Matt and I listen, hands entwined, as Teddy says that McIntyre's going to have another match. "Ready for this?" Matt whispers, squeezing my hand.

"More than ready," I say.

Matt's music hits, and we stroll out together, hand in hand. There's a mutter going through the audience, like they can't believe what they're seeing. Matt leads me down to ringside and I break off and take a seat. I can hear a very confused Todd Grisham asking Matt Striker what he thinks is going on between Matt and I. I could clear that up, but I won't. Instead, I flash a grin their way and settle in to watch the match.

It's a good match with a lot of back and forth. Just when it looks like Matt's going to lose, he manages to reverse a near fall and wins the match. The crowd's going wild as Matt slides from the ring and walks my way. He grabs my hand and says, "We'd better get out of here before this gets violent." We're halfway up the ramp when McIntyre gets out of the ring and heads for the announce table. I see him rip the top off the table and start screaming at the announcers, and then Matt and I are backstage.

"I'd better go take a shower," Matt says, leaning down to kiss me. "Meet you in catering afterwards?"

"Sounds good to me," I say. I'm tempted to stop by my locker room, but I decide against it at the last minute. Layla's probably not there, anyway. I start for catering, only to be stopped by Drew McIntyre.

"What was that?" he asks.

"What was what?"

"You and Hardy, holding hands?"

I smile. "We're dating."

Drew doesn't look like he believes me. "April Fool's Day is still a month off," he says.

"It isn't a joke."

He frowns. "I thought you were better than that." And before I can protest, he's headed away.

Catering is full, of course. When I step into the room, it goes from the usual noisy chatter to a hush. Heads turn, and everyone is staring at me. I glance down to see if I'm wearing something offensive. Nope, the usual "Flawless" shirt. When I look up, I realize that people aren't just quiet, they're whispering. I clear my throat. "What the hell, people?" I look around the room. Layla's there, but she won't meet my eyes. Punk's with the straightedge society in the back, as usual. He grimaces at me in sympathy, poised at the edge of his table. I think he's debating whether or not I need rescuing from this situation.

It's John Morrison who answers the question. "We want to know what the hell it is you think you're doing with Matt Hardy?"

I bristle at the comment, but Matt arrives just then and saves me from answering by putting his arms around my waist. "She probably thinks she's being my girlfriend. I'd like to know why you think it's any of your business?"

"Look, man, we all thought it was harmless when you were making goo goo eyes at each other last week," Morrison says. "But taking her out in front of the audience on camera? This isn't some stupid house show, Hardy. Your reputation is on the line."

"Do I look like I care?" Matt asks.

People look shocked. Morrison says, "Hey, whatever," and holds up his hands.

"Matt," I say, "maybe you ought to... uh, try to smooth this over with your friends?"

Matt says, "They're just going to have to accept this, Michelle. It's not going to go away."

Before I can reply, Punk approaches. I glance back at Matt, who's eyeing him warily. "Hardy," Punk says with a nod, and there's something almost like warmth in his voice.

"Punk," Matt says.

We're standing there awkwardly, Matt with his arms around me and Punk studying us as though there will be a test later. It's a really tense moment that's making my stomach ache. Finally, when I can't take it any more, Punk says, "Are you sure it's too soon to ask him to brunch?"

I laugh because the comment is so unexpected. "I don't know. Matt, do you want to go to brunch tomorrow?" I look back at him, and he looks confused.

"Brunch?"

Punk says, "We may have had our differences in the past, Hardy, but you're not a bad guy." He shifts his gaze to me. "You're doing okay for yourself, McCool."

Matt's staring at Punk as though he's speaking a foreign language. "That's his way of admitting that you're not a loser," I tell him.

Punk makes a face at me. "Thank you, translator girl."

"Any time, Cuddle Monkey." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I think, Ah, crap. That was a mistake. Matt's arms around me tighten, and Punk gives me a surprised look.

"Cuddle Monkey?" Matt asks, his voice quiet.

"Er," I say, "he wouldn't tell me what the C.M. stands for."

Matt's literally shaking and his face is red. Oh, man. I cringe, waiting for the explosion I'm sure is coming. "Hardy," Punk warns, but that's all the further he gets.

Matt explodes, all right. He releases me so he can double over with laughter. There are tears in his eyes. "Cuddle Monkey?" he manages to choke out between gasps.

Punk turns to me. "You just had to say it, didn't you?"

I shrug, helpless. "It just sort of slipped out."

"I'll remember that, sunshine," he says with a smirk. "Gallows! Serena!" Punk's two "followers" jump up and head our way. "Let's get out of here. It's almost time for our appearance, anyway."

"Sorry, Punk!" I call after him. He doesn't turn around, but he does wave at me.

Everyone is staring again, but this time, they're watching Matt as he rolls around on the floor, gasping for air and laughing at poor Cuddle Monkey.