A/N: Hello, hello. I've been gone from this website for a while, but I want to try and get back at it again. I hope you all enjoy this story. Please send me your feedback. I'd love to hear what people think!
Summary: Jon and Harley were the independent scenes pride and joy. He was the personification of extreme wrestling, and Harley was, too. Regardless of her impressive in-ring abilities, though, the lunatic fringe tried his hand at wooing Ms. Mitchell on various occasions. He figured the woman was your typical ring rat in a pair of wrestling boots. However, looks had been deceiving, and the old adage of, "Don't judge a book by it's a cover," had been accurate with this one. In that petite, five-foot-two frame, Jon Good had realized that this woman was his soul mate. Or supposed to be, rather. Harley was just as much of the wild, unhinged degenerate that he was, and it drove him mad. Mad enough to settle down with her. Being the first woman to tame the nutty, promiscuous playboy, Jon and Harley were seen by independent fans as a power couple. It was as if wrestling devotees had found their very own Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. But one phone call from Stamford, CT changed it all. The request for Jon's presence in Tampa, FL, where Harley refused to follow him to, saw the end of their relationship. It's been five years since they have spoken or seen each other, but it all changes when the indie princess gets a call from good ole Stamford. Upon her arrival to the big leagues, Harley is eager to begin the new experience, and perhaps make peace with Jon. However, her plans crumble upon finding out that he's given his colleague, Renee Young, an engagement ring.
•••
Chapter 1
A bag of original Sunchips rested on her thighs while Harley tuned into the latest edition of Thursday Night SmackDown. She surveyed the divas's every move, while her plump lips parted in order to stuff a handful of potato chips in between them. She hollered, "Kick her ass, Nikki!" to the television before chuckling to herself. The battle between her beloved Bella Twin and Emma was keeping her on her toes. Mainly because Harley loved seeing Nikki wrestle, and she found herself longing for the day she'd be able to get in a ring with the Total Diva.
After licking the salt off of her fingertips, a dimpled grin surfaced across her face when Nikki had emerged victorious. Harley squealed and cheered in the middle of her living room, as if she were in the crowd. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout," she giggled as the television went to a commercial, only for it to showcase the smirking mien of a man she once knew. Here he was, advertising overpriced t-shirts, because he had become one of the top guys in the company. Shivers trickled along her spine as she stared into his oceanic blue orbs. The same orbs that had once peered into her chocolate brown ones, and muttered his infamous, "I, y'know, you. A whole goddamn lot." His icy voice seemed to echo within her eardrums, even after the commercial had come to an end.
She missed Jonathan Good. There was no doubt about it. However, being the stubborn woman that she was, there was no way in hell she'd attempt to contact him. Besides, he had better things to do. The Dean Ambrose didn't have time for a former flame. As he had said himself the night they ended their relationship, he was on to bigger and better things. A sigh rolled off of Harley's tongue, and she opted to shut off the television for the night. It bugged her that she couldn't get through one sitting of RAW or SmackDown without thinking of him. Goddamn Vince McMahon for signing him. She tossed the remote onto the ground, and began to stretch out on the sofa, when her iPhone proceeded to buzz. Evidently irritated by the ringing taking place just while she was lying down, she snatched the smartphone and grunted, "Hello?"
"Good evening. Would this happen to be Harley Mitchell?" the chipper voice on the opposing end inquired. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she silently wondered who the hell would be calling her this late. Did they not realize what time it was?
"Yep, it's me," she answered, rather aloof. "Who's askin'?"
"This is Paul Levesque, actually, from World Wrestling Entertainment. I'm calling because we've been looking over your work on the independent scene, and we're highly interested in you."
Snorting with chuckles as she sat straight up on the couch, Harley stated, "Yeah, right. Next joke please. Who's playin' games on my phone? Jimmy? Is that you?"
"Sorry to disappoint, but this isn't a joke and I'm certainly not your pal, Jimmy. I reviewed your work at the recent Ring Of Honor show, and it was quite the stealer. You even showed up the male talent. We'd love to fly you out tomorrow morning to have a proper discussion, though."
"Holy sh-," she caught herself. "Crap." She had received calls like these before. Hell, she'd even gotten the chance to work at Impact's Knockouts Knockdown pay-per-view just a few months ago. However, those prior opportunities paled in comparison to having a meeting with the man who ran the big leagues. "I d-don't know what to say," Harley finally stuttered out. She was truly speechless. This hadn't been how she imagined her Friday night — not by a long shot.
"Hopefully you'll say, 'Yes, I'll come to Stamford.' Otherwise, I'll have to pretend like this phone call never took place."
"Trust me, I'll be there!"
•••
"A little help here?" hollered Harley while she attempted to drag her leopard printed suitcase out of the taxi. Immediately, the driver jogged over to offer his assistance. He took the luggage from her hands, and walked it to the hotel's entrance, much to her pleasure. Harley grinned, "Thank you so much," before handing the man an extra twenty dollar bill. While her suitcase rolled behind her, Harley sashayed over to the receptionist desk. Her smile was broad as she extended her hand and proclaimed, "Harley Mitchell. I'm with WWE." The man behind the counter grasped her delicate palm, and gave it a shake, while offering her the same grin.
"Very nice to meet you, Ms. Mitchell. May we have your I.D. for authentication purposes?" Immediately, she took the card from her wallet, and placed it in his hand. Once he had returned it, along with her room key, he stated, "You have a great stay."
"Thank you," she retorted before grabbing her bags, and heading to the elevator. While she strolled, Harley took in all of the hotel's amenities. It came equipped with a restaurant inside, and various signs indicted a spa of some sort. WWE sure knew how to make sure their stars were taken care of. However, her eyes became wide with satisfaction because on the opposing side of the elevator doors was a gym. Harley silently thanked the Lord that she didn't have to leave the premises to work out, and from the looks of it, the gym was pretty efficient. She could see men with their backs to her lifting, and running on the treadmill through the window. Harley opted to take a peek inside to see if it was worth getting a workout in before RAW that evening. She wanted to look her best for her first night on the job. She had signed with the company just a mere week ago after her telephone call with the boss man.
The interview consisted of an introduction by Triple H himself, and then the contract signing. Her time on the indie's proved to be efficient, so they allowed her to skip the training facilities in Florida. That was sure to cause a few rifts backstage. Nearly all of the talent, men and women included, had paid their dues in developmental. However, being the strong-willed wrestler that she was, Harley wouldn't allow any of her colleagues to undermine her abilities because she hadn't gone through the same process. She left her luggage outside the gym doors to stroll inside, and immediately, she felt the urge to flee. Every man inside turned around and every one of them happened to be her new colleagues. There was one in particular that made her stomach turn, though. His eyebrows scrunched together while he stared at her in what appeared to be awe. She had sure changed since the last time Jon had seen her. Her tightly curled tresses, bamboo earrings and cut off shorts were no more. Her hair was pin straight and pearl studs donned her earlobes. The overpriced stilettos and beige sundress were items that the Harley wouldn't have been caught dead in years before. However, that cherubic face and curvaceous figure were recognizable anywhere.
"Harley," he finally breathed. This meeting hadn't been how she had imagined it. She thought she'd be running into his arms in slow motion the way it was in movies when former flames found each other again. Not to mention all the times she had seen him on the television didn't do him any justice. The man was drop dead beautiful, and all she desired was to hold him in her arms for just a moment. Just to reminisce, and feel it again. However, the only place she ran to was out the door, and towards the elevator. She pressed the button frantically, but unfortunately for her, the elevator doors hadn't closed fast enough. Jon was in hot pursuit behind her. He slid through the elevator doors just before she could hit her floor number. As they stood in silence, she attempted to not look at him. "Why'd you do that? Did I get ugly or something?" he inquired with a chuckle.
"Jon," she finally spoke as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I just, I got nervous seeing you. I mean, it's been so long and I didn't know what to,-" he cut her off.
"Ssh," he muttered. "Besides your new get-up, I see not much has changed. You're still a babbling fool under pressure." Chuckling, he leaned against the elevator wall with a nonchalant expression on his face. "You excited 'bout having been signed? You've been the talk of the town. I ain't believe it at first, though." Harley was baffled. They hadn't seen each other in years, and the last moment they spoke, it ended in all out war. Yet here he was, talking as though things were normal.
"Ecstatic," she whispered just as the door opened up to her floor. The pair stepped out and Harley strolled briskly to her hotel room in front of him. She wanted this little reconciliation to come to an end, although, Jon didn't appear to feel the same.
"Don't sound too damn happy to me," he chuckled again upon making it to her side. "You're gonna miss your pals at Ring Of Honor, huh? What'd y'all call yourselves again? The Dojo Chicks?"
Her eyes rolled, she stopped walking and twirled to face him, inquiring, "Jon, what do you want?"
"What do you mean what do I want? We haven't seen in each other in awhile. I just wanted to catch up and see how you were doing. Sue me for being friendly."
"You're acting like everything is normal, Jon. Where we left off, things were not normal."
"That was years ago, Harls. How 'bout you stop living in the past?"
"Just stay away from me, alright?" With those words, she jogged to her hotel room, but Jon wouldn't budge. He was directly behind her while she put the key in. Gently pushing the slender diva aside, he slipped in between her and the door to stand in front of it.
"So that means we can't be friends?" he asked quietly.
"Get outta my way. I have to get ready for tonight."
"Answer me first."
"Why are you doing this?" Before he could offer her an explanation, a chipper voice behind them began cooing. Harley turned around to see a statuesque blonde with furrowing eyebrows staring her down.
"Babe," the blonde declared. "Who is this?" Stepping from between Harley and the door, and in the middle of the ladies instead, Jon glanced from the brunette to the blonde and back again.
"This is Harley. A friend from the independent days. She was just signed a few weeks ago, and I wanted to welcome her to the company," he explained with a faint grin. Harley's mien revealed a bit of irritation when Jon referred to her as solely a friend in front of his evident beau.
"Oh, I recall hearing something about a new diva signee. Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" the woman proceeded to inquire with a smile while Harley remained silent.
"Harley, this is Renee. I'm sure you've gathered that she, too, works here and she's also my fiance." A look of shock and disbelief was established upon her cherubic face. Jon being engaged was like a knife going through her coffin. It felt as though someone had snatched her heart out of her chest, and stomped on it repeatedly. She sucked in her breath before glancing at the blonde who was smiling from ear to ear as she hooked onto the man's arm.
"Nice to meet you, Renee," she muttered. "Now, if you excuse me." Sticking her key into the door in a hurry, she slipped through it, and was sure to slam it shut behind her. Before she could restrain herself, tears began to well up in her eyes, and they streamed along her cheeks. To say things hadn't gone the way she had anticipated to would be an understatement. However, she oddly felt betrayed. It took Jon years after they were together to say that he had loved her, and yet here he was, engaged. Ready to be married. But most of all, she hated the fact that she wasn't all the way over him, and he was completely finished with her.
