Death Clutch - Brock Lesnar [41]
I ended up getting out of that cab, too. I was running out of patience. I just wanted to get to Rena’s house, see the woman I love, and get her to marry me. I can’t even get there, because these damned taxi drivers are all assholes!
So I get into the third taxi of the day, and I tell the guy, “Listen, I’m having a bad day. I just need to go home. I don’t even know my own address. I just know how to get there. Please, just take me where I want to go, okay?”
The taxi driver was either laughing at me, or scared out of his mind. Either way, he says to me, “Just guide me along.”
I was so happy to hear him say that.
Of course, it’s not over yet.
Rena lived in a gated community, and wouldn’t you know it, the gate is closed when we get there. So I’m sitting there for over half an hour with the taxi driver, trying to figure out a way in, when lo and behold, another car pulls up. We went right in behind it, and after all this trouble, I finally get to Rena’s house.
I was so ready to see her. I rang the doorbell. I’m standing there, preparing myself for whatever reaction she has when she opens that door. If she’s happy to see me, I’m scooping her up in my arms. If she’s pissed, I know I have to make good on my stupid mistakes. So, what’s it going to be?
Well, I didn’t find out right away, because Rena wasn’t home. I’m standing there ringing the doorbell, and I know someone is going to notice me standing in front of her house and call the cops.
I can’t just break down the door, because she has all this security. Plus, it would probably piss her off. So, I decide to try to get in from the back of the house. Here’s this three-hundred-pound gorilla jumping the fence into the backyard, and it’s not like I’m inconspicuous. I’m just hoping to God that maybe she left the window open or something like that. Of course, she didn’t. Everything is all locked up.
I saw a neighbor standing by his garage, and I knew he had seen me around with Rena enough to know we were a couple. That was a lucky break for me, because the guy never got suspicious. I told him I was working in the backyard and needed a screwdriver. It was the best excuse I could come up with.
I used the screwdriver he loaned me to get into one of her sliding doors, and of course the alarm goes off as soon as I get into the house. I knew the pass code, so I shut off the alarm, and now I’m inside. I returned the screwdriver to the neighbor, brought in my bags, and started waiting. I was sure Rena wasn’t out of town, because it was obvious that the house had been lived in. I figured she would come back, and we’d settle our problems.
Well, I sat around for a couple of hours, and she still wasn’t home. I started calling her from my cell phone, which was a dumb-ass move because she hadn’t taken my calls in over two weeks. I didn’t want her to know where I was, so I just kept calling her from my cell phone, and not from her landline.
I’m sitting in her house, and I’m stewing. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I picked up her house phone and dialed her cell. You can probably imagine what must have gone through her mind when she looked at her cell phone and saw her own number pop up on the caller ID.
She answered the phone, and me just being me, I just said, “Hey, how are you doing?”
Rena was pissed. “Brock, where are you calling me from?”
Of course, I was going for broke here, so I said, “Don’t you recognize the number?”
She couldn’t believe it. “You better not be at my house!”
I told her, “Well, I’m here, and I’ll be here when you come home, because I’m waiting for you!”
Just to teach me a lesson, Rena took her own sweet-ass time getting home, making me wait and wait and wait. Once she got home, I knew she was as happy to see me as I was to see her—but I still walked around on pins and needles.
I ended up spending a week with Rena in Florida. When she took me to the airport, she came inside the terminal with me. It was right there, by the waterfall in the