June 29th, 2013 10:30 pm
[The camera fades in to a big, bright, open casino floor. The smell of fresh cigarette smoke lingers through the air. The loud sounds of the crowds of people hovering over their respective gaming tables is cut repeatedly and rather dramatically by the unnerving high decibel sirens coming from the jackpot winners and slot machines. The camera begins to follow a cocktail waitress through the sea of tables. She is wearing a black corset, a small and tight black skirt, black stockings and tall black heels. She is carrying a tray full of different cocktails and packs of cigarettes. She stops along the way at a few tables to deliver drink and take more orders. She finally makes her way to the black jack table. Sitting across from the dealer are three men and one older woman.
From right to left there is a tall African-American male with a bald head and a thick goatee. He is wearing a loose fitting blue button up short sleeve shirt. Next to him is the older woman who has her up tightly in a bun and is wearing shiny, almost reflective, gold button up blouse and big, dangly red earrings that match her bright red lipstick. Next to her sits a very nervous, and very sweaty Barry Goldstein. He is wearing a pink dress shirt and a light blue tie. His sleeves are rolled up and his top button is left open. He is wearing brown, oversized sunglasses and his blonde hair is ruffled in a mess. Next to him sits Drake Green. Drake is wearing a loose fitting navy blue polo shirt and dark jeans. His hair is a bit unkempt and longer than usual. He nervously rubs his black and white Converse sneakers together before he notices the waitress.]
Drake: Oh thank god.
[The waitress comes over and hands Drake a plastic cup full of ice and scotch. He hands her a chip out of his stack and then takes a long, large gulp of his drink. She walks over and exchanges a full beer with an empty one from the man at the end of the table and then walks away. Drake turns back to the dealer.]
Dealer: Sir?
Drake: Yeah, yeah. I’m thinking.
[Drake looks down at his cards and sees a “King” and a “Six”. He swallows a bit more scotch and then picks up the cigarette from the ashtray sitting in front of him and takes a long pull. He looks across the way at the dealer’s cards. Another “King” stares back at that sits next to a face down card. He concentrates hard for a moment on the face down card as he takes another long pull from the cigarette. He exhales and then looks back up at the dealer.]
Drake: Hit me.
[The dealer turns over a “Four” and Drake lets out a sigh of relief. The relief however, lasts only for a moment until the dealer reaches for his face down card. His heart pumps as the dealer turns it over. “Five”. His heart pumps even harder and louder as the dealer reaches for an extra card. He pulls it out of the shoe and flips it over. “Jack”. Drake and Barry hug each other as scream out in joy.]
Drake: YES!
Barry: I knew that motherfucker would bust!
Drake: Ah god damn I love me some black jack!
Barry: How does it feel?
Drake: It feels great.
Barry: I fucking love Vegas. Let’s cash out and go find some blow.
[Drake laughs.]
Drake: I’ll cash out but you’re on your own with the blow.
Barry: You’re right. You’ve got that Lacoste thing going on. We’ll get geeked up later at the club.
[Drake and Barry pick up their chips and walk toward the cashier booth.]
Drake: I don’t wanna keep disappointing you but I’m not doing cocaine with you.
[Barry laughs.]
Barry: Hey! A boy can dream can’t he?
[They get to the cashier booth and they both get their money. Drake takes out his wallet and puts the few hundred dollar bills back into his wallet and puts it into his wallet. He turns to Barry who pulls a baseball-sized wad of cash out and adds his newly acquired dough to it.]
Drake: Jesus, Barry. What the fuck?
Barry: What? I got two ex-wives. Cash is king, bitch.
[Drake laughs again.]
Drake: Do you know where I’m supposed to go for this Lacoste thing?
Barry: Yeah, Body English. But you can’t go like that, Champ.
[Drake looks over his clothes.]
Drake: What’s wrong with this. It’s a Lacoste shirt.
[Barry smiles.]
Barry: Your hair. It’s a mess. It looks like you rolled out of bed nine months after your last haircut.
[Drake turns to look at his reflection on a reflective piece of medal on the wall.]
Drake: I guess it’s a little messy. Fuck.
[Drake looks around the hallway in the hotel casino. He spots a gift shop and walks that way.]
Drake: I got an idea.
Barry: What? You gonna cut your hair with a keychain?
Drake: Funny.
[They walk in to the gift shop and Drake picks a flat style hat up off of the rack He puts it on and turns to Barry.]
Drake: What do you think?
Barry: I think you look like the caddy I fired last week.
Drake: Great. Let’s rock on.
[Drake walks over to the counter and pays for his hat. They make their way through the corridors of the Hard Rock Casino and Hotel. They find an elevator and take it down two floors. As they leave the elevator they make a right and head down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway stands a tall, well-built man in his late forties. Wearing a gray suit and a black, open-collared shirt underneath, the man shouts out to Drake and Barry. Upon hearing his voice, Drake and Barry recognize him as Max.]
Max: It’s about time assholes.
Drake: Don’t blame us. Blame the tables.
Max: I blame him.
[Max points at Barry.]
Barry: What’s new? I could be a thousand miles away and you would still blame me.
Max: Do you guys have any idea what time it is? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.
Drake: Don’t worry, Maxy. I’m here now.
Max: And what the hell are you wearing on your head? Why are you not wearing a suit?
Drake: It’s Lacoste remember?
Max: Just come on. Get in here.
[The three men step into a small white room with a large “Lacoste” sign on the wall. After a moment, a short, blue-eyed brunette walks in wearing a tight red skirt and an even tighter black tank top. She is holding a clipboard and walks right up to Drake.]
Brunette: Mr. Green?
[Barry interjects.]
Barry: That’s Mr. Showtime, sweet tits.
Drake: Please excuse him.
[The woman holds back a faint smile as she speaks to Drake, not paying much attention to either of the other two men.]
Brunette: Would you mind signing here, Mr. Showtime?
[Drake smiles back at her.]
Drake: Not at all. What’s this for?
Brunette: This is a disclaimer saying that Body English and the Hard Rock Casino and Hotel are in no way liable for any and all damages, both emotional and physical, that may be incurred while you appear in this event.
Drake: Wow.
Brunette: We call this the Pauly Shore form.
Barry: Ah. I get it now.
[Drake grabs her pen and signs the form and she hands him a piece of paper.]
Brunette: And this is for you.
[Drake looks at the piece of paper and then back up at her. They smile at each other for a moment.]
Brunette: Have a good time tonight, Mr. Showtime.
Drake: I’ll try.
[They smile at each other again as she leaves the room.]
Max: What did she give you?
Drake: A phone number and what looks like a room number.
Barry: Give me that.
[Barry snatches the piece of paper out of his hand.]
Drake: You’re a dick.
Barry: Oh man. What I would give to have your body for one day.
Drake: I don’t know if you could handle it.
[Drake takes the piece of paper back from Barry. He folds it up and puts it in his pocket.]
Barry: Look, I’m gonna hit the tables. You guys have fun and I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember we gotta meet Christie the realtor at 10 am.
Max: Who?
Barry: Christie… the realtor?
[Barry holds his hands out in front of his chest to mimic large breasts.]
Max: Oh. Yes.
Barry: See you in the morning.
Drake: Later, Bar. Don’t lose all that cash.
Barry: Please! I’m gonna burn this bitch down, kid.
[Barry ducks out the door and closes it behind him.]
Max: So you ok, D?
Drake: Yeah, of course. What’s up?
Max: It’s just that we haven’t had much time to talk since the whole Jericho Hill thing.
Drake: Jesus, Max. You’re acting like I lost or something.
Max: Not at all it’s just that I know how much that one meant to you. Your first singles match in SCW, your first Pay Per View match in SCW. Plus I know you really wanted to kick that guy’s teeth in.
Drake: I’m good, Maxy. I’m great. I’m moving on. To bigger and better things.
Max: That’s right to the ‘Main Attraction’ no less.
Drake: Yeah. I tell you this guy is good, Maxy. I mean real good.
Max: Aren’t they all?
Drake: Not like this. This guy is the real deal. This is the kind of match that we came to Vegas for. He’s no Ben Jordan but I had a lot more time to train for Ben.
Max: Well fuck me if I’m wrong but you sound a little worried there, D.
Drake: What? Me? Worried isn’t the word, Maxy. Focused. That’s the right word. This one puts me in the picture, man. I take this guy down and I’m one, maybe two steps away from Simon Jones or whoever. This is big.
Max: I have to tell you that I’m a little surprised that you are taking this guy so seriously.
Drake: Why?
Max: Ever since we moved here all you’ve wanted to do is hit the tables and the bars with Barry.
Drake: Are you jealous, Maxy?
Max: No I’m not jealous. I’m annoyed. I’m annoyed you’re not hitting the gym and watching film. Before we came out here you were a monster in the gym and the film room. Now it’s just party central with you.
Drake: I know. I’m focused though. I’m here. We’re gonna do this. Right after I go out there and lap dances from strippers in Lacoste bathing suits while Lacoste pays me $25,000.
[Drake smiles.]
Drake: Love him or hate him, Barry gets us paid.
Max: Yes he certainly does.
Drake: I promise tomorrow morning. The gym bright and early and then we go look at this apartment. I think this is the one.
Max: Alright, D. Go have fun out there.
Drake: I will. Come here, bro.
[Drake gives Max a big hug.]
Drake: It’s me and you, Maxy. To the top.
Max: You got it, kid. Now go enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in the morning.
[The camera fades out as Drake walks out of the room.]
June 30th, 2013 10:15 am
[The camera fades back in to the outside of a large, contemporary looking home. The home is most likely made of brick, with sand colored stucco covering the whole structure. There are several large windows in the front, nearly the whole height of the home. Beautifully architected landscape surrounds the large villa with different types of trees and shrubbery. A large bluestone walkway leads from the large oak front door down to the driveway. A BMW X5 is parked at the top of the driveway. A Porsche Cayenne pulls in behind it, with Max at the wheel.
Max steps out first, wearing light gray pants, white sneakers, and a dark blue v-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up. Out from the back seat steps Barry. He is wearing the same clothes as last night: A pink dress shirt very wrinkled and black slacks. His tie is gone but his large sunglasses cover his no doubt hung over eyes. If that isn’t a give away, his extra large ‘Seattle’s Best’ coffee is. Out from the front passenger seat steps Drake. Wearing a white v-neck t-shirt, blue jeans, and white ‘Puma’ sneakers. His eyes are hidden as well, covered by large reflective Aviator sunglasses. He pulls them down to get a better glimpse of the home.]
Drake: Holy shit, Barry. You’ve got to be fucking with me.
Barry: Nope. This is it.
Max: Mother of god, D.
Drake: This has to be the main house. We must be renting the guest cottage or something. I pad double for a one bedroom in New York.
Barry: Well champ, we ain’t in New York no more.
[Just then a click-clack of heels can be heard shuffling down the bluestone walkway. All three men look over to the see a slightly heavy blonde woman in a bright red business suit, with her in a giant bun, come running down toward them. As she runs her giant breasts bounce up and down in an almost comic-like fashion.]
Christie: Yoo hoo! Barry!
[Max turns to Drake and whispers.]
Max: This is the really hot realtor?
[Drake chuckles.]
Barry: Christie, my love. Where’ve you been all my life?
[Christie runs up and gives Barry a big hug.]
Barry: What did I tell you boys? Biggest tits in Vegas right here.
Christie: Oh Barry, stop it! You’re such a joker!
Barry: I’m not kidding baby.
[Max extends his hand toward Christie.]
Max: Hi, Christie. My name is Max.
Drake: And I’m Drake.
Christie: Hello, Max. Helloooo, Drake. I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. Showtime.
Drake: All good things I hope.
[Christie stares Drake up and down.]
Christie: All good, baby. Now come. You boys are late and I got an 11 o’clock.
[The three men follow Christie back up the bluestone walkway. They get to the front door and Christie opens the door and they walk in to a magnificent foyer with marble tile and a large marble fountain that has water flowing through it.]
Max: Jesus, D.
Drake: This is a joke right, Christie?
Christie: No, Drake. This is Las Vegas. The entire place comes furnished and is available for a six-month lease only. The owner doesn’t like to do one year but you can renew as many times as you like.
Drake: I’ll take it.
Max: D, don’t you want to see the rest of it?
Drake: No, I’m good. I’ll take it. There’s a pool right?
Christie: Yes with a separate pool house that doubles a guesthouse. It has one bedroom, a working kitchen, and a full bathroom.
Drake: Look at that, Maxy. You get your own guesthouse.
Christie: When would you like to move in, Drake?
Barry: Hey, Christie? You mind if I have a moment alone with my client?
Christie: Of course not Barry. I’ll be in the kitchen.
[Barry waits for Christie to walk out of the room and then turns Max and Drake.]
Barry: Look, Champ. Now may not be the best time to lock yourself in to a lease like this.
Drake: What are you talking about? This is a third of the rent I was paying in New York and look at the place.
Barry: I know that but things were different then.
Drake: How so?
Barry: Well for starters you were making a lot more fucking money. We had all that alliance cash coming in.
Max: What the fuck, Barry?
Drake: You said I was the highest paid guy in ACW. What the fuck?
Barry: You are. It just so happens that nobody makes any money in ACW and those dicks in SCW are hard balling me on some of this expense stuff.
Drake: What does that mean?
Barry: Why do you think I’ve been pushing you to do all of this extra stuff? The appearances, the commercials, all that bullshit. You need the money.
Drake: Fuck me. I can’t believe this.
Barry: Look its not that bad ok. We’re making plenty of money it’s that none of it is guaranteed right now. We gotta keep looking for it. Which if I may say so myself, I’m pretty fucking good at.
Drake: Well how do we make it guaranteed?
Max: We just bought an $80,000 Porsche, Barry! Why the fuck didn’t you say something then?
Barry: Look, its not that bad. I’m just telling you the whole picture here.
Drake: How do we make it guaranteed, Barry?
Barry: You win.
Drake: What, against Kevin Carter?
Barry: Something like that, yeah.
Drake: Something like what?
Barry: You don’t just beat Carter, ok? You beat them all, every last one of them. You get that belt and we’re golden. You do what you do and I’ll do what I do. You beat Simon Jones or whoever the fuck has that belt they won’t say no to you. They’ll give you anything you want, D.
[Drake turns to Max.]
Drake: What do you think?
Max: It does have a guesthouse. And besides, it’ll cost you a shit ton more to keep living at the Hard Rock.
[Drake thinks for a moment and then turns back to Barry.]
Drake: Don’t fuck this up, Barry. I want this house.
Barry: I got this, D. I got it.
Drake: Ok. Tell Christie I wanna move in tomorrow.
Barry: Let me grab her and you can tell her yourself.
Drake: No, Max and I got a lot of film to watch.
Barry: What are you gonna do, leave me here?
Drake: It’s your punishment.
Max: Ask Big Boobs McGee for a lift.
[Max and Drake walk out of the house and Barry calls after them.]
Barry: Guys! This isn’t funny! Fuck you, come on! God dammit!
[Drake and Max chuckle as they walk back down the bluestone patio. As they get to their SUV Drake stops Max.]
Drake: I’m gonna beat this guy right, Maxy?
Max: I don’t know, D. But I will tell you this. If he’s gonna beat you, he’s gonna get his fucking ass kicked trying to do it.
[Drake smiles.]
Drake: Get in the car. We got a lot of work to do.
[Max smiles back and they both hop in the car. They drive off as Barry comes running back down the walkway.]
Barry: SLIM JIM! SHOWTIME!
[The camera fades to black.]
July 4th, 2013 3:30 am
>[The camera fades back in to a dimly lit bedroom. It pans over the expensive dresser and chest of drawers. It follows the dark hard wood over to the large, antique bed. Moans are heard as the camera moves up to the mattress. Under the black satin sheets are two people making love. Their moans get louder as the camera gets closer and they climax. The man, who is on top, rolls off to the right and gasps for air. The woman, a brunette, starts to giggle. As the camera gets closer we can make out who they are. It is Drake Green and the brunette from the Lacoste event.]
Brunette: Fuck, Drake. Now I get the whole Mr. Showtime thing.
[Drake smiles.]
Drake: I need a cigarette.
[He sits up and picks up his black shorts from the floor. He throws them on and stands up. He walks over to the dresser and grabs his pack of cigarettes but they are empty.]
Drake: Shit.
Brunette: This is really your house?
Drake: Yeah. I moved in the other day.
Brunette: It’s beautiful.
Drake: Thanks. I’ll be right back. I’ve got some more cigarettes downstairs.
Brunette: Hey, come here.
[Drake turns back toward the brunette. She is laying naked in the bed with the black satin sheet covering her self, her leg sticking out in a very sexy pose. Drake leans down and gives her a long, passionate kiss.]
Brunette: Can you grab me some water?
Drake: Sure.
[Drake slides on his slippers and then heads out of the bedroom. He walks through the loft hallway and then down the large grand staircase. He walks in to the kitchen and looks for the cigarettes. He doesn’t see them anywhere. He grabs two bottles of water out of the fridge and then heads through the living room to a small room on the other side of the house. He opens the door to reveal a camera sitting in front of a green screen, a chair and a small table. On the table sits a remote control, a pack of Marlboro reds, a lighter, and an ashtray. He plops himself down in the chair and lights himself up a cigarette. As he takes a long pull he looks straight at the camera. After a moment of deliberation, he picks up the remote and clicks the camera on.]
Drake: Kevin Carter. The Main Attraction. You know there isn’t a hell of a lot I can say about you that I can’t say about myself. You’re talented, you’re good looking. I’m not being a fag or anything. Just saying you’re a good-looking dude like me. You like sex. I mean that’s all you and your crazy girl ever tweet about. Breaking each other’s shit off and what not. Which I kinda dig to be honest with you. It’s must be incredible to be in a relationship like that. I’ve never felt that before.
[Drake takes a long drag of his smoke and then scratches his head.]
Drake: Some one told me you’re a porn star. I don’t know how true that is. I don’t know if that’s something that was just a rumor through the grapevine or if there is any real fact to it or not. That’s one thing I never understood. Porn stars. I mean I understand why people watch porn. It gets you in the mood, helps you take care of business if you’re lonely. I can appreciate that. But why be a porn star. I always thought that the moment you spend with someone is special. Now I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Drake is a fruit cake’. I’m not. I don’t watch Lifetime nor do I like Mandy Moore and I don’t cry myself to sleep, or anything like that. But there are plenty of things I share with everyone. Hell I’m a celebrity for fuck’s sake. They know everything about me.
[Drake takes another drag of his cigarette and then blows the smoke up into the ceiling.]
Drake: I guess what I’m trying to get at Kevin is don’t you ever just want to wash the façade away? Stop trying to be this cool edgy, guy. I don’t need to fuck on camera because I can fuck hot pieces of ass like the Hard Rock girl up stairs with out auditioning for it. I don’t mean that as an insult to you. I hope you don’t take any of this the wrong way. I happen to have a lot of respect for you. I just don’t understand you. You talk about being the main attraction when the truth is; no one actually wants to see you. I think that’s rather sad.
[Drake takes one more pull on his smoke and then puts it out in the ashtray.]
Drake: There’s only one attraction in SCW now, Kevin. It isn’t Nick Jones or Tom Dudely. It isn’t Kain or Simon Jones either, and certainly isn’t some washed up porn star. You’re looking at him right here. He’s Mr. Showtime Drake Green. And as talented as you may be, as tough as you may seem, you’re just a stepping stone. Just a rung in a ladder on the way to the SCW Heavyweight title. Nothing more, nothing less. So until Sunday my man, take care. Good luck and god speed and remember one thing. On Sunday, it’s Showtime.
[Drake picks up the remote to the camera and shuts it off. As he does this the camera cuts out.]
