Disclaimer: I don't own the WWE.

A/N: There will be some co-writers in this story. It's me, Madame Reject and Chris.Jericho.Holic. This chapter is written by yours truly, Cara Mascara.

Secrets Don't Make Friends


I should've known. Even her name sounds like a slut's name. Zandra.


She fooled me though. Oh yeah, real good. Made me look like a fuckin' idiot. And it's not like she didn't know it would piss me off. She knew. That's why she hid it. She hid it damn good too.

I was clueless. I had no idea. I thought she was everything I wanted. Perfect. I even got her tattooed on the back of my shoulder. As a pin up girl. I told myself and everyone else I'd never get a girl's name tattooed on me. And technically, I guess I didn't. Just her perfect body and her perfect face. But when you're in love like that you do dumbass things I guess.

Oh well, at least I don't have to look at it.

I hope she looks at that fucking 'CM Punk' text in a heart on her hip every day and feels like shit.

If Shannon weren't such a pervert I'd never have found out. Luckily, his perversion came in handy this time. I think. Damn it.

Seriously, when I tell a girl I love her I fucking mean it. I don't mess around with shit like that. I gave her everything! I got her away from some abusive dick and treated her like a damn princess. She fucking moved in with me when she had nowhere else to go. I fed her, and hell I took her on the road with me a few times. Introduced her to all my friends. My family.

And she made me look like a goddamn joke.

Not only does the whole roster know, but my boss, my friends, my family, my fans. They all found out. And now people think I'm fake. A poser. A fucking liar!

I pride myself in my morals. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I don't have promiscuous sex. And I certainly don't date nasty stripper whores.

At least, I didn't.

Until she played me for the fool that I obviously am.

I found out through a picture message. Shannon snapped it, sent it to my phone and then called me. He asked if it was her. It definitely was. The hair. The body. And I could see the tattoo, even though I couldn't make it out. There she was, hands gripping a thin, chrome pole. Completely topless.