Time to shift gears now and move back into the wrestling world for our big crazy finale part of this story and may I just say now that I've outdone myself on how wild these last few chapters are going to be…but hey, it's wrestling so anything can happen!
Wolfgirl2013, Yep, Lauren knows how to find trouble. I kinda give her a bit of a break in this chapter but only because she's going to find a heap more chaos still to come!
Mandy, Yep, she's come a long way since Bray first grabbed her, now the girl is prepared to fight back…even if it does scare her witless during/after! But hey at least she gets Dean cuddles from it so every cloud I guess right?!
xXBalorBabeXx, I think Eric should be more worried about his pride. He would probably be a special guest star on one of those Dumbest Criminals shows because he really doesn't have much luck on the crime front!
Skovko, Well, you know the old saying, if taffy doesn't work…no, I'm kidding. But I figure Dean's mom isn't the type of woman who is swayed by flowers and chocolates. She likes a bit of moxie and spark. Still, family Christmases are going to be fun!
Minnie1015, Hey, that last one was totally the fault of Dean's hometown. Lauren just happened to be a bystander…okay, yeah, she finds trouble. On a side note next week's RAW is in his hometown…miraculous appearance maybe (fingers crossed?!)
ShieldGirlBecky, I think Mama Ambrose is about as 'warm' as she's every likely to get as this point or is as humanly possible for her! Here comes the call (after I give Lauren a bit of a break) and while I'm not giving all the answers, it will set up our big ending!
LunaticxLass, Yep, Mama Ambrose is as approving as she knows how to be, but still the woman is a pretty tough crowd! Still, I guess compared to Stephanie she is positively sweetness and light! Maybe I should write a Mama Ambrose/Steph throw down at some point?!
Say yes to the dress…
I'll Be Wearing White
In total we stayed for a further two days in his hometown before Dean had to pack up to head for the house shows. But thankfully the rest of it turned out to be relatively uneventful and even potentially sort of borderline relaxed since there were no more run-ins with hopped up villains or people trying to fleece me for things I technically already owned.
Ugh –
Damn that guy.
Even Mama Ambrose seemed to warm up to me a little bit, to the point that we even made dinner together on the last night like we had done it a million times before in our acquaintance and which had instantly made me imagine family holiday and meals but which I knew would never be truly realistic since frankly I was just lucky that she hadn't tried to punch me at any point.
Roman had made sure it was the first thing he had asked us,
"Didn't see that right hook of hers then baby girl?"
Dean had snorted,
"No, but Lauren punched a mugger."
"Yeah?"
"Hell yeah, my baby's got the moves man."
By the time the Monday night tapings had rolled around again I was actually weirdly glad to be back, because compared to the chaos of our sojourn to Cincinnati the madness of the ring seemed like real life again and far more familiar than streets and gang-bangers and knife wielding addicts bursting into people's homes and then collapsing into a heap in the middle of the floorboards –
In short, the wrestling world was where I belonged.
Dean, Roman and I arrived early at the venue with the boys having picked me up from my eastbound flight in and instead of running some steps in the arena or otherwise hanging around while they toned themselves in the gym or went over their matches and plans for the evening, I instead hit the town with my favorite work friend. Because boy was there a whole lot for me to catch him up on. In fact it nearly killed him there was so much to take in,
"So let me get this straight here because it's sounds completely crazy," Matt blinked over the top of his brimming coffee cup, leaning so far forward that the tassels of his fashion scarf practically dipped into the foam of his latte that the barista had styled into the shape of a cat.
I nodded back steadily,
"I told you a lot happened, I really wasn't kidding huh?"
Matt had scoffed,
"You're telling me girl. Because if I've got this right then what you're actually saying here is that you sucker punched some random pill popping asshole who was holding you at knifepoint in exchange for his drugs and then after that the wasted-soon-to-be-mother-in-law that had hated you the entire time accepted you right into the fold?"
"Um – yep, I mean, kind of anyway."
Because I knew that Mama Ambrose would never be sweetness and light and would never be the type to come running out to greet us on the sporadic occasions we chose to call round. In fact, more than likely we would probably have to go and find her in much the same way we had on the visit before, which was how Dean had grown used to his rare parental meetings going and which I therefore assumed I would have to as well.
Not that I was much looking forward to the prospect –
I was already mentally preparing myself.
From out of nowhere I experienced a flashback and it made me wince as I bent in towards my drink, blowing a cooling breath across the little marshmallows bobbing in the stew of my salted caramel hot chocolate. I had no idea why I had ordered something wintry right smack bang in the middle of the summer months, but I figured that after everything I had recently been through that I owed it to myself to have a gluttonous cocoa-y hit.
"I – I might have hugged her when we were leaving."
"Who?" Matt frowned,
"Um, Dean's mom."
"Yikes."
Nor was his response too out of place either.
My mother in-law had responded like a poor abused dog and in the end it had been like enveloping a length of plywood since she had stiffened so instantly that I had been worried that she might break. By the time it had come to us leaving Cincinnati she had mellowed enough to stand out by the door, holding a much needed cigarette between her fingers in what she had obviously hoped was a casual looking slump. She had wanted to give off the air of not caring and so to that end hadn't even given Dean a proper hug but I could tell in her eyes that she totally wanted to and so had swept in without blinking and provided one myself – squeezing her lightly by her too skinny forearms and trying not to burn myself on the smoking cancer stub – before stepping back and smiling pretty broadly and proudly as both she and Dean had gaped at my showing of love.
I shrugged a little,
"I guess I just felt so sorry for her because I'm not sure anyone had been nice to her before."
Matt laughed at me so suddenly and loudly that he actually blew foam from the top of his cup, tearing it off into a blob of tiny bubbles that whistled through the air and then right across the shop, landing by the elbow of a severe looking businessman who then put his suit into them as he flicked through the emails on his phone.
Whoops.
I turned back when my work bestie put words to the laughter,
"Are you surprised that people aren't lining up to give out hugs since the woman sounds like she's freaking ninety percent bile? Like anyone would try to hug a bristling porcupine. Honestly babe, I know that you're a people person and you like to make sure that folk get along but you would probably have been safer lighting a match in a fireworks factory."
I smiled at him wryly,
"Or spending the weekend with my old man?"
"Oh hell yeah."
For a second we lapsed into a comfortable silence which I then broke by letting out an unannounced little snort because a sudden thought had popped unprovoked into my brainstem and the image of the thing was too good not to pass along. Matt quirked a brow and I lent in across the table like I was passing some international secret over the top.
"Who do you think would win between Dean's mom and Stephanie?"
"Ooooh," Matt giggled, "Are we talking in the ring here? Because we all know that McMahons are known for playing dirty so your stepmother would totally have brass knuckles hidden away."
I took a sip,
"Yeah but Dean's mom is really feisty and she lives in a place where people carry knives and where people try to bust into her apartment at three in the morning so I'm pretty sure she could probably pretty easily handle that."
"Steph can be fast."
"Dean's mom has that right hook."
Matt sat back and then blew out a breath like he was actually giving the idea real consideration, before resolutely throwing the rest of his coffee down and then banging the cup home with a clink of thickened chinaware and a slap of his hands,
"I'm giving this one to Steph, but only if we're talking a straight wrestling match here because if hardcore weapons or tables are involved then I'm changing sides and pegging Dean's drunken mother for the win."
I copied him by finishing off my hot chocolate,
"Good option."
"So we're in agreement?"
"Yep, we are."
He threw me a wink then wrapped his scarf a little tighter and stood from his chair in a silent ready to go move which I mirrored by unhooking my purse handles from the chair back and climbing to my feet as we headed from the shop. Even before we were over the threshold, Matt had slipped his skinny arm through mine and then forced us into a ridiculous skipping movement which threatened to bring back the salted hot chocolate but was also totally and happily him.
"Oh god," I hissed through peals of laughter, "Stop, stop, I'm so going to throw up."
Matty froze dead and I bumped suddenly into the side of him but then let out a thankful little moan, because I could genuinely feel my stomach swishing regrettably and I was pretty darn sure that if I really paid attention then I could also hear the marshmallows knocking up against my sides. I naturally assumed that Matty had stopped again in response to my pleading and possibly even my green face, but as I turned I saw he was looking over the street at something that for a second or two I couldn't quite place.
His lips twitched up,
"How's the wedding planning going?"
"Um, it isn't really."
"Not even a little bit?"
Even though I was squinting pretty hard across the asphalt I still couldn't seeing what had caught his bright gaze, because all I could see was a tiny little drug store, what looked like a sex shop and a large laundrette. I shrugged and then shook my head almost idly,
"I mean, I guess we've talked about it once or maybe twice, but I think Dean wanted to get his mom out of the way first – figuratively, not literally I hope."
Matt smirked at me,
"But what about the dresses and venues and color schemes and that kind of thing? You expect me to believe you haven't even thought about it?"
Maybe he was looking at the sex shop after all and planning some sort of wild bachelorette party that would include blow up dolls and debauchery in spades, but which he would totally have to fight my bestie Kelly to be in charge of since that task was a undoubtedly a maid of honor thing. Besides which, knowing my best friend and how sex starved she had been recently and in actual fact since she had birthed her gorgeous chubby child, I figured that debauchery would pretty much be a mainstay of the pre-marital event with no exceptions anyway.
"Um, okay, so maybe I have thought about it and looked up a couple of dresses online, but the problem is I guess I always wanted a white wedding whereas Dean wants a tropical beach and no one but us – which does sound pretty nice."
"Uh huh."
Matt waited for a second and then began to steadily steer me across the road, pausing for there to be a break in the traffic but then holding out one hand like an eager crossing guard. He received a heated beep from an angry Taurus driver but flipped them the bird without even giving them a look.
"Matty, what – ,"
"Dresses huh?"
"Only a couple and only in a super lazy late night image search, because honestly I've got no idea about that part of it, or styles or shades or anything like that."
Between us we hopped back up onto the kerbside and then thankfully right past the lurid sex shop, that was further advertised by a bright neon figure lit up by the door in the shape of a seductively posing girl with the all important XXX above her outline just in case passers by hadn't quite worked the place out.
Matt grinned,
"Well in that case, let me kick start the process."
He spun me around towards a place in the corner that had been shadowed by an awning that spread right across the shop and then flung his arms out in a full ta da gesture which made me gasp out but also hitch a little bit.
"A wedding dress shop? Oh god no, I could never – ,"
"Why not?"
"Because, um."
In terms of a real answer that was about all I had, since there was no proper reason why I couldn't begin browsing and starting to find a few things that I liked. Besides, it wasn't like I would ever have bought anything without having at least run it briefly past Kelly first and I knew in my heart of hearts that the big that's the dress moment would be back in Wisconsin with her and her mom. Because even if Dean and I got married on a beach somewhere in a far-flung country then I would still need to look nice right? So therefore I literally had nothing to stop me from a little fun searching through the taffeta covered racks.
Except –
Except –
I swallowed a lump back as it welled up into my throat all at once and then did what I thought was a fantastic job of hiding it but which obviously wasn't pulled off quite well enough. Matt squeezed my hand and then tangled up my fingers,
"Oh goodness, oh sweetie, I forgot about your mom – well – I mean, not that I physically forgot her, but I never even thought about how this might make you feel. Oh god, I'm a bad friend."
He put a hand to his head dramatically and I snorted a little and then smiled,
"No you're not."
"But I've made you all sad."
"I'm okay, really."
It may or may not have been a vague lie but at the same time I also genuinely meant it because even though the thought of shopping for my wedding gown without my mom there cut right down to the bone, I also knew that she in no way would have wanted her absence to cast a shadow over the thing. Plus I knew that she would be there somehow anyway, nodding her head at whatever I tried on and tearing up in the way that mothers were meant to whenever their daughters put a floaty dress on. Besides, I figured that it was probably better to face the trauma of her not being there with me for my wedding head on, so that when it came to finally picking out my forever dress, there would be minimal tears and maximum grinning instead.
Matt was still panicking,
"No sweetie, forget it, we'll go to a bar and get hopeless trashed."
"Um, we've kind of got the taping in four hours – ,"
"It's fine, this is nothing that a mimosa can't solve."
He was actually heading to haul us back over the road again when I reached up with an eye roll and took hold of his hand, spinning him back in the direction of the boutique and then dragging him bodily across the threshold with a grin. Inside the place was – perhaps unsurprisingly – covered with rails of hanging white gowns, all of them carefully zipped up in see-through coverings but a literal blitz of lace, chiffon and bling. Everywhere I looked tiny diamantes caught the spotlights and shone back like the tiny little precious things they were and there was a bell above us which tinkled out merrily and brought out a lady who was probably in her fifties, with a pile of peroxide hair and a layer of bright red blush. Her Botox-surrounded eyes blinked across at us rapidly in what I guessed was an attempt at post-surgical procedure warmth and she clasped together long false fingernails as she greeted us hopefully,
"How can I help you both?"
"Um – ," I faltered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed again because wow was there a whole lot of material on the rails, but luckily Matty stepped in with authority and a wave of his hand,
"We're just browsing thanks."
I nodded like a mute little marionette behind him and then parroted it too,
"Browsing, uh huh."
Honestly it was probably a good thing that he was with me since otherwise I would probably have been talked into leaving with a gown and probably something horrible and poofy that I never in a million years would have willingly picked out. Following his lead I began to sort through the railings, trying to work out what I could picture myself in, but managing to fail on that point pretty rapidly since I had never really thought too hard about the thing or if I wanted an A-line or a princess dress or a sweetheart neckline or the other words I had heard. Frankly it was much like speaking another language as Matt pretty quickly came to figure out himself,
"So sweetie, give me some filters to help out here."
"Um, give you what?"
Matty waved expressive hands,
"I mean do you want the big organza style bottom with the pleating and the ruffles or a fishtail to emphasize your hips, or do you want to go a whole lot more classy with something that has about a mile of lace?"
I blinked back,
"Lace."
"Are you sure?"
"Uh huh, um, no ruffles or low necklines or anything I can't sit down comfortably in."
He snapped his fingers like he was computing the information and then bustled off to happily flick through the hanging gowns, humming to himself like he was absolutely in his element and which I kind of had to figure that he probably was. Not that I considered Matty to be a gay best friend cliché, but at times his levels of fashion love were impossibly high and apparently never more so than when leafing through wedding dresses like he was waiting for the dentist and skim-reading a magazine.
Inhaling heavily I decided to join him and so slowly began to sort through the many hanging rails, which helped to establish the sort of thing that I hated but not so much the type of thing I liked. Given that I had watched a couple of episodes of Say Yes To The Dress I had been swayed into the belief that the perfect gown would launch out and then hit me in the gut and I would know with my whole being that the length of white taffeta or lace or whatever was totally it. But then again how often in life did it happen that people knew instantly a thing was wholly right? I mean, I'd been attracted to Dean from the moment I had met him but not even I would have said to begin with in those first few days that he was the one and even though he probably would have totally told me otherwise, I knew the same was true for him. It didn't make what we had any less special for being a slow-grow but it underlined to me that I was a wait-and-see kind of a girl, who liked to look at all of her options before making a decision of any real kind.
Lace.
Yep.
It was pretty much my single dress requirement because I thought it struck a nice sort of classy kind of note and therefore was something I felt that I wanted but which everybody else seemed to want to have too. In essence I was practically blinded by lace options, to the point I blew a thankful breath out when my cell phone began to ring and assuming it was Dean I answered without looking as I wedged it between my ear and my shoulder,
"You'll never guess what I'm doing."
"Oh, I'm sorry, is this Lauren Helmsley?"
"Lauren Hope," I corrected quickly in an automatic response before frowning in confusion at the voice, "Um, yes it is."
My answer seemed to reassure the woman on the other end, who let out a little sigh that worried me a bit, because already it seemed impossibly formal and so I started to think all sorts of terrible things, meaning that I almost completely missed hearing the next sentence in a whirlwind of anxiety.
"Vince McMahon – ,"
"Um, I – what?"
"Mr McMahon would like to see you in his office when you get back to the arena."
Crap.
My whole body froze, since being called in to see the boss was never a happy thing and particularly since I hadn't even known he was in town. Maybe he was in town specifically to see me? Perhaps he was firing me for having messed up somehow or more likely to chew me out for having let slip about the engagement without having run it past him or cleared it somehow. I bit on my lip and then tried to fathom whether or not he had a reason to be upset and whether it was on a personal family type level or because he would have wanted to use it better on TV.
I swallowed,
"Have I – have I done something wrong at all?"
Her answer was clipped and not very reassuring but then again the truth was that she probably didn't know, since I doubted the owner of a global corporation talked his personal assistant through every last choice he made.
"If you could just make sure to see Mr McMahon before the taping."
"Um, I mean yes – uh – I'm looking forward to it, well maybe not but sort of because – ,"
His assistant cut me off again, either sensing that I was launching into a long and clumsy diatribe or possibly because she had been warned by her boss, but managing to keep her tone impressively chirpy as she basically hung up on me,
"Thank you, good day."
"Uh, okay bye."
I stood for a second blinking into the taffeta and then very nearly almost bit my lip clean off and was about to call Dean to let him scout for some answers or tell me something reassuring when Matty showed up. In his hands he was holding a gown still in the zipper bag and bubbling with excitement.
"I think this is the one, I mean, obviously you still have to say a final yes or no to it, but I think it is going to match your skin tone so well and emphasize those big brown eyes and all that hairs of yours."
I blinked at him feeling a little dazed,
"Huh? Oh."
"You okay sweetie?"
"I've been called in to see Vince later."
His face fell a little in sympathy,
"Oh shit."
"Don't say that," I hissed back worriedly, "You're supposed to say sort of uber soothing things, like maybe he wants to congratulate me on the engagement, or offer one of his luxury homes to have the wedding in, or maybe even give me a gigantic promotion because I've been doing so well on my commentary job."
Matty blinked again,
"Oh shit."
"Not helpful."
In the corner of the room the bright eyed wedding dress shop owner was still hovering like a pike in the middle of a pool and on seeing the bag in Matt's hand she moved forwards with dollar signs pinging like a slot machine in her eyes.
"Have you found something you like? How about you try it on then? Oh yes, this one will look lovely on such a pretty girl."
I shuffled a little awkwardly,
"Um – ,"
"Come on now madam, don't be nervous."
Before I could blink she had a hand on my back and had plucked the bag from out of Matt's fingernails, propelling me off in the direction of the changing rooms as I tried to protest as politely as I could,
"Oh, actually I think we need to be going – ,"
"It won't take long."
Luckily Matty stepped easily in and swept his arm back through the crook of my elbow at the same time wheeling me in the direction of the door.
"Maybe we'll pop in when we're next in town, okay hun? In the meantime, put a label on that one for her if would you be so kind? Because right now my girl has got a meeting with the boss man and if she's late for it, then there won't be a wedding at all."
Damn.
Next chapter Vince has a 'genius' idea for a segment on the show. But of course, we know what Vince's ideas are like. Lauren is not quite so sure!
