Diary Entry #1 - Nothing Will Ever Be The Same Again - FOCUS
May 23, 2021 9:25:58 GMT -5
☠ VooDoo ☠, Miss Michelle, and 3 more like this
Post by Paul Montuori on May 23, 2021 9:25:58 GMT -5
Dear Diary..
What a grueling flight. What was supposed to be a sixteen hour flight from Tokyo to shitty ass Newark turned into a two day ordeal. Fuckers even stuck me in First Class. How dare they fly me commercial? They couldn’t have flown me directly to LA? Somebody is a fucking hater in that office. And I’m a Champ now. Thee OPW Southern Champion Bay Bay.. Well, half. It’s complicated. Tommy Kain sort of also won the OPW Southern Heavyweight Championship. One of those screwy finishes. But I “convinced” him into letting me leave with the title. Some complicated schedule where he gets the belt on X days of the week, so complicated even he didn’t understand.
Usually I’d hop on the next flight back to LA, get it over with as soon as possible. But when I landed, I saw a voicemail from my lawyer, saying he needed to see me. That it was urgent. If he needs to see me so bad, fucker better not charge me. Got me staying in this city longer than I want to. Make me actually have to carry my own bag, like a peasant. And hail my own Uber Black into Manhattan. Best believe now that I’m Champ you won’t catch me riding in a Honda like a fucking commoner. Uh, how I hate New York City. Everything about it. Since the day I was born. Raised in a brownstone by third generation, Italian New Yorkers. As goombah as you can get. My father. Thee great George “The Animal” Steele, biggest draw at Madison Square Garden in his time. The Italian hero. Brute of a man inside of the ring. And out..
And my mother. My beautiful, precious mother. A Saint of a woman who deserved more than my father. Traditional, put up with all of his nonsense. And did I mention she was beautiful? So beautiful..
Not like this fucking city. This city is dirty and gross. How lucky I am to no longer have to live amongst the assholes that reside here. The weather is disgusting in the winter and it can be ridiculously hot during the summer amongst the exhaust fumes of the city. I much rather enjoy my time in the Hills of Hollywood. Amongst the beautiful in matching weather. Who gives a fuck if they’re all fake and concieted? Who cares if they’re rotten to the core on the inside, aren’t we all? We all put on the facade of being someone else, all in the hope that we’ll be able to fool ourselves into thinking we’re this person we created.
The driver interrupts my train of thought, fucker. I was going on a dope ass tangent. Sounding enlightened as fuck.. He tells me we’re here, with a look of hope in his eyes that I’ll give him a tip. I pull out a couple of hundreds and hand it over.
“Don’t spend it all in one place,” I tell him as he looks at me appreciatively. Pay it forward, right?
I get out of the car, pulling my Louis bag and newly won championship out with me. I look up at the sky-rise, I’m paying this guy way too much.
I proudly strut into the building, title across my shoulder. I’m the fucking Champ, and you best believe everyone is going to know about it. Everybody seems too busy to ask for a picture. It’s cool though, I’m in no mood for pictures. Not after that long ass flight. Fuck you OPW for making me leave LA.
Up, up and up some more in the elevator. Until it comes to a stop and a ding coincides with the doors sliding open. I step out, this fucker’s got the entire floor for his firm. I definitely pay him too much. I step up to the hot receptionist, who is busy typing away and yapping on one of those lame headsets. For real? Not going to notice me? I’m a fucking Champion, this is ridiculous. I’m a..
“Fucking Champion,” oop. Did I just say that out loud? Looking at how startled she looks, I’m going to take that as a yes. I pretend to clear my throat. “Paul Montuori to see Jake Brigance.”
“He’ll be right with you,” she replies as she goes back to typing away. I stand, unsure of what my next move should be. She looks back up at me, with an annoyed look. “Please have a seat.”
“Nah, I’m good. Long flight. Long car ride into the city,” I offer up for some reason. She gives me a look like she could give two fucks, and goes back to typing. I stand around, awkwardly, adjusting the title on my shoulder while holding my heavy Louis bag. Why the fuck did I have to bring Piggie Smalls? And why the fuck did I have to say no to the seat. I can’t back out now. Brigance might take forever. He loves wasting my time. And this chick hasn’t even offered me a beverage. Does she know who I am? She must not know. Look at her, typing away, thinking she’s hot shit. Biiiihh please, I’m hot sh..
“Mr. Brigance will see you now.”
Damn right he will.
“I know the way,” bitch. I nod to her like a cool mofucka would do as I stroll right past her, leaning deep into my pimp walk. Passing office after office, people peeking out of their offices to get a good look at me. I don’t know if it’s my boyish good looks, the title over my shoulder, my 15 AVN Awards, or that I’m still wearing my ring gear with my chinchilla coat on, face still caked with blood.. I hate staying around after a big event. They want you to shoot promos and speak to the press. Fuck that. I want to get home as fast as possible..
I don’t bother knocking on his door. I pay him too much to bother. Barging right in, my lawyer stands up, looking nervous.
“Brigance, bruh.. What was so important?” That’s when I see her. A girl in her early teens, sitting with her arms crossed, a hoodie pulled over dark hair. Stank ass look on her face. “What is this? A Make-A-Wish or something? You know you have to go through my agent for stuff like this.”
“Make-A-Wish? Who would want to meet you with their dying wish?” she says, snarky as fuck.
“Uh.. Paul, maybe you should sit down,” Brigance says, motioning for me to sit down next to her. Shit’s getting weird. But I’m not an idiot twice. No way am I saying no, not again. I sit down, setting my Louis bag on the floor to the opposite side of the girl. She looks like she has grubby hands, I don’t want her scuffing it up or messing with Piggie Smalls. I then set my championship belt on the desk.
“What is that? The Championship for the Biggest Fucking Loser,” she says, with a devilish smirk on her face.
“Do you kiss your mom with that mouth?” Did I really just say that?
“No, but you did.” Who does she think she is? Talking to me like that. Wait, what?
“Wait, what did you mean by ‘but you did’?”
“Paul, this is Madison,” Brigance says, interrupting. Rude fuck.
“And..”
“Well, Paul. She’s..” Don’t you say it.. ”Your daughter.”
“My daughter? Impossible. Where’s Maury? DN..”
“We already did. The firm here keeps your DNA on file. After all the women who have come forward, it was the most cost effective thing to do. And she is, 100% your daughter.”
“There’s no way.. What’s your mom’s name?”
“Machelle.” Michelle? Oh thank God, they got the wrong person.
“You got the wrong person. I’ve never had sex with Michelle. She used to bang B before he dumped her. And probably couple extra dozen other doods in the business. She tried hollering at me recently, sliding into my DM’s. But I had to let her down gently. I’d end up in the shed mad quick if I tried to put the moves on her.”
“Not Michelle you idiot, Machelle,” she says. Machelle? Machelle.. Wow that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Shit like 13-14 yea..
Fuuuucccccckkkkkk..
“This has to be some hidden camera show. Where’s Ashton Koocher? Come on out, really funny. I didn’t mean to make out with Demi, that was fucking eons ago. And plus you’re with Mila now. And me and Mila hooked up waaaay before you..”
“Paul, this isn’t a joke,” Brigance says, leaning forward onto the desk.
“Why now? After all this time? I mean, I haven’t seen her in over a decade. I didn’t even know she was alive. You have to be like 10.”
“I’m 13 you asshole. Is this really the only person?”
“Your mother had strict instructions that you should go with your father here until she was better,” Brigance says as he hands me a folder. I open it, acting like I can actually make out what’s on the paper. Boy is it hot in here. My heart’s racing, palms are sweaty, there’s vomit on my sweater, Mom’s spaghetti..
“Better? Waddya mean better?” I close the folder and toss it back onto the desk.
“She went crazy. Stalking someone from her past or something. Dumb bitch.”
“Hey, don’t talk about your mother that way,” I’m supposed to say that right?
“Why? She is,” she says. And she’s not lying. Machelle was hot, but that bitch was cray..
“So now what?” This can’t be happening.
“Now you sign a couple papers and she’ll be in your custody until her mother is deemed fit,” he says, handing me some paperwork. What the fuck is going on? I should be on another shitty flight to LA right about now. Either passed out drunk or damn near close to it. Instead I’m signing papers, accepting responsibility for a kid I just met. What the fuck do I know about kids? What does it eat? My fridge is full of pizza rolls and chicken tenders. I hope to God she doesn’t need help using the bathroom.
“She wanted you to read this when you had a chance,” Brigance says, handing me an envelope. I stash it away in my chinchilla. I’m in a dream, this can’t be real..
Somehow I found myself standing on the street, outside the building. The haze is beginning to lift as I look over to see her standing next to me, suitcase by her side. She looks up at me with that look in her eyes that says 'What now?' She stands, waiting for my next move. Fuck I don't know what I'm supposed to do..
“You hungry? There’s a diner down the street,” I ask, her answer irrelevant. I’m hungry, I haven’t eaten since I expended all my awesomeness at the PPV. I’m eating whether she agr..
“Sure,” she says.
I nod, approvingly and start to walk down the street, side by side, silently. We step into a diner and sit ourselves in a booth to the back next to the window facing the street. I set my bag and my title on the table and help her put the suitcase in the booth. We sit as I put my bag next to me and pull out Piggie Smalls.
“You have a piglet?” Her face lit up for the first time.
“Yeah, this is Piggie Smalls. No big deal,” I say nonchalantly, for some weird reason, desperately wanting the approval of this 13 year old girl I just met. What’s wrong with me?
“Can I hold him?”
“Sure,” I say. I pass Piggie Smalls over to her.
“Where’d you get him?”
“A friend. Michelle actually.”
“The Michelle from earlier?”
“The Michelle from earlier..”
“She must like you.”
“How so?”
“Well, giving you a present like this.”
“Yeah, I guess she does. In her own, bitchy kinda way..”
“Good morning.” I look up to see the waitress staring down at me. A lady who should have retired long ago, but unknown circumstances have led her to this point in her life. Such a shame. “Is everything OK sweetie?”
“Of course they are,” I reply, annoyed. What does this lady think? That I’m some kinda creep? Because I’m shirtless under this coat and smell gross? How dare she.
“I was talking to the girl, sir. Sweetie?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she replies after what felt like an eternity. What the fuck?
“Alright, what can I get you this morning?”
“Eggs, over medium, bacon, sausage, hash browns.. Chocolate milk,” I look over to see Madison looking at me like a glutton. “Bruh, a Champ’s gotta eat.”
”And for the miss?”
“Bowl of fruit. And an orange juice please,” she says. Fruit? What is she? A herbivore?
“I’ll go put it in. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Not one word about Piggie Smalls. The things some people let slide..
“Fruit? And orange juice?” Please don’t be one of those hippies that don’t eat meat.
“I’m vegan,” she says.
“Which one is that?”
“No meat, no eggs, no dairy.”
“Fruit.”
“Fruit,” she says. I spawned a fucking vegan.. And for the first time it comes to me. Who she looks like. Not me. Not that God awful wretched of a woman Machelle. Mom. Mom’s eyes. All day..
Rest of breakfast she would catch me staring and I’d have to make up some bullshit reason. Can’t tell her how much she looks like her grandmother. Those eyes. Those fucking eyes..
I thought by the time I’d finished eating, I’d have some grand realization of what I needed to do. Like a light would shine down upon me, filling me with the wisdom to know what my next move was. Hoping for a sign, hoping for anything. But it didn’t come. Even as I dragged out breakfast, asking a million times if she wanted something else. Even after I took forever to pay the bill. I’m just as fucking clueless as when Brigance first told me.
Maybe there’s someone who’d know what to do.
I excuse myself, stepping back onto the street. I look through the window at her, watching her play with Piggie Smalls inside the diner. Then I catch a glimpse of.. A guy in a mask, full tactical gear, standing across the street. I turn around as the creep is gone. What the fuck? Bruh, less hallucinogens.. I pull out my phone, scrolling through the contacts. Full of numbers of people I could care less for. Why do I even have their numbers?
“Hello,” I say. “Don’t hang up.”
“Fuck Paul, what do you want?” I hear Michelle ask me on the other line.
“Where are you?”
“I just landed at JFK. Again, what do you want Paul?”
“I need your help.”
“No, not again. Not anymore. You can’t keep calling me to bail you out Paul. Don’t you have someone else to call? Any family? Friends? Anyone else but me.”
“Uh.. You’re my family..”
“Oh, Paul..” I hear her sigh over the line. I hear her brain working, I know she has no business helping me out. Not after the shit I said about her and B. And I don’t have any right asking her for help. But whether she liked it or not, she’s all I have. “Meet me at the Baccarat in two hours. And this better be important.”
“Thanks,” I say, grateful as fuck.
“Hey Paul, can I get a picture?” I turn to see a pap with a camera in my face.
“Yeah, sure,” I say. One thing I’ve learned, you fight the pap it only gets worse. Princess Di bruh..
“What a match at the PPV huh?”
“Yeah, some crazy shit.”
“Even crazier your next match huh? After a barn burner like that, you get put into another intense match.”
“Waddya mean?”
“The card for Showcase,” he says. They already booked the card for the next show? “You and Tommy Kain against Vhodka and Vincent Black.”
“What?”
“Wait, you didn’t know?” He starts to film me. I quickly pull myself together.
“Yeah of course I know.” What the fuck? After the brutal match in Tokyo, Champ’s gotta team with TK against Vincent Black and Vhodka? Uh..
“So can I get a few words? Little promo?”
”Uh.. Nah, not today..”
“Alright.. Who’s the girl?”
“The who?”
“The girl you were eating with.”
“Nobody.” Fucker. ”Alright, you want some words? Little promo for the masses? Maybe it’ll get you some hits, some likes, some shares. Go viral. And why shouldn’t it? You’re looking at the OPW Southern Heavyweight Champion, Bay Bay!”
“Technically the co-OPW Southern Heavyweight Champion. Tommy Kain is the other co..”
“Do you want me to do this or what?”
“I’m sorry, go ahead.”
“As I was saying.. Bay Bay! What a turn of events. Your boy, who nobody thought would’ve made it this long in a run, let alone win a single’s championship. The most prestigious championship in OPW, sorry Strat Stat. I got the JUICE now.. After a hard fought match, Vhodka was unable to pull through when it truly mattered. In the big match. In the ring with a BIG DOG. While she has no problem cutting the cheese, she just was unable to cut the mustard. But hats off to her for a uh.. Underwhelming title reign. And that’s me being nice. Publicist has me on my absolute best behavior. Trying to get a Nick Kids Choice Award next year. Really hoping to get slimed. That’d be dope as fuck. But killer on my shampoo supply. I gotta buy that good shit to keep these locks luscious..”
“What about that tag team name?”
“Los Bandidos Borrachos? That was su..”
“No, not that name,” he says, interrupting me again. Again and again. Rude as fucker. Where’s people’s mann.. “The Brothas From Otha Muthas.”
“Excuse me? The what?”
“The Brothas From Otha Muthas.”
“Oh dear God, what poor saps have that tag name.”
“Well, word on the dirt sheets is that’s the name OPW is giving you and Tommy Kain. Didn’t you know?”
“Yeah fucking right.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Flicking through it while holding his camera, impressive. He then hands it over. I scroll through, seeing several articles with that tag name being thrown around. And I’ll be damned. He was right. Paul Montuori is in a tag team called ‘The Brothas From Otha Muthas’. Insert facepalm emoji.. I hand the phone back over to him. Unsure of what to say. I’m supposed to be all 'Rah Rah go OPW’ now. I’m supposed to be a good guy now. A baby face. A fucking company man. But what kinda bullshit.. Shauna is gonna hate me, but fuck it.
“Bruh, when have the dirt sheets ever been right? For years they said I was a power bottom. If anything, I’d be a top. I’m too selfish not to be.. You know, even if the rumors are true, I fucking deserve it. I deserve to be stuck with some lame ass name. After everything I’ve done in this business, after all the shit talking and after all the asshole shit I’ve said. I deserve it. Karma deserves to finally catch up to me. Finally deserves to even the score with me. I’ve been a huge dick my entire career. Selfish as fuck, only about doing business if it meant Paul Montuori came out looking good. I ruined lives and careers with no fucks given. I’ve sent more people to therapy and rehab than a creepy Uncle named Jay. So you know what? Good, I hope they stick with the name. I’ve got some pittance to pay for the horrible deeds I’ve committed.”
“Wow, dare I say Paul Montuori is growing up?” I shrug. What does he want me to say? “What’s the reason for this newfound maturity? Does it have anything to do with the kid?”
“The kid is off limits.”
“OK. So what are your thoughts on the match with Vincent Black and Vhodka? No love lost between you three.”
“No love lost? Nah we’re co.. Wait, am I supposed to stay in kayfabe? Can’t really sell a match if people don’t buy into the beef right? For sure not the duo you want to face right out of the gate. TK and I haven’t had any matches as a team yet and we’re already being thrown to the wolves. Figuratively. Except Vinnie’s too cool to run with the Wolf name.. I go way back with that family. Even further back with the oldest of the clan, Kal. There’s always been this unfounded belief that we hate each other, which couldn’t be further from the truth. But when you’re in a promotion with that family, you tend to find yourself at the top with them. So naturally that’s eventually going to lead to some confrontations.. So when the dirt sheets started reporting the beef between them and myself, none of us ever corrected them. Why should we? We laughed all the way to the bank. They bought some ridiculous 10,000 acre compound and moved an entire building to it. And I blew it on partying..”
“What about Vhodka?”
“What about her?”
“Well, it’s no secret how much you were in love with her,” he says. I can’t hold back a laugh. Dummy..
“Let me clear up this whole ‘Paul Montuori was madly and creepily in love with Vhodka.’ I was never in love with Vhodka. The whole thing started as a way to rile Vinnie Black’s feathers, get under his skin. His relationship with Vhodka just became public, effectively ending his marriage with VooDoo. So I thought I’d profess my love for Vhodka in an attempt to make the whole situation more awkward. I was away for a long time and a lot of people got comfortable. I thought my job was to throw monkey wrenches into people’s lives. That’s how I spent the first decade of my career, going above and beyond to make people feel as uncomfortable as possible. But of course Vinnie Black no-sold the whole thing. Completely ignored my nonsense as I should’ve known he would. He knows me, knows I’m not really serious about 99% of the time. But Vhodka, not really knowing me, bit. So I ran with it. And it just snowballed into one ridiculous thing after another. I kept trying to up the ante with each week that passed. Which inevitably made me look like some pitiful chump. Trust me bruh, I’m not as desperate as I made myself seem.”
“A likely story. I’m sure most stalkers say that.”
“Stalker? Bitch please. Look at this gorgeous face. Do you think I need to stalk women?”
“I saw her tweet basically begging to find you a date. Looks like times are rough for you in the love department.”
“I vehemently deny having any involvement in her weak attempt of playing Cupid. It was a rib, payback for all the jokes I made about her having no ass and broad shoulders. As usual you marks read way too much into it.”
“I don’t know, it looks prett..”
“I’m not going to sit here and argue with you. Pretty sure I just gave you enough footage to get you some traffic to your little website. As always, it’s been a pleasure. Have a great day and go fuck yourself. Peace and love.”
I give him a salute and head back in, sitting back down at the booth.
“Who was that?”
“Some guy wanting face time with the Champ,” I say as she rolls her eyes.
“Why’d you name him Piggie Smalls?”
“Oh, cause of Biggie.”
“Who?”
“Biggie Smalls,” she stares back at me. “Notorious BIG? Big Poppa?”
She shrugs. Poor girl. What the fuck has Machelle been teaching her all these years? I pull out my phone and give her a history lesson. From ‘Juicy’ to ‘Hypnotize’ and ‘Mo Money, Mo Problems.’ Track after track, I felt the fear and worry and anxiety begin to lift as she laughed at some of the more ridiculous lines. I watched as she nodded along with enjoyment to some of the tracks while being disgusted by more of the uh.. Vulgar lines. By the end she learned some fucking wisdom that was sorely lacking.
And by the end I felt that rush of fear and anxiety and worry come flooding back. I have no business being responsible for another human. I can barely take care of myself. Michelle.. Michelle will know..
And there I sto.. There WE stood, outside Michelle’s hotel room door. I shift my weight on my feet, feeling my palms sweating. I muster up all the courage I have left in me to knock on the door when it swings open. Her assistant comes barreling out, almost knocking me over.
“I can’t believe you called. Why can’t you leave her alone?”
“Nice seeing you too.”
She hesitantly walks past me, but not before seeing Madison. Her look of annoyance changes to ‘what the fuck?’ real quit as she walks down the hall.
“Paul, I don’t have all day. I just got off a flight from Japan. I just want to take a hot shower and maybe get a massage,” I hear Michelle say from inside.
I take a deep breath and let Madison walk in first. I close the door behind me as I hear Michelle in the other room of her boujie ass suite.
“So what do you want now?”
“Uh.. Maybe you should come out here.”
“Paul, I don’t have time,” Michelle says as she steps into the room, seeing me for the first time. “Have you really not showered yet? Gross Paul, that was like days ago. Good to see you haven’t killed Piggie Smalls yet.. And who’s this?”
“This is uh.. My daughter. Madison, meet Michelle. Michelle, Madison.”
“Your what?”
“My daughter..”
“This is some kinda joke right? Paul, you really shouldn’t use kids for your sick jokes.”
“I wish it was a joke,” Madison says. The nerve of her. I done bought this girl breakfast. I let her hold Piggie Smalls. I even taught her who Biggie was. And she..
“With who?”
“Machelle.”
“Machelle?!” Michelle starts laughing. Like, uncontrollable laughing. Like, makes you question your whole existence laughing. But then she notices Madison standing there again. And realizes she’s literally laughing at this poor girl because of who her mother is. It’s not her fault her mom is Machelle. And it’s not her fault her dad is Paul Montuori. “Can you give us a minute?”
Michelle leads me into the other room, closing the door behind us. I sit down on the edge of the bed.
“Paul, what the fuck? How long have you known?”
“This morning. I landed in Newark to a message from my lawyer saying it was urgent. I hopped in an Uber and went into the city. And there she was. Said something about Machelle needing help and being checked in somewhere. That uh.. I’m responsible for her until Machelle is deemed worthy again or some shit. And he gave me a letter from her,” I say, pulling it out of my coat and handing it to her. She takes it and starts to read it, pacing around the room.
“Have you read this?” Michelle asks, looking up from the letter.
“No, not yet.”
“Well you probably should.”
“Later.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?” Michelle hands me back the letter, I stash it away in my coat.
“I don’t know. What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. There’s a reason I don’t have kids. And there’s a reason why you shouldn’t.”
“Yeah no shit..”
“Well,” she says, hands on her hips. “What can you do? Take her home.”
“Home? To your place?”
“No, not to my fucking place Paul. Do you really want to chance your daughter running into Brandon right now?” She was right, who the fuck knows what’s going on with him right now. I don’t even think Michelle knows. Which is why they’re getting divorced. “Take her to your home. Back to California. Go ‘Big Daddy’ the situation. You got this Paul. You’re not as dumb and useless as you put on.”
She’s right, right? I look up at her as she brushes the hair from my face.
“You got this Paul. Now get the fuck out. I need a nap.” Michelle was a hater. And a bitch. But she wasn’t a liar. I could see it in her face, in her eyes that she meant it. And that made the world. I nodded and stood up. I gave her a big bear hug, which she tried to fight off at first, before pushing me away. “Please, take a shower. You stink.”
She wasn’t lying..
She leads me out of the room and calls Madison over.
“Take care of both of them for me, alright?” Michelle says.
“OK,” Madison replies.
And out we go. We head straight to the airport and catch a flight, First Class cause I’m a Champ. Back to LA.
She falls fast asleep on the plane. Poor girl’s life has been completely turned upside down and here I am being a selfish prick like always. Thinking about myself. Thinking about how my life is being affected. This poor girl just met her dad for the first time and is being forced to fly across the country to live with some dood she just met. Her mom isn’t well enough to take care of her. Poor, innocent girl now has to deal with me. I have to be better, if not for my sake, for hers..
I dig into my pocket and pull out the letter. I pull out a vodka shooter out of my coat and chug it down. No way I’m going to be able to read this thing sober..
My hands are trembling as I open the letter.
Paul, fuck you. I hate you. And you know why I never told you about Madison. There’s no way you would’ve been able to handle it. You were a mess. She didn’t need that in her life. I didn’t need that in my life. So I kept you away, letting you continue living the life you were accustomed to. But now I need. Madison needs you. I’m not well. And I need to get help. I’m going to get help. Please watch out for Madison until you hear from me again. Thanks, you fucking asshole.
XOXO
Machelle
XOXO
Machelle
She always did have a way with words..