Post by Gerard Angelo on Jun 7, 2021 22:29:23 GMT -5
“It’s nothin’ personal, kid. You’re just not that in demand right now.”
The words made Gerard chew on his bottom lip as he sat across a desk from Arnold Johnson, a high profile, very influential, director/producer. An old friend of Gerry’s, responsible for getting him his first big break in the movie Gotham opposite Willem Dafoe.
“Come on, Arn. You’re telling me that there’s nothing for me?” Gerard asked, his leg bouncing up and down on the ball of his foot, nervously. Arn shook his head, his cigar burning away slowly as it was clenched between his teeth.
“Only bit parts, kid. You’re too big a star to be in bit parts,” Arn said, waving his meat hook of a hand in the air, “That’s no good for your image. Remember, even when you’re not working, you gotta protect the brand.”
Gerry flexed his jaw but just nodded, reaching across the desk. He and Arn clasp hands.
“Thanks anyway, Arn. Say hi to Sharon and the kids.”
A few moments later, Gerry was sitting in the driver's seat of Jaguar, his forehead pressed against the steering wheel. Even though Arn had jazzed it up for his benefit, Gerard was smart enough to read between the lines. No directors thought he could make them money any more. No studios wanted him attached to any projects. Not that he could blame them. Gerard really hasn’t been focused lately. It was showing in his wrestling. He ate the pin at Mass Destruction. He just recently lost to Showtime, a guy who hasn’t been around in years. Gerard shouldn’t be losing to nostalgia acts. He was a pillar of the company at this point. Everyone else had left. Holden and David were gone. Kyle Shane was nowhere to be found. Willard was enjoying his retirement. Dominator was shoveling beans and black sausage into his mouth somewhere. Stormm was off doing a Netflix show. That one really ground Gerry gears the most. Stormm was an absent champion for most of his reign and he's the one getting rewarded.
But that was not who he needed to focus on. Once again he was being shoved into a tag match against Grimm and Rick Majors. And once again his partner was part of the revolving carousel of random opponents. This time it was Mister Showtime. Sure, let's add some drama. Let's put Gerard Angelo at a disadvantage, again. Of course Grimm and Rick get an easy path. They might as well be named the tag team champions at this point. Gerry let out a laugh in his car.
A pillar of the company. He snorted. Since he started in PCW, he was treated like an afterthought. Stuck in a supporting actor role, for lack of a better term. Strategically keeping him away from title shots, booking him in pointless matches. All five of his title shorts he had to force himself. Against all odds he won the Deadly Rumble, not once, but two years in a row. He won the Icemann Invitational after forcing himself into it through the last chance battle royal. And still they treat him like a nobody. Interesting when you think about how the company is consistently in the headlines with words like “bankruptcy” and “closing” involved. Makes you think that management might not be making great decisions involving talent.
Gerard's thoughts are interrupted by the car alerting him he was getting a phone call. He looked and was pleasantly surprised as the name read ‘SEAN’. Gerard answered it.
“Hey Bro! What’s going on? Where have you been?” Gerard asked his brother excitedly.
“Umm, Gerard, I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to.”
Gerry raised an eyebrow.
“Dad’s dead.”
========================
Gerard stood solemnly next to his brother Sean, his step sister, and step mom, his hands clasped in front of him as he stared down into the six foot rectangle dug into the earth before him. A lot of people were there, Gerard had no idea his father was this popular, though he knew they were mostly business associates. Most people were shedding tears, his step mom making a pretty good scene as the casket was lowered into the ground. Gerard had mostly been numb throughout the funeral rites. His relationship with his father had been complicated, but it was still his father. Yet, he felt nothing. Just a surprising feeling of calm washed over him after the phone call from his brother a few days ago. He had flown out to his fathers house in California as a good son should, but still felt nothing around the sorrow that filled the entire estate. Even as he threw the ceremonial shovel of dirt into the grave, he felt nothing. Maybe it’s because there wasn’t a body in the casket. His father died in a plane crash. There was a malfunction and his private jet crashed into the pacific. No bodies were recovered. The coast guard mentioned that it was most likely a scenario that sharks had gotten to them.
Gerard had said his thank yous and goodbyes as he was heading back towards the limo to take him to his hotel room when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a tall, thin, man with a black bushy mustache.
“Can I help you?” Gerard asked, feeling his fist clench. He was still jumpy after everything from the past year.
“Yes, Mister Angelo,” The man said, adjusting his glasses, “I’m Phil Giordino. I was your father’s lawyer. Sorry for your loss.”
“Oh, thanks,” Gerry said, extending his hand, “Nice to meet you.”
Phil shook his hand back curtly.
“We are doing the reading of your father’s will in about an hour. You need to be there.”
Gerry let out a small chuckle that made Phil make a face.
“What is the joke?”
“I’m positive my father didn’t leave me anything of value,” Gerry said with a grimace, “We weren’t on the best of terms.”
“I think you’ll want to be there. The will has some interesting things for you and your family.”
Gerard stared at Phil for a bit, wondering if he was up to anything before he relented and nodded.
“Fine. I’ll see you at the house.”
Phil nodded curtly and walked off. Gerard gave a sigh. He wondered what disrespectful thing Tony Angelo was going to do in his will. Probably one last time to try and put his maverick son in his place. One last laugh from beyond the grave. He could already hear him laughing from his watery grave.
The words made Gerard chew on his bottom lip as he sat across a desk from Arnold Johnson, a high profile, very influential, director/producer. An old friend of Gerry’s, responsible for getting him his first big break in the movie Gotham opposite Willem Dafoe.
“Come on, Arn. You’re telling me that there’s nothing for me?” Gerard asked, his leg bouncing up and down on the ball of his foot, nervously. Arn shook his head, his cigar burning away slowly as it was clenched between his teeth.
“Only bit parts, kid. You’re too big a star to be in bit parts,” Arn said, waving his meat hook of a hand in the air, “That’s no good for your image. Remember, even when you’re not working, you gotta protect the brand.”
Gerry flexed his jaw but just nodded, reaching across the desk. He and Arn clasp hands.
“Thanks anyway, Arn. Say hi to Sharon and the kids.”
A few moments later, Gerry was sitting in the driver's seat of Jaguar, his forehead pressed against the steering wheel. Even though Arn had jazzed it up for his benefit, Gerard was smart enough to read between the lines. No directors thought he could make them money any more. No studios wanted him attached to any projects. Not that he could blame them. Gerard really hasn’t been focused lately. It was showing in his wrestling. He ate the pin at Mass Destruction. He just recently lost to Showtime, a guy who hasn’t been around in years. Gerard shouldn’t be losing to nostalgia acts. He was a pillar of the company at this point. Everyone else had left. Holden and David were gone. Kyle Shane was nowhere to be found. Willard was enjoying his retirement. Dominator was shoveling beans and black sausage into his mouth somewhere. Stormm was off doing a Netflix show. That one really ground Gerry gears the most. Stormm was an absent champion for most of his reign and he's the one getting rewarded.
But that was not who he needed to focus on. Once again he was being shoved into a tag match against Grimm and Rick Majors. And once again his partner was part of the revolving carousel of random opponents. This time it was Mister Showtime. Sure, let's add some drama. Let's put Gerard Angelo at a disadvantage, again. Of course Grimm and Rick get an easy path. They might as well be named the tag team champions at this point. Gerry let out a laugh in his car.
A pillar of the company. He snorted. Since he started in PCW, he was treated like an afterthought. Stuck in a supporting actor role, for lack of a better term. Strategically keeping him away from title shots, booking him in pointless matches. All five of his title shorts he had to force himself. Against all odds he won the Deadly Rumble, not once, but two years in a row. He won the Icemann Invitational after forcing himself into it through the last chance battle royal. And still they treat him like a nobody. Interesting when you think about how the company is consistently in the headlines with words like “bankruptcy” and “closing” involved. Makes you think that management might not be making great decisions involving talent.
Gerard's thoughts are interrupted by the car alerting him he was getting a phone call. He looked and was pleasantly surprised as the name read ‘SEAN’. Gerard answered it.
“Hey Bro! What’s going on? Where have you been?” Gerard asked his brother excitedly.
“Umm, Gerard, I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to.”
Gerry raised an eyebrow.
“Dad’s dead.”
========================
Gerard stood solemnly next to his brother Sean, his step sister, and step mom, his hands clasped in front of him as he stared down into the six foot rectangle dug into the earth before him. A lot of people were there, Gerard had no idea his father was this popular, though he knew they were mostly business associates. Most people were shedding tears, his step mom making a pretty good scene as the casket was lowered into the ground. Gerard had mostly been numb throughout the funeral rites. His relationship with his father had been complicated, but it was still his father. Yet, he felt nothing. Just a surprising feeling of calm washed over him after the phone call from his brother a few days ago. He had flown out to his fathers house in California as a good son should, but still felt nothing around the sorrow that filled the entire estate. Even as he threw the ceremonial shovel of dirt into the grave, he felt nothing. Maybe it’s because there wasn’t a body in the casket. His father died in a plane crash. There was a malfunction and his private jet crashed into the pacific. No bodies were recovered. The coast guard mentioned that it was most likely a scenario that sharks had gotten to them.
Gerard had said his thank yous and goodbyes as he was heading back towards the limo to take him to his hotel room when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a tall, thin, man with a black bushy mustache.
“Can I help you?” Gerard asked, feeling his fist clench. He was still jumpy after everything from the past year.
“Yes, Mister Angelo,” The man said, adjusting his glasses, “I’m Phil Giordino. I was your father’s lawyer. Sorry for your loss.”
“Oh, thanks,” Gerry said, extending his hand, “Nice to meet you.”
Phil shook his hand back curtly.
“We are doing the reading of your father’s will in about an hour. You need to be there.”
Gerry let out a small chuckle that made Phil make a face.
“What is the joke?”
“I’m positive my father didn’t leave me anything of value,” Gerry said with a grimace, “We weren’t on the best of terms.”
“I think you’ll want to be there. The will has some interesting things for you and your family.”
Gerard stared at Phil for a bit, wondering if he was up to anything before he relented and nodded.
“Fine. I’ll see you at the house.”
Phil nodded curtly and walked off. Gerard gave a sigh. He wondered what disrespectful thing Tony Angelo was going to do in his will. Probably one last time to try and put his maverick son in his place. One last laugh from beyond the grave. He could already hear him laughing from his watery grave.