Author: StarSixtyNine PM
Three-shot, PunkxOC; "You know good and damned well you're not looking at Mr. Brooks," he said the name with such disgust that I actually flinched a bit. "You're looking at Phil." Sometimes, all it takes is a little push.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - CM Punk - Chapters: 3 - Words: 5,557 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 10 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 10-23-10 - Published: 10-10-10 - id: 6387045
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chantel is posting something. What the hell?
Punk has invaded my brain. This is cheesy. You'll live.
OC has no name, because where the hell is the fun in that?
YAY AN OC WHO'S WORKS IN THE WWE AND NOT FRIENDS WITH A MCMAHON CHILD!
Italics are basically her giving background information on their relationship, how it started, how it ended, that good stuff. Anything not in italics, figure it out.
Sometimes, I just like to come out here and think. People talk down on sitting out in LA because it's too brightly lit, you can't see very many stars, and the smog is ridiculous. You can't "enjoy nature." And while all of that is true, it comforts me. The city life gets me goin', man. Even if I'm sitting somewhere in a wooded area a few miles out from the city, you can still feel the energy of it all. It's no NYC, I'll tell you that, but it's me. It's home.
Only he knows that I come out here whenever I have too much on my mind, and usually he'd come out here to see me, but I haven't seen him much since we broke up. So naturally, he wouldn't give a damn whether I was out here or not. He's here in LA doing some promotional shit, but that's that. No detours to come see me; just a few appearances, and its back on a plane for him.
I really started to talk to Phil (or Punk, as he likes to be called. Most people call him 'Phil' when they're upset with him, I did the opposite. I only viewed him as a punk when I was angry with him) during a Wrestlemania-craze a few years ago. 2008, I think it was.
I work in the Public Relations department with the WWE, but I'm stationed here in their Los Angeles office. I had to fly down to Florida that year to work with the Advertising Department a few weeks before Wrestlemania 24, you know, when the WWE "takes over" the entire town for two weeks or so before the event. I was at a lot of the signings, and I met up with a lot of guys like Cena and Orton for radio appearances, television appearances, and things of that nature. That's what I do; I set up appearances, get our product out to the masses, and try my damndest to get the people what they want.
On this trip, I got closer to Phil because he was booked to win the Money in the Bank, so we had put a really big emphasis on him during those two weeks, just so he wouldn't walk out to the ring and had people sort of glance him over like he was nothing. I booked his appearances and went with him quite often. I know, I sound like a personal assistant, but trust me—no one knows what to do unless the PR Agent is there.
I'd known him before from meetings that we had with the Merchandising Department and Vince, but it was always in a business tone. Thanks to this trip, I'd got to know him a bit more as a person, and we clicked right away. I know a lot of the workers in the company have this rule about not seeing the wrestlers or anything, but I didn't. Come on, I'm just a girl who works at one of their corporate offices that only sees these wrestlers whenever something big is going down. I work my magic in my office, usually on my cell phone or through email. None of these dudes are going to want me!
That's what I thought at least. After Wrestlemania, Phil and I stayed in contact with each other. Not on a professional level, but a more personal level, which shocked the hell out of a lot of people, because… this is going to be a shitty thing to say, but Phil is like sushi—he's acquired taste. Not everyone can deal with him, because they have no idea what the hell his mood is going to be like from day to day. He can be peppy (which is not very often), and he can be quite moody. I'm not going to brag and say that I "tamed the beast," because I didn't. Half of the time, I didn't even know how to deal with him, but I stuck around. Underneath all of that crabbiness was a really cool dude, a dude that I wanted to get to know.
And I did get to know him. I got to know him so well that a lot of people at corporate were beginning to speculate that I was only with him to move up in position within the company, and to get some of his money. That was stupid, because in 2008, while he was very over with the fans, Phil didn't have too much influence within the company. He still doesn't, even today in 2010. And I already make a decent chunk of change on my own. Phil can keep his money.
I got to know him so well that after about eight months of seeing each other, I started moving some of my stuff into his apartment in Chicago. Yes, Chicago. I couldn't move out there fully, but whenever I felt that I had to get away from the hustle-and-bustle of Los Angeles (which ended up being quite often), I would pack up and do my job from the comfort of Phil's living room on my laptop. We were smitten with each other. So what was the problem?
We got promotions.
I got promoted to the Head of the PR department for the WWE, and he became the World Heavyweight Champion again. He was on the road more often, doing more appearances on television and signings. I set them up, but now I had to look over the entire PR department, and work even closer with Advertising to set up appointments, appearances, and even shows. It was the same thing I was doing before, but now I was setting up that kind of stuff for events overseas, which is incredibly stressful. I stopped going to Chicago as often as I did, I couldn't travel as often, and Phil was just being… distant. I understand that he was unhappy with our schedule changes, because now I couldn't just up and leave as often as I used to. Hell, so was I. But eventually, it just got to the point that he stopped being my boyfriend and just the guy that I slept with exclusively.
That killed me, so I ended the relationship. It ended way better than I thought it would, Phil actually took it really well. I guess he understood where I was coming from, and even though we really didn't want it to end, it had to.
Phil says all the time that he's usually on never good terms with ex-girlfriends, and he's not joking. He's not exactly nasty to me since we still do work with each other, but I can definitely tell that when we're in a meeting together, he'd rather be somewhere else, preferably far away from me.
So, I'm sitting here by myself in a wooded area not too far away from the "Hollywood" sign on the outskirts of Los Angeles. I can see the cars driving around Hollywood if I look down in front of me, and if I look straight ahead, I see the collection of lighted buildings that make up Downtown. If I look to my left, I can see the Griffith Park Observatory, and if I look to my right, I can see a few of the houses in the Bel-Air neighborhood. This is all very random, actually observing what's around me, but this place holds very special meaning to me. I took Phil up here for our first date. We walked around the Observatory, because that was one of the first things that he wanted to do, claiming that "it looked awesome in movies." He changed his mind after we went, though. He said that it was "a little hum drum," which had me cracking up laughing because "hum drum" is not a word that I would have associated with Phil Brooks' vocabulary.
I drove him over here to where I'm sitting now, mainly because I didn't feel like going home, and Phil wasn't complaining. We sat here for a good while, just talking about different situations we've gone through in our lives. Of course, his tales of being on the road were far more interesting than my tales at the beach or occasional moments of road rage on the freeway.
"You know, you're very cookie cutter," Phil observed while he had his arm around me, looking over the city. "Ya know… tailored suits, always with the latest smart phone and talking on it with the snobbiest laugh ever."
At that, I had to laugh. "Oh, don't stop there." The sentence was doused in sarcasm. "I have a snobby laugh?"
"Maybe not snobby. It sounds a little too forced, to my ears, anyway. But I like that." He shot one of his off-grins at me. "And besides, I've never dated a business woman before." He smiled.
"Oh, shut up. Business woman?" I laughed, trying my damndest not to let it sound 'snobby'. "I make sure you're on television or the radio when you're supposed to be. Big deal."
"No… you shut up."
I blinked. "Wha—"
He cut me off with our first kiss.
Call me corny, but that's a big reason why this place is so important to me. I had a lot of good times up here with Phil. A few really good times that I can't talk about, because I'm sure that there are young ears around here somewhere.
"Oh, my GOD," I scream and shuffle to my feet when I feel an arm go around me. I place a hand over my heart and stare wide-eyed at the silhouette, wearing a hooded jacket. I didn't run only because my eyes swept over his body as I jolted up and saw the familiar "No Gimmicks Needed" tattoo on the back of one of his hands.
"Christ, great to see you, too," Phil replied sarcastically as he looked up at me.
This WAS supposed to be a one-shot, but meh. I like the plot too much.
Oh, before any of you lash out at me, the OC is not based off of me. I actually despise writing about myself. If it were 85 degrees in the evening (which is quite often now), I would not be sitting in some random forest looking over LA; I'd be wishing death upon those who have A/C (much like I'm doing right now) because I don't.
I write about LA because I know LA. I don't like looking like a dumbass and not knowing what I'm talking about when it comes to cities. Now that that's cleared up…