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Post by Ben Jacobs on Mar 28, 2009 10:49:50 GMT -6
Post RPs below...
RPing starts when threads are posted. 2 point early rp bonus for each wrestler's first rp which scores above 10 and is posted prior to Tuesday March 31st @ 3:30 PM CST.
RP deadline is Tuesday, April 7th @ 11:59 PM CST
Match & segment deadline is Wednesday, April 8th @ 8:30 AM CST.
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Post by High Society on Apr 6, 2009 14:38:35 GMT -6
“Come on Johnny. I’m dying for a drink.”
The couple had been driving for what seemed to her like hours. In actual fact they’d probably only been on the road for a little over half an hour but Johnny seemed strangely detached, clearly preoccupied with his own thoughts. It had made for a quiet and uneventful journey and she was starting to feel the strain.
“This place looks ok. Pull in here.”
Page eyed the seedy looking club suspiciously.
“The Electric Cowboy. Really?”
“Why not? It looks fun.”
“Well, it certainly looks… authentic.”
“Oh come on Johnny. I’m absolutely parched.”
With a resigned sigh Page slowed the vehicle down and turned into the parking lot.
As they stepped out of the bright yellow 1968 Lotus it struck him just how conspicuous the vintage car looked in amidst all the battered pickup trucks. With this in mind he approached the burly looking bouncer, leaving his companion to totter after him balancing precariously on her stiletto heels.
“Good evening young man.”
The bouncer lifted his head slightly, barely acknowledging Page’s greeting.
“Now listen carefully. Do you see that rather elegant looking sports car sitting over there? Well that my good sir is a marvel of British engineering and I would very much appreciate it if you could ensure it remains in its current condition.”
“You mean you want me to watch it?”
“Well yes. Simply put. Obviously I will reward your vigilance.”
“What?”
Page rolled his eyes impatiently.
“That means if the car is in the same condition when I get back I will pay you.”
“How much?”
“Well how much do you earn for a night’s work?”
“Two hundred dollars.”
Reaching into his pocket Page pulled out a roll of bills. The bouncer studied his movements with a look of incredulity that soon gave way to a sense of crushing disappointment. Page smiled as he tucked the meagre fifty dollar bill into the bouncer’s pocket.
“Well you don’t get to be a man of my means by flittering your money away.”
Page gave the man a conciliatory pat on the shoulder as he entered the building.
It had been her idea to explore the clubs. She was insistent that he should immerse himself in the city’s culture, get a sense of the place. He was reluctant. After all, how could the ramshackle juke joints, fast food outlets and picture houses of Arkansas possibly compete with the sophisticated wine bars, fine dining and art museums he was accustomed to back home? As far as he was concerned Arkansas was anti-culture. It represented everything he hated about American society; a disgusting vacuum of opportunistic, lottery ticket holders consumed by the cheap thrills of the immediate… everything temporary… no concern for the future. It sickened him to the very pit of his stomach and fuelled the deep seated feelings of anger and resentment that only sometimes managed to break through the refined, one might say considered, veneer that presented itself for the most part.
She on the other hand saw promise in everything. She was quite capable of enjoying the simple pleasures in life and was as comfortable in a grotty bar as she was at a champagne social. She found humour in his irritability, perhaps confusing bitterness with sullenness.
They had known each other for just over a decade. She was the daughter of Willy Myers, the company promoter that gave Page his first break. Willy was an audacious character who wore garish clothes and big loud jewellery. Rumour had it that before purchasing the promotion he had been a permanent fixture on the London underground scene, smuggling drugs and collecting debts. After rising up the ranks of the criminal hierarchical system and making his fortune he decided it was time to invest his money. Although he knew next to nothing about the wrestling industry his shrewd business skills and London connections faired him well and in time the company turned into somewhat of a regional phenomenon.
Willy saw a potential in Page that other promoters didn’t. He admired the kid’s incredible sense of self-belief and became a sort of mentor to the young upstart. Feeling that Page lacked focus Willy enlisted the help of his daughter, Scarlet, who was employed as a valet to Page. With her head for business and encyclopaedic knowledge of the industry and Page’s natural athleticism and penchant for “bending the rules” they dominated the organisation for two years.
When Page felt he had outgrown the London scene Scarlet found herself in a real dilemma. Did she remain faithful to her father, the man who had nurtured her talents and given her a start in life, or take a gamble on the man she knew in her heart of hearts was destined for bigger things? Johnny possessed a ruthless streak that made her very uneasy. He conducted himself as a perfect gentleman for the most part but she was aware that he had little affection for anyone other than himself and would go to any lengths to succeed in this business. Ultimately however, it was this aspect of his character that persuaded her to follow him to the States. She was an ambitious woman and quite capable of succeeding in her own right. But why should she? She’d contributed to his accomplishments thus far, why shouldn’t she receive some of the accolades that were sure to come their way?
After several more years following him from state to state she became impatient. Their achievements had been few and far between and every time it seemed they were gathering some momentum Johnny would manage to undo all their hard work by demanding more money or alienating the fans. It was her idea to give RCW a go. Whereas he saw it as a step backwards, an unfashionable organisation with a less significant fan base than he was used to she saw it as an opportunity for them to ply their trade, get back to the basics. This was perhaps another example of their differing outlooks.
“Good god!”
Page halted just moments after passing the club threshold.
“Country music. Scarlet did you know about this?”
“Know about what?”
“Did you know there would be country music?”
“No.”
“Because you know how I feel about Country and Western.”
Page frantically scanned the room. The club was a mass of heaving sweaty cowboys in Stetsons and boots dancing with dumpy women in chequered shirts and gingham dresses.
“Let’s go.”
“Johnny!”
“I can’t… Listen, sampling the nightlife is one thing, embracing the customs another. But this? This is akin to heresy. I feel… this isn’t right.”
“Don’t be so silly.”
Scarlet grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the busy dance floor.
“Scarlett, no. No. I… I can’t. For God’s sake woman will you please…”
Amongst the writhing bodies Page could feel the pulsating beat of the corny country and western music reverberating in the cavities of his sternum. He felt as if the music were seeping into his pores, contaminating his very being.
“It’s no good. I need a drink.” He yelled over the din.
Shoving his way back through the crowds he reached the bar and ordered a whisky.
“Is that your woman back there?” The barman asked, nodding in the direction of the dance floor.
Page swung round to see two particularly savage looking cowboys grinding next to Scarlet.
“I say! What the bloody hell do they think they’re doing!?”
Just as Page was about to remonstrate with the delinquents he felt his cell phone vibrating. Distracted he picked it up.
“Yeah? So what? I don’t see a problem. Well what do you advise I do? Ok. I’ll take it into consideration”
Page placed the phone back in his pocket and scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“So. Cletus is enlisting some reinforcements is he?”
The barman tapped Page on the shoulder.
“Buddy, if that is your girl you might want to do something about it.”
Page turned again to see the hoodlums fawning over Scarlet as she tried to push them away. He checked his watch before catching her eye, her expression pleading him to act. He turned back to the barman.
“She’s fine. Just keep an eye on her.”
“She doesn’t look fine. I'm telling you you’d better…”
“I’ve got some business to attend to. Keep an eye on her.”
Page passed twenty dollar bill across the counter and headed towards the exit. Outside the bouncer was still tending the door.
“Excuse me.”
The bouncer greeted Page with a cold stare.
“Well if it isn’t Mr Lar di dah. What does your cheap ass want? I ain’t gonna’ polish those shiny shoes of yours for a hundred dollars, let alone fifty.”
“Listen carefully. I have a business proposition I think you’ll find quite appealing.”
“Forget it. I ain’t innarested.”
“I can’t pique your interest with the offer of one thousand dollars for a night’s work?”
“One thousand dollars!? What do you want for one thousand dollars?”
Page smiled coolly.
“Protection.”
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