Chapter 2
"For god's sakes, Ambrose, you are a grown ass man and I am a wrestler, not a babysitter!"
"Glorified babysitter." Dean corrected the poor gopher named Jamie Noble, who was standing at his side.
Smirking as he tilted back in his chair, he wondered briefly why Stephanie had felt the need to send someone along. He was perfectly capable of meeting people on his own, he did it all the time. True, some of those people weren't all that happy with the way the meetings went, but he for one thought they had gone great. No dead bodies was always a positive sign of something going right.
"My job is to make sure you stick around to meet the journalist, after that, you're on your own."
His response was a two-fingered salute from the forehead, eyes scanning the crowd through his sunglasses.
Aya was always dressed like she had stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Designer jeans, designer knee-high boots, and a top that was borderline expensive slut, while still maintaining just a hint of professionalism. "Do you see him yet, Mac?" Not bothering to check to see if her shortening Macaria's name had offended the woman, Aya kept her eyes peeled.
Mac? Macaria rolled her eyes when Aya wasn't looking and shook her head, holding her equipment bag, since they would start today with the snapshots. "No…wait, yes." She gestured with her free hand at a table nearby.
They were meeting in a coffee shop of all places and it looked like Dean – Jon – wasn't alone. What were they supposed to call this man? She was confused, following Aya and kept her mouth shut. Aya would take care of the introductions and if Dean – Jon – asked her something, she would respond. Otherwise, Macaria was there to snap pictures and keep quiet.
Aya followed Macaria's gesture, a leather satchel across her own shoulder. It carried everything she needed in it, old-school pens and paper, and her little tablet in its cute case. Her lips widened into an overly bright, practiced smile as she took in her subject. His file was fascinating from one point of view, even if it was complete and utter malarkey. From the other point of view, she knew it was all phony and wanted to know about the actual man, not the gimmick or character he portrayed on television.
"Mr. Ambrose?" She held out her hand once she was standing at his table. "I'm Aya Landsbury."
One look was all he needed to determine this woman was probably deluding herself into thinking she was some high society, cutting edge, in the know journalist. Dean was already imagining how the next few months were going to play out. He was going to have to send Stephanie a bouquet of roses, minus the razorblades, for this.
"Who?"
Aya wasn't amused. "The journalist."
"Right… the writer. What magazine again? Home and Garden?"
"Cute. Mac, isn't he cute?" Aya was trying to smile through her gritted teeth.
Macaria knew better than to respond to that and merely stood there, trying not to smile. Smiling would have her fired. Aya didn't take kindly to being compared to any other magazine corporation. Why did she agree to come on this journey again? Jade eyes met pale blue and the 6'4 jean clad man stood to his feet, squaring his shoulders and extended his hand directly to her. Macaria didn't know what to do, but didn't want to be rude and simply slid her hand into Dean's – Jon –, their eyes never leaving each other. He truly was more gorgeous in person and those eyes could melt the entire Arctic. Professional, she had to remain professional, Macaria scolded mentally, and shook his hand cracking the barest hint of a smile.
"Aya is a phenomenal journalist and I'm sure you won't be disappointed in her work, Mr. Ambrose." Then she pulled her hand out of his and let Aya take over the meeting.
Aya was beaming at the recommendation from her photographer, wondering if Curt had coached the younger woman on how to be of use outside of taking pictures. "Mac is a fairly recent graduate. She'll be doing all your pictures, you probably won't even notice she's here until it's time for an actual shoot." Her annoying giggle grated on Dean's nerves, without realizing it.
"Oh, I don't know about that." Dean was more interested in 'Mac' than Aya. He could see life in those jade green eyes, a fire simmering but also controlled, and wondered what it would take to cause an outright inferno. "Mac, huh? What's it short for?"
Good question. Aya was pretty sure it was Macarena, or Macadamia, she always forgot. "Jon, may I call you Jon? Do you mind if I use a tape recorder for our conversations?"
"First of all, it's Dean…to you, Miss Journalist. And no, use what you want, but if you, ah, interrupt me again," He clicked his tongue at her, almost in a scolding manner. "I'm going to assume you're rude, and I don't like rude."
She had no idea what to say to that.
"Macaria, Mr. Ambrose – I mean Dean." She answered his question, quickly correcting herself, not wanting to anger the client like Aya apparently was doing. 'Mac' did not suit her at all. "If it's not too much trouble, I prefer to be called Maca or Caria for short."
Macaria flashed another small smile in his direction before taking her seat at the table to prepare her camera equipment. Aya wasn't getting off to a good start with this client and she wondered how many more times she'd have to pull her employer out of the fire. Where the hell was Curtis when needed? Coffee, she needed coffee if she was going to get through the first day since she'd gotten shit for sleep the previous night.
Aya had realized she was going to blow this piece before it even got started and knew she needed to get things back on track. While not necessarily the most important piece she would ever write, she did know that there were literally millions of wrestling fans, and the WrestleMania thing was highly popular. She screwed this up and it would definitely haunt her for a while. She made a mental note of the proper pronunciation of Macaria's name and smiled in what she was hoping a friendly manner, passing over her debit card to the photographer.
"Would you mind getting us each a coffee? My treat?" She wheedled, smile broadening when Macaria just nodded and walked towards the counter, turning back to Dean. "Look, I feel like we started off wrong and-"
Dean leaned back in his hair and folded his hands behind his head, wondering if this broad was for real. "How'd you get this job?"
"I uh, wrote an article about-"
"No, no, no," He waved his hands with each word, shaking his head. "I mean, how did you land me?"
"I'm good at what I do is how, Dean." Aya would admit to being a little miffed.
His hands flew down to the button of his jeans. "So if I were to, uh, whip it out right now?"
Aya was saved by the return of Macaria and she could only stare at this mongrel, who was looking like he had never just... Dear god, he was crazy, that was the only explanation!
"Black, I love it black." Dean took the cup meant for Aya, after Macaria had taken a sip of what was obviously hers, tracing his tongue around the rim, enjoying the steam. He took a sip and then promptly turned to pour it out in the nearest plant, within easy arm's reach. "No, no I hate it black. Aya, mind getting us a new one? Something, sweet, and…" He took a deep breath, amused that she was already rising from her seat. "Sticky?" He breathed out, his low, gritty voice reaching new depths of raspiness.
Aya needed a new game plan because he was not what she was used to and she wasn't about to be put off by some whacko with muscles and crazy curly hair. "Sure." She beamed at him and pushed away from the table.
Macaria could entertain him for a bit.
Her long honey blonde tresses were currently pulled back in a braid hanging over her shoulder to keep it out of the way, face devoid of makeup. Just a little chap-stick to keep her mouth moisturized. Macaria wasn't expecting Dean – Jon – to send Aya to grab new coffee for him and blinked, watching her stalk off angrily. Oh boy, that wasn't good. She'd only seen Aya angry once, which had been on the plane, and NEVER wanted to see it again.
Just who was this Dean – Jon – guy anyway? And when would she stop referring to him as both the man and the wrestler? Macaria did not miss the low raspy voice of his with a hint of grit and felt her panties dampen instantly. It was a good thing she was a master at keeping herself in check or else Dean – Jon – would make her an instant target. She didn't realize she already was one, however, and sipped her cappuccino carefully as to not burn her mouth.
"While she's occupied…"
Dean literally dragged his seat, not caring about the scraping noises the chair made, until he was seated alongside Macaria. Now SHE was interesting. She was quiet for the most part, but when she had spoken, it was politely and to the point. This woman had manners and wasn't making an ass of herself.
"What kind of pictures have you done? People? Plants? People on plants?" He cocked an eyebrow when she simply stared at him, leaning in until he could smell her drink on her lips. She was drinking cappuccino, which was gross, but it did smell good. "Nude pictures? We can definitely do those." He wiggled his eyebrows at her before leaning back, rocking his chair until it was on two legs and looked around, rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder.
People on plants? This man was demented and weird, but she found it refreshing. Maybe she was weird and demented herself. Who knew?
"Cappuccino for you, and one for me." Aya set them both down, frowning when she realized Dean had moved.
"So, how is this going to work out?" Dean asked, ignoring the drink and actually got down to business. "Are you two going to follow me around everywhere?"
"Basically, yes."
"Taking notes and pictures?" He glanced at Macaria. "Sounds boring, I can be boring."
"Somehow I doubt that, Dean." Aya deadpanned, glancing at her wristwatch. "Consider this reality TV, only we're using still shots and pens."
"Let's get started then." He stood up, ready to go.
Macaria stood up, sliding her chair in and grabbed her gear, turning to fully face Dean – Jon – and suddenly got fed up with referring to him in her brain as two different names. "Before we start this, I need to know what you prefer to be called. Dean Ambrose, Jonathan Good, Jon Good, Jonny, Deany?" Okay, maybe that was a little over the top and uncalled for, but Macaria had to lighten the mood somehow and merely smiled at Aya's glare shot her way. "I need to know for the photographs."
"For the photos? They usually just call me sweet thing." Dean informed her, sounding perfectly serious, though behind the sunglasses, his blue eyes were filled with mirth. This exchange was amusing. "You can call me Jon, or Dean, I'll answer to both."
"Isn't Dean your wrestling character's name?"
"Dean Ambrose, just another name for the man." He jabbed his thumb into his chest. "It's only a character if, at the end of the day, you go home and leave the crazy at the door. I take the crazy into bed with me."
Aya was definitely quoting him on that one.
It took every ounce of resolve inside of Macaria not to burst out laughing at Dean's antics, deciding calling him Dean was the way to go. Jon didn't suit him – Dean definitely did. He was far from a 'sweet thing', that much was obvious and Aya looked like she wanted to blow her head off. Mentioning bed definitely made her a little damper, but Dean didn't need to know that. Macaria was definitely going to have to learn some self-control around him since there was a zero 'fuck the client' tolerance when it came to Aya. They started off down the street with Macaria moving in front of them stealthily, snapping shots left and right while Aya asked Dean various questions. When they arrived at the gym he'd be working out at, Aya left Macaria to snap pictures while she went back to the hotel for some R&R.
Technically, Aya was going to get her R&R, but also it meant read and research. She definitely needed more information about Jonathan Good – Dean Ambrose – than what had been in that measly little file from the WWE. She would also pump Macaria for any information she found out later. Aya needed to know about Dean, so she could figure out a way to talk to him, get to know him, without either of them going insane.
Or in his case, even more crazy, if that were possible.
"Your boss is a shrew." Dean stated bluntly to Macaria once he had emerged from the men's locker room at the gym. He would've invited her to join him, but... it wasn't a private gym. If there had been other guys there, she might've gotten thrown out. Invitation denied. "So... how does this work? You're just going to hang around and take pictures of me while I lift weights and stuff?" He reached around to rub the back of his neck, wondering what the purpose of pictures of him sweating, and looking gross, would do for anyone.
Macaria didn't comment on what he said about Aya, agreeing mentally and knowing better than to voice her thoughts on the boss. "Basically, yes. We need a scope on everything you do each day from now until the night after your big event. WrestleMania, is it?"
This would take several months to complete. She watched Dean nod, smiling softly and readied her camera. The thought of this man working out in front of her, dripping with sweat and looking edible, had Macaria's senses reeling. Aya was punishing her, she simply knew it, and for what she didn't know.
"I'll only snap a couple today and leave you to do the rest of your workout. You won't know I'm here."
"Oh, I'll know you're here, you seem very hard to miss." Dean wasn't entirely convinced about this. It was one thing to take pictures of him posing all slutty like in a towel or something, but like this was just weird. "You can stay…" He added, settling himself on a weight bench, deciding to hold off on anything that would make his junk bounce all over the place. No need for her to get pictures of that just yet. Dean needed to break her in slowly, not scare her away right off the bat. "You never know, I might do something impressive that needs to be documented on film."
He started his workout, well aware of her, but also rather impressed with how she seemed to just melt away. Macaria probably would have managed to lose him in a crowd or something, if he hadn't been hyperaware at the moment. It was just... weird. Him being the target for something this major, at least the picture aspect. After a while, he closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the gym, of the people, trying to pinpoint where she was by sound alone since she was definitely a quiet one.
The way his arms flexed and bulged while doing a CrossFit workout had Macaria needing an ice cold shower. She made sure to make the shots impressive yet 'PG' rated since his junk wasn't exactly in place all the time in those basketball shorts he wore. Black. The man looked great in black. His hair was slick with sweat while he took the medicine ball and began lifting it up before slamming it back on the mats repeatedly. Dear god, his body was chiseled out of stone and she noticed the scar on his upper right shoulder blade, wondering where that came from. Macaria made a mental note to do some research on him on her own time without Aya knowing, curious about this new client.
