______________________________________________________
Amy watched Adam with trepidation, knowing he was actually going to go through with it. He was going to make a phone call she dreaded.
It was morning and they'd just had breakfast. Both of them were freshy showered as well, and Adam's blond hair was still damp as he ran a hand quickly through it.
"Be right back," he said as he rose from the table.
This was it. The redhead knew now was the moment he was going to slip into the bedroom to make the call. She felt Lucas stirring at her feet as she shifted in her dining room chair. She really didn't like this.
"Wait... Can't you..." She hesitated for a brief moment, knowing the blond man absolutely would not like to hear the suggestion she was about to make. "... let me call her? After all, it's me she's been harassing."
Adam stopped in his tracks and gave her the oddest look. In truth, he was actually shocked that she would even suggest such a thing. Every other time Lisa had called her, she'd pretty much gotten freaked out.
"No, Amy..." He shook his head. "That's not a good idea." He came toward her and reached over for her hand, gently caressing it. "Besides, she's my ex-wife. I know how to talk to her," he remarked.
The redhead was about to protest and point out that, maybe, just maybe, being nice would actually do the trick this time. Then again, the woman in question was basically crazy - and there really was no rationalizing with a crazy person due to the fact that they weren't rational.
"Adam..."
"Let me," he said, "and if all else fails, then the threat or promise of legal action will definitely work."
Amy nodded, though she could feel a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
"Okay."
He gave her a tiny smile, then blew her a kiss before walking down the hallway to make the call. She watched until he vanished, one of the dogs trailing after him.
Her gaze lowered to the table at which she was sitting, her thoughts whirling through her head as she contemplated getting up to stand just outside his bedroom to eavesdrop. No... No, that wouldn't be a wise thing to do. She really had no reason to worry. He was doing the right thing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Matt was all wound up as he made the two-hour drive back home. He'd traveled all that way to release some of his tension over Ashley, and it turned out it was for nothing.
He felt like driving the car clear off the road into something. He was already going about eighty-five, well over the speed limit. Ramming the Corvette into a mailbox or a street sign or something would surely relieve him of some of his pent-up aggression and anger. But naturally, he didn't want to damage his car. It wasn't as though he hadn't paid enough for it to begin with.
He couldn't believe the nerve... That bastard, that no good son of a bitch had actually called while he'd been over. That had caused the woman to become extremely agitated, to say the least. She'd no longer been interested in his company or anything more - and so, he'd left.
And that little bitch Ashley... He simply could not believe she'd actually gone and stowed away from him like a thief in the night. What the hell was she thinking? Hardy had no idea where she'd gone. He'd begun calling people he knew, guys in the company he either thought or knew she was friendly with, in hopes one of them would say she was with him. So far, he'd come up flat. One thing he was very glad for at least, was that she was not with his brother Jeff. He would have hated having to kick his own brother's ass for conspiring with his girl behind his back.
He was near home. Thank goodness for that, because he felt like at this rate, he needed to shoot his gun to feel better. Quickly, he pulled the Corvette into the driveway as he reached it, and put it into park. As he exited the passenger's door, he reached for his cell phone, instantly dialing Ashley's number.
The phone rang four times, then went to voicemail.
"Hi, this is Ashley. I'm not available right now. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Bye!"
Disgusted, Matt hung up and flipped the phone to a close. So, the little bitch was refusing to answer her calls?
He let himself into his house, slamming the door behind him. He stood just in the foyer for a beat, oddly calm as he surveyed his immediate surroundings. With one huge sweep of his arm, he tossed some ceramic knick-knacks to the floor, a furious groan escaping him. He raised his left foot and actually went so far as to stomp a few of them. They broke instantly, turning to dust under his shoes.
This was the fault of both of them - that fucking prick Adam Copeland and the bitch known as
Ashley Massaro.