Something to Believe In

CH 3: Clubbing

   We've got a full day before we have to be on set for the Smackdown taping. I drive us to the hotel and bring the bags up like a good porter, then leave Michelle to hang out with Layla, who arrived sometime before we did. Probably because she didn't have to pull over and scream a lot, but who knows? Maybe she did. Anyway, she's there before we are, and I leave her and Michelle together, figuring they'll want to hang out without me cramping their style, anyway. I hit the gym, then make it an early night. There's not a lot to do in Vegas when you're straightedge.

I'm asleep when the pounding on my door starts. "What the hell?" I mutter, dragging myself up from sleep. I'd been dreaming about the championship again; it's embarrassing how often that dream comes up. I check the peephole and see Layla leaning against the wall. It takes a minute for me to disengage the lock. "Layla?"

"Is Michelle in there with you?" she asks. She's breathing fumes that could set the curtains on fire.

"Ugh." I wave off the toxic smell. "No. Why would McCool be here?"

"I dunno," she said. "I can't find her."

For a moment, my heart stops. A city like this one, so many horrible things can happen to a woman alone. Especially if she's been drinking. "Did you check your room?"

"Yup." She pauses and stares up at me, drunkenly. "She said she wanted to learn to fly."

"That can't be good," I say. "Give me a minute, and we'll go find her." I close the door and grab the nearest clothes I can find. It happens to be one of my ring shirts and a pair of jeans. When I open the door, Layla blinks at me.

"Oh, hey, you know who you look like?" she says. "C. M. Punk."

"Imagine that." I want to snap at her, but I can't. She's the only link I have to Michelle. "Where did you last see McCool?"

"Michelle?" she asks, peering up at me. "Isn't she with you?"

"No. Where did you go, Layla?"

"The club." She points at the ceiling.

I wince. Of all the places I want to be right now, some club is next to last on that list. "Fine. Let's go."

Layla doesn't argue. She leads me on a drunken, winding path through the corridor, to the elevator. I have to push the button for her, since she keeps missing it. When the doors of the elevator open, we're in a long hallway that has a muffled beat at the end of it. I follow Layla back to the club, and she falls into the security guy like they're old friends. "Tony!"

"I thought you left," he says, looking between the two of us with distaste.

"We're looking for our friend," I tell him.

"The blonde?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, man, she hasn't come out that I've seen."

"Great," I say, relieved that she's at least in an enclosed area. "I need to get her."

Tony looks at my shirt and smirks. "Yeah? You're going in there?"

I sigh. "Yes."

He chuckles and pulls the door back. "Good luck." Layla starts to follow me. "Nuh uh, missy. You stay here."

I can hear Layla's loud protests as I step through the doorway into the darkness. It's loud and hot and really uncomfortably crowded in here, and I don't have the faintest idea where to start looking for Michelle. I settle for trying to wade through the mass of humanity, craning my neck and scanning the corners for a flash of blonde hair. It's not a great system, but it eventually pays off. I see her, head down on a table, surrounded by guys. I push through the crowd and stop next to the table. "Michelle."

She barely raises her head. "Wha?" I see her blinking, trying to get her eyes to focus.

"Time to go."

"Hey," one of the guys says, "she's not going anywhere."

"I think she is," I say, pushing past him to help Michelle to her feet.

"Culkey," Michelle says. She leans against me, so that I have to put my arms around her to keep her upright.

The guys at the table stand up. There are four of them. Under normal circumstances, I'd say the odds were not completely against me. But with my arms around Michelle, trying to keep us both balanced? I am so screwed. "Sunshine," I mutter, "you're going to have to stand on your own two feet."

"Can't," she says, so I turn and try to drag her toward the door. It's then that one of the guys punches me in the back. I won't lie; it hurt. I nearly drop her, but I manage to push into the crowd, away from them. I can hear them trying to follow, but I keep my head down over hers, and eventually, we make it to the door. Layla is still arguing with Tony.

"Layla!" I snap. "Come help me."

She gives me a disgusted look and turns back to the doorman. "But I want back in! Don't you know who I am?"

"Don't know, don't care," Tony says. He's studying Michelle and I with interest. "What floor you going to?" he asks me.

"Ten."

Tony nods and gets on his radio. "I need a guest escort to the club. Better make it two." He pulls Layla back from the door. "I gotta say, you're a brave man, going in after your girlfriend like that."

"Thanks," I mutter, "but she's not my girlfriend."

Tony doesn't look like he believes me. With the way I've got her hanging on me, I'm not sure I'd believe me either in his shoes. "I don't feel good," Michelle moans, right before she throws up on me.

I turn my head, praying that I won't throw up, too. That's when the guest escort arrives. They take one look at me and Michelle, then turn to Tony. "Who's the drunkest?"

"I think he's sober," Tony says, indicating me. "She's the drunk." I let them take Michelle from me, and as soon as she's not pressed against me, I peel the shirt off and toss it in a nearby trashcan. At least I might make it to my room without getting sick this way, even if they're all staring at me. One of the guys ropes Layla in as she tries one more time to get into the club. Tony smirks at me. "Looks like you've got your hands full tonight, my friend. Good luck with it."

"Yeah, thanks," I mutter, following the security guys into the elevator.