Post by Gerard Angelo on Jan 14, 2019 23:54:53 GMT -5
5:25 AM EST
Miami, Florida
Gerard Angelo tossed his rolling suitcase carelessly across his bedroom, obviously opting to unpack later, before falling face first onto his king-sized bed. A muffled groan escaped from between his lips and the Egyptian cotton as the hours, days, and weeks of traveling caught up to him. Between finishing up filming Iron Horse, doing his humanitarian work, and being a brand ambassador for Pure Class Wrestling across the world, he spent very little time at his Miami home in the past month. Despite the cocky attitude he displayed for the camera, he loved that being able to give back to people. Whether it be money or his time, he always found joy in helping. Perhaps because it helped fill the massive hole in his heart better than money, alcohol, or random sex ever could.
Gerard kicked his Nikes off and rolled over onto his side, tucking an arm under his pillow to support his neck. He had come home instead of heading straight to Greenville in hopes of getting a few days to recover before Trauma. Gerard figured he needed to be in a good place mentally before dealing with the shit storm consisting of the Pure Class Brass and Kyle Shane. The Hollywood Hero chuckled hopelessly to himself. It was something he brought upon himself and he would face the consequences like a man.
Did he really think that there was a conspiracy against him? In the immediate time right after the match, yes he really did. Gerry would have bet his entire fortune, his house, and his cars that he would’ve taken the World title from Kyle Shane had the turnbuckle not failed. Add in a referee that didn’t ring the bell to start to match tell him he lost, well that just added to it. Not to mention having to hear Kyle Shane’s big dumb mouth right after all this just made him even more furious.
Gerard had left the Pure Class Arena in a fit of rage. He entered the locker room through on a t-shirt, grabbed his gear bag, and left in his ring gear. He even blew off a scheduled interview and left before he could talk to anyone from management. Gerard got on a plane and flew back to Florida, where he seethed for over a week before sending out the now infamous video that’s become a cautionary tale showing people to never go on social media when they are emotional.
Even after he cooled off and tried to enjoy Christmas, he kept the narrative going. Pure Class took its customary break for the holidays, and there was going to be around a month off. Gerard has been in the business long enough that being off camera that long could kill any heat and momentum he had gained from winning the Deadly Rumble and slapping seven shades of shit out of Kyle Shane. So the Hollywood Hero leaned hard into the skid and made another Twitter video doubling down on his ‘conspiracy’ theory.
It worked. Not fifteen minutes after he posted his video, his phone blew up. From Tweets and Re-Tweets to texts from the biggest Wrestling news sites and podcasts asking him for exclusive interviews. He even got the desired reaction out of Kyle Shane. He knew Shane’s ego wouldn’t let Gerard get all of the attention so he inserted himself on Twitter. As much as Kyle wanted to think he won the day on social media, he actually played right into Gerard’s hands. Gerry knew that he would probably get another shot at Kyle Shane, but all of this attention he brought to Pure Class and the World title picture, in particular, guaranteed he would stay in the conversation. The only drawback to all of this was knowing Kyle would drone on and on about the same stuff he said on Twitter, thinking everything he was saying sounds fresh and profound. Gerard really couldn’t figure out how these fans still cheered for him when he was a just a smug, egomaniac. Gerard knew he could rub people the wrong way, but Kyle Shane was getting rubbed down with forty grit sandpaper.
Gerard sighed and closes his eyes, still thinking about what was going to happen at Trauma….
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6:15 AM EST Washington, D.C.
It was before 7 AM and Anthony Angelo had already been up for an hour. He had woken and gone down to the hotel gym he was staying at. The newly sworn-in Senator had gotten a good workout in and had gone back up to his room for breakfast. Room service had delivered him a lovely Egg’s Benedict, along with mixed fruit and coffee. The Patriarch of the Angelo family had enjoyed his breakfast and was finishing his coffee out on the balcony with his cigar. He pulled his peacoat tighter around his body, the air cold around this time of day. Tony took a pull on his cigar as steam rose from the mug of his black coffee. His time as a senator hadn’t been very exciting this early into his term. With the government shut down having, very ironically, a Mexican standoff between Democrats and Republicans, Tony hadn’t had much to do.
Then again, this was never about this job but the next one he was eying. And depending on who you asked it seems like the guy holding his desired office wouldn’t be for much longer. But that was a story for another time. To be honest, Tony was getting annoyed with how slow-moving politics was, and it hadn’t even been a month yet. When he was running AngCorp, there was always something that needed his attention. His was always busy with something. Being a Senator was just sitting around until two sides finished having a pissing match.
Anthony took a deep sip of his coffee before tapping his cigar out in the astray. He reentered his hotel room and sat his coffee down on the bedside table. He had been living out of this hotel since he was sworn in. It was a lot easier than flying back and forth from New York. Plus, he wanted to at least give the illusion to the people that voted for him that he was at least trying. It would give him a leg up when he decided to declare his candidacy. The one thing he had more of a problem with than the lack of action and urgency in Washington, was fighting the urge to call AngCorp every hour to see what was going on with his company.
Tony had built his company from the ground up and turned it into one of the most successful corporations in history. It’s not that he thought anything was going to happen to it. He had left his Chairman and CEO position in very capable hands. A smirk came across his lips as he remembered the look on his board’s faces as he announced who would be taking over for him. Every one of them was old vultures, just waiting for him to leave so they could try and suck all the money they could out of AngCorp. Tony had to fight to keep a straight face at the meeting when he revealed his temporary replacement. The looks on their wrinkled, liver-spotted faces, was sweeter than the most decadent chocolate cake he had ever eaten. Instead of picking a traditional member of the board of directors, he chose Preston White. He was a business genius who graduated from Yale and was doing consulting work for AngCorp.
Tony had worked closely with the young man and was impressed by his knowledge and work ethic. He was the perfect choice to run the company in his absence. Plus, it was hilarious to Tony to have seventy years old, rich, white men answer to a young African-American.
The billionaire grabbed his iPhone from next to his coffee mug. He opened his contacts and hit the screen. He brought it to his ear as it rang. After few tones, it clicked.
“Hello, Mister Angelo,” said a confident, deep voice on the other line, “How are you this morning, sir?”
“Already up, Mister White?” Tony asked with a smirk.
“Yes, sir. I’m already at the office.”
“I hope you’re making yourself at home, Preston.”
“Yes, I am sir,” Preston said over the phone. “Everyone has been quite accommodating.”
Tony let out a laugh. He knew that the board was probably fighting Preston tooth and nail on everything. He knew White could handle it though.
“Stay strong,” Said Tony, “If you need to fire some of them, be my guest.”
That elicited a laugh from Preston on the other line.
“I’ll keep that in mind, sir. But I’m assuming you called for a particular reason?”
“Yes. Tell me what the situation is with that special project I told you about.”
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8:17 AM EST Miami, Florida
The three loud beeps of the text alert woke Gerard from his slumber. He rolled over and wiped the drool off the corner of his lips with his arm as his eyes tried to focus. The Hollywood Hero grabbed his cell phone and checked the time first and groaned. It was still ungodly early for how his body felt. He sighed and decided to see what was so important to text him at eight in the morning. It was from PCW Booking. Gerry sat up and rubbed his eyes before opening the message. He let out an even louder groan and wished he had just left it closed. They booked him in yet another tag match against Kyle Shane, only this time Shane would be teaming with Stormm. Great, Gerry thought to himself, gonna be another match that turns into a giant pissing contest between those two. And they were pairing Gerard with Dominator, a guy who was super angry at Gerard for “taking” his title shot, apparently.
It was almost like Gerard was being punished for speaking out against management. Not only was Gerry having to go up against two guys who didn’t like him, but he was also teaming with a guy who didn’t like him. The Hollywood Hero tossed his phone down and plopped his head back on the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, pondering why his big mouth always got him into these messes.
The actor/wrestler shrugged his shoulders to no one, seemingly accepting his fate. If this was the path they were gonna set out for him, then he was gonna lace up his boots and go down swinging. Shane and Michaels couldn’t get along to save the world, let alone win a tag match. Plus, to paraphrase Tony Stark, Gerard has a fucking Dominator. Between Grimm and Dominator, Gerry’s been teamed with them enough that he should be and an honorary member of The Black Hand.
Gerard Rolled out of bed and head for his bathroom. Not time for rest, if he was gonna prove he deserved to another shot at the World Championship, he needed to prepare.
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9:37 AM EST Miami, Florida
A short time later, Gerard is sitting in his living room watching reruns of SportsCenter while he eats Breakfast. It’s simple oatmeal with almond milk, as there was barely any food in the house due to him being abroad. Gerard shoved spoonfuls of the oats into his mouth as he watched them show highlights of another thirty point game for James Harden. Gerry set the bowl down on his coffee table, it emptied of its contents. He leans back on his couch, his thoughts once again floating back to his match at Trauma. Gerard and Dom would need to be on the same page the entire match. While Gerard didn’t like Kyle or Stormm as people, as competitors they needed to be respected. He was just hoping Dominators hatred of Michaels and Shane would be enough to keep him focused on the task at hand.
Gerard wasn’t planning on losing. He would rather die then let Kyle hold a victory over his head, tag match or not. And he was fairly certain his tag partner didn’t want to hear Stormm flap his gums either.
BSST BSST
Gerard’s musing was interrupted by his iPhone vibrating on the coffee table. Gerry grabbed it and looked at the number. It was unknown. The Hollywood Hero let ring a few more times before he answered it.
“Hello?”
“Mister Angelo?” asked a measured and confident man’s voice on the other end.
“This is he,” Gerard answered, thinking it was someone calling him about the movie, “What’s up?”
“Mister Angelo, this is Tom Parker. I’m your new agent, and boy do I have something you will be interested in.”