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Edge drummed his fingers nervously on the table in Punk's small dining area. You couldn't even really call it a dining room, it was so meager.
He was getting antsy. What the hell happened to Lita? He'd called her hours earlier, and she'd promised to call him back. Yet, he was still waiting.
Pushing back the chair as he abruptly stood up, he was feeling more on edge - no pun intended - than ever. He had to get out of this damn house and call his redheaded ex-girlfriend again.
"Hey, where are you going?" Ashley asked, her gaze following him as he started for the front door.
The man stopped in his tracks, reluctantly turning back.
"Out... Just for awhile. I'll be back soon."
The blonde didn't leave it alone and gave him an odd look.
"Well, what are you doing?"
"I'm going to go and..." He quickly cast around through his mind for an excuse. Then, "... buy some more cat food."
Ashley frowned as she turned in her chair to fully face him.
"But Fluffy has plenty of food already," she said. "I saw an entire carton of cans in the hallway closet."
Edge stood perfectly still and tried to pace himself. He found it increasingly difficult not to completely lose his cool and let the blonde see some of his wrath. Why did she insist on making things so complicated for him? He wished he were with Maryse instead. If he were, lord knew that he would certainly not be in the ridiculous bind in which he found himself now.
"I still need to go to the store," he said lamely.
"Oh, well, why don't I go with you?" the little blonde said. She stood and made her way to him.
Again, Edge had to reign in his temper, which was flaring up by the second. He was really losing his patience with this girl.
"No," he said, "you stay here."
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look.
"I won't be long," the man said. "I'll be back before you know it. Just stay here and relax. Make yourself at home and all that." Inwardly, he thought, If only I could feel at home. He really wished he could, but at his own house. He hated Punk's silly little house! He really felt as though he could use a beer, but naturally, there was none. Instead, there was plenty of Pepsi. God, he hated Pepsi! It had nothing, absolutely nothing on Coke!
Ashley reluctantly agreed and settled herself back into the living room. However, she still gave him an odd look as she sat down on the sofa and flipped on the TV set with a remote control. She knew something weird was up with him, but she just didn't know what.
Edge exhaled a sigh of relief as he stepped outside. Naturally, he wasn't really going to the store, but Ashley didn't need to know that. He'd noticed a supermarket or convenience store a few blocks away as they were coming here, but he knew this neighborhood like a hole in the wall. What if he were to go there and then get lost on his way back? How the hell would he ever be able to explain that?
Of course, it was very tempting to go and at least get a beer. It wasn't like he would be easily able to do that while he had that damn Lita wannabe hanging around him for who knew how long!
With that thought, he remembered why he'd left the house in the first place. He reached into his jeans pocket for the cell phone and flipped it open, quickly dialing her number.
"Hello?"
Walking briskly down the block, the man nonetheless kept his voice down to a loud whisper.
"Lita, it's me!"
"'Me' who?" the woman asked.
"Damn it, Amy... You were supposed to call me back!"
"Edge?" She'd forgotten his voice would sound so different. Well, he had told her he was in some kind of freaky trouble.
"Yeah, it's me," he said. He kept walking, his tone increasing in volume as he went farther and farther away from the house. "You didn't call me back."
"Yes, I did," the redhead insisted on the other end. "I called your home number and left a message on your answering machine."
Edge stopped dead in his tracks.
"You what?!" Damn it, that meant Maryse must have heard it... After all, she tended to go back to his house on occasion after SmackDown. Undoubtedly, she'd probably insisted on going back there with that damn Punk. "Lita, I told you to call me at this number!" he whined.
"I lost the number," she murmured in a calm voice. "But I still called you, so you can't be mad at me."
The Canadian frowned and somehow refrained from audibly grumbling. Lita probably didn't even know about Maryse - she was that out of touch with wrestling these days... So, he really couldn't blame her.
"Okay, whatever," he said. "Look, you've gotta do me a big favor."
"What might that be?"
"Get your hot little ass to Chicago by tomorrow, Thursday at the latest. I really need your help, Ames, and I can't explain it over the phone." He held his breath as he expected her to flat-out refuse, but it didn't happen.
"Okay... Done."
"Really? Just like that?" he asked, confused.
"Well," Lita explained, "as luck would have it, I was going to be in Chicago, anyway. The Luchagors have a gig there tomorrow night."
A slow grin spread across the man's face. This was working out more beautifully than he could have imagined.