PAIN MANAGEMENT
â€There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.†–Laurell K. Hamilton
July 6th, 2014 – Drake’s Dressing Room at the Celebrity Theatre; Tempe, AZ – 11:30 PM
[The scene sets in with a rush of cold water gushing out of an antiquated showerhead, smacking off the top of Drake Green’s head. He stands in the makeshift dressing room shower, with his head bent over and his eyes wide shut, breathing heavy as if it were hard to stand. Flashes of pain run down his spine as he grabs hold of the metal bars that are drilled into the archaic looking white tiles. He recounts the last hour of his life, rerunning over and over the hits Sean Jackson landed and the immense pain he had just been through. He slowly lifts up his head, wrenching with a bit of pain as he does, and opens his eyes. If you didn’t know Drake, you would swear you saw tears streaming down his face but it must just be the water from the shower. He takes a deep breath and turns off the water.
As he steps out of the old shower stall he grabs a towel off the hook on the wall. Slowly and carefully he dries off his face and neck and then his upper body before wrapping the towel around his waist. He walks over to the mirror in front of the vanity and looks over his face. He stares at himself a bit in his own green eyes before he turns around looks at his scar running down the back of his neck. He rubs his index and middle finger along the fine line where Dr. Maroon surgically repaired his neck and he lets out a quick sigh that seems to be filled with both relief and disappointment. He rubs his eyes, trying to wake himself up a bit, as he hears the murmuring from beyond the bathroom door. To ease his curiosity he goes to open the door and see what all of the commotion is. He takes two steps fine but on the third step, a debilitating pain shoots down from his neck through his spine and he lets out a quick but loud grunt. He hunches over and grabs the towel rack next to the door to regain his balance. Just as he does this the door swings open and in walks Max Proffo, his trainer, long time friend, and father figure.]
Max: Jesus, D.
[Max reaches down to help his friend to his feet but the stubborn Green motions him off.]
Drake: I’m fine.
Max: Could’ve fooled me.
Drake: Save me the sarcasm will you?
[As Drake muscles himself to his feet, Misty bursts through the open doorway.]
Misty: Oh my god, Drake. Are you ok?
[Misty goes to help him walk but the now annoyed Drake refuses any assistance. He lightly shoves her back and responds to her in a very direct tone.]
Drake: I’m fine.
Misty: You don’t look-
[Drake interrupts her.]
Drake: I said I’m fine.
[Drake walks forward, with a bit of a hobble, as Max and Misty eye each other behind his back. He makes his way to the chair in front of the vanity and plops down, letting out a sigh of relief. Across the room on the small two-seater couch is Drake’s sister Jenny Green. She senses her brother’s pain and walks over to him.]
Jenny: You’re kidding right?
Drake: What?
Jenny: You can’t even walk, that’s what. You’re gonna get in that ring again with someone that’s ten years younger than you? Are you fucking crazy?
Drake: Shit, you’re starting to sound like Misty.
Misty: Maybe when multiple people say the same thing you should start to listen to them.
[Drake rolls his eyes a bit before grabbing a half drunken 20 oz bottle of Diet Coke off of the vanity and slurping down a gulp. He screws back on the cap and turns on the swivel chair to face Max.]
Drake: So…the run down?
[Max lets out a sigh.]
Max: D, maybe we should-
[Drake gets annoyed as he interrupts Max.]
Drake: The run down?
Max: Fine, the run down.
[Max pulls up a chair and sits in front Drake.]
Max: You were sloppy. You couldn’t counter and your burst was almost non-existent. Your throws looked weak and you looked like you were favoring your left side.
Drake: Geez, you don’t have to take it easy on me, Maxy.
Max: I’m not going to. You looked weak out there and Jackson could’ve put you in a wheelchair if you didn’t get lucky with the Twerkmaster.
Drake: So what’s the plan? Where do we start?
[Misty, with an impatient wave of her hands, interrupts.]
Misty: The plan? You can’t even walk, Drake! This is ridiculous!
[Jenny grabs Misty’s hand.]
Jenny: Mis…
Misty: Jenny you can’t possibly let him go through with this? Max?
[Both Jenny and Max shift their eyes to the floor as Misty tries to plead with them.]
Misty: Guys, come on?
Drake: I’m sorry; I forgot the part where you were my wife…or my mother.
Misty: What because I’m worried about you throwing your life away?
Drake: Look…
[Drake finishes off the bottle of Diet Coke.]
Drake: I don’t need your dramatics right now. I’ve got a shot at Geno and I’m gonna take it seriously. I don’t need someone hanging around constantly telling me about everything that’s negative.
Misty: So what do you want me to do?
Drake: Honestly, Misty? Either be supportive or get the fuck out.
Jenny: Come on, Drake…
Drake: Come on nothing. This is who I am. You’re either on the Showtime Express or you’re not and if you’re not…
[Drake points to the door.]
Misty: Fine. I’m not gonna stand by and watch you kill yourself…or worse.
[Misty grabs her coat off of the small couch and angrily walks out of the room, leaving the door wide open in her wake. Jenny stands up and gives her older brother a scolding look.]
Jenny: You’re a fucking asshole.
[She picks up her scarf which is draped across the back of Max’s chair and storms out after Misty. Drake twirls around the empty Diet Coke bottle before tossing it into the garbage can next to the vanity where he is sitting. He grabs the small desk and pulls himself up with a bit of a struggle before limping over to the open locker where his clothes are.]
Max: She does have a point, D. You can barely walk.
Drake: Nothing a cortisone shot and a vicodin can’t cure.
Max: I want you to see Dr. Maroon.
[Drake chuckles a bit as he pulls his dress shirt off of its hanger.]
Drake: Don’t be like them.
Max: I’m not, but you took a fucking beating out there tonight and I don’t know if you can take another one. I already called Goldstein and had him book the flight.
Drake: I’m not flying to Pittsburgh ten days before I have a heavyweight title fight, Max. It’s wasted training time.
Max: Look, D. I’m here and I’m with you and no one wants to see you win this thing more than me but I’m not going to a part of it unless I know you can handle it physically. It’s where I draw the line.
[Drake takes a hard look at Max before lightly grabbing the back of his neck. He again rubs his index and middle fingers over his fine scar that runs down the center of the back of his neck.]
Drake: All right, you got a deal. But you’re paying for the fucking plane tickets.
Max: Deal. Now hurry up and get dressed so we can get out of here before Mark Ward figures out a way to reverse the decision.
[Drake laughs.]
Drake: Fair point.
[The camera cuts out as Drake finishes getting dressed.]
July 8th, 2014 – Presbyterian University Hospital ; Pittsburgh, PA 10:30 AM
[The camera fades back in to an examination room in world-renowned neck and spinal surgeon Dr. Joseph Maroon’s office at the Presbyterian University Hospital in Pittsburgh. Max is leaning up against the wall reading the morning’s copy of USA Today, wearing a blue Adidas track suit with matching white and blue shell-top sneakers. Sitting across from him on an examination chair is Drake, wearing a white linen button up and a pair of loose fitting jeans and his dirty old Chuck Taylor sneakers. He playfully kicks legs against the bottom of his chair like a grade school child at a routine physical. After a few moments the door opens and in walks a twenty-something year old blonde nurse in tight fitting scrubs.]
Nurse: Mr. Green?
[Drake perks up a bit when he sees the young nurse. He flashes his attractive smile at her and a small hint of rose-colored blush comes over her face.]
Drake: Hi.
[She smiles back at him.]
Nurse: Hi.
[Max rolls his eyes as the nurse moves closer to Drake.]
Nurse: My name is Stephanie and I’m Dr. Maroon’s nurse today.
Drake: I’m Drake.
[She blushes again.]
Nurse: I know who you are, Mr. Green. I just have a few forms for you to sign. They’re just a couple of release forms and the other is for the insurance.
[She holds the clipboard as Drake signs a few a forms.]
Drake: Thanks, Stephanie. I’ll be sure to let Doc Maroon know how nice you are.
[She giggles.]
Nurse: Thanks. This is your form for the insurance company and this one is for you.
[She hands him two separate pieces of paper.]
Drake: What’s this one for?
Nurse: That’s my phone number.
[She bites her lip and smiles as Drake returns the smile.]
Nurse: Dr. Maroon will be right in.
Drake: Bye, Stephanie.
[Drake waves a bit as she smiles before walking out the door. As soon as she leaves Max drops the newspaper on the counter.]
Max: You gotta be kidding, me?!
Drake: What?
Max: All you have to do is smile and you get a phone number?
Drake: What? I didn’t ask for it.
Max: I know, that’s my point, D.
Drake: Look, I can’t help it if God blessed me with this smile. Don’t blame me.
Max: Unbelievable. If I were you for a day…
Drake: Hey watch it, I’ll tell Mrs. Max.
[KNOCK! KNOCK! The door swings back open and in walks Dr. Maroon.]
Maroon: Gentlemen, good morning.
[He shakes Max’s hand and then walks over and shakes Drake’s hand.]
Maroon: How are we doing?
Drake: Not bad, Doc.
Maroon: Not bad, huh? Let’s take a look at that incision.
[Dr. Maroon takes a look at the back of Drake’s neck, where his scar is now residing.]
Maroon: Looking good, Drake. We’ve got your results back from the testing and I have to admit that you’re healing faster than any fusion I’ve ever done before.
Max: You’re kidding?
Maroon: Not in the slightest, Max.
Drake: So I’m clear?
Maroon: Look, Drake, you may never regain the same mobility and strength that you had before the initial injury. You may always feel some slight discomfort in general and the range of motion may never come back. That being said, you’re as healthy as we could expect you to be after a procedure like this. I can’t say it’s the smartest thing to do to get back in the ring on a regular basis at this point in your recovery but medically speaking…you are cleared.
[A large smile comes over his face.]
Drake: That’s all I needed to hear, Doc.
Maroon: Take care of yourself in there, Drake.
Drake: I will.
Maroon: I’ll see you boys in about three months for a follow up. Give ‘em hell.
Drake: Thanks, Doc.
Max: Yes, thank you Dr.
[Dr. Maroon shakes Max’s hand again as he leaves the examination room]
Drake: You gonna get off my back now, Maxy?
Max: No, but that’s really good news, D, really good news.
Drake: That’s great fucking news, Max.
[The two give each other a celebratory hug.]
Drake: You think I got about twenty minutes to get to know that nurse?
Max: No, absolutely not. We have to fly back to California so we can still drive to Vegas tonight.
Drake: Tonight? Why not just drive in the morning.
Max: Because we got to train in the morning, kid. You heard the Doc, it’s on now.
[Drake smiles.]
Drake: I should’ve left you in Hawaii.
Max: I second that.
Drake: When does Mrs. Max get in?
Max: She flies in Thurday night
Drake: Great. Let’s get outta here.
[The scene fades out as both men leave the examination room.]
â€The Golden Boy. A moniker once used to describe me. They said I was destined for greatness. They said I had it all, the look, the skill, and what I’ve learned to be the most important trait, the charisma. I look at you and I see why they have given you that same calling card. You do have it all, you even have the arrogance that goes with it too. I used to think that they went hand in hand with each other, talent and arrogance. I used to believe that the only way any one was going to believe that I was the best was if I acted as if I was. The only way they were going to know was if I told them, and not just once. For years I would repeatedly shove it down everyone’s throat how amazingly awesome I was. Maybe I didn’t do it as abrasive as you do it now but I would make sure everyone in what ever room I was in would know exactly who “Mr. Showtime†was, and you know what? It worked. It’s a big part of the reason why I’m the household name that I am now. When you think of professional wrestling today, especially on the west coast of the United States, you think of one guy…me. It was a brand that I intended to create and it’s something that for so long I was so proud of. I was the ‘Golden Boy’ of professional wrestling and I was on top of the world. Lucrative endorsement deals and a Heavyweight title reign to go along with it. And then it happened…â€
“I won. I actually was on top of the world and I have to be honest with you, it scared the living shit out of me. I didn’t know what to do. For years I clamored for that opportunity. I fought and screamed so hard for everyone to notice me that it eventually had worked. I painted this picture of how amazingly good I really was and when I finally won the Heavyweight Championship it was the coronation of a new King, a new face of Sin City Wrestling. The worst part about it all was that it was a lie. I wasn’t the face of anything except arrogance, bullshit, and alcohol. I was so drunk during that title reign that I really don’t remember much of it at all. It was one of the worst periods of my life and I attribute all of it to my arrogance, the same arrogance that you now exude. If there were one lesson I could teach you, if there was one piece of advice I could give you, it would be to drop the act. Don’t worry about being number one. You already are and you are young enough where you’re going to be there for a long time. Don’t be another ‘Mr. Showtime’ cautionary tale. Be the real thing. You don’t need to remind us why you’re the Champion with your words, just keep doing it in the ring. You’ll be fine.â€
“Of course you’re not going to listen to any of this. You’re going to laugh as you hear these words and probably talk a bunch of nonsense about how pathetic I am and how I should have another drink and blah blah blah. You’ll talk about how amazingly talented you are and how good looking you are and how your genes have predetermined your pedigree and you know something? You wouldn’t be wrong. You are born to be in the spot light that you are in. You were bred, and raised, to be a Champion. Nothing you can say in that regard would be a lie. But don’t be foolish and I beg of you not to be arrogant. The truth is you won’t be the only person in that six-sided ring next Sunday that was bred and raised to be a Champion. This is every bit my destiny as it is yours, kid. The difference between you and me Gene Banton Jr. is that this isn’t my first rodeo. I look at you and I see myself, an arrogant kid who can’t handle the way the world is falling into shape around him. You are the SCW Heavyweight Champion, the holder of the only title left in our business that means anything. You wear it proud, but you do so in the wrong sense of the word. That title isn’t for you, Junior, it’s for everyone else. It’s for everyone in the back that looks up to and hopes to be in your shoes one day. It’s for the kids that come to see you hold it high and for the men who wish they could do what you do. It’s for the people, Gene, MY people. Don’t ever forget that...â€
July 10th, 2014 – Drake’s Hotel Suite – Hard Rock; Las Vegas, NV – 8:30 PM
[The scene fades back in to Drake’s suite in the Hard Rock hotel and casino. The door opens and in walks Max and Drake. Max is wearing a similar Adidas tracksuit, although this one is red, and Drake is wearing black Nike shorts and black tight tank top, showing off his tattoos. He walks in and plops down face up on the large King size bed. He lets out a long sigh in relief of finally being done with his grueling workout session for the day. Max opens up a bottle of water and takes a swig before commenting on the Drake’s performance at the gym.]
Max: I have to admit, I’m impressed.
Drake: With what?
Max: You. You’re almost not slow.
Drake: Thanks, that’s reassuring.
Max: Hey you’re still on the short side of thirty. There’s still some hope left after all.
Drake: Again, very reassuring. What time do you have to leave?
[Drake drops his right elbow on the bed and uses it for leverage to pull himself up. He lets out a soft groan full of discomfort as he does. He looks around the room for a bit before spotting a bottle of pills on the table next to where Max is standing.]
Drake: Throw those over to me will you?
Max: How many has it been today?
Drake: Just fucking throw them over. Cleared to wrestle, remember?
[Max stares at Drake for a moment before tossing him the small vile of painkillers. Drake immediately pops open the little orange bottle and chucks a couple of vicodin into his mouth. He cracks a smile as he swallows them.]
Max: Look I’m gonna go back to the hotel and shower before I pick up Carmen. You gonna be ok with dinner and all that?
Drake: What hotel? I got this whole suite for you guys to share.
Max: I haven’t seen my wife in three weeks, D. I don’t want you anywhere near us.
[Drake smiles.]
Drake: Fair enough. But, umm, how are you picking her up?
[Max returns with another smile of his own.]
Max: Your range rover.
[Drake stares at him for a moment.]
Drake: Just put gas in it.
Max: Of course I will.
Drake: I don’t mean charge it to my credit card, Maxy.
Max: You know me all too well.
Drake: You’re lucky I like you.
Max: What’s not to like?
[Drake all of a sudden has a look of slight frustration come over his face.]
Drake: Fuck.
Max: What’s wrong? You ok, D?
Drake: Yeah I just realized I forgot to grab some Diet Coke.
Max: I’m sure there’s some in the fridge in here.
Drake: Yeah you’re probably right.
[Drake forces himself up off of the bed and on to his feet. He stretched out his hand to Max.]
Drake: Have fun tonight, Maxy. I appreciate everything.
Max: I’m proud of you kid. Not just with the neck stuff but the way you’ve handled everything. The sobriety, the training, all of it.
Drake: I couldn’t have done it without you.
Max: It’s been a fun ride but I don’t think it’s coming to an end anytime soon. I think you’ve got this.
Drake: Thanks, Maxy. Take care of my truck ok?
Max: I’ll try.
[Max says goodbye one more time before leaving Drake standing in the center of the suite. Green walks around for a minute with a bit of a limp before stopping at the tall glass window. He stares out to the Las Vegas strip, gazing out on to the bright lights that make up the city he has grown to love over the past year. He thinks about how beautiful the strip looks at sunset. The windows themselves remind him of his house in the mountains outside of Bakersfield. His favorite place in the world is staring outside his windows of his living room. He shakes his head a bit and then runs his hand over his scar, winching with a bit of pain. He turns toward the fridge and steps closer, thinking about how great a Diet Coke would taste. He kneels down to the small stainless steel cooler and opens the door and directly in front of him is cold looking six pack of his new favorite beverage. He smiles for a moment with a sense of relief as he reaches for a can but at the last second, something catches his eye. He turns his head, as painful as it is, slightly to the right to see IT sitting there. Like a devil perched on his shoulder, his old friend Johnny Walker stares him straight in the face.
He licks his lips for a moment before quickly coming to his senses as he slams the silver door shut and then inches backwards. He plops down on the bed again, staring straight ahead at the small fridge. He shuts his eyes, imaging the wonderful taste of his favorite variety of scotch. He opens up his eyes and stands up. He looks over to the counter and sees his pills and reaches for them. He slams two more vicodin before sitting back down on the bed. He shakes his head back and forth a few times, convincing himself of his strength and that he doesn’t need the drink. That he’s fine being sober and that the scotch can only lead him down a tough and terrible road. He shuts his eyes again, and it doesn’t take long for the devil on his shoulder to speak up. The bright green eyes open up again but this time with a smile. Drake looks ahead at the fridge and launches forward. He swings open the door and grabs the bottle of scotch before backpedaling to the couch again. He pops open the top with a fury and then sucks down half of the pint in what seems like five seconds. He brings his hand up to his mouth and wipes it dry before letting out a sigh of happiness. He stands up, bottle in hand, and walks over to the windows again, He peers out to the now moonlit Las Vegas strip. He stares down to a packed nightclub about a half a block away with a line around the corner and he can almost hear the music thumping in his head. He takes another sip as he stares and the scene cuts to black.]
July 10th, 2014 – XS Nightclub; Las Vegas, NV – 11:15 PM
[The camera fades back in to the interior of Las Vegas’ XS Nightclub. The large dance hall is packed from left to right with people looking to drink, dance, and party. The camera focuses in on number one contender Drake Green walking across the dance floor in a pair of bright brown leather shoes. The camera moves up over his tight designer jeans, his dark blue, fitted button up shirt and finally his Pomade filled hair, which is parted to the right but just messy enough to maintain the cool factor. His once bright green eyes are now a bit glassed over but there’s a noticeable difference in his manner. Gone are his limp and his cautious step, replaced by his signature swag and light-footed stride. He makes his way over to the bar and nestles himself between a younger couple who are practically making out at the bar and a blonde woman hovering over a glass of champagne with her back to Drake. He casually checks out the woman, noticing her tight, short black strapless dress and her near six inch, sparkle covered heels. Her cracks a soft smile as the bartender walks over. He politely asks for a double scotch and drops a fifty-dollar bill on the bar as he waits.
He turns to his right and where the young couple was just standing is now two young women, wearing cocktail dresses, one blonde and one brunette. They notice him and smile and he returns it with a smile of his own. He turns back straight ahead just in time for the bartender to return with his double scotch. He takes a long, satisfying sip before looking down at his platinum watch and checking the time. He turns back toward the two women but now standing there are three men who look like they are doing their best Giani Di Luca impressions. He chuckles to himself as he turns about face from the bar and does some people watching. He looks around taking in the scenery and the music before he starts to over hear the blond women on the other side talking on the phone. He recognizes the thick English accent so he spins around on the stool and lowers his head, peering around her to get a look of her face. The woman notices him and she spins around herself to let him know to cut it off. As she turns her head to yell at him the camera finally picks up her face; Mean Girl member Tessa Flannigan.]
Tessa: Oi!
[He greets her with a large smile as she turns around with a look of shock when she sees who he is. At first her look of annoyance turns to anger but she can’t help herself from checking him out from toe to head. Her look turns back to anger before letting him know she’s not interested.]
Tessa: Ye can go now, Drake. I won’t be bothered with the likes of you tonight.
[She gives him a blatantly bitchy smile before pounding the rest of her flute of champagne. He returns the gesture by raising his glass to her.]
Drake: It’s a pleasure, as always.
Tessa: Did I stutter?
Drake: No you were clear, I just chose to ignore you.
Tessa: That’s the Drake I know. Always thinking ye can do what ye want. Any way I’m meeting someone who’s not gonna like ye being here so maybe ye should just piss off.
[Drake smiles again and takes another sip.]
Drake: Well you can take solace in knowing I ain’t here for you; I just came for the scotch.
Tessa: Well I don’t really care why ye’r here but ye better-
[As Tessa is mid-sentence, she slips off the front of her stool. Drake goes to catch her but she grabs hold of the end of the bar catching herself. She shuts her eyes for a moment, exhales, and then sits back down.]
Drake: You ok?
Tessa: Dammit, Drake, just leave me alone.
[For a second Drake gets frustrated and goes to stand up and walk away but he comes to his senses after a moment and sits back down.]
Drake: Look can I get you anything?
Tessa: The only thing ye can get me is another glass of champagne.
Drake: Are you sure that’s a good idea?
Tessa: What? Ye’r the only one who’s allowed to get drunk? Talk was ye was sober, now. That ye gave up the drink? Looks like someone’s getting into trouble tonight.
Drake: You’re not gonna rat me out are you?
Tessa: That depends, ye gonna go away now?
Drake: Fair enough. Take care of yourself, Tessa.
[As Drake gets up he motions to the bartender to pour another glass of champagne for Tessa and drops a few bills on the bar. He goes to leave but Tessa grabs his arm.]
Tessa: Ye can’t just buy a girl a drink and walk away.
[Drake scratches his head with a bit of confusion. He stands there for a moment and takes a long drink of scotch.]
Drake: You know something…
[He points at her with his index finger.]
Drake: …I think you’re insane.
[Tessa smiles.]
Tessa: Maybe I am but I know ye like the crazies, Drake.
[She takes a sip of her newly poured glass of champagne and looks up at him as she swallows the sparkling wine. She sets the glass down behind her on the bar and smiles at Drake.]
Drake: Where are all of your little buddies? You know my favorite pal, Delia.
Tessa: It’s just me tonight. I decided I needed some alone time.
Drake: I’ll leave you to it then.
[As he goes to walk away, Tessa grabs his arm. She stands up and pulls him in closer to her.]
Tessa: Ye don’t have to run.
Drake: That’s funny because I could’ve sworn you were actually just yelling at me and telling me to go away. I guess I just forgot how strong Johnny Walker is.
Tessa: No I did want ye to leave but that was before I remembered how good ye smelled…umm…I mean…how-
Drake: It’s ok. Can I get you a cab or something?
Tessa: Why don’t ye just dance with me?
[Again Drake looks confused as he watches her pound the glass of champagne and then grab him by the arm and pulling him on to the dance floor. She drags him into the middle of the sea of people in the center of the dance floor. She tries to pull him in close but he resists a bit. He tries to say something to her but the pounding beat drowns him out so he just points to his half drunken glass of scotch as an excuse for not getting too close. Tessa smiles and grabs the glass out of Drake’s hand and then chucks it on to the floor. Before he can react she pulls him in and gives him a long, passionate kiss, finished off with a playful bite of his bottom lip. He pushes her back a bit but she just continues to smile. He stops to think for a moment but then walks right off of the dance floor. He walks past the bar and the bathrooms and heads out to the outdoor patio and ducks around the corner. He randomly bums a cigarette from another Giani wannabe who is standing near him and takes a few drags before Tessa come scurrying around the corner.]
Tessa: What the fuck?
Drake: I…
[Tessa walks in close and steals the cigarette from Drake, taking a drag of her own and making it look as about as sexy as a cigarette can look.]
Tessa: I make ye nervous, Mr. Showtime?
Drake: We’ve been here before, Tessa. But this time it’s who you hang with that bothers me. I’d rather not get involved with Delia…not like this anyway.
Tessa: So that’s it, yeah? Ye don’t want me because ye want her?
[Drake rolls his eyes.]
Drake: Ten minutes ago you were telling me to fuck off and now you’re practically begging for me to take you home.
[He walks up close to her.]
Drake: Look why don’t we just get outta here ok? We can grab a cup of coffee and we can both sober up a bit.
[Tessa bites her bottom lip a bit, pursing her lips. She runs her hand through her bright, golden locks and then smiles at Drake.]
Tessa: Always the boy scout, huh? Ye owe me that dance. Come on.
[She grabs him gently by the hand and tugs him back inside of the club. They walk slowly as Tessa avoids slipping in her oversized shoes. As she leads him down the hall past the bathrooms Drake can’t help but check her out. Her sparkling heels accentuate her long legs and her tight fitting black dress suits her body perfectly. He notices the way her golden hair bounces against her bare shoulders just enough to make the back of her neckline extra appealing. As they pass the bar he slips two more vicodin out of his back pocket and swallows them whole so she won’t notice. As they get to the dance floor she turns around and smiles at him, walking backward so she can look at him as they maneuver through the sea of people.
They get back to the center of the dance floor and she turns around again before pulling him in tight. They move back and forth to the beat, grinding up on each other and starting to sweat a bit from the heat of the club. He spins her around and pulls her in tight, pressing his lips up against hers. She lets out a soft moan as he touches his lips against her neck and the scene cuts out.]
July 11th, 2014 – Drake’s Hotel Suite – Hard Rock; Las Vegas, NV – 9:15 AM
[The camera fades back into Drake’s hotel suite. The room is dark, with the shades drawn closed, but the outlines of empty champagne bottles can be seen scattered around the room. A loud knock is heard at the door which prompts some motion under the covers in the king sized bed. Another loud knock and this time a groan is heard from underneath the covers. Finally, a third knock prompts a formal response from underneath the sheets.]
Drake: Go away!
Max: D, wake up. It’s after nine!
[Max can be heard chatting with someone behind the door as he awaits Drake’s response. The former SCW Heavyweight Champion peeks his head out from underneath the covers, His hair is a mess and his eyes are almost completely glazed over. He looks to his right to see Tessa Flannigan passed out with a bit of drool on her pillow. In what seems like a moment of clarity, Drake smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.]
Drake: Oh, that’s right.
[Another knock.]
Max: Come on, man. We got to get going already. We’re burning daylight!
[Drake looks around the room a bit and notices the several empty bottles of champagne. He looks under the covers and shuts them quickly when he sees that Tessa is completely naked. He slides out of bed, pulls up his briefs, and quickly begins to clean up the room.]
Drake: I’m coming!
[He frantically piles the bottles into the waste baskets and then throws them into the bathroom. He scurries around the bed and tries to wake Tessa up.]
Drake: Hey come on, you gotta go.
[Tessa begins to wake up in a complete hangover state. She rubs her eyes and smiles when she sees Drake, but the smile immediately wipes away when she realizes what happened the night before and where she was.]
Tessa: Oh fuck me, right!
Drake: Yeah, look I already did that. You gotta go. If Max sees you he’s gonna know I was wasted last night.
Tessa: That’s not what I meant ye arse. Where are me clothes?
Drake: I have no idea.
Tessa: Check under the bed.
[Drake drops to his knees and when he comes back up, he has a wrinkled black dress and one six inch sparkle covered pump.]
Tessa: Where’s me other shoe?
Drake: I don’t know.
[Another knock.]
Max: What are you doing in there, D? Carmen’s out here and she wants to get some breakfast so let’s go.
Drake: Two seconds!
[He turns to Tessa who has just slipped her dress back on.]
Drake: Tessa, please, I’ll buy you another pair of shoes just please slip out that side door. It’ll go to the side service hallway. Please?
[Tessa smiles.]
Tessa: Two pairs.
Drake: Three pairs, just go.
[She leans in and gives him a passionate kiss, again ending with a playful bite of the bottom lip.]
Tessa: See ye soon, Showtime.
[She slaps him on the rear as she heads over to the side door of the suite. She blows him a kiss as she slips out of the door. Drake, so excited that she’s finally gone, runs over to the front door and opens it up for Max and his recent bride Carmen. His smile quickly fades when he realizes he’s still just in his underwear.]
Max: Umm…hi.
Drake: …
[He stands there looking at Max, now dressed drastically different in a black Adidas jumpsuit, and Carmen who is wearing a gold dress and giant yellow sunglasses that compliment her tan skin.]
Carmen: I don’t care if you’re in your panties Drake. Come give me a hug.
[Drake smiles as he leans in and gives Carmen a quick hug. He lets them in and follows behind them as he shuts the door. He immediately walks over to the dresser and pulls out a pair of training shorts and a black tank top.]
Max: So...what took you so long.
Drake: I…I was in the bathroom.
Carmen: Oh my god, Maxwell. Look at this view. This place must cost you a fortune, Drake.
Drake: Actually my agent sets that up for me, totally on the house.
Carmen: That’s incredible. Why don’t we get something like that Maxwell? We have to stay twenty minutes off the strip?
[Max looks at her confused.]
Max: Yeah…back to the bathroom.
[He turns to Drake.]
Max: I heard someone else in here.
Drake: You’re hearing things, Maxy.
Carmen: Leave the guy alone would you?
[Max peers around the room. He walks close to the bathroom but Drake strategically steps in front of the door, desperately trying to lure Max away from the four or five champagne bottles hiding behind the door.]
Max: Something isn’t right.
[He turns back to Drake before scanning the room again. After a moment, he sighs and turns back to Drake.]
Max: Something you want to tell me?
[A terrible feeling drops into the pit of Drake’s stomach. He knows he’s been caught. He can tell the look of disappointment on Max’s face, a look he’s seen all too often in his life. He can just picture all of the terrible things Max would have to say and the countless lectures he was going to have to sit through. He was going to hear about how he let Max down again and this time it was in front of Carmen. All of a sudden the feeling gets worse when Drake realizes that this may be last straw. He may have finally pushed Max past the point of no return. He lets out a deep sigh and prepares to deal with the consequences.]
Drake: Look, Max…I’m sorry-
[Max cuts him off.]
Max: I’m sure you are. But you can’t hide this from old Maxy. Out of my way!
[Max brushes past Drake and walks over to the dresser. He gets down on his knees and reaches underneath. Drake’s stomach tightens as he can imagine how many bottles of Champagne might’ve rolled under the dresser. The night was long and full of booze and Drake just can’t remember how many there were.]
Max: A ha! How are you going to explain this to me!
[Max jumps to his feet and waves it in front of Drake’s face. He can’t look at it or Max. He’s so ashamed.]
Max: Come on, tell me!
[Finally Drake cracks open his eyes and an immediate sense of relief comes over him. Max is brandishing a six inch sparkle covered heel. A wide smile comes over Drake’s face.]
Drake: I’m sorry about that.
Max: How many times do I gotta tell you. No hanky panky when we’re training. Especially for a title fight and especially with your neck the way it is. You understand me?
Drake: You’re right, I’m sorry.
Carmen: Leave the boy alone, Maxwell. He’s young and full of life. Let him live it will you?
Max: He knows the-
[She interrupts him.]
Carmen: Ah, no, no. You leave him alone. Now let’s go get some breakfast. Are you coming, Drake?
Drake: Yeah I’ll be down in a minute. I just got to umm..
[He points to the bathroom door.]
Drake: Take a shower.
Max: Ok, don’t take too long.
Drake: Yeah, I know. We’re burning daylight.
[He walks them out the front door of the suite and after he shuts the door he leans up against it with a smile on his face.]
Drake: God I love Vegas.
[The scene fades out.]
“I’ve been following your career for a bit now. I was a fan of your father’s and am a fan of what you can do in the ring. It’s amazing how the family dynamic can really play a part in the careers we choose. You and I are not so different, Gene. We come from strong wrestling backgrounds and we’ve been groomed to take the next step and be the mega superstars of our industry. I was told from an early age by the man that raised me that I had the total package and that this was where I was meant to be. I wasn’t given an option or told to go to school and figure what I wanted in life. I was a wrestler and that was that. Don’t get me wrong I don’t think I would’ve chosen anything else either. I love the attention, the adrenaline, and I even love getting punched in the face. It reminds me that I’m alive. I don’t usually pour my heart out like this to just anyone, Gene, so I hope you’re paying attention. You can probably learn something. When I was your age I was training under the legendary submission artist Saido Hakata in Japan. He beat the piss out of me everyday and made sure I knew it was a privilege to let him do it. That’s the difference between you and I, Gene. I was forced to learn what humility is at a young age and I fear, for your career’s sake, that you never will.â€
“You constantly boast about how wonderful and amazing you are and it’s pretty fucking obvious that you’re just covering up your massive insecurities. You can talk all you want about how you are the face of a company you’ve been Champion of for three weeks but the truth is you have to go through me to get that moniker. I don’t know if you’ve heard this but this is my town and this is my show. You can feel the energy when I’m out there and it’s a different buzz than the rest of the night. You’ll experience it first hand next Sunday night when the whole fucking casino shakes when the crowd screams ‘SHOWTIME’. It’s pretty surreal, even for me. I don’t know what kind of Daddy issues you have and I’m sure years of therapy are in your cards later in life but don’t think for one second that because your Pops was a legend that it has any bearing on the outcome of this match. There’s nothing your legacy can do to faze me. You can try all you want to remind people of where you come from but no one is going to care. You’re going to face the toughest test of your career so far next weekend when everyone in the Gold Coast Casino is cheering and praying for you to lose. That night, more than most, will help shape the career that you’re going to have and the man that you’re going to become. How will you react to all of the adversity? Will you overcome? Can you? I hope you show me something next week, Gene. I hope you impress me.â€
“It must have been tough growing up as the son of a legend. As much as our paths were similar they were different as well. Your father is a hall of famer and a legend. Your mother cared for you and nurtured you and no matter how bizarre your family life seems, there was always an actual family there. My story was a bit different. An alcoholic career mid-card talent who resented my brother and myself raised us. He looked at us as a burden he was unfairly stuck with and for a long time he didn’t let us forget about it. My father died when I was seven, my mother at birth. My brother died when I was twenty-one and I have a kid sister who even though I love, doesn’t really have a fucking clue who I am. The man who raised me, now a friend of Bill W, is the only friend I’ve got. I’ve worked my fucking ass off to get where I am. I’m an alcoholic, now apparently a closet one as well, I’ve got a half broken neck and even though I live like I’m the man, I’m actually pretty depressed. The only thing I truly love in this world was taken away from me, unfairly an untimely, and I’ve been scratching and crawling to get it back. Now that I’m here, there’s just no fucking way I’m letting you take it back again. I feel sorry for you Gene, you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time.â€
