“I don’t even understand how we lost? How the fuck do you release the demon and lose to the fat man? It makes no damn sense!”
Kutter shouts me down from across the room, pointing his finger in my direction. He’s pissed and I get it. We were all afraid Dr. Devastation would should up and get rid of us all.
But he didn’t.
And now we have to deal with the aftermath.
“We cannot fuckin’ lose to Bobby Dean again! We cannot be fired by that blind fuck they call Lee Best. We have to make it to ICONIC! There is no other way! Do you understand what the fuck I’m saying to you right now?!”
He’s made his way across the room and is spit-shouting in my face from six inches away.
I know the spit isn’t real, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s annoying either way.
“And where the fuck did he go anyway? How do you just disappear from an arena without any trace?”
How do you disappear at all, is what I want to know.
I tell him not to worry, that I have things under control. But per the usual, Shawn doesn’t believe me.
We still haven’t seen Logan Tyler. He’s lost.
“And fuck that little psycho bitch, too! I’ve let all of you try and handle our business, but now it’s up to me!”
I tell him that Bobby just announced the match stipulation and his jaw drops to the floor. But not in shock, I can see the wheels spinning in his head. He’s coming up with a plan to win, and if I know Shawn the way I think I do…and I do, he’s definitely going to come up with some kind of shortcut to get a hash in the win column for us this week.
I have to let him do it. I’ve won. Dr. Devastation lost. And now it’s Shawn’s turn.
Then we’ll need to find Logan. He’s the missing piece to all of this.
The doorbell rings. I walk over to answer it, but Shawn shoves me out of the way.
I can smell her through the cracks in the door.
Shawn swings the door open and I dart behind the adjacent wall and peak around the corner.
She jumps into his arms and hugs him tight before planting a big fat kiss right on the lips.
Shawn doesn’t kiss her back though. He plays the uninterested role really well.
“The fuck are you doing here?” He asks in a condescending tone, her arms dangling around his neck and her legs squeezed tight around his waist.
She tilts her head and stares into his eyes. Her big blues pierce a hole in my heart, and I’m not even looking into them.
She’s beautiful. And Shawn doesn’t deserve her. Not one bit.
He doesn’t turn around to look at me, but still manages to flip me the bird.
“Look, we’ve got a lot going on right now. What the fuck do you want?”
“We?” She asks before shaking it off. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. That was some freaky shit last week on TV, and I just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright.”
She smiles devilishly and points to the stapled wound on Shawn’s – our – forehead.
“We’re fine. We’re busy. Now leave!” He demands pointing at the door, but she doesn’t budge and stays perched up around his waist.
“What do you mean we?”
“Look, lady. I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to heal, drink and repeat. I don’t have time for you.”
She hops down off his lap and smacks him right across the face. But this isn’t your typical chick-slap, this was a full on back hand-pimp slap that rocks Shawn back two steps and busts open the wound on his forehead.
I feel the blood start to trickle down my face.
Shawn grabs her by the throat and forces her up against the wall. He gets nose to nose with her, a look of pure evil on his face. And then he plants a kiss right on her mouth.
She kisses him back, smearing her lipstick all over his face. The two go at it like a couple of sex-crazed teenagers.
Shawn still manages to flip me the bird one more time before the two of them take it up the stairs.
I go to the kitchen and grab a cloth off the counter. I fill it with ice and press it up against my forehead, soaking up the blood and attempting to get the swelling down.
Last week was weird, I’m not even gonna lie. Dr. Devastation had been gone for so long, I didn’t think he would return and now he’s back.
But where has he gone?
No one knows.
He’s gone the way of Logan and disappeared.
Now it’s just Shawn and I.
The way it’s supposed to be.
Bobby Dean brutalized us with that chair in a match specifically designed for us to get our revenge.
But we failed.
A real shit show of a performance for us, and I don’t know if this week will be any better.
Bobby’s a crafty son of a bitch, and picked a fuckin’ pillow fight as the stipulation.
I guess it could have been worse.
It could have been a bra and panties match, whatever the fuck that is.
I’m sure Bobby swings a pillow like Little Nikki does, so I’ve got to figure out a way to defend against that kind of scenario. Shawn’s got a plan, but so do I.
I walk out to the front…I guess it’s a yard…and grab a brick from the planter. I toss it up in the air and contemplate putting it in the pillow case. It’s brutal, but it will get the job done…and quick.
But I’m better than that. Leave the tricks to Shawn. I’m sure he’s got it all figured out anyway.
There’s not time or room for errors this week. Going down two-to-one is not a good look, and fighting back from behind is never easy.
I trust Shawn.
It’s his turn.
Let’s fuckin’ go.