Page 1 of Botched
Chapter One
THEODORE
“You’re a fucking piece of shit!” Her voice rings out through the apartment, and I grit my teeth, making sure to sidestep the glass that gets tossed at my head.
Most men would probably be apologizing right now. I’m not like most men, and honestly? I’m not that sorry. Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise an eyebrow as I look at the petite brunette in front of me. She’s seething, anger reflected in those brown eyes that I’ve looked into most nights for the last two years. Her makeup isruined, mascara highlighting the path that her tears took down her cheeks.
“Was throwing a glass really necessary, Veronica?” I ask, arching an eyebrow in her direction. That wasnotthe right thing to say, because she’s reaching for something else on the coffee table behind her. “Can you stop throwing shit?! Jesus Christ.”
“No,” she answers as the TV remote comes sailing past my head. I sidestep it, too, trying not to flinch as the wind whips by my face before it crashes into the wall. It hits so hard that I can hear the drywall crack behind me. Girl has a fucking arm on her, I’ll give herthat. The vibrations of the remote hitting the wall cause a framed picture to come crashing down behind me.
Glancing down, I can’t help but find it ironic that it’s one of our engagement photos. Taken in Central Park, it’s a reminder of everything that we were. Or what we pretended to be. I tear my eyes away from the splintered wood and shattered glass on top of the picture and focus on the woman in front of me.
“Veronica, you’re behaving irrationally.”
Her glare darkens. “Are you really going to fucking tell me that I’m behaving irrationally,Theodore?” She spits my name with so much venom that I can’t help but flinch this time. “You’re the one who stuck his dick in someone else.”
There’s no point in denying it. The pictures spread all over social media before I could get ahead of it. I should’ve known better. Should’ve remembered to use discretion before taking a rat back to my hotel room. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that when people don’t like you, they’ll use anything they can to tear you down.
I bite my tongue, wanting to respond with something to cut her down even more, like telling Veronica that it’s not the first time I’ve done it…because it’s not. Everyone in Veronica’s life told her before and after I put a ring on her finger that I wasn’t any good. She’s always defended me, swearing that I’m going to get my shit together, that I justplaya bad guy on TV.
Truth hurts—they were right. I’m a piece of shit, but I’ve never tried to deny it.
“She didn’t mean anything to me,” I say, because at least that’s the truth. I don’t even remember the girl's name, or if I ever got it. She was this hot little blonde wearing hardly anything who was all giddy that the world champion bought her a drink at the club. She was practically begging to come back to my room, and who am I to deny a woman the opportunity to live her dreams?
“Do I mean anything to you?”
The question makes me pause, and that’s all the answer Veronica needs. I should be able to answer without hesitation. I should be able to tell her how much she means to me and how I’m a huge fuck-up who loves her with every fiber of my being. It was only six months ago that I got down on one knee in that restaurant that she loves on North Avenue and pulled an expensive ass diamond ring out of my pocket, slipped it onto her finger, and gave her all the promises that she could ever want.
Now she’s throwing shit at my head and realizing everyone in her life was right about me. I can see regret flash behind those beautiful eyes, and it doesn’t bother me.
Why doesn’t it bother me?
Maybe because I’ve been feeling a pang of regret since the second I picked out the ring.
“Right,” she says when I don’t respond. She takes a breath and wipes at the tears. It makes her smear her mascara even more.
I can’t bite my tongue this time. “You need a makeup wipe or something. You look like shit.”
Rage, rightfully so, flashes across her face again. “Get the fuck out, Theodore. I don’t ever want to see your face again.”
“Gonna be hard when my face iseverywhere, sugar tits.”
“When you fall, Theodore Abrams, I’m going to fucking celebrate it,” Veronica says, her tone downright poisonous.
What the fuck is she talking about? I’m never going to fall. The top is where I belong and I’ll do anything to stay there. I don’t give her the pleasure of a response. She wants the last word?Fine. She can have it. I’m still the one who won. The entire world knows that her fiancée got his dick wet with someone else. It’s plastered everywhere. She won’t be able to escape it. She’s always going to be the girl that I cheated on.
Leaving her apartment, I opt for the stairs instead of the elevator. It’s only two flights until I’m in the parking garage, sliding intothe driver’s seat of my shark-blue Porsche 911 Turbo. Right as I put the car in reverse, my phone rings.
I feel a twinge of disappointment when it’s not Veronica calling me and begging me to come back, citing how she overreacted and she understands. I’m a wrestler. I’m on the road fifty-two weeks of the year, in and out of different cities. Did she really expect me not to get bored? Not to get lonely?
I have needs too.
I press the button to answer and a deep voice fills the car. “What are you doing?”
Alex is my best friend…or, probably the closest thing I have to one. I don’t do friendships. I’m not as shitty at those as I am with relationships, but I don’t see the point. If they can’t provide me with something, then what’s the point?
Alex was someone that I met on the independent wrestling circuit. We were a tag team back when we were both trying to make a real name for ourselves. I got noticed, and well, Alex didn’t. If I were in his position, I would hate my fucking guts. He doesn’t. He hasn’t even asked me to put a good word in for him with the boss.