Disclaimer Dean Ambrose is the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers / superstars that portray them. This story is intended as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights.
Original characters are the property of me, and the children of my own imagination. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Flashbacks are in italics.
Promises to Keep
Part Two
Dean was hustling day jobs at the time, unable to find anything steady, but he knew how to make money. He was crazy Mox, but he also knew how to put on an air of a "nice kid." He knew the places where you could stand and wait for people who needed day labor. He'd start out there and if he got rejected, he'd walk around neighborhoods, looking for jobs he could knock on doors and ask for. He raked leaves, he cleaned gutters if they had a ladder he could use. He did whatever he could for money, determined to save enough to get Cinnamon's ring out of hock.
And life, the bitch she was, kept taking her share. His battery died on his car and took some. He had to pay rent, and that took some. Fortunately, Cinnamon rarely asked anything of him, even though he was there as much, if not more than he was at his own place. Normally, he tried to give her something without her asking, to try to pay his way, but he didn't offer this month.
But, with careful planning and a lot of sacrifice, by the end of the month, he had the money. He got the last of it Friday, too late to go to the pawn shop, but his plan was to go there Saturday evening, because had to wrestle Saturday afternoon. Part of his mind wondered if he should use that ring for another purpose. He and Cinnamon talked all the time like they had a future together, maybe he should give it back and ask her if she'd wear it on the left ring finger? Would that be tacky? Would that be considered cheap? Maybe, to most girls it might be. Sure, the ring had some sentimental value, but most girls would want their own ring, the more expensive the better. But then he thought of who Cinnamon was and realized that no, Cinnamon would think it was wonderful. She would attach some sentimentality to it, that it was her mother's ring, but he bought it back for her. The fact that his own stupidity played the biggest part in the ring being sold in the first place wouldn't matter to her. She would love it, love that the ring was now hers twice over.
He was in such a good mood, Saturday. They woke up early, had breakfast, took Rocky for a long walk. Even the pain in the ass dog didn't seem so bothersome today. Then, he and Cinnamon headed to the gymnasium where the show would be. It was an afternoon show, scheduled to start at 3:00, but he went early because they wanted him to cut a couple of promos and he was more than willing. There was a fairly nice restaurant near the pawn shop and if he got paid for wrestling (which he better) he'd suggest they go there for dinner, just the two of them. Then, he'd claim he left something in the car he needed, sneak over to the pawn shop, get the ring, and bring it back. He couldn't wait.
Then, he got knocked too hard into the ring post, so hard that his head snapped back and then slammed against it, and the next thing he knew it he was out cold and he ended up spending the night in the emergency room instead. Fortunately, the company he was wrestling for had insurance, so that wasn't a problem. And also fortunately, he had a girlfriend who didn't have a problem getting right in the promoter's face when he said that Dean should just go home and rest instead of getting checked out.
"This is why you buy the fucking insurance!" she yelled, standing less than two inches from his face. The promoter was a former wrestler himself, a very big guy, but Cinnamon, even though she probably weighed over a hundred pounds less and was at least seven inches shorter, had no problem getting on her toes and glaring at him. "He was out for over three minutes, he's going to the fucking hospital!"
He was sitting on a bench in the back, watching this, noting with amusement that sometimes he could see two Cinnamons. His head hurt pretty badly, but the double vision was kind of interesting. It was interesting hearing her swearing so much, too. It wasn't her style. The nausea wasn't much fun though.
"Well, it's his own fault-" the promoter started to say.
"-What?" Cinnamon interrupted. "Don't go there. Don't you dare go there with me here. Ryan threw him into the turn posts. I know Ryan didn't mean for it to happen, but still, unless Mox here took a dive at the posts, which he didn't, this is entirely not his fault. So we are going to the goddamned hospital and if you don't like it, you can piss up wind!"
The promoter backed down and Dean ended up in the emergency room where he started vomiting uncontrollably. A CAT scan told him what he and Cinnamon already knew, he had a concussion. They kept him there overnight, until the vomiting stopped and then let Cinnamon take him home the next day, with strict orders for bed rest for at least three days, until he could have a follow up visit with a neurologist. Cinnamon brought him to her place and kept an eye on him, then took him to the doctor on Wednesday.
The doctor cleared him for "normal" life on Wednesday and tried to tell him he shouldn't wrestle for a month. He nodded but knew he'd ignore that advice. It was then that he remembered the money and the pawn shop. He dropped Cinnamon off at school, then headed right to the pawn shop, hoping and praying that the owner of the shop still had the ring and would understand.
The owner of the shop was very sympathetic, but when Dean hadn't picked up the ring Saturday, he had put it out for sale Monday. On Tuesday, it was purchased. "I'm sorry," the owner said, "If you'd called, I might have held it for you, but you didn't call, so I thought you'd been unable to come up with the money."
"How... how much did you sell it for?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Eight hundred," the guy said. "Gesh, kid, I'm sorry, if you'd just called..."
"It's okay," Dean said. But it wasn't okay, and he wanted to smash the jewelry cases, rip up the carpet, beat up the owner, and even worse, burst into tears. Instead, he stood there, trying to collect himself, trying to think of some way to make this better.
The owner watched him, then, after a long while, sighed. "Kid, I'm going to do something for you," he said. "I'm going to give you the name and address of the woman who bought the ring. I don't know if she'll sell it back to you or not, but maybe if you went to her with a grand, offered her a small profit, she'd be willing to sell it to you. If she asks how you got the address, you lie. Tell her you sneaked on my computer or you walked in the store right behind her and saw her buy the ring and followed her home, I don't care. Just don't tell her I gave it to you, because if I heard that you did, I will lie and say you broke into my shop and I'll call the cops,capisce?"
Hope surged through Dean and he nodded eagerly. A few minutes later, he left the shop with the name, Florence Nadot, who lived on South Skywood Road. He knew where that was, he just had to raise more money and get her to sell him that ring.
He went over to Sami's, and even though he didn't want to, he asked if he could borrow the money. Sami was in the same boat he was, he didn't have money to spare and part of Dean thought he was being an idiot asking for the loan. But, Sami was doing some side work in construction and actually had the cash. He handed him five hundred. "I can't give it to you, bro, wish I could, but I do need it. But, you can borrow it for a couple weeks, okay? Well, if you need it, a month."
"I"ll have it paid back by the end of the month," Dean swore. If he could raise five hundred last month, with a messed up arm and getting a concussion, he could raise another five hundred this month. He was sure of it. He'd pay him every week what he could, try to get it paid off as fast as possible. He even offered to give Sami the ring as collateral, figuring that he could wait another month before giving it to Cinnamon.
"No," Sami said, grinning and shaking his head. "You get that ring back, and give it to Cinnamon. She deserves it. Any girl that would hock a family heirloom just to save your sorry ass deserves to get it back sooner, rather than later. I trust you, you wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important."
"Thanks." He knew the word was inadequate, but he also knew Sami understood what this truly meant to him. Sami was just that type of friend.
When he left Sami's, he headed right over to South Skywood road, feeling that maybe, just maybe, the streak of bad luck that started with his arm getting infected was lifting. Surely he'd be able to convince Florence Nadot that she should sell him back Cinnamon's ring. She'd make a good profit on the deal and have the satisfaction of knowing that she made two other people happy. Nobody could resist that. Well, he knew there were some people who could, but most people were good and a good person wouldn't be able to resist, especially when you sweetened the deal with extra money.
When Florence answered the door, he felt his stomach sink. Florence reminded him of his Aunt Kelly, one of his mother's friends who had lived on and off with him and his mother until she died from a drug overdose. Until she died, Kelly was one of those people who went out of her way to cause pain to people, because she enjoyed seeing others in misery. True, Aunt Kelly had a terrible childhood, playing the part of some living little sex toy for her father and his friends, something she had loved to tell Dean about all the time, but she had let that bad childhood nurture and feed her until it became a beast that fed off the misery of others. She had cut Dean once with a tin can so she and his mother could take him to the hospital and get pain medication for Dean, which they took themselves and sold the rest. She had tried to get Dean drunk by pouring alcohol into has soda, and got furious when he didn't like the taste and threw it away. If she ever caught Dean alone, she would slap at him, claim it was "play" but the slaps and pinches were mean and they hurt. And she had an unhealthy fascination for pinching, hitting, or punching his junk. She wasn't a child molester, not in the true sexual sense of the word, she just seemed to be happiest when Dean was doubled over, unable to stop pain tears from streaming down his face. And if he had trouble sitting for a few days because she'd bruised his balls? That was even better.
While Aunt Kelly couldn't claim all of it, Dean knew she could claim responsibility for part of his crazy. His carefully developed, but now slightly out of control crazy inside him, the part that needed to wrestle. Not because wrestling was real fighting but because it wasn't. Dean loved that when you wrestled, you were more likely to hurt yourself doing moves than you were to hurt others. And even though he didn't want to admit it, that was half of the appeal, that he was beating the hell out of himself too. People didn't talk about it, people didn't admit it, but wrestling was more of a masochistic wet dream than a sadistic one.
Florence didn't look like a drug addict, but she had the same glint in her eyes, the same guarded expression on her face, as if she was constantly trying to hide that same beast Aunt Kelly had. His first temptation was to turn and run off, because he didn't want to get involved with anyone like this ever again. But he knew that Kelly was long dead and gone and this woman couldn't hurt him. He was right about the first, Aunt Kelly was dead, but he was wrong about the second, this woman could hurt him. He explained the situation to her, told her how much Cinnamon had loved that ring because it was her mother's engagement ring and she had lost her folks so young. He told her of his own stupidity that caused him to lose the ring. And as he told her, he realized she was getting this odd light behind her eyes. She was enjoying hearing the story, enjoying his misery. Not because she could fix it, but because she had the power to fix it and wouldn't do so. By a simple purchase in the pawn shop, she made him unhappy. The fact that she owned a ring that had a great sentimental value to Cinnamon was a bonus. He suspected she bought things at pawn shops in part because she could imagine the tragic backgrounds that lead people into hocking their items. It would be a double pleasure for her; the pleasure of getting "bargains" and the pleasure of knowing that these items had been sold to the shop because their owners had fallen on hard times.
He offered her a thousand dollars and she laughed. "If the ring was that important, you'd come here with more than a grand."
He swallowed, choking back his first reaction, which was to grab this woman by the neck and squeeze. "Money is tight," he admitted, "I'm a wrestler, but I'm just starting out and my girlfriend is a full time college student on a scholarship. I-I can give you twelve hundred, but that's all the money I've got."
She laughed and he saw the gleam in her eyes. She believed he only had twelve hundred and that delighted her because she could pass that up and keep her treasure. "That's not enough," she said. "If this ring really was important, you'd have come here with sixteen hundred. You'd bring double what I paid, because that's the way the world works. But you came here with a measly extra four hundred dollars. You don't really want it back."
"Yes, I do," he protested, even though his heart was sinking. "If I had sixteen hundred dollars, I would offer it gladly, but it took everything I had to come up with this much. Ma'am, you've only owned the ring for a couple days, four hundred dollars is a pretty good profit."
"Yeah, but I like the ring," she said, shrugging. "Maybe if you come back with sixteen... no, let's make it two grand. You come back here with two grand, and maybe I'll consider selling it to you."
For a moment, his brain started working on who he could possibly ask for a loan, started running in his head if he could raise the money, but then he looked at Florence and realized that if he showed up with two grand, she'd want two and a half. And so on and so on. Yes, there was eventually a price where she would sell, because at some point even her joy of misery had a price, but he would never be able to meet that price. And Florence would probably brag to her friends, maybe even her boyfriend or husband if she had one, about how she had this ring and some kid had tried to buy it off of her. She'd wear that ring and every time she saw it, she'd smile, knowing that somewhere, there was a guy who had failed to return it to the person who should be wearing it. That would give her a sense of satisfaction nothing else could match.
When he realized there was nothing that could be done, and that for him to try to reason with her was just giving her more misery to gloat over, he left. He went right back to Sami's place to return the money he borrowed. When Sami saw him, he made him come inside and have a beer.
"I'm driving Cinn's car," he protested. He never drove Cinnamon's car any less than dead sober. He wasn't a goodie two shoes, he'd driving his own car more than just a tad bit inebriated, but he wouldn't do that to Cinnamon.
"One beer, won't fuck you up," Sami said, "And it's light beer. Drink it slow and tell me what's going on, you look shook up."
"I'm pissed," he admitted. He sat on the couch and let Sami give him a beer, even though with his concussion he wasn't supposed to drink.
"What happened?"
He told Sami the story, half expecting Sami to laugh, but his friend was remarkably sympathetic. "Man, that's tough. That woman sounds like a real bitch."
"That's one way of putting it," Dean muttered. He didn't want to explain that he knew exactly what type of woman Florence Nadot was, because he once had an "aunt" who was the same type. Sami was a great friend, Sami was probably his best friend, but he didn't want to take that trip into the dark part of his soul, not today.
"I might be able to help you come up with another eight hundred," Sami said, thoughtfully. "I've got some favors I can call in. It'll all be loans, the favors aren't important enough for folks to outright give it to me, but I can probably work out some decent enough payback plans with them. If you bring her two grand, she'll sell it to you, right?"
Dean shook his head. "She says she'd think about it, which means no. If I bring two grand, she'll want more and more and more. She's just that type. I can't come up with the amount of money that will make her happy, neither can you. But I appreciate the offer."
Sami shrugged. "Sorry I can't be more help. So, what are you going to do?"
Dean took a sip of his beer and sighed. "What can I do? I fucked up. I cost Cinnamon something she really loved, one of the few things she had from her mother. I fucked up with the abscess that made her have to hock the ring. Then I fucked up again by getting a concussion and forgetting. Why does she put up with me?" He shook his head.
"Because for some reason, the lady loves you," Sami said, "Personally? I think she's crazy. She could do a lot better than you."
"Tell me about it," he muttered. "Anyone would be better than me."
Sami frowned. He had been trying to joke with him, figuring he'd make Mox feel better, but Mox was taking his words seriously. "Look, it's just a bunch of shitty circumstances. Cinnamon realizes that, that's why she didn't get on your case."
"That's not her style," Dean said. "I mean, she'll be furious if I get another cut and don't take care of it, but she knows and I know that I learned my lesson, so there's no point in her lecturing me. She realizes that. And you know? That makes it even worse."
"Yeah," Sami said, nodding. "Sometimes it's better if your lady gets bitchy. At least then you can get mad at her and feel justified with it."
"So, what do I do?" he asked, more to have something to say than any expectations that Sami would have an answer.
"Well, you still have the money you were going to pay to get the ring out of hock," Sami reminded him. "Why don't you take that to a jewelry store and see if you can get her a similar ring?"
"It won't be the same." He lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke out of his nose. "It won't be her mother's ring."
"Yeah, but it's better than leaving her with nothing for her trouble," Sami reminded him. "It will show her that you at least made an effort to make things right again. Yeah, okay, you aren't going to get much ice for the money you have, but you should be able to get her something that won't turn her finger green."
"Yeah, maybe." He wasn't excited with the idea, but he figured it was better than doing nothing.
He smoked three cigarettes while he drank his beer. When he left, he didn't feel much better, but he drove to a jewelry store, a discount place, and looked to try to find a ring as close to the ring Cinnamon had pawned. Her mother's ring had been a fairly simple diamond ring, but on one side of the diamond was a Peridot, her mother's birthstone, on the other a ruby, her father's. There was no ring with those three stones in it, never mind one that looked close to that. He could have had something custom made, but that would have cost him far more than what he had.
He ended up buying a simple ring with a probably less than stellar diamond, but it looked shiny enough. The band was ten karat gold and it only cost him three hundred dollars. It wasn't a quite real engagement ring, the clerk explained to him, more of a promissory ring, which apparently was like an "engaged to be engaged" ring. But, the clerk also assured him, he was welcome to use it as an engagement ring. Dean wished he could be happier about it, but he still couldn't help feeling like he'd failed, from costing Cinnamon the ring in the first place, to not knowing how to get Florence Nadot to sell Cinnamon's ring to him. He thought he could right a wrong in her life and instead he was giving her a cheap fix. Instead of healing a wound, he was slapping a band-aid on it and going, "Yeah, this'll do, won't it?"
He went to pick her up at her college and took her to KFC for dinner. He knew if he'd gotten the right ring, he would have taken her someplace nicer, but even though he had the money to take her someplace nice, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He just felt fortunate that she loved KFC so much that she would think it was great of him. And yet that too, made him feel guilty, like he was doing this under false pretenses. "You'll love it, but I'm just going through the motions."
It was after they had finished eating, when she was tearing apart a chicken breast to bring the meat, but not the bones, home to Rocky that he finally worked up the courage to mention it. "Cinnshine, I-I have something for you."
"For me?" She looked at him, a grin spreading across her face, lighting it up. It was dark out, but a streetlamp was shining through the big window they were sitting by and between that and the fluorescent lights, it made her hair look like it was glowing. "Is this a special occasion I forgot about?"
He shook his head. "No, I just-I just- well, I guess I just feel bad."
"About what?" She finished picking off the meat and was packing it into the container their mashed potatoes had come in, but she pushed the container aside and looked at him, frowning.
"Because I screwed up," he said. "You warned me about taking care of my arm and I ignored it. I-I cost you your mother's ring."
A pained expression crossed her face for the briefest of seconds, but was quickly replace with one of sympathy. "You made a mistake. It could happen to anyone."
"No," he disagreed. "It was stupid. You told me to take better care of it, and I ignored it. And if I was the only one affected, well, that would be my problem, but I cost you something important."
She reached out and touched his hand. "Spilled milk, Mox. I won't lie, I didn't want to lose the ring, but like I said, you're more important. If I could turn back time and fix it, I would, but I can't and I still say you're more important than the ring. So please, stop beating yourself up for it. I didn't do it to lay a guilt trip on you."
"I know," he said, his voice quiet, as he reached into his pocket. "That's why I got you this." He pulled out the little box and handed it to her.
"F-for me?" She took the box a look of wonder on her face.
"It's not the ring," he said quickly. "I tried to get that back, but it's sold." He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Of course she knew it wasn't the ring, the name of the jewelry store on the box made that obvious and he was just reminding her the ring was truly gone, even if he hadn't told her about Florence Nadot. "But, well, I hope you like it," he added, and had another internal cringe moment as he realized how lame that sounded.
She opened the box and gasped. "Mox, it's...beautiful, thank you."
He knew what he should do, he should just keep his mouth shut and smile and nod, but he seemed determined to stick his foot in his mouth tonight and before he could stop himself, he heard the words coming out. "It's not a big deal. It's not a great ring, but I figured it's better than nothing."
"Mox, I love it," Cinnamon said, staring at the ring in wonder. "It's beautiful. It's-"
She stopped, and he knew she was getting emotional, ready to cry because she believed it was the best he could do, this weak, second hand effort. Unable to stop himself, anger surged through him, anger at himself for being so incompetent, anger at her for not calling him on it. He wanted her to be angry, he wanted her to tell him that he fucked up and that this stupid ring would never replace the other one and that he should take it back to the store and stop insulting her with his cheap trinkets. It took everything he had not to yell at her, to tell her to stop being so damned nice about this, and to call him on his stupidity, but as angry and upset as he was, he knew he had no right to take this joy away from her, so he swallowed back that anger like it was a crushed aspirin placed into his mouth. "I-I'm glad you like it." He forced himself to smile too, even though that didn't help the bitter taste in his mouth.
She looked at him a look of hope on her face and he knew she was hoping he'd take the ring out of the box and put it on her finger, just as he wanted to do if it had been the right ring, but he couldn't do it with this one. "You should see if it fits," he suggested, so she'd know that he wasn't going to do what she wanted. And he sure wasn't going to use that ring to see if she wanted to make their plans for the future official. It was the wrong fucking ring, that was all there was to it.
If she was disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm for his own gift to her, she never let him know. She put the ring on and the entire time they dated, she never took it off. She would look at it and admire it at times. He learned to ignore it and he was sure she never knew that whenever he noticed the ring, he was inwardly cringing, feeling he had failed her.
End of Part Two
Author's Notes: This will probably be a four part story. I originally was going to put it up in "Between the Lines," but it got too long. And I feel it needs to be this long.
Special thanks to:
Maria: Yep, I don't know about Jonathan Good, but Dean Ambrose sure acts like he's got a good case of AADD. Since I have a whopping case of that myself, I know that sometimes, even when you're doing something you really enjoy, you want to fidget. So, I figured to amuse himself, Dean shoots certain people on the TV. I'm glad you like my writing. I try to write like life plays out. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's crazy, sometimes it's sad and everything in between and often all of these things happen within the same couple of hours. I'm just glad you enjoy it.
Nancy: I'm to hear you like the Dean/Cinnamon stories, because those two sure speak to me every time I sit down to write a story. And I'm glad you're enjoying this one.
Just A Reader: Aw, thank you. Wow, it's nice so many people love hearing about Cinnamon and Dean and like that Dean uses the WWE network for Nerf target practice. :-D I too, would love to watch Dean on You Tube going off about whatever the hell he feels like. I figure it would be a lot more interesting than Total Divas. Yeah, the ring? Well, you know now that didn't work out quite like he hoped. But, there's still half the story to go.
To everyone else who reviewed? Thank you so much. Angnesita1385, Lauraxxx, Psion53, ChelleLew, Seth Rollins babe, Labinnacslove, AnimalloversInc, ghunter182003, DemonEyes44, Nattiebrosketti, Hyrde, and HardcoreAmbroseGal89. All of your reviews mean so much to me. Thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think of my story.
Until next time, take care.
