The Return of the Show
December 6th, 2013 – Drake’s Mountain House; Bakersfield, CA – 3:30 PM {Two Days Before December 2 Dismember}
[The camera fades in to a large living room that is brightly lit from the floor to ceiling windows that line the far wall. Staring out the window, drinking a glass of scotch, is Drake Green. He is wearing a pair of jeans, brown shoes, and a gray cardigan over a white button up shirt. He stares out the window into the woods surrounding his home in the mountains of Bakersfield, CA. He contemplates the last few months of his wrestling career, and whether or not he wants to continue. His bright eyes look over his professionally manicured lawn that is lined by designer looking rock wall that heads down the mountain side. He breathes a sigh that seems to be filled with a bit of relief as he turns around.]
Drake: I’m considering it.
[He turns around to stare at JJ Dixon, sitting cross legged on Drake’s leather couch drinking a glass of scotch of his own. He is wearing a black suit and a matching black tie over his slightly wrinkled white shirt.]
JJ: I think you’re making the right move…
Barry: I’m sure you think so.
[The camera moves over to Barry Goldstein, who is leaning up against the wall opposite the couch. He too has a glass of scotch, the color of which matches his brown sport coat and his gold tie. He takes a puff off of his big cigar before taking off his tinted glasses and running his hand through his slicked back dirty blonde hair.]
Barry: I just don’t see what’s in it for Drake, JJ.
JJ: What’s in it for Drake? He gets a new contract that will earn him more than he’s ever earned before. That’s what is in it for him.
Barry: Percentage wise maybe but percentage of what? We can’t even guarantee he’s gonna have any on screen time? He’s gonna be the Champion of company with no roster, no television deal, no events…what’s the plan? I understand you both want to screw Mark Ward but my interest here is purely financial and this is a shit investment. I mean so what I you buy the company out from underneath him? Then what? All you’re really doing is buying a name and archives.
Drake: What if we attach the ACW World Champion to SCW television?
JJ: How would we do that?
Barry: No, that’s brilliant. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.
JJ: But how could we make that work?
Barry: You’re way over paying for the ACW name as it is. Why not take advantage of that? You think Ward is even gonna read that contract? No fucking way. He’s gonna be so excited about the cash he can now blow on cheap hookers he’s not gonna give a shit about what Japanese holdings company he’s doing business with. You just add a ridiculously high appearance fee for the ACW Champ and everybody wins.
Drake: You really think that will work?
JJ: It will work. Mark is so full of himself he won’t read the contract. Barry is right.
Drake: Ok, I’m going to do this JJ. But I gotta be honest with you about something.
JJ: What’s that?
Drake: I don’t trust you. I haven’t trusted you in months. You’re a snake and I don’t put it passed you to screw me over once you’ve gotten Mark back. I think you’re a conniving, sad excuse for a man and I’m scared to shake your hand.
[JJ stands up and sets his glass of scotch down on the table in front of the couch.]
JJ: Look, D.
Drake: Drake. You can call me Drake.
JJ: Ok…Drake. I know I fucked up…big time. I ruined everything I had. No one knows this more than me. I didn’t take care of my stars-
[Drake cuts him off.]
Drake: Your stars? I don’t give a shit how you treat me, JJ. It’s the fans. They don’t serve to be duped and treated like they’re not important. Like they don’t matter. They’re the ONLY thing that matters. Without them we do not have a leg to stand on. You need to apologize to them.
JJ: You’re right. Right after we do this with Mark it will be the first thing that I do.
Drake: No. You have to do it first. There’s no way I’m stepping out on that stage with you on Sunday night before you apologize to them. If you want me, then they have to care about you…period. If they don’t then this is never going to work.
[JJ steps up close to Drake and stretches his hand out.]
JJ: You’ve got a deal.
[Drake sizes up JJ for a moment. He stares down at his glass and swirls around the remaining bits of scotch and ice. He takes the final sip before landing the glass down on the window sill. He grabs JJ by the hands and steps in closer.]
Drake: We’ve got a deal. But if you fuck me…or the fans…I promise you I’ll come after you for everything you’re worth. Are we understood?
[JJ smiles.]
JJ: Absolutely. This is great news.
[JJ walks over and shakes Barry’s hand.]
Barry: I’ll rewrite the contracts up and have them at your doorstep first thing tomorrow morning. Just make sure they get over to the Japs.
JJ: Of course, I will take care of it.
[JJ takes in a deep sniff of the air.]
JJ: Can you smell that?
Drake:…
JJ: Mark Ward is already shitting his pants.
[Drake and Barry smile back at JJ before JJ leaves. Drake walks JJ to the front door and closes it behind him. He turns around to see Barry standing right behind him.]
Barry: You trust him?
Drake: No, but what other choice do I have? I spent all my money on this fucking house.
[Drake smiles.]
Drake: Plus…I miss Maxy.
Barry: Yeah, about that…
Drake: What?
Barry: He’s not coming. He didn’t have the heart to tell you.
Drake: You’re kidding, right?
Barry: No. He said he met the love of his life out there. He doesn’t want to leave.
Drake: You think he’s still pissed?
Barry: Probably, but come on. We’ll get the best trainers out there.
Drake: How? I’m broke.
[Drake and Barry chuckle.]
Barry: I’ll front you, Champ. But I want 15% now.
Drake: 15% of me? That’s a lotta fucking dough.
Barry: Not anymore it isn’t…
Drake: Right. Look, thanks for sticking by me these past couple months, Bar. I appreciate it. You’re a real good friend.
Barry: Friend? Friends got nothing to do with it, Showtime. You’re a cash cow. Where am I gonna go?
[Drake laughs and the two men share a quick hug. They say goodbye and Drake closes the door behind him and he walks back to the living room to clean up the few glasses of scotch and the empty bottle. He comes across a picture of Rosie, his ex-girlfriend, he has sitting on the baby grand piano on the edge of the room. He picks up the picture and smiles for a bit before putting it back down and exiting the room, turning the light off in the process.]
December 31st, 2013 – Drake’s Mountain House; Bakersfield, CA – 11:50 PM
[It had been a few days since Drake had endured one of the worst physical beatings of his career. Despite coming out on top in the finish, Mark Ward’s message was sent loud and clear. He didn’t particularly care about taking the title from Drake so much as he cared about physically punishing him. It worked. Drake has two broken ribs, again, a hairline fracture in his forearm, and a severe concussion. He was keeping it under wraps as much as he could but to anyone who knew him, he looked hurt. The camera fades back in to Drake’s living room. There are about two dozen people enjoying themselves at Drake’s for New Years. Sitting by himself, wearing a light pale blue sweater and a pair of blue jeans, Drake sits up against one of the large bay windows, starting out into the mountains, something that seems to be his favorite pastime as of late. After a moment, a female’s hand touches Drake on his shoulder. He turns around quickly to see his bay sister, Jenny Green. She is wearing a blue dress with high black heels. Her arms are near covered with tattoos and her dark black hair is up on her head. She smiles at Drake who faintly returns the smirk.]
Jenny: Are you ok?
Drake: Yeah, I’m cool. Just relaxing.
Jenny: Can I introduce you around? This is your house you know…
[Drake grabs Jenny’s hand as it sits on his shoulder.]
Drake: I’m hanging out with my mountain at the moment.
Jenny: Drake…it’s New Year’s Eve. What’s going on with you?
[Drake breathes out a long sigh and then turns to face his younger sister.]
Drake: Honestly?
Jenny: No, I want your dis-honest answer.
Drake: I miss Max.
Jenny: I know you do big bro but you can’t just sit around moping about it. Look around you. Your house is full of beautiful women, it’s almost midnight, snap out of it dude.
[Drake smiles. He stands up and pans around the room. A waiter walks by with glasses of champagne on a tray and Jenny quickly scoops up two flutes and hands one to her brother.]
Jenny: See, it’s a party, a pretty swanky one too.
[Jenny joins Drake in looking around the room.]
Jenny: Who are all of these people?
Drake: Actually, I have no fucking clue.
[They laugh together.]
Jenny: Where did they come from?
Drake: Most of them are Barry’s people and some of the Japanese people work for JJ. The rest…I don’t know.
Jenny: You feeling ok? I saw that match ya know…
Drake: Yeah, I’m cool. No new scars for you to cover up or anything.
Jenny: Too bad.
Drake: You wanna get outta here? There’s got to be somewhere better to be then here. I was thinking about grabbing the plane and going to see Max. Maybe try to talk him into coming back to work.
Jenny: Now? It’s almost midnight, Drake. Why don’t I go find you a nice girl to kiss in a couple minutes and you can stop acting like a Nancy?
[Drake shoots her a dirty look.]
Drake: You know I hate that name.
Jenny: Well…?
[Drake pans the room again.]
Drake: I think I’m gonna take-
[Before Drake can finish his sentence, Jenny sees a tall blonde walk by. She grabs her by the arm and pulls her over. She is about an inch taller than Drake probably because her black heels stand nearly six inches high. Her small, tight, black dress is rather poofy at the bottom and is a stark contrast to her pale white skin. Her blonde hair is pin straight and just passed her shoulders with bangs in front. Her bright blue eyes provide a nice brightness above her ruby red lips. She’s startled at first but when she makes eye contact with Drake a small smile creeps over her lips that she seems a bit too desperate to hide.]
Jenny: Hi! I’m Jenny…what’s your name?
Blonde: Penny. My name is Penny.
[The blonde stares back at Drake, waiting for him to introduce himself.]
Drake: I’m Drake.
[He stretches out his hand she softly grabs it, providing a quick shake, and then she drops as if she is afraid to touch it any longer. Her smile gets bright and a tint of rosiness comes over her pale white cheeks.]
Blonde: I know who you are.
Jenny: Don’t worry. Everyone else does too. So what are you doing here?
Blonde: I work for Mr. Goldstein’s office. He invited the whole office so I just thought I’d come by and…
[She trials her sentence off as she makes more eye contact with Drake. Jenny rolls her eyes a bit and then smiles at her brother.]
Jenny: Yeah…I’m gonna go back over to my friends now.
Drake: No you don’t have-
Jenny: Dude…it’s almost midnight. I’m not gonna get any action over here…
[Drake smiles.]
Drake: Thanks for umm…
Jenny: Don’t mention it.
[Jenny walks away and Drake turns back his attention toward the blonde. He stumbles to think of anything to answer because truth be told, he really isn’t interested in anything she has to say. He takes a moment to think of what to say to politely excuse himself.]
Drake: Look, I-
[The blonde grabs his arm and yanks toward the center of the room.]
Blonde: It’s almost midnight!
[She pulls him in to the middle of the crowd of people at the party in his own living room and everyone begins to count down.]
TEN!
NINE!
EIGHT!
SEVEN!
SIX!
FIVE!
[The blonde positions herself close to Drake, eagerly awaiting a kiss from the celebrity whose New Year’s party she is attending. Drake frantically tries to think of a way to get out of that scenario as he looks around the room before his eyes settle on a picture hanging on the wall. The picture is of Drake when he was about 21years old with Max. He focuses in on Max.]
FOUR!
THREE!
[He looks hard making eye contact with the printed version of his former trainer and best friend.]
TWO!
What would you do Max?
[He thinks to himself for a moment as the countdown finally stops.]
ONE!
[Drake looks one more time at his friend and then wide, twisted grin comes over his face.]
Drake: Fuck it!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
[He grabs the blonde by the back of the neck with his left hand and pulls her in forcefully giving her a passionate smooch on the lips as the camera fades out.]
I’d been waiting for a few weeks now to see who it would be. To see who the dickbag Mark Ward would select next. I guess he noticed that surprise opponents don’t work and are just a waste of effort because this time he had no problem telling me, along with the whole world, who my next title defense would be against. Cyrus King, the old pebble in my shoe. I use that expression for a reason because let’s face it, you’re little more than that. You were bothersome when you aligned yourself with that disappearing act of Lukas Von Aelfric back in ACW. You were a little more than annoying when you joined up with Max Burke and attacked me a few times but you were pretty easy to put away last time.
Unlike you, I truly believe the words that come out of my mouth. When I get out in front of the millions of Showstoppers and tell them all that is I want to defend this belt against every single former ACW Superstar I mean it. We all deserve a crack at this belt. We all worked toward something at one point and whether we got along well or not, we all meant something to that great company. There’s a long list of competitors I’d love to give a shot at this belt. My friend Ben deserves one. So do Simon, Steve, Jeremiah, and Casey and probably even Ethan Brody and Landon Axel. You are on that list, Cyrus. I’m going to deny that but I need to make one thing clear. You are at the very bottom. You’ve done nothing to prove to me that you are able to carry the mantle of All-Pro Championship Wrestling. Not one thing and quite frankly, I’m a little insulted that you were the one that Mark Ward picked.
Loser. I don’t know if you remember that word but I still do. It was the word I had used to describe you. It is the only word simple enough to explain the lack of tenacity or ability that you possess. Last time we had this dance, you spoke a lot about ending me. About how you were the King and about how I was going to bow down to you. What happened? You got knocked out cold. I’ve bested you and your tiny little head before and I’ll do it again. Maybe then Hot Douche Mark Ward will show the bollocks he claims to have and get in the ring with me himself. Until then, you’ll have to do. ACW must live on…
END FEED.
