Mendacity

Chapter 1

Landsbury Incorporated.

This was it. This was the magazine company she had applied to several times over the past year and she'd finally landed her dream job. Or at least started a goal towards having her dream job, which was becoming a freelance photographer and running her own studio, business, whatever one wanted to call it. The building was huge as she walked inside and realized the building had multiple small businesses within it. She went to the 30th floor, where Landsbury Incorporated was located and spoke to the receptionist, who told her to take a seat. Someone would be with her shortly.

"Hi, are you Macaria White?"

Jade green eyes slowly rose to meet kind brown orbs of a gentleman, dressed to the nines in a crisp suit. "That's me." She rose from her chair, wearing a rather outdated black pencil skirt and a long sleeved blouse, despite the fact it was at least 90 degrees outside.

"I'm Curtis." He extended his hand, waiting for her to accept it and shook it firmly. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss White. If you'll follow me…"

"Just Macaria or Caria is fine." She requested softly, wishing she had done something with her honey blonde hair besides leaving it down with a black headband in to keep it back.

"Very well." Curtis lead the way to his office, opening the door and guided her in before shutting it to sit down in front of his laptop. "Okay, let's get started with the rundown of how things will be done, shall we? Then afterwards, you'll meet my boss, and yours. Her name is Aya Franklin and she's well-known throughout the magazine industry, infamous for her freelance pieces."

"Okay…"

Curtis gave her the rundown on everything needed for the upcoming internship, which surprisingly paid. It would definitely pay the bills and keep a roof over her head. Macaria was struggling financially, so when she saw the ad in the paper for a freelance photographer needed, she jumped at the opportunity. Three interviews later, all with Curtis, and she was finally hired, signing on the dotted line. They were all standard documents, basically saying she wasn't allowed to talk to anyone outside of Aya's company without permission, the photographs she took were property of Aya, things of that nature.

After everything was signed, Curtis began to explain the travel schedule, since they would be with the World Wrestling Entertainment for a while, when the door flew open.

"Macadamia, right?" Aya didn't bother correcting the name and planted her hands on her hips. "Hi, I'm Aya, your new boss. Pleasure to meet you. Now, let's lay down some ground rules, mmmkay?" She began ticking off the rules one by one on her perfectly manicured fingers. "First, don't sleep with anyone." Aya held up a hand when her new newbie photographer's mouth dropped, narrowing her purple tinted -they were contacts, obviously- eyes at the other woman. "I'm not calling you a whore, or saying you're easy, so don't get your panties in a twist. But a lot of these guys will sleep with whatever ring rat they can find, and photographers too, and that's just stupid for women like us. Second rule, dress like a slut, you'll be treated like a slut. Third rule, this is my assignment, so don't do anything to mess it up or I'll have you fired."

She'd had to pay a lot of dues, some of them very disgusting and disturbing, to make it to the position she held today. Nobody would jeopardize that for her. Her name was well-known for aggressive journalism, as well as in-depth pieces and this was definitely new, even for her. Wrestlers? What would they bring her next?

"That's it." She announced before flouncing out of the room.

Aya's personal assistant, Curtis, who would not be joining them on this venture, flashed Macaria a nervous smile. "I wish I could say she's not always like that, but she is." He said quietly, glancing back down at his tablet to make sure everything was in order. "It'll just be you two, unless she hires someone to carry her things."

He was going on vacation; his nerves needed some peace and quiet, away from Aya. She was good at what she did, but she was also a bitch to the highest degree and was not overly friendly towards her employees. If not for the fact he made good money working for her, he would have quit. Also, Curtis was a little afraid to quit. Aya might flay him alive, if he even thought about handing in his resignation.

"Here's, um, your paperwork. Everything has been cleared and you've already got a passport."

"Are you done briefing her yet, Curt?"

"Uh, I was just finishing now-"

"Never mind, we've got to go." Aya threw a manila folder onto the table, smiling slightly at Macaria. "That is who I'm doing this piece on, you'll be taking pictures. Isn't he delicious?" She licked her lips playfully. "He's used to photoshoots, I'm sure. Just read his file, it's what his company faxed us. They really are trying to sell that crap, aren't they?"

Curtis didn't want to be curious, but he was. "What do you mean?"

"Just this whole character, gimmick thing. I seriously doubt this guy is crazy."

"What's his name?"

"Legally Jonathan Good, but his character is Dean Ambrose. Curtis, enjoy your time off because when you get back, I'm working your ass off. Macaria, read about Ambrose on the flight, we have to go."

Macaria nodded, keeping her mouth shut for fear of Aya snapping at her for no reason and followed the woman through the airport. She couldn't be more phony as far as looks went, but Macaria knew better than to speak what was on her mind. Being an intern at Aya's business proved to be both challenging, successful and stressful all at the same time. She'd finally graduated and received her degree in photography, one of the best around their area in Las Vegas. Being a photographer was all Macaria wanted to do, thoroughly enjoying capturing moments of the world through lenses and being able to manipulate them however she saw fit. Always a professional as well.

Studying up on Dean Ambrose – Jonathan Good – thoroughly throughout the flight as Aya commanded, Macaria noticed firsthand how incredibly gorgeous he was. His eyes were full of blue intensity, his hair a haphazard style that begged to be ruffled with fingers and…Macaria shook her head of those thoughts instantly. Mixing business with pleasure wasn't in her forte and never would be. Not to mention against Aya's rules. Her attire consisted of jeans and t-shirts, nothing revealing whatsoever. Granted, if it was hot outside she'd wear tank tops, but made sure they were high enough to where no cleavage was shown or any part of her body, not even her abdomen. Once the plane landed, she merely followed Aya through the terminal, grabbed her bag and headed out toward wherever they were meeting Aya newest client.

"Ground rules." Stephanie was trying very hard not to slap Dean as he made quite a show of straightening up, cleaning out his ears, and folded his hands in his lap as if he were going to pay her attention. "Do not torment the journalist. She is here to do a job and you are going to be polite to her. Do not threaten the journalist, that falls under being polite. Do not think about doing anything to-" She groaned when he pulled her notepad off her desk and began taking notes. "Seriously?"

His pale blue eyes flashed with amusement as he just grinned up at the woman everyone dubbed as Princess. He was getting his own piece in a magazine. Stuck up people would be following him around for a while and that didn't set well with him. Stephanie looked like she was thinking about cancelling this whole shebang. Dean could already tell… this was going to be fun.

"Any questions, comments, concerns?"

Did Dean really have a choice in the matter to do this? He had recently gotten back from filming a movie through WWE Studios entitled 12 Rounds: Lockdown. It was the third installment to the 12 Rounds franchise. John Cena and Randy Orton had done the first two movies and now he had done the third. It turned out well enough, he supposed, though he'd find out how good or bad it was once it came out. Actually, it'd been last night when he returned at the Night of Champions pay-per-view and beat the hell out of Seth Rollins for trying to end his wrestling career. Slamming his head through a pile of cinderblocks wasn't fun to endure, though it'd all been to write him off WWE television. However, Seth wasn't the safest worker in WWE and hadn't done the 'foot stomp' on his skull, off the announcer's table, correctly.

If Dean hadn't been aware of what was happening, he could've been paralyzed permanently.

Not only was he irritated and chomping at the bit to get at Rollins again, but his best friend, Joe Anoa'i, who fans knew as Roman Reigns, was currently recovering from emergency hernia surgery. He had been scheduled to face Seth at Night of Champions, but his hernia back from his NFL days had acted up and ruptured. Dean had gone to see him in the hospital earlier that day, needing to check on his friend and wished him a speedy recovery before heading to the pay-per-view to take his spot against Seth. Roman didn't mind and made Dean promise to get a few licks in for him in the process.

Dean had made due on that promise, or tried to, but Rollins had escaped like always. Seth had destroyed their group collectively known as the Shield. Ambrose. Rollins. Reigns. They were known as the Shield – the Hounds of Justice. They stood for something, believed in themselves and always had each other's backs. They were brothers – more than friends and closer than family – only for Seth to destroy it all because of his greediness. Triple H of the Authority, who was Stephanie's husband, had brought his group Evolution back to face off against the Shield. He had talked in Seth's ear, making him believe his own hype and on June 2, 2014, the unthinkable became reality.

Seth had taken a steel chair to the back of Roman's very bruised and swollen back, though the fans couldn't see it due to the gear he sported. He allowed Randy Orton to finish the job while taking a chair to Dean at LEAST 15 times. Dean lost count after the 10th and he had a very high pain threshold, but the match they had endured the previous night took A LOT out of him. They had been ripe for the picking and Seth seized the opportunity, despite the fact the Shield decimated Evolution. Seth wanted money, the spotlight solely on him and tried destroying his Shield brethren in order to accomplish that. Everything that night had been unscripted, it wasn't the first time the asshole had jumped script on them either.

WWE had set up Dean for failure, but he refused to let it happen. So he came out in jeans and a beater, whooping ass and taking names, completely changing his look. TAKING WHAT WAS HIS. What he felt he earned, that he deserved, after all the years he'd endured and sacrificed in the Indy's. There was no way he could fail, not when each member of the Shield had finally become major Superstars in the biggest wrestling organization on planet earth. One day, Dean would become champion, but for now, he would make Seth's life a living, miserable hell.

Now the company wanted to capitalize on the publicity from the movie and do a spread of him in some freelance magazine. WWE no longer had their own magazine, so they outsourced certain materials to various magazine companies to keep their product flowing. He'd be answering a ton of questions he didn't want to and having photographs taken, another huge nuisance to deal with.

"Just one." Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and eyed Stephanie somewhat shrewdly. "When am I getting another shot at Rollins?"

Even though the Authority was an on-screen heel group that was lead by her and her husband, backstage, Stephanie was just as big of a bitch, but only when the situation called for it. "Hell in a Cell is coming up in a couple weeks and I'm thinking about putting you two in a match with the actual Hell in a Cell. You two need to resolve your differences because, after what happened last night and what Seth did to you on Raw, even though most of it was scripted, was uncalled for. This animosity between the two of you has to diffuse somehow, so this is your final match with him for a while. Then you'll start feuding with someone else."

"Who?"

"You'll find out soon enough, but for now, just focus on Hell in a Cell."

Smacking his gum, Dean rose from the chair and squared his shoulders, spitting it out in the nearby garbage can. "Will do, Princess. Thanks."

"Dean…" Stephanie's tone held warning. "Please don't fuck this upcoming article up. It could be detrimental to your career if you do." That was the only caution she would be able to give him.

"Just make sure I have that match at Hell in a Cell and I'll be perfectly pleasant for the article, Princess. Pleasure doing business with you, as always." Mocking a bow, Dean walked out the door and headed to his locker room with an extra kick in his step.

As soon as the door shut, a wicked smile curved Stephanie's lips and she sat down in her chair, knowing Dean didn't have a clue what was really going on in HER company.

Deciding to take a small break, Dean sat down in his locker room and pulled his cell out to call his friend to check on him. "Hey bro, how's it going?"

"Been better, man." Roman's deep voice resonated through the phone, sounding a little weak, but that was to be expected after having a life-saving surgery.

"Yeah, I can tell. They doping you up with the good shit, I hope?"

Roman chuckled, looking up at the bag with the morphine in it and nodded. "Yeah. I'm going home tomorrow, hopefully. I hate hospitals, they always give me the creeps. Anyway, what's up with you?"

Dean blew out a breath, not sure if he should burden Roman with his current issues, but they were best friends for a reason. That was the best friend's job, right? To listen? Be supportive and let the other friend vent? Dean didn't have a lot of friends growing up in Cincinnati, Ohio and had a rough childhood that ultimately lead him down the path of professional wrestling.

"Man, they're doing some kinda magazine spread on me or some shit. It's fucking stupid." He leaned his head back against the lockers, not happy about it. "They gotta follow me around asking questions and snapping pictures. I mean, do I really look like a people person?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Dean snorted, cracking a smile and was glad Roman still had his sense of humor. "You gotta get back on the road, bro. It's fucking boring as hell without you here."

"Hey man, you know if I could be there, I would." Roman winced again, trying to adjust on the hospital bed and grumbled under his breath. "I hate this bed. I wanna go home…" Now he was whining and it made Dean laugh. "Not funny."

"I know, I'm sorry. Look, I gotta cut this short, but I'll call and check up on you later, okay? I'll hold the fort down while you're gone, big man. Just heal up and get back here to raise more hell with me."

They ended the call as Dean tossed his cell in his bag and stood up, wondering what this new journey and adventure would lead him to.

He had to admit, it was somewhat intriguing.