Post by Crazy Chris on Nov 7, 2019 23:50:18 GMT -6
I walk down Broadway toward my company’s office. After living in Smithville for all my life, I travel to and from Nashville a lot. It’s only an hour and fifteen minutes there and back. I must work while I’m not wrestling. Who knows when my next retirement might be?
Dan is doing better; he isn’t well enough to get out of the house. However, I have to support the two of us in the meantime. Working my second job in Nashville, I know the area back and forth and inside and out. I still love it just as much, if not more, every day. This city energizes me, and so do the people. Today, the walk offers the added bonus of time to shake off the memory of my royal fuckup last night.
In the light of day, I have to physically try not to cringe at the memory of the exchange. What else can I do? Though I do wonder who Peyton is. But the other thing I’m damn curious about is this—did she secretly enjoy not only the pic, but our exchange? Hell, that picture was a fine shot. I still have no idea why ButterflyGirl6 gave me a fake number. I’ll bet the number belongs to a friend of hers, and she wanted to see if I’d actually do it, and maybe now ButterflyGirl6 is cursing herself for missing out on the ride of her life.
I won’t hear from her again, though. Last night after the major screwup, I returned to my dating app, deleted my profile, and erased all photographic evidence of my member from my phone. Some close calls you don’t need to experience twice, and I definitely don’t want to tempt fate. One wrong sender receiving an up-close-and-personal view of my private parts is more than enough, thank you very much.
By the time I reach my office, the walk-through downtown Nashville crowds has reset my mood. I stuff my earbuds into my pocket, run a hand down my tie. Yeah, I already know what you’re thinking. Crazy Chris in a tie? The dude wears a mask and tight tights. How in the hell can he wear a tie? I sometimes don’t understand it myself, but I got to have a career outside of GCWA. So, might as well dress the part, right?
I stride into the building, ready to tackle the day and forget all about last night’s little error. Big error. I mean, it is big, if I do say so myself. It’s time to focus on business, and honestly, my job is one of my favorite things. Well, next to wrestling and holding the Unified X Division championship belt that is proudly displayed on my shelf at home. But, hey, I’m not bragging about that or anything. Or am I?
When I reach my office, my assistant, Toby, runs in, frazzled and breathing hard. “Chris!” Everything he says is in exclamation points; even breathing for him is exciting.
“What can I do for you, Toby?”
Panting, he drags a hand through his wiry hair. “Brody called me! He tried to call you!”
I frown, then snap my fingers. “I was listening to a podcast. I might have hit DO NOT DISTURB by mistake.”
“He wanted you to take his morning meeting with Wish Upon a Gift.”
A new boutique is slated to open a few blocks from our flagship store on the Upper East Side, and that’s why Brody has been hunting for new partnerships to give us an edge.
I nod and flip open my laptop. “Right. Sure. He sent me the file the other night, and I glanced through it.”
Toby points wildly. “She’s in the conference room right now. He said it’s vital that you fill in for him!”
I push my hands down so he knows to cool his jets. I’ve handled plenty of meetings before. This one isn’t going to be an issue. I stand, clap Toby on the back, and tell him I’ll be there in five minutes.
Toby darts out the door, his feet clopping down the hall. I review the file quickly, refreshing my memory of what I already scanned the other night. Then I slide open my phone and find about 547 texts from Brody.
I step into the conference room and…holy matching face of an angel. The Wish Upon a Gift woman is hotter than sin. And I’ve definitely sinned plenty in my life. Especially from what I plan to do to Dylan Thomas on Sunday, but that is a different story for a later promo.
The brunette perched in a conference chair is smiling at my assistant, showing off the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen. She wears a black-and-white dress and looks like a cookie I want to bite. Which is a thoroughly inappropriate reaction.
I remind myself to expunge inappropriate thoughts from my mind. My dick got me in trouble last night. No way is that sneaky bastard getting me in trouble now. But, fuck me, I seriously need some action.
She and Toby turn to me.
“This is Chris Rose! He’s my boss! And he’s also a champion in the professional wrestling business as well. He kills it every time he steps into the squared circle!”
I extend a hand, and after hesitating for a second, she takes it.
“Nice to meet you, Chris.” She swallows a little hard on my name, like it surprises her or is hard to pronounce. “I’m Peyton.”
I blink. What the actual fuck? What are the chances she’s the same Peyton? Slim to none, right? Must be. Because there’s no fucking way she can be the same Peyton. Her name isn’t a common one, but this has to be a weird coincidence.
As we shake, her gaze drops to my hands and she stares for an awkward beat or two. Like she’s cataloguing them now too. Like she’s doing the math-big hands, big feet, big...all over.
When she looks up and meets my gaze, the chance of her being the Peyton just surpassed one hundred percent. Red splashes across her cheeks. Her eyes are huge and wild. Her face is the picture of embarrassment.
Well, shit.
I cringe, and Peyton coughs. She recognized me from my childhood photo…not the dick one, obviously.
“Nice to meet you,” she says, as if she’s straightening out her words and trying to speak for the first time in ages.
“Good to meet you too, Peyton.” Trying to keep my tone as even as I can, I turn to Toby. “And thanks again. Especially for the cat tales.”
He laughs as he leaves, and when Peyton and I take our seats, there’s a tiny smile on her face too.
“Cat tales,” she murmurs with a little laugh.
“I personally prefer taking my pills with peanut butter,” I say, hoping to use humor to defuse the situation. We both know what she has seen, and it’s hella awkward.
This situation is all kinds of fucked up, and I need to unfuck it. Stat.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Yeah, I guess you could say my situation is a bit awkward and bizarre, but it’s nothing compared to the situation that you’re going to find yourself into Dylan. You think that’s embarrassing? Wait till you see what I do Sunday to you inside that ring. It definitely isn’t going to be pretty…
You want to start a war Dylan? Well I hope you’re prepared to finish the battle. I hope that your little army you have with you is prepared to suffer the consequences. You and your little minions tried to end my brother’s career. Luckily, he is fine and now it’s time to pay the piper…
You think what I tried to do to your wife was bad? Wait until you see what I have in store for you. You want my X Division title that badly Dylan? You’re willing to end a man’s life to get a championship belt? How sad and pathetic is that Dylan? Are you not all there Dylan? Is that brain of yours not functioning right? Are that fucked up in the head? I guess you really are that diabolical…
I don’t care for you insulting me. I don’t care for you insulting my brother. You can smear my name across the GCWA locker all you want to Dylan, but don’t you ever try and do something like that again. I’m not mad that you pulled a sneak attack. Hell, I applaud you for the sneak attack. It’s definitely something that I would have done to you had I been given the chance. No Dylan, I’m not mad at the attack. I’m fucking pissed you tried to permanently end us. I’m pissed beyond no return and you have definitely released a monster inside me that I’m not quite sure of what he is capable of…
I can’t imagine what this monster inside me is going to do to your body inside that ring. I have a reputation and a championship to defend and I know the monster is prepared to defend that as well. I want you to feel the exact pain that you caused on my family, Dylan. I want you to feel each agonizing blow to the head, chest, stomach, legs, arms and back that you placed on my brother and me. You think what you did to Dan is funny? I’m sure you won’t be laughing once I’m done with your ass…
I do apologize to Lissandra for almost attacking that unborn child she has inside of her belly. Are you even sure it’s yours Dylan? I mean, your wife has the face and body of a non-faithful woman, and I’m sure that night she and I spent together in my bed a few weeks ago begs to differ. Why don’t you ask her who the REAL baby daddy is…?
I can play all kinds of fucking mind games Dylan, but the truth of the matter is…I’m better than you. You lost your title on your first defense. I’ve retained mine every single time I have defended. Sunday, the outcome isn’t going to be any different. Come at me all you want bro. it doesn’t matter. I’m still going to kick your ass all over that arena. When that bells ring, You'll have no choice but to look up, as I hold MY X Division title over my head. That, Dylan, is the Gospel of Crazy Chris: Chapter FUCK verse YOU.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She stares at me, her nose crinkling. “So, last night…” She shakes her head, frustration etched on her face.
Which means it’s time for me to launch into a full-court apology. After all, we can’t risk losing her business to someone else.
“Look, Peyton. I’m sorry. I had no idea who you were. Your number must have been on my phone because of the file Brody sent me. I did not in any way, shape, or form intend to send you that picture. I’m so sorry.”
It’s the only explanation. I mean, how else could I have mistaken her number for ButterflyGirl6’s?
“I seriously can’t believe you sent it to me.”
I sigh as well. “I can’t believe I did either.”
“And I can’t believe you sent me your elementary school photo too.”
Yeah, that was weird. I see that now.
I frown, scrambling to fix the problem. “In my defense, I was trying not to seem like an asshole who sends unsolicited dick pics.”
She holds up a hand to stop me. “Can we just not talk about that picture?”
"The kid pic or the junk shot?”
She raises her gaze to mine. “Both.”
I chuckle. “Let’s just do a do-over.”
“Yes, we need a do-over,” she says with an earnest nod. “We need to pretend it never happened and go about this meeting like we’ve never met before today.”
Yeah, good fucking luck with that
Dan is doing better; he isn’t well enough to get out of the house. However, I have to support the two of us in the meantime. Working my second job in Nashville, I know the area back and forth and inside and out. I still love it just as much, if not more, every day. This city energizes me, and so do the people. Today, the walk offers the added bonus of time to shake off the memory of my royal fuckup last night.
In the light of day, I have to physically try not to cringe at the memory of the exchange. What else can I do? Though I do wonder who Peyton is. But the other thing I’m damn curious about is this—did she secretly enjoy not only the pic, but our exchange? Hell, that picture was a fine shot. I still have no idea why ButterflyGirl6 gave me a fake number. I’ll bet the number belongs to a friend of hers, and she wanted to see if I’d actually do it, and maybe now ButterflyGirl6 is cursing herself for missing out on the ride of her life.
I won’t hear from her again, though. Last night after the major screwup, I returned to my dating app, deleted my profile, and erased all photographic evidence of my member from my phone. Some close calls you don’t need to experience twice, and I definitely don’t want to tempt fate. One wrong sender receiving an up-close-and-personal view of my private parts is more than enough, thank you very much.
By the time I reach my office, the walk-through downtown Nashville crowds has reset my mood. I stuff my earbuds into my pocket, run a hand down my tie. Yeah, I already know what you’re thinking. Crazy Chris in a tie? The dude wears a mask and tight tights. How in the hell can he wear a tie? I sometimes don’t understand it myself, but I got to have a career outside of GCWA. So, might as well dress the part, right?
I stride into the building, ready to tackle the day and forget all about last night’s little error. Big error. I mean, it is big, if I do say so myself. It’s time to focus on business, and honestly, my job is one of my favorite things. Well, next to wrestling and holding the Unified X Division championship belt that is proudly displayed on my shelf at home. But, hey, I’m not bragging about that or anything. Or am I?
When I reach my office, my assistant, Toby, runs in, frazzled and breathing hard. “Chris!” Everything he says is in exclamation points; even breathing for him is exciting.
“What can I do for you, Toby?”
Panting, he drags a hand through his wiry hair. “Brody called me! He tried to call you!”
I frown, then snap my fingers. “I was listening to a podcast. I might have hit DO NOT DISTURB by mistake.”
“He wanted you to take his morning meeting with Wish Upon a Gift.”
A new boutique is slated to open a few blocks from our flagship store on the Upper East Side, and that’s why Brody has been hunting for new partnerships to give us an edge.
I nod and flip open my laptop. “Right. Sure. He sent me the file the other night, and I glanced through it.”
Toby points wildly. “She’s in the conference room right now. He said it’s vital that you fill in for him!”
I push my hands down so he knows to cool his jets. I’ve handled plenty of meetings before. This one isn’t going to be an issue. I stand, clap Toby on the back, and tell him I’ll be there in five minutes.
Toby darts out the door, his feet clopping down the hall. I review the file quickly, refreshing my memory of what I already scanned the other night. Then I slide open my phone and find about 547 texts from Brody.
I step into the conference room and…holy matching face of an angel. The Wish Upon a Gift woman is hotter than sin. And I’ve definitely sinned plenty in my life. Especially from what I plan to do to Dylan Thomas on Sunday, but that is a different story for a later promo.
The brunette perched in a conference chair is smiling at my assistant, showing off the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen. She wears a black-and-white dress and looks like a cookie I want to bite. Which is a thoroughly inappropriate reaction.
I remind myself to expunge inappropriate thoughts from my mind. My dick got me in trouble last night. No way is that sneaky bastard getting me in trouble now. But, fuck me, I seriously need some action.
She and Toby turn to me.
“This is Chris Rose! He’s my boss! And he’s also a champion in the professional wrestling business as well. He kills it every time he steps into the squared circle!”
I extend a hand, and after hesitating for a second, she takes it.
“Nice to meet you, Chris.” She swallows a little hard on my name, like it surprises her or is hard to pronounce. “I’m Peyton.”
I blink. What the actual fuck? What are the chances she’s the same Peyton? Slim to none, right? Must be. Because there’s no fucking way she can be the same Peyton. Her name isn’t a common one, but this has to be a weird coincidence.
As we shake, her gaze drops to my hands and she stares for an awkward beat or two. Like she’s cataloguing them now too. Like she’s doing the math-big hands, big feet, big...all over.
When she looks up and meets my gaze, the chance of her being the Peyton just surpassed one hundred percent. Red splashes across her cheeks. Her eyes are huge and wild. Her face is the picture of embarrassment.
Well, shit.
I cringe, and Peyton coughs. She recognized me from my childhood photo…not the dick one, obviously.
“Nice to meet you,” she says, as if she’s straightening out her words and trying to speak for the first time in ages.
“Good to meet you too, Peyton.” Trying to keep my tone as even as I can, I turn to Toby. “And thanks again. Especially for the cat tales.”
He laughs as he leaves, and when Peyton and I take our seats, there’s a tiny smile on her face too.
“Cat tales,” she murmurs with a little laugh.
“I personally prefer taking my pills with peanut butter,” I say, hoping to use humor to defuse the situation. We both know what she has seen, and it’s hella awkward.
This situation is all kinds of fucked up, and I need to unfuck it. Stat.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Yeah, I guess you could say my situation is a bit awkward and bizarre, but it’s nothing compared to the situation that you’re going to find yourself into Dylan. You think that’s embarrassing? Wait till you see what I do Sunday to you inside that ring. It definitely isn’t going to be pretty…
You want to start a war Dylan? Well I hope you’re prepared to finish the battle. I hope that your little army you have with you is prepared to suffer the consequences. You and your little minions tried to end my brother’s career. Luckily, he is fine and now it’s time to pay the piper…
You think what I tried to do to your wife was bad? Wait until you see what I have in store for you. You want my X Division title that badly Dylan? You’re willing to end a man’s life to get a championship belt? How sad and pathetic is that Dylan? Are you not all there Dylan? Is that brain of yours not functioning right? Are that fucked up in the head? I guess you really are that diabolical…
I don’t care for you insulting me. I don’t care for you insulting my brother. You can smear my name across the GCWA locker all you want to Dylan, but don’t you ever try and do something like that again. I’m not mad that you pulled a sneak attack. Hell, I applaud you for the sneak attack. It’s definitely something that I would have done to you had I been given the chance. No Dylan, I’m not mad at the attack. I’m fucking pissed you tried to permanently end us. I’m pissed beyond no return and you have definitely released a monster inside me that I’m not quite sure of what he is capable of…
I can’t imagine what this monster inside me is going to do to your body inside that ring. I have a reputation and a championship to defend and I know the monster is prepared to defend that as well. I want you to feel the exact pain that you caused on my family, Dylan. I want you to feel each agonizing blow to the head, chest, stomach, legs, arms and back that you placed on my brother and me. You think what you did to Dan is funny? I’m sure you won’t be laughing once I’m done with your ass…
I do apologize to Lissandra for almost attacking that unborn child she has inside of her belly. Are you even sure it’s yours Dylan? I mean, your wife has the face and body of a non-faithful woman, and I’m sure that night she and I spent together in my bed a few weeks ago begs to differ. Why don’t you ask her who the REAL baby daddy is…?
I can play all kinds of fucking mind games Dylan, but the truth of the matter is…I’m better than you. You lost your title on your first defense. I’ve retained mine every single time I have defended. Sunday, the outcome isn’t going to be any different. Come at me all you want bro. it doesn’t matter. I’m still going to kick your ass all over that arena. When that bells ring, You'll have no choice but to look up, as I hold MY X Division title over my head. That, Dylan, is the Gospel of Crazy Chris: Chapter FUCK verse YOU.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She stares at me, her nose crinkling. “So, last night…” She shakes her head, frustration etched on her face.
Which means it’s time for me to launch into a full-court apology. After all, we can’t risk losing her business to someone else.
“Look, Peyton. I’m sorry. I had no idea who you were. Your number must have been on my phone because of the file Brody sent me. I did not in any way, shape, or form intend to send you that picture. I’m so sorry.”
It’s the only explanation. I mean, how else could I have mistaken her number for ButterflyGirl6’s?
“I seriously can’t believe you sent it to me.”
I sigh as well. “I can’t believe I did either.”
“And I can’t believe you sent me your elementary school photo too.”
Yeah, that was weird. I see that now.
I frown, scrambling to fix the problem. “In my defense, I was trying not to seem like an asshole who sends unsolicited dick pics.”
She holds up a hand to stop me. “Can we just not talk about that picture?”
"The kid pic or the junk shot?”
She raises her gaze to mine. “Both.”
I chuckle. “Let’s just do a do-over.”
“Yes, we need a do-over,” she says with an earnest nod. “We need to pretend it never happened and go about this meeting like we’ve never met before today.”
Yeah, good fucking luck with that
