Dirty Deeds

CH 30: Smackdown

    The car ride is less tense than I would have expected. Punk doesn't ask for his sunglasses back, even though Matt and I make him ride up front with Jeff. It doesn't take the two of them long to get into an intense discussion about the fighting techniques used on the MMA circuit and how it compares to what we do. I tune them out, mostly because Matt and I are snuggled together in the backseat. The ride's over before I know it, and Jeff parks in front of Matt's house. "Here you go," he says, turning to look at Matt and I. "Airport to home service."

"Thanks, bro," Matt says. "You staying for Smackdown?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Jeff says with a grin.

We unload the car and Matt shows Punk and I to our rooms. Once we're all settled in, it's just about time for Smackdown to start. We're gathered around the TV with five minutes to spare. Jeff makes popcorn and settles on the couch next to his brother. I'm on Matt's other side, and Punk is in a chair situated at an angle to the couch. The anticipation is heavy in the air. "Oh, here it comes," Matt says, when we get to the part of the show we've all been waiting for. We watch as Matt and I stroll out, hand in hand. The announcers are having fits.

"What is this?" Todd Grisham says. "Is that Michelle McCool, holding Matt Hardy's hand? What is going on here?"

"Matt's obviously decided to date someone who can help his career," Matt Striker says. "I admire him for that."

Matt looks at me and says, "Yeah, that's why." I lean against him, chuckling.

We watch as I sit down to watch the match. "What are they chanting?" I ask.

Jeff is the one who answers, "It sounds like 'What the Hell?'"

"Oh. Right."

The usual "Hardy" chants start up once the match is really under way, and the crowd goes wild once Matt pins McIntyre. We watch as Matt whispers something to me and grabs my hand and we make our exit. McIntyre is going nuts.

"Can you believe that?" Grisham asks.

"McIntyre hates to lose," Striker says.

"I meant Michelle McCool and Matt Hardy," says Grisham, shaking his head. "That was unbelievable, but I saw it with my own eyes."

"I'd heard rumors that they were spending some time together backstage," Striker says. "It shouldn't surprise you when superstars and divas get close to one another. They travel a lot, and it's hard to meet someone outside of the ring."

"You're listening to backstage gossip?"

"Of course. It's always smart to keep your eyes and ears open." There's a pause. "Well, folks, Wrestlemania is only three weeks away. The matches are going to be intense." As they show the matches that are already set, Matt turns to me.

"We're going to have to do a promo on Tuesday. You know that, right?"

I grin. "I'm looking forward to it."

"It's going to be one intense show," Punk mutters. "I'm officially starting my feud with Rey Mysterio on Tuesday."

"This is going to be the best Wrestlemania ever," I say with a laugh.

Matt hugs me. "Definitely," he says.

We watch the rest of Smackdown, but not as intently as we'd watched Matt's match. When the show's over, I excuse myself to my room. I'm completely exhausted by the past few days and all the stress is catching up to me. I can barely keep my eyes open. I curl up in my bed and am almost asleep when I hear a soft knock at my door. "Come in," I say, snuggling down into the soft bed with a sigh.

A moment later, Punk peeks around the door at me. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asks.

"Sure," I say, sitting up. "Come on in. What's up?"

He hesitates in the doorway, then comes in, closing the door softly behind him. "It's about Tuesday."

"What about it?"

He grabs the chair that's near the bed and sits, his gaze on me. "We're friends, Michelle."

"Uh oh," I say. "That doesn't sound good."

Punk smiles ruefully. "Here's the thing. The closer we get to Wrestlemania, the harder it is for me to concentrate on anything else. I know that Layla just abandoned you because of what you and Matt have. I don't want you to think that I'm doing the same, but we're not going to be able to hang out as much for a while. So if we're backstage and I choose to spend time with the straightedge society instead of you, it's not personal. We're still friends, and I don't abandon my friends. Ever."

"I understand," I say. And I really do. Things start to get intense right before Wrestlemania. Weeks of storylines start to build up and it becomes all consuming. "I would never expect you to put work matters on hold because of our friendship."

He looks relieved. "Thank you. And thanks for dragging me out here this weekend. You were right. This is what I needed."

I smirk. "But after Wrestlemania, we're going to hang out again, right?"

"Sure," he says. "Maybe we can even get a storyline eventually and you can join the straightedge society."

I smack him on the arm. "In your dreams, Cuddle Monkey!"

Punk laughs. "In my dreams, everyone's straightedge." He winks at me, then stands up. "Stay strong, sunshine. And at the Wrestlemania after party, you owe me a dance."

"Sounds good to me," I say. He turns to leave. "Oh, Punk?"

"Hmm?"

I lean over and grab his sunglasses off the table. "Here."

He takes them and puts them on, then looks at me. "How do I look?"

"Like an idiot?"

He smirks. "Perfect. That's the look I was going for. Goodnight, sunshine."

"See you tomorrow, Cuddle Monkey."