[DrakeGreen]

 
Sex, Lies, and Wrestling Tape


“The most common lie is that which one lies to himself; lying to others is relatively an exception.” –Friedrich Nietzsche

September 20th, 2014 – Bouchon Bistro; Las Vegas, Nevada – 10:00 AM

[The scene fades in to an outdoor section of a local Las Vegas brunch spot, The Bouchon Bistro. Seated across from one another are Drake Green and Misty. Misty is wearing her hair up in a messy-but-cute bun on top of her head, which compliments her white long sleeve t-shirt and black Rayban sunglasses. The opaque tint of her designer eyewear provides a stark contrast to her somewhat pale complexion. She picks up a large mug full of tea and takes a sip as she stares across the plastic table at the SCW Heavyweight Champion. Drake is wearing a dark grey v-neck sweater over a white t-shirt, covering himself up a bit on the unseasonably chilly September morning. His hair is in his usual makeshift messy faux-hawk although it appears a bit more greasy than usual. His face is unshaven and looks as though it has been for quite sometime. On top of his nose sits a pair of expensive looking Lacoste sunglasses, shielding his eyes from the bright Vegas sun and defending them in their delicate, hung over state, which he is desperately trying to hide from Misty.

Drake pans around the rather packed outdoor patio, taking in the local scenery. He looks down and Misty’s slightly bandage hands and he finally brings it up.]

Drake: So are you gonna tell me what happened or…

[Misty tries to act like she’s not sure of what Drake talking about.]

Misty: What do you mean?

[Drake flashes half of a smile and points toward her hands.]

Drake: What did you do to your hands?

Misty: Nothing.

Drake: Nothing?

Misty: I was just fooling around with Eden and…really it was nothing. Are you feeling ok? You don’t look too good.

[Drake immediately drops the topic as he goes in to somewhat of an internal panic mode. He’s trying frantically to hide the morning-after-bing-drinking sweat coming down his brow and he double checks with his tongue to make sure the half-a-dozen Listerine strips he shoved in his mouth before he picked her up were still holding down their end of the bargain. He nervously smiles across the table at her and pushes his expensive sunglasses up the bridge of his nose.]

Drake: What do you mean?

Misty: I don’t know, have you been sleeping? I know with Max gone-

[He interrupts her.]

Drake: I’m good, one hundred percent.

Misty: Okay…if you need to talk or anything-

[He interrupts her again.]

Drake: Really, I’m good. You don’t have to worry.

[She stars back at him across the cheap plastic outdoor table and can’t help but smile at him. She removes her hands from her mug of Earl Grey and sets them in his. The warmth still lingering in her fingers emanates in to his hands and he can’t avoid smiling back at her.]

Misty: I need to tell you something.

[Drake’s smile fades a bit.]

Drake: Okay…

Misty: I’ve thought long and hard about what you said to me that night in Yuma, before Violent Conduct and I owe you an apology.

Drake: For what?

Misty: For not responding to you. I was shocked in the moment and I just couldn’t think of the words. You caught me off guard and for me to not say anything…

[She stops herself, sniffling a bit, and then continues.]

Misty: It was cruel.

Drake: Look-

[This time it is her cutting him off.]

Misty: Of course I love you, Drake Green. I’ve loved you since the night you sat next to me on that beach. I may not have known it yet; my brain probably couldn’t process it with all of the shit that I was dealing with but my heart knew. The heart always knows.

[His smile returns.]

Misty: These past few months have been the happiest I’ve been in a long time and to know that you’re finally able to be open and honest with me is the greatest gift you could possibly give me. I know how hard you’ve worked to stay sober and let’s be honest…

[She giggles a bit.]

Misty: …you have women throwing themselves at you constantly and to know that you have that love inside of you to ignore them…to be committed to me…there’s no better feeling. You make me happy, Drake…and I’m so grateful for that.

[Drake stares back at her. He looks in to her eyes and processes everything she just said to him. He thinks about how everything she just said isn’t true. He isn’t sober, he had his last drink about twenty minutes before picking her up this morning while he was parked in a gas station parking lot. He’d been out nearly all night with Barry Goldstein drinking and doing God knows what else. Drake certainly doesn’t know because he can’t remember half of the evening thanks to the excessive amount of alcohol and painkillers he put in to his body over the course of the past twelve hours. Sober? Drake isn’t even sure if he knows what that word really means.

He looks back at her thinking about the love that she just professed to him and he can’t help but think about the passionate night he spent with Delia Darling in Yuma, Arizona just days prior to Violent Conduct 2. The worst part about the whole thing was that although he felt terrible about breaking Misty’s trust, he didn’t have an ounce of guilt about what he did. In fact, he would do it again. With all of these thoughts running through his mind, he tightens his grip on Misty’s hands and says the only thing that he thinks is right.]

Drake: I love you too.

[He smiles back at her as the scene fades out.]


”For some reason I always find my way back to you, Sean. All roads lead back to my nemesis apparently. It’s amazing isn’t it? No matter how many times I prove that I’m better, no matter how much more gold sits on my waist…I still have to keep reminding the SCW Universe where you stand on the ladder. The truth is, I enjoy it. I relish in it and I can’t wait to do it again. There’s something special to me about beating you and doing it convincingly. It gets me excited, even more excited than sending Rage crashing through some tables and even more exhilarating and rewarding than the SCW Heavyweight Championship. This rivalry, our story, is the one I live for the most. Everything I have going on outside of the ring doesn’t matter when he step in there together, Jackson. None of it does. The only thing that does is the blood and sweat we shed for the people, MY people.

Watching you cut interviews is somewhat of a hobby of mine. Your mannerisms, the way you speak, the look in your eyes when a reporter asks you a question…I take it all in. I study you because I know that all roads do lead back to ‘The Mental Rapist’. It’s you and me, Sean, it always has been and always will be. Whether it’s New York, or Las Vegas, Canada or Missouri…the show stops with you and I. We both know it so we shouldn’t hide it. I’m looking forward to doing what I do best, beating you. It may not be the first time but I’m happy to know it won’t be the last. See you soon, old friend. I’ve missed you.”


September 25th, 2014 – Hilton Hotel; St. Louis, Missouri – 7:00 PM

[The scene sets back in inside of a hotel suite in the Hilton Hotel in St. Louis. Drake is sitting at the foot of the king-sized bed. He is wearing a black, skin tight tank top exposing his tattoos and black “Nike” gym shorts. With a remote control in his hand, he stares intensely at the flat panel television mounted up on the wall across from him. The front door to the suite opens up and in walks Barry Goldstein wearing a light colored Seer Sucker suit with a white shirt and a gold tie on. He walks in with a six-pack of beer and a large square bottle of “Fiji” water. He sets the six-pack of beer down on the table across the room and takes out a bottle, popping it open with a bottle opener and taking a refreshing gulp. He pulls another one of the six-pack and offers it to Drake.]

Drake: I’ll just take the water for now.

[Barry looks at him with a puzzled look but hands him the square-shaped bottle anyway. Drake snatches it and sets it aside next to him on the bed. Barry walks over and looks over at the television.]

Barry: What are we watching?

[Drake stays silent as Barry looks over to what is on the screen. It’s an old match…a World Tag Team title defense by Team Gorgeous…Johnny ‘The Body’ Green and Maximus the Magnificent (AKA Max Proffo). They are defending their titles against Death & Destruction…two oversized wrestlers who are equal parts terrifying and nasty.]

Barry: Holy Shit! Is that a young Slim Jim?

[Drake responds to him while still staring straight ahead at the screen.]

Drake: Yeah…

Barry: So that must be your Pop then, huh?

Drake: Yeah…

Barry: Wait a second. This isn’t the match where-

[He cuts Barry off.]

Drake: Yeah…

[Drake turns to look at Barry.]

Drake: It is.

[Drake confirms to Barry they are watching the match where Drake’s father died in tragic fashion inside of the ring.]

Barry: At the risk of sounding insensitive, Champ…why the hell are you watching this? With what just happened to Max…

Drake: I need to see something for myself.

Barry: What?

Drake: It’s hard to explain.

Barry: Try me…

Drake: Right there!

[Drake hops up and points at the now paused screen where his father, Johnny Green, is taking a double-team piledriver move.]

Drake: That’s the move that killed my father.

[Barry sits there for a second, shaking his head back and for a bit.]

Drake: Does anything look out of the ordinary to you?

Barry: You mean other than the manslaughter?

[Drake snaps his head and gives Barry a nasty look.]

Drake: This isn’t a fucking joke, Barry.

Barry: Look I don’t see anything, ok? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking at.

Drake: The move…to me…FUCK!

[Drake throws the remote across the room, breaking it against the wall and Barry stands up quickly.]

Barry: What the fuck?!

Drake: Sorry…I-

[Barry cuts him off.]

Barry: Look, Champ. I know you’re going through some shit but this is a little fucked up, man. I mean…that’s your father. Of course it’s not gonna look right. How can it?

Drake: That has nothing to do with it.

Barry: Then what is it?

Drake: He was sick.

[A confused look comes over Barry’s face.]

Barry: What?

Drake: My father…apparently he had a rare form of ALS. It manifests itself with massive muscle and bone degeneration…especially in the neck and spinal chord.

[Barry stares at him for a second and then looks back up a the paused television set.]

Barry: So you think that’s what happened to your Pop? Why it all happened?

Drake: I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it all out.

Barry: How did you find out about all of this?

Drake: His wife told me.

Barry: Phyllis? The crazy mountain lady?

Drake: That’s the one.

Barry: And you believe her?

Drake: I don’t know, I mean it makes sense. I remember him always going to the doctor and I know he was on medication. I just don’t know what they were.

Barry: Can’t you find some old records or something?

Drake: I’ve tried but I can’t find anything.

Barry: I can put some calls in if you like…

Drake: Thanks.

Barry: But I gotta ask…does it really matter? I mean…it doesn’t change anything.

Drake: Well…there’s something else.

[Barry stares back it him with a blank expression, waiting for Drake to finish his thought.]

Drake: This form of ALS…

Barry: Yeah?

Drake: It’s hereditary.

[Barry’s face drops.]

Barry: Shit.

[Drake stares back at him with a similar uncomfortable expression.]

Drake: Shit is right.

[The camera cuts out.]


”I’ve been so concerned with my arch enemy Sean Jackson that I completely ignored the fact that there are other people in this match too. My partners, the reigning SCW Tag Team Champions Big B and Despayre and of course Sean’s partner’s…Andrew Garcia and whatever his tag team partner’s name is.”

“I have mixed opinions tagging with the Champions. The positive ones are for the obvious reasons, they’re pretty fucking good. They’re the Champions for a reason and they are a hell of a lot of fun to watch in the ring. Big B is a powerhouse and Despayre, as crazy and odd as he is, is probably the most underrated wrestler in all of our business. That’s a fact. The problem that I have with these guys isn’t what they can do in the ring it’s some of the company they choose to keep. Rage and Gabriel aren’t too of my favorite people and the fact that they all seem to remain so close is puzzling to me. Something doesn’t fit there. Either way, I couldn’t ask for better partners in a six-man tag team main event. Cheers, bookers.”

“To be completely truthful I know very little about Andrew Garcia and his nameless partner. I know he does actually have a name but I can’t think of it right now and I’m a bit too drunk to be bothered to look it up? Sasha, maybe? I don’t know…he’s got dreads…I think. Or is that the other guy…? Never mind. The only thing I do know about these guys is the fact that they were or are trained by Casey Williams. Hopefully for their sakes he didn’t actually show them anything otherwise this could be the shortest main event in Climax Control history. If I’m being totally truthful, a rarity these days I know, my focus will be elsewhere on Sunday. I wish these guys good luck because I know Big B will probably crush them both, but my eyes are on Sean. I’m walking in to St. Louis with one thing on my mind and that is to once again embarrass Sean Jackson.”