Hello everyone! Sorry, a day late again, but at least I didn't forget this time. It was actually my birthday yesterday, so I was busy stuffing my face with cake! But here we are, better late than never!
xXBalorBabeXx, Yep, dirty old gyms and Dean go hand in hand. But hey, at least he had a game plan! Unfortunately, so do Steph and Hunter...
Wolfgirl2013, Thank you!
Rebel8954, Haha, that would be an amazing visual. Kaylee with one large breast and one withered one, lol!
Mandy, Ugh, sorry about the job rejection. Have you had any more luck on that front? How's the hunt for a travelling partner going? We're okay thank you. My mum is still recovering from her treatment last week, but getting there. She'll have scans again in about a month, so all is calm until then. Hope this chapter makes you smile. There's a LOT going on, lol!
Minnie1015, Who could ask for three better trainers?! And I'm sorry I've ruined the pedigree for you (lol!) but I swear that thought must run through their minds!
Skovko, And she could always throw in a few classic finishers too. Stink Face anyone?! Lol!
Crazyredhead2005, When Seth was a total heel I missed writing the Shield banter. That's why I had to bring him back into the fold. Snarky Seth and teasing Lauren is my favourite.
Idcam, I feel like Hunter would probably be secretly proud if she won using the pedigree. Not that he would ever tell Steph though!
Okay, let's roll...
Sparring Partners
The thing that surprised me most about Maryse accompanying the Miz to ringside that evening, was not the fact she was wearing a wrestling top with enough rhinestones to make Dolly Parton jealous, but the fact that she was wearing a wrestling outfit at all, given that the match was meant to be a male singles between her superstar husband and mine.
Not that Jerry Lawler seemed confused by her getup. Which was probably because he was too busy drooling,
"Woohoo," he squeaked, lighting up like a Chinese lantern as Maryse climbed into the ring and swished her long hair. Which reminded me of a shampoo commercial, but almost made Jerry's widened eyeballs pop out.
Although thankfully before he could say something sexist, Cole cut in across him,
"And welcome back to Smackdown folks, which this week comes from Cincinnati, Ohio. The hometown of this man—,"
A guitar slide kicked in and instantly the crowd around us went crazy, which usually happened when Dean came out, but was definitely louder and longer in Cinci and made me warm to the place even more, since besides the neighborhood Dean had grown up in, there were pretty photogenic parts of the town. Not that any of them rivalled my husband, who was looking extra handsome in a black muscle top, with his hair tousled messily over his forehead and still dripping from the water he'd tipped over it backstage.
"Who tonight, will be in intergender tag action with a mystery partner against The Miz and Maryse."
Uh oh.
"Um, did you say mystery partner?" I asked, my voice turning into a squeak as I pictured Lillian calling my name out and trying to usher me into the ring. Because that would have been just like Steph and Hunter. Although if that was the plan, then how had Seth not found out? And how was I meant to wrestle in a shirt dress? And—
In answer to my questions a new song blared out, complete with flashing lights and pyro, and freaking Kaylee appearing from backstage, clad in what I guessed was a wrestling outfit, since it was easily the most fabric I had ever seen her wear. Despite the fact it showed off her stomach. And the plunge of her cleavage. And the curve of her ass. Which explained why Jerry was slack jawed in happiness. And why he had forgotten that Maryse was still there.
"Hoho, pinch me Cole. Because I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming."
"Me too," I mumbled. Only mine was a nightmare. Because while I had prepared for Smackdown physically—or at least, as much as I could do on a trampoline—what I hadn't done was prepare for it mentally like Team Authority obviously had.
Dean shot a look at me over the ring ropes that was two parts angry to one part wince, since apparently he was as pissed off as I was.
Which made me feel better.
"And of course Kaylee Starr is also known as The Real Mrs Ambrose due to her previous connections to Dean," Cole continued, with a glance in my direction as someone backstage clearly fed him that part. Someone shrill, and brown haired, and bitchy, "So it'll be interesting to see how they work together tonight."
"Provided she doesn't get arrested beforehand," I deadpanned, as Kaylee—who was still on the ramp and waving at people like she was on the red carpet—grabbed an unsuspecting fan by the head and shoved him nose first into her cleavage while a woman I assumed was his girlfriend looked on.
"Whoa, did he have to pay extra for those seats?" Jerry chuckled in wistful sounding tones, like being assaulted on live television by an overly pierced cowbag was every man's dream, "Because whatever it was, I'll double him for it."
"Well in that case you can post Kaylee's bail," I shot back, which someone backstage—oh who was I kidding? Which my bitch of a stepmother obviously didn't like, based on the way Michael Cole changed the topic, helped by Maryse who was bored of waiting around.
"Oh, and here we go," he bellowed, as the blonde French Canadian climbed out of the ring and made a furious beeline for Kaylee, who was trying to smother yet another poor fan. This one stood with his wife and two children, which proved my suspicion that she had zero shame. Grabbing her arm, Maryse spun her towards her and then followed up with an audible slap that even made me instinctively wince for a second.
But only for a second though,
"Yeah, go Maryse."
"Uh Lauren, aren't you meant to be cheering for the other side?" Jerry reminded me, nodding at Dean, who was stood watching the unfolding bitch fight in progress with what looked suspiciously like a satisfied smirk, since he was as much Team 'Beat Kaylee' as I was. Albeit it for very different reasons of course, since he was hoping her top would get ripped off.
"Well then maybe she'll have to be impartial," for once, Cole offered back, not saying the last part but not having to either.
Although I still felt offended,
"I'm always impartial," I frowned, before suddenly getting completely distracted by The Miz launching forwards as Dean's back was turned. Even though the bell hadn't rung yet. Which was more than I could handle, "Oh crud, Dean, look out."
Yep, so much for my impartiality. Although luckily, Dean must have felt the mat flex, since he ducked to one side and then threw up an elbow that caught the so-called A-Lister flush in the throat. Meanwhile, Kaylee had recovered from her pasting enough to have grabbed Maryse by her hair and slung her sideways into the barrier, which made me wince for the second time that night. Mostly because in a week come Sunday she would probably be doing the same thing to me. Except that she wouldn't be quite as gentle. Not that she was gentle. Which was kind of the point, and also why I nearly launched into the rafters when the timekeeper finally rang the match bell.
Ding ding.
As Maryse and Kaylee stumbled back to their corners—trying to smooth down their yanked out hair—The Miz took his chance to bounce back off the ring ropes and take Dean out with a clothesline to the face. Which apparently upset his brand new tag partner as much as it upset me,
"Oh come on," we both yelled, before turning and narrowing our eyes at each other as Cole took over narrating the match. Since I was too busy glaring at Kaylee, and Jerry was too busy staring at her rack, which had come close to popping clean out in the melee, although thankfully the straps were just keeping them in place.
The rhinestone encrusted leather straps, and wait a minute, had Matt designed her outfit?
"A cover by Miz and a kick out at one," Cole continued as Dean sat back upright and tentatively checked that his head was still on. Good news, it was.
"Get him Mike," Maryse simpered bouncing up and down and clapping her hands, which wasn't really wrestling trash talk, but still made Kaylee flare up like a lamp. Or something more angry. Like a warehouse explosion.
"Hey bitch, come over here and say that shit to my face," she screeched like Maryse had insulted her mother, which made even Dean and The Miz stop and look. Although instead of flinching away from the fury like some women—alright, like I would have done—Maryse leaned further over the ring ropes and put out her hand for The Miz to make a tag. Which made Lawler's voice rise so many octaves that he was almost only audible to babies and dogs.
"Ho ho ho. Here we go," he squeaked in excitement, like the horniest reverse Santa Claus in the world, as Dean and The Miz bowed down to the pressure—not to mention all the glaring—and tagged the women in, presumably both hoping to see Kaylee get her ass kicked. Which totally made three of us. Or, maybe even four, if you counted the girlfriend of the male fan from earlier, who was still throwing murderous daggers at the ring.
Not that Kaylee seemed to have noticed, or care if she had.
"And here comes Kaylee Starr," Michael Cole shouted over the audience, who erupted as the divas climbed into the ring and then stood, half crouched, squaring off with each other like a couple of territorial squirrels at the park, "Who is making her in ring debut this evening only three weeks after officially being signed."
"You mean signed to the company, or signed off from community service?" I chirped back sweetly as Maryse made the first move and slammed Kaylee backwards onto the canvas using a handful of her raven black hair. Which made Kaylee actually yelp in frustration.
"Uh, Lauren?" Jerry blinked, "Are you smiling?"
"No," I lied, trying to force my face from ha, take that you cowbag into something less obvious, "I'm just, uh, concentrating on the moves, so I know what to expect from Kaylee next Sunday. Not that she's probably had much time to train, what with being so new to the business and—,"
I tapered off with a startled looking gape as Kaylee suddenly hooked her arm through Maryse's elbow and flung her over onto the mat in a sloppy but still pretty painful looking hip toss.
"Uh, you were saying?" Jerry chuckled in response, watching the blonde French Canadian stagger upright, gingerly clutching the small of her back.
Michael Cole put a hand to his earpiece,
"Interesting news just coming in, folks. Because it seems that Kaylee Starr is being trained personally by the COO, Hunter Hearst Helmsley himself, who of course, is a thirteen time world champion."
"Not to mention the world's biggest jerk face ," I huffed, feeling suddenly unexpectedly jealous that my dad was doing father stuff with someone else. Not that I wanted Hunter to coach me, or trusted him as far as I could throw him—which wasn't far—but the part of me that secretly missed being his daughter still felt upset by it.
"Come on sweetie, you can do it," The Miz encouraged his wife from the corner, as Maryse sent a glare at her opponent across the ring and then crouched low to wait for an opening.
Which took all of two seconds.
"Dean, did you see me?" Kaylee barked, turning around to bat her eyes at my husband like she thought he'd be proud of her, "I tossed her skanky ass like a piece of cheap trash. Did you see that Deano? Deano? Baby?"
I subconsciously screwed up a piece of paper in my fist and then had to fight the violent urge to throw it at her. Which I might have done had Maryse not Irish whipped her into the post and then followed up with a series of forearms that the fans—and me—counted along with,
"One, two, three—,"
"Oh no. Get out of there Kaylee," Jerry panicked, showing more obvious concern for her than Dean, who was stood in their corner grinning adorably, since apparently he was also on Team Go Maryse.
"Four, five, sex, seven—,"
"Alright, alright, that's enough. Break it up," the referee shouted, getting between them and instantly ruining my sudden good mood. As did Kaylee, who rocketed forwards and football tackled Maryse to the ground. Much to the obvious excitement of Jerry, who practically exploded as the two of them went down and started to tumble over and over each other like something out of a bad nineties film.
"Woohoo. Now this is my kind of wrestling."
"Kaylee and Maryse, uh—," Michael Cole faltered, clearly not sure how to narrate what they were doing without using the words total breakdown or bitch fight.
"Trying to scalp one another?" I offered helpfully. Which probably wasn't very helpful but was technically true.
"Fighting for control of this match up, oh and here comes The Miz now," Cole segued off, as the A-Lister swung himself in through the ring ropes and physically lifted Kaylee up off his wife.
I winced,
"Look out Miz, she'll probably—,"
Thwack.
"Slap you," I tailed off half a second too late. Although still just in time to watch his chin drop in outrage as a hand came up to cup his now smarting face.
Ouch. For once I actually sympathized with him. Well, kind of.
"Dean, did you see what he did?" Kaylee whined, spinning around to face my husband and stamping her foot like a four year old. But with far less emotional control and patience, "He put his hands on me while I was winning the match. Are you just going to stand there and let him get away with that?"
Dean shrugged,
"I mean, I was kinda thinkin' about it, yeah."
"But we're partners," Kaylee protested unhappily, before being cut off from a shove from behind as Maryse propelled her into the corner where she bumped head first into Dean.
"Tag," the referee yelled, seeing his chance to get the match back on track again and away from the drama playing out in the ring.
Rolling his eyes, Dean climbed back through the ropes again and was immediately hit by a running knee strike. Or at least, he would have been if he hadn't dodged sideways, which forced The Miz to slam on the brakes before he disappeared between Kaylee's bosoms the same way the fan in the front row had done.
"Whoa," he shouted, putting his hands up as Kaylee flipped back her long ratty hair and dared him to take another step closer. Although luckily Dean grabbed hold of his trunks and pulled him backwards into a roll up, which took him out of the danger zone.
"There's a kick out at two. And speaking of wrestling training," Cole segued, going back to the conversation we'd been having five minutes ago. No doubt thanks to his in-ear monitor, which I was suddenly tempted to lean over and rip out, "How have you been preparing for Fastlane? Do you have any updates you'd like to share with the fans?"
"Just that Hunter's not the only one who knows how to pedigree," I sing songed smugly as Dean hauled The Miz up and then Bulldogged him back down into the canvas.
Which set off his tag partner,
"Kick his ass babe. Let's show these clowns how we wrestle in Cinci."
"But she's from Florida," I protested with a frown. Not that anyone seemed to notice, which was partly because I had muttered it to myself, but mostly because stupid Bad News Barrett chose that precise moment to stroll out onto the ramp and then start heading directly towards us.
"Hey, what's he doing out here?" Jerry barked, neatly summing up what the rest of us were thinking. That is, apart from Kaylee, who had her back to the ramp and evidently thought the boos were being aimed her way.
Which until now, they had been.
"Screw you assholes," she yelled, turning to gesture at the fans stood behind her, and finally clueing into what was happening, "Hey, what's the big eared British dude doing out here?"
"Is it me, or is she a wrench short of a tool kit?" I asked, which sadly went largely ignored—although Jerry did snort into his water—as Barrett came to a halt by the apron and started to bellow through the ring ropes at Dean.
"Do you have any idea how long I was stuck out here, handcuffed to the post like an idiot last night? I had to wait until they took the bloody ring down."
My husband bit back a grin in response, which didn't much help international relations, but did create an opening for The Miz to attack.
"Babe, behind you," Kaylee screeched loudly, waving a black painted claw across the ring, as I sat and gaped at her in astonishment. Because hold up, did she just call my husband babe?
Grabbing the top rope with both hands, Dean yanked downwards, which sent The Miz sailing over his head like a bird—
Before crashing into Barrett like a sack of potatoes.
"Whoa," Jerry Lawler commentated brightly, "Now that is what you call bad news."
"And look out, it's about to get worse," Cole barked, as Maryse swung back into the ring in raw fury and headed for Dean with her hands outstretched, like she was thinking of physically ripping his hair out.
Kaylee tackled her,
"Guess again bitch," she yelled loud enough for the mics on our announce desk—and the cameras, and people three states away—to hear, as she inadvertently thesz pressed Maryse to the canvas and started to pummel her, "So you think you can jump my man and not get your ass whooped?"
"Get off me you folle," the blonde screamed back, once again flipping the two of them over and rolling them perilously close to the ropes.
I winced,
"Uh oh, if they're not careful then they're going to end up—," I was promptly cut off by a yelp as the tangled forms of Maryse and my nemesis plunged off the apron out of sight, "Never mind."
Dean meanwhile, had climbed out—not fallen—and was trying to shove The Miz back through the ropes, which left the cameras unsure who to follow.
The referee lifted a finger up,
"One—,"
"Kaylee and Maryse still fighting on the outside," Michael Cole provided for the viewers at home, as if the guy in the Bengals shirt in the front row holding his beer up and whooping wasn't enough of a clue. Not that Jerry Lawler was acting much better,
"That's it girls. Now take your shirts off."
"I'd better not hear you say that next Sunday," I warned as Dean clambered back in through the ropes and pulled The Miz up into position for a finisher that I now knew incredibly well.
"Dirty Deeds," Michael Cole yelled in time with the audience.
Outside the ring Wade Barrett suddenly sat up, probably wondering what had hit him, which meant that he was too dazed to help, and too late to stop Dean from rolling The Miz over—or what had been The Miz about two minutes earlier, before he'd been launched into the air and then concussed—and confidently hooking his leg up.
The referee dropped to his kneecaps,
"One—,"
"Oh my god, it looks like Kaylee might win this. Her first ever match," Jerry Lawler squeaked in awe, despite the fact that the woman in question was still busy rolling around on the floor.
"Two—,"
"Um, I think you mean Dean might win this," I huffed in correction,
"Three."
Ding, ding.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners, Deannnnn Ambroooose and Kaaaaaylee Starrrrr."
On hearing her name—or else having murdered her opponent, since in the moment it was kind of hard to tell—my nemesis herself suddenly popped back upright with her hair in tatters and her makeup smeared. None of which made me feel any happier about the way she launched at my husband like a dart, and wrapped her arms and legs around him like she was the one who was his lawfully wedded wife.
Slamming my match notes down on the desktop, I stood and rolled my sleeves up,
"Alright, that's it—,"
Michael grabbed the hem of my jacket,
"And we'll be right back after this commercial break."
Instantly the screen switched to a trailer for Fastlane, which meant that everyone watching at home missed Dean screwing up his face in revulsion and pushing Kaylee off him like he thought she was diseased.
Jerry reached over and patted my shoulder,
"Hey, look on the bright side, just another hour to go and then you and Dean can go back to your hotel room, order room service and decompress."
"Um, yeah, about that—," I started, before suddenly stopping and questioning my plans. Because maybe we could stay at a hotel for the evening and swing by Dean's old house in the morning? Especially since Kelly hadn't texted me lately, which implied that all was clear on the western front.
Of course, the literal second I thought that, my cell phone lit up in front of me on the desk, with a message from none other than my private eye bestie.
Uh oh.
Laurie, I don't want you to freak out, but I think Dean's mom went on a spending spree earlier, which means that either she's stealing from you and Dean, or she recently sold a kidney.
You need to get to the bottom of this.
Darn.
In front of me, Dean was stalking off up the rampway, leaving Kaylee behind blowing kisses to the crowd. But Kelly was right. I had bigger problems.
It looked like we would be staying at Dean's after all.
Next time, we find out what Mama Ambrose is hiding!