Chapter 7
It'd been a week since Jon had contacted Cody, asking, begging for Chacia's help. He had called the man several times since then, only to be sent to voicemail. Jon was tempted to fly to Cincinnati and beat the hell out of him with his good arm for ignoring his calls. His surgically repaired arm was currently immobilized, thanks to a brace, which was about to come off in a few more days, at the 2-week mark. That was why he contacted Cody because he knew it would take some time for Chacia to get down to Birmingham to start his physical therapy.
Didn't the man realize this was his career on the line?!
Jon had received all the text messages and phone calls from his friends at work, but he didn't want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to be left alone, feeling miserable and felt as though he was going through withdrawal from not being in the ring. A call came in about an apartment for him to look at, but Jon wasn't in the mood and just decided to stay in the hotel for the foreseeable future. He missed his Vegas home, the heat, and climbing, biking, in Red Rock Canyon.
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Jon scowled at the braced arm and cursed his body for betraying him. Since starting in WWE, he had zero sick days and only took time off for those 35 days or whatever it was to film the movie 12 Rounds: Lockdown. He main-evented both television and house shows over 300 days straight and had more matches than ANYONE in the company over the past 2 years. Jon was the standard bearer backstage, everyone came to him when there was a problem or last-minute change had to happen. In his eyes, he was WWE's mechanic and now they lost their mechanic, their backbone, because of a stupid torn triceps tendon.
His cell went off, breaking him out of his thoughts and grabbed it to check the caller ID, not recognizing the number. However, it was an Ohio area code and Jon felt his heart begin beating like a drum in his chest. What if it was Chacia? What if she was finally calling him? Jon didn't want to get his hopes up in case it was a wrong number or one of his buddies from Cincinnati calling to check up on him. There weren't many of those these days, not since he'd alienated almost every single person out of his life besides Cody.
"Yeah?"
"Is that how you greet people, Jonathan Good? Or should I call you Dean Ambrose now?"
Chacia's voice had changed over the years; growing up did that. He knew his had as well, a little harsher, a little more grit. She still had that tone, however, the same tone she'd had the day they had officially 'met' and acknowledged each other outside of school.
"Call me whatever you want, Chacia." Once, he had called her Chacers, as a joke. She hadn't been amused, so he kept it Chace or Chacia, depending on the mood they were both in. Right now, after all these years, Jon figured he should mind his Ps and Qs. "I wasn't sure you'd call me back." He admitted, beginning to walk laps around the room, anything to keep from feeling twitchy. "How have you been, darlin'?" Since he was gearing up to ask her for a major favor, after 8 years of nothing, he was well aware he should do the pleasantries, not that he could hide the impatience in his tone.
The impatience and borderline panic could be heard through his voice, which broke her heart, but she also heard relief. "Cody told me what happened to you. I'm so sorry, Jon." She truly meant that, knowing she wouldn't be able to turn down the opportunity of helping him. "How are you feeling right now?" She listened as he went on a minor tangent about having surgery and cursing his body for breaking down on him after all these years. "Jon…Jon, calm down please…and listen to me. I'm coming to help you," Another huge sigh of relief filtered through her ear. "On one condition…"
"What's the condition?"
He had been gaining steam and she had cut him off. It took his mind a moment to switch tracks and his tone was a bit on the suspicious side. He may have been the mechanic of the WWE or had been prior to his body deciding to turn traitor, but he also had learned that conditions weren't usually good things. Not in this kind of business. Reminding himself that this wasn't some crooked bookie or an asshole out to make a quick buck, Jon forced himself to exhale slowly. This was Chacia.
"What's the condition?" He asked again, this time in a calmer tone.
"Jon, I need you to breathe, okay? You're going to end up hyperventilating and that's not going to be good for either of us." She tried really hard not to sound amused, but it was hard since he was so anxious for her help. Her, of all people. "I had to give up my job in Cincinnati in order to come to help you. Not only do I want to be paid for my services, but…I want you to get me a new job with the WWE. Whether it be a physical therapist or trainer, I can do both. But I need some kind of income coming in AFTER I'm done helping you get back in the ring."
"You quit your job?"
She had already quit her job. He had been worrying for nothing. Of course, she had. This was Chacia, after all. Cody had probably told her everything and she had then, in turn, very likely, handed in her resignation that same day.
"Whoa darlin', of course, you'll get paid." Jon had gotten the permission secured to pick out his physical therapist and said a person would be reimbursed via the WWE and his insurance. "As for the job, I can help, but I can't say it'll happen." Because he didn't make those calls. "Of course, once they see what you can do," Do being him and his stupid arm. "They'll probably be interested. Is that good enough?"
It would have to be. "Good, now that THAT'S settled, open your door." The line went dead as Jon's pale blues snapped to the door, the phone slipping out of his grip to land on the carpeted floor at his feet.
Was she here? Was Chacia already here? Jon hesitantly made his way toward the door and really hoped she wasn't screwing with him. He didn't know if he could handle having mind games played with him, not in his current state. Mentally counting to 3, Jon ripped the door open and warm hazel eyes instantly met wide pale blues. Chacia frowned at the brace on his arm, already knowing it was completely immobilized, but that didn't stop Jon from pulling her into him for a one-armed hug. She hugged him back with both arms tightly, hearing how fast his heart beat against her ear and closed her eyes for a few seconds.
"I'm here, Jon. I'm here and we're gonna get you back in the ring." Chacia promised in a soft murmur, letting him guide her inside with her bag in hand, refusing to let him carry anything. "Come on, you gotta relax that arm and your body if you're going to be in any condition to start physical therapy in a couple of days."
It took Chacia a little longer to get here due to obligations in Cincinnati. It wasn't easy to just pick up and leave when she had clients that had to be directed elsewhere. Chacia wouldn't leave anyone hanging and she'd also called the hospital in Birmingham, Alabama to let them know she would be Jonathan Good's physical therapist. She had to fax over information for them and whatnot to get everything cleared through the hospital and WWE. One thing she asked them not to do was tell Jon she was coming because he had asked for her specifically. Once the green light came to take a flight to Birmingham, Alabama, she took it and didn't look back, once again hoping this didn't backfire on her.
All things considered, Jon probably deserved to have her pull this on him, just showing up at his door after leaving him waiting on a callback. He had gone years without talking to her, or even checking in, he deserved a lot more if he were honest. Once the door was shut behind them, all he could do was stare at her, taking her in. Eight years had definitely been kind and he remembered the last time he had seen her. He had made the move to Philly and never looked back, only for her and Cody to come to the CZW event where he became their world champion.
"I'm an asshole." He sighed, scrubbing his free hand down his face. "What made you decide to come to help me?"
"Be that as it may, I told you I'd always be here for you, Jon. Did you think I was lying about that or something? Or I didn't mean it?" Chacia remarked, tossing wrappers and garbage away, knowing he'd definitely have to get on a better diet going forward. "No more fast food. You're going to start eating better or you'll never get back in the ring." There would be no compromising; Chacia would kick him square in the backside, just like he wanted, and force him to take better care of himself, even if it killed him.
"Are you kidding, Chace? Have you TRIED Whataburger?"
Jon gaped at her, his pale blues mockingly wide. He watched as she simply planted her hands on her hips, and boy were those some curvy hips -where in the hell had THAT come from?-, and gave him a 'you're going to do this even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming' look. He knew that look well and swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am." She was cleaning his room.
"Darlin', they have maid service for a reason." For slobs like him.
"Yeah? Could've fooled me. This place is a wreck, my god!" Chacia snapped her fingers at him before he could even THINK about helping and pointed at the bed. "REST. NOW. That arm is not going to heal itself. You have a LONG road ahead of you, Jon. And you're going to be in a WORLD of pain, even with your high tolerance for pain, in a couple of days. So sit your butt down on that bed and rest that arm. I got this. And you're having a salad with a grilled chicken breast and vegetables tonight for dinner. Time to cleanse your body of all the toxins, no drinking until you're healed either. Do you want to get back in the ring? You're going to put in the time and EFFORT to get it done." Or else she would leave him to fend for himself. "No more Whataburger either until you can get back in the gym and work the junk food off."
Jon didn't know whether or not he should be annoyed, pissed, indignant or amused. Maybe some very weird combination of all of them, he supposed. He was a grown ass man, being sassed around by a – he nipped that line of thinking. It wouldn't help him and Chacia would probably use some Jedi mind crap, read his thoughts, and really make therapy hurt. Swallowing his stubborn pride, he dropped down onto his bed, positioning himself until he was comfortable, with a pillow under his bad arm to help support it.
"You really think you're going to be able to get me back to 100%?"
She smirked at him, flexing her fingers that had been called magical a time or two by other patients and nodded. "There's no thinking about it. We ARE going to get you back in that ring. And I say WE because this is a team effort." She dropped down on the bed beside him, placing a hand on his good arm with so much determination in her hazel eyes. "I won't let you down, Jon. You have to believe that. You have to believe in yourself too. I can't do this by myself, I NEED you to put your full faith and trust in me. Surgery is just a QUARTER of the battle and I realize you haven't had a career-threatening injury like this before, but you have to BELIEVE you can pull through this. If you let this get in your head and you start doubting yourself, you WON'T recover properly. I've seen it firsthand what happens to people who are negative and think their world is falling apart around them during recovery. That's NOT going to happen to you, do you understand me? WE are going to get you back in that ring and get you back to doing what you love most."
"Can do, captain." He mock saluted her, but nodded to show he got it, he was with her. It was just… hard. It was hard. Jon didn't like feeling this way. This was his life, it was all he had, all he had ever wanted, and now it felt like it was about to be ripped away from him, again. He had thought once he finally made it here, to the WWE, all the doubt and uncertainty would be gone, but it wasn't. If anything, he now knew just what he would lose and he wasn't sure if he would ever bounce back if he did.
"Maybe a little of both." Jon ignored her comment about the food he'd been gorging on and snuggled a little more against the pillow. "Thought you were pissed at me or something."
Raising a brow at him, Chacia stopped what she was doing and sat on the bed beside him, placing a hand on his left arm. "Why would I be pissed at you? You didn't do anything to me, not that I can think of anyway."
"I stopped contact between us. Cut you off." Jon shrugged, relishing the feeling of her hand on his arm and knew he'd made the right decision to ask her to help him rehabilitate. "I was in my own world and then WWE called me and…"
She pressed a finger to his lips, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it. Cody told me you asked about me and…I stepped away from wrestling completely. I was focused on going to school and my career, so I'm just as much to blame for the lack of contact as you are. I don't fault you for cutting ties, Jon. It happens when you move out of state and you start a whole new life with new people." That CZW show would be forever etched in her mind as long as she lived, though, and how he'd treated her and Cody.
Once Jon had told her, well probably more than once, that she wasn't set on being a wrestler, not like him. That she COULDN'T be. She had sucker punched him and made him reassess that, well, at least reassess saying it out loud. Chacia would have been an epic Diva, back then, since they were called Superstars now. Women were dominating the sport and she could have been there with him doing it.
"I'm sorry, for cutting you off." He said quietly, knowing that, while she said not to worry, he owed her at the very least, an apology. If he could, Jon would get her into the WWE. "Why did you step away from wrestling? I thought you were as passionate about it as me?" The things women in the wrestling world today did were incredible and they outwrestled the guys on more than a few occasions. They were just as important to wrestling as the men were, which was great to see.
There was NO way in hell she could ever tell him the truth. That CZW show put a lot of things into perspective for her and Chacia didn't want that kind of life. Killing herself for nickels and dimes and being on the road constantly. Jon lead a very hectic life in the Independent circuit and she lost count how many promotions he'd worked for at once. At one point, he was the champion of almost every Indy promotion he wrestled for. It was crazy – 2010 was a crazy year for Jon and his character, Jon Moxley.
"I didn't want to be known for tits and ass like all the other women in the wrestling. I know it's not like that these days, but…back then, there was nothing for me. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere and…I wanted a career that I could rely on for the future." Chacia could tell Jon had lost a lot of muscle and it would take time to rid him of fatigue as well, the more she stroked his arm.
"Yeah, I know, Chacia," Women back then had to fight for every scrap they got or worse. It had been like watching low-income women back home, selling themselves for nickels, dimes and enough food to go another day. "I… I am glad you didn't go that route," Jon admitted, taking hold of her hand and squeezing gently. "You were too good for that." As it had been then, now was a different matter entirely. "Women are tearing it up now. That ring is just as much theirs as it is the men and it's awesome to see." Jon voiced what he'd been thinking, wondering if Chacia would ever consider getting back in the ring again one day. She had unbelievable talent and he wouldn't mind mixing it up with her again once he was healed. "I'm glad you're here. I couldn't do this without you. You're too good for me, darlin'."
It still baffled her why he would say something like that. "Jon, you have world-class doctors and physical therapists at this hospital…I'm nothing compared to them…"
Usually, with a torn triceps, it took 4-6 months to rehabilitate, but the arm itself wasn't fully healed up until a year. Jon would have to spend a good 2-3 months in the ring to condition himself to get back to work, after the rehabilitation, which she would also help him with. Once the hotel room was picked up and looked livable again, Chacia finally took a seat and began planning out what they would have for dinner. No more fast food and junk, eating healthy was also a huge part of healing and rehabilitation. Jon was very small compared to what she remembered in CZW. Right now, he reminded her of when he came back from Puerto Rico, looking sickly from drugs, booze, and pills. This time, it was from this devastating injury that would take around 9 months off his career.
