It's nothin personal (995)
Mar 22, 2022 15:35:12 GMT -5
via mobile
Johnny Bacchus, Gerard Angelo, and 1 more like this
Post by Holden Ross on Mar 22, 2022 15:35:12 GMT -5
”Tatiana, I’m askin you now to stay out of this match.”
The shot opens on Holden sitting, relaxed, on his balcony in Vero Beach. A light breeze carries away the smoke when Holden exhales his cigar. It is a fat, dark, almost black and about four inches long, resting in a crystal ashtray on the table top. He is wearing a black Born Scum “Coffin” tank top and a plain black stocking cap. On the table in front of him is a glass marijuana pipe and a tallboy of green Monster.
”I ask this as your friend, Tatiana. I don’t want to see, or be responsible for, you getting hurt. You are one of the few people here who I respect and were the first person I met in the locker room I didn’t want to punch in the throat. We’ve already faced each other in the ring and, I hate to say it, but we all know how that ended. Joey and Gerry, they won’t hesitate to put you on the shelf. You saw that last week. Go hang with the Heritage or something. Just don’t come out to that ring.”
Holden takes a pull from the cigar and places it back in it’s cradle in the ashtray. He cracks his knuckle and then his neck before sitting up in his chair. He leans on his right elbow and stares into the camera.
”The other two, if you were smart, you would take the advice I just gave your partner. You are in over your head. GRINDHOUSE, along with the United States Champion, Gerard Angelo, is a stacked trio. We know each other. We trust each other. Do you? You three were just trying to kill each other in hopes of gaining a better spot at “Havoc.”
Sam, I watched some tape of you and Cassidy and it left me even more concerned for you three. I’m sure you may GREAT on “CruiserClash” and would represent it well. You’re a smarmy fuck who is roughly the size of a high school sophomore. The last time I fought someone your size they carted the poor bastard out on a stretcher.
And, Cassidy, you’re a burnt-out D-List actor who is desperately trying to cling to relevancy. If you want to see a true Hollywood legend, look no further than my mentor, Gerard Angelo. I understand where you’re coming from but, I’m sorry to inform you, that we won’t be that stepping stone to get you that much closer to the spotlight. This ain’t some Hallmark channel, feel-good story, where you come out the hero at the end.
I have left a wake of broken bodies and I will gladly add you to them. All three of you. I don’t want to, Tatiana, but you know I will. Out of the three of you, you know me best and know exactly what I’m capable of. This is a job. The more we hurt you the bigger the bonus Gerry pays me. It’s not personal. It’s just a Matter of Business…”
The camera pans to the left, showing the crashing waves not that far off in the distance, before Holden clears his throat. The camera whips back to him and he is standing now, cigar pinched between his index and middle finger on his right hand. He takes a pull from it, the cherry glows a bright orange, and exhales a plume into the breeze.
”And, Cassidy, I don’t give a shit if that bitch of yours is from Hollywood or not. She tries to get involved, at all, and I would hate to see what happens to her. From what I hear the Women’s Champion might not take too kindly to that…. Just some more friendly advice, is all…”
The camera fades out on Holden, cigar in his mouth and arms folded across his broad chest. When the crew finishes packing their gear, he gives them a twelve pack of Heineken and sees them out the door. He fires up a blunt and turns on the television. He finds the replay of Clash and tunes in just as Gerry is delivering his speech behind the podium. Holden grins as he listens to the crowd boo them. Laughs as the boos grow louder when the trio throw their glasses on the ground. He is passed out before he can watch their carnage unfold and Tatiana take that vicious Lariet.
He is awakened the next morning when his phone rings. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and coughs while trying to pick up his phone. His eyes go wide as he tries to focus them and see who is calling. It’s his mom and he sends her to voicemail. He showers and heads down to the “Champions Advantage Performance Center” to get a workout in.
When he is leaving he gets a text from Serenity. It’s a selfie of her, smiling, looking like a million bucks. It stops him in his tracks in the middle of the parking lot. He just stares at it for a minute and then takes one of himself in front of his Cayenne, smiling, and sends it back to her. He shakes his head while starting his car. “How did I get so lucky?” he thinks to himself.
In the back of his mind, though, he wonders when the other shoe is going to drop. All of his life, whenever it was going good, something bad inevitably came of it. In high school, he was being scouted by nearly a dozen colleges for his ability on the football field and blew his knee out. He met his Father, connected with him, grew to love him, only for him to die. Now his career is on the rise and he met an amazing woman.
What’s next?
He shifts the Cayenne into park after pulling into his garage and sighs. With a shrug he exits the car and sets the alarm. ”It’s nothin personal…”
The shot opens on Holden sitting, relaxed, on his balcony in Vero Beach. A light breeze carries away the smoke when Holden exhales his cigar. It is a fat, dark, almost black and about four inches long, resting in a crystal ashtray on the table top. He is wearing a black Born Scum “Coffin” tank top and a plain black stocking cap. On the table in front of him is a glass marijuana pipe and a tallboy of green Monster.
”I ask this as your friend, Tatiana. I don’t want to see, or be responsible for, you getting hurt. You are one of the few people here who I respect and were the first person I met in the locker room I didn’t want to punch in the throat. We’ve already faced each other in the ring and, I hate to say it, but we all know how that ended. Joey and Gerry, they won’t hesitate to put you on the shelf. You saw that last week. Go hang with the Heritage or something. Just don’t come out to that ring.”
Holden takes a pull from the cigar and places it back in it’s cradle in the ashtray. He cracks his knuckle and then his neck before sitting up in his chair. He leans on his right elbow and stares into the camera.
”The other two, if you were smart, you would take the advice I just gave your partner. You are in over your head. GRINDHOUSE, along with the United States Champion, Gerard Angelo, is a stacked trio. We know each other. We trust each other. Do you? You three were just trying to kill each other in hopes of gaining a better spot at “Havoc.”
Sam, I watched some tape of you and Cassidy and it left me even more concerned for you three. I’m sure you may GREAT on “CruiserClash” and would represent it well. You’re a smarmy fuck who is roughly the size of a high school sophomore. The last time I fought someone your size they carted the poor bastard out on a stretcher.
And, Cassidy, you’re a burnt-out D-List actor who is desperately trying to cling to relevancy. If you want to see a true Hollywood legend, look no further than my mentor, Gerard Angelo. I understand where you’re coming from but, I’m sorry to inform you, that we won’t be that stepping stone to get you that much closer to the spotlight. This ain’t some Hallmark channel, feel-good story, where you come out the hero at the end.
I have left a wake of broken bodies and I will gladly add you to them. All three of you. I don’t want to, Tatiana, but you know I will. Out of the three of you, you know me best and know exactly what I’m capable of. This is a job. The more we hurt you the bigger the bonus Gerry pays me. It’s not personal. It’s just a Matter of Business…”
The camera pans to the left, showing the crashing waves not that far off in the distance, before Holden clears his throat. The camera whips back to him and he is standing now, cigar pinched between his index and middle finger on his right hand. He takes a pull from it, the cherry glows a bright orange, and exhales a plume into the breeze.
”And, Cassidy, I don’t give a shit if that bitch of yours is from Hollywood or not. She tries to get involved, at all, and I would hate to see what happens to her. From what I hear the Women’s Champion might not take too kindly to that…. Just some more friendly advice, is all…”
The camera fades out on Holden, cigar in his mouth and arms folded across his broad chest. When the crew finishes packing their gear, he gives them a twelve pack of Heineken and sees them out the door. He fires up a blunt and turns on the television. He finds the replay of Clash and tunes in just as Gerry is delivering his speech behind the podium. Holden grins as he listens to the crowd boo them. Laughs as the boos grow louder when the trio throw their glasses on the ground. He is passed out before he can watch their carnage unfold and Tatiana take that vicious Lariet.
He is awakened the next morning when his phone rings. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and coughs while trying to pick up his phone. His eyes go wide as he tries to focus them and see who is calling. It’s his mom and he sends her to voicemail. He showers and heads down to the “Champions Advantage Performance Center” to get a workout in.
When he is leaving he gets a text from Serenity. It’s a selfie of her, smiling, looking like a million bucks. It stops him in his tracks in the middle of the parking lot. He just stares at it for a minute and then takes one of himself in front of his Cayenne, smiling, and sends it back to her. He shakes his head while starting his car. “How did I get so lucky?” he thinks to himself.
In the back of his mind, though, he wonders when the other shoe is going to drop. All of his life, whenever it was going good, something bad inevitably came of it. In high school, he was being scouted by nearly a dozen colleges for his ability on the football field and blew his knee out. He met his Father, connected with him, grew to love him, only for him to die. Now his career is on the rise and he met an amazing woman.
What’s next?
He shifts the Cayenne into park after pulling into his garage and sighs. With a shrug he exits the car and sets the alarm. ”It’s nothin personal…”