Post by Boardwalk Angels on Aug 25, 2017 18:23:20 GMT -5
”I’d rather wrestle a gauntlet match against my worst enemies than be in a boardroom. My comfort level for this place is exceedingly low, though I do still enjoy the work and put my all into it. Plus I refuse to shirk the responsibilities that come with this career or to betray the trust put into me when I was hired for this position. See, Dynasty, I’ve heard your complaints about where you’ve come from, where you’re going and all the stress you have to deal with in your lives. And to that I say stop fucking whining. Instead of complaints and excuses about your lives, how about taking some ownership and stepping up? You might surprise yourselves. But that isn’t going to happen. And that lack of action certainly won’t surprise US.”
* August 23rd, 2017, late-afternoon *
* Cornett Enterprises, Boardroom *
* Fort Wayne, Indiana *
Unfamiliar Ground, Familiar Fire
* August 23rd, 2017, late-afternoon *
* Cornett Enterprises, Boardroom *
* Fort Wayne, Indiana *
Unfamiliar Ground, Familiar Fire
A large, round table is set up in boardroom on the top floor of Cornett Enterprises, with each and every chair filled, be it by a smartly-dressed woman or a besuited man, ages and nationalities varying almost seat by seat. Outside the wall-sized windows on the west side of the room the sun is beginning to dip slowly, signalling the end of the day. At least for the nine-to-five crowd. While there might be a few hours left before day is officially over, it would appear that there’s much more work to be doing within the aforementioned boardroom. Standing before the white wall in the rear of the room, a ceiling-mounted projector displaying several charts upon the smooth white surface, is Farrah Cornett. The Head of Television and Internet for Cornett Enterprises, a position she has spent the past several months trying to get the hang of, Farrah is running this meeting to the best of her ability though it is obvious that some frustration is welling up in her.
Dressed in a black jacket and skirt with a white blouse beneath, leather boots rising to just below her knees, she has the appearance and attitude of power if not the sense (at least in this arena). At the table, most of the attendees, members of her division, are chatting amongst themselves, passing paperwork and such back and forth. The Jersey Hellcat, meanwhile, is off to the side of the projection, manipulating the display with a remote in her hand. Dark hair swept up in a neat French twist, she doesn’t look agitated so much as she looks… frustrated. One thing that does not change is a logo that reads ‘C24’ with outlines of a television, cellular phone and computer as part of it. She is silent for the time being as the conversation around her carries on, but after a couple minutes she raises her voice, speaking firmly.
”All right. Enough. What do we have so far?”
A woman in a purple jacket and trousers stands up, reading from a paper in hand.
”The general consensus that we’ve come to so far is that a series of programs both informative and entertaining is our best bet. Something that offers something to the viewer beyond entertainment, like TLC does.”
”And our demographic is the 13-to-30 range you said?”
”Yes, ma’am.”
”You do realize that that’s a very fine line to walk. You have to make the material so that it draws in the viewer’s attention and holds it without insulting their intelligence, not to mention placating the parents and other adults with the assurance that our material isn’t corrupting the youth. And if it gets too sensational, that draws away from anything you might offer them. Entertainment is fine; the channel’s going to have to have something along those lines that stands out as a kind of… hook, I suppose is the word.”
The more she talks, the more comfortable she feels, yet sometimes she has to pause to collect her thoughts and doesn’t so much lose the room as she does herself.
”Let’s hear some of your suggestions for the baseline programs.”
”Yes, ma’am. One of the ideas that we feel we could do the most with considering the popularity of that manner of programming is a cooking program that couples teaching simple, anyone-can-make-them recipes with ideas for improving their kitchen space and how-tos on other related content. Based on the success of Food Network and their personalities, along with our ideas, we feel that this could be a hit.”
”I like the sound of that… and I know just the person to bring in as the host. Her name is Danielle Abboud.”
The purple-clad woman, pleased that the idea was taken up, confers with others at the table before Farrah speaks up again.
”Don’t stop there, though. We’re talking about people who are moving into higher education, getting part time jobs, moving out on their own… some of the things they need to know should be common sense but aren’t. We could do more in this vein, such as car shows, fashion shows and, as an extension, sitcoms or dramas dealing with similar situations.”
”You mentioned having a few shows as a hook, Mrs. Cornett. In that, might I make a suggestion?”
”Go ahead, Greg. Traci, I’ll contact Danielle before six o’clock and tell her I’d like to speak to her about an opportunity. However, I want your team to put together a formal pitch so we’re not grasping for ideas. She’s the best person for this and I don’t want her uncertain when we’re done.”
”Yes, Mrs. Cornett.”
Nodding, Farrah’s attention goes back to the brown-haired man in the gray suit seated further to the left side of the table from Traci.
”Greg, floor’s yours.”
”My thought it this: while we want C24 to have a certain mixture of programming that you’ve already laid out to us, we need something as well that is entertainment for the sake of entertainment. Something to draw in the demo that we’re trying to reach and keep them there for the rest of our programming.”
Greg hesitates for a moment, looking to his fellows at the table and then back up to Farrah, who hasn’t taken her eyes off him.
”Go on.”
”By the same token, we want to try and pick up something that is already going if that makes sense? Something we can adopt, place in our lineup with less overhead and allow to hit the ground running.”
Turning back to the charts, Farrah nods slowly, rubbing her chin. In her mind, all she could think of was being done with this meeting and finding some way to destress… which clashed with her desire to make progress regardless of how long it took. This clash, however, was not apparent to the others.
”What do you suggest?”
About to answer, Greg is cut off by the phone at Farrah’s end of the table. Snorting irritably, Farrah answered it promptly, putting it on speaker.
”Cassie, I requested that we not be interrupted. What is it?”
”My apologies, Mrs. Cornett, but this call is one that I feel you should take.”
Murmurs went up around the table between those present. Someone telling Farrah what they thought she should do? No one beyond Mr. Cornett himself ever did that. Farrah wasn’t the sort to not take advice or to try and learn all she could, but straight up telling her that she needed to do something? Even nicely? Nine times out of ten that was a bad idea. Two producers last week tried the same thing and now they were unemployed. One stare from Farrah toward the rest of the table shut down the murmuring before she lowered her eyes to the phone.
”Patch it in, then, Cassie. I hope for your sake that you’re right.”
”Yes, ma’am.”
There’s all sorts of nervousness in Cassie’s tone as she patches over the call. A few moments later, a slightly-accented voice speaks through the receiver… and the reaction from the table at what is spoken comes out as a collective gasp of fear and wonder.
”Catch you at a bad time, thunderjaws?”
Farrah’s lips twitch, as though she means try and hold back a smile… but there’s little mirth in her voice.
”You interrupting an important meeting just to throw up some cheap insults, you scaly bastard? Or are you trying to get embarrassed in front of a bunch of producers and executives for some bar story in 30 years?”
Laughter comes from the other end of the line before the man responds again.
”Cute. But no, this is actually a serious call about serious business. If you’re in a meeting, though, it can probably wait.”
”Meeting’s already waiting on you, Donavan, so you might as well spill.”
”Fair enough. You still banging that entertainment channel idea around for your company?”
”That’s the subject of the meeting, in fact…”
More murmurs from the table, again quieted, this time by Farrah’s raised hand.
”...why?”
”Because I’m shopping around for a place to put HYBRID to reach more people for when we go nationwide next year with our shows. I don’t know whether it’s what you’re looking for, but I trust you enough to make the offer.”
”...you mind holding on, Eric?”
”Take your time.”
Pressing the little red button on the phone, Farrah looks to the rest of the group.
”What would you say, Greg, to pulling in the 13-to-30 with a couple wrestling programs? Two separate broadcasts with different rosters and themes and a third news show?”
”I’d say if you can vouch for the quality and we can work out a deal with the people in charge, that should more than serve our purpose. This Eric Donavan person works for them?”
”He owns it.”
”Worth a shot as far as I’m concerned. What do you think?”
There are murmurs of assent around the table, some excited, some guarded, but almost all interested. Farrah, nodding to them, takes Eric off hold.
”It’s something we’ll have to talk about in detail. When can you and your people come over to Fort Wayne to hash something out in detail?”
”Let’s say Friday, September 1st, at about 2pm local. That work for you guys?”
”Consider it done.”
”We’ll be there. Oh… and don’t be too hard on Cassandra. I laid on the Irish charm to get her to put me through. Not her fault.”
”Figures, you smooth-talking prick.”
Eric laughs loudly.
”Flattery will get you everywhere. See you soon.”
”Good.”
When the call ends, Farrah takes a slow breath.
”There’s our hook. Traci, make sure you get on that pitch for Danielle ASAP. Greg, I want you to have a pitch ready for Eric and his people on my desk by Monday morning. Same as Danielle I want him and his people to leave here ready to rock without any concerns or reservations. Oh… and Howard?”
”Ma’am?”
”Send word down to C-Note and D-Block at Transcontinental as well as Pandora at 3S out in Malibu. We’re going to need their input as well on HYBRID. I know Eric has his own team, but we want these three to handle sound and effects for the broadcasts if they agree to sign with us.”
”Yes, ma’am. And for the video side of the shows?”
”I’ll tackle that personally. That, at least, is something I KNOW I can handle.”
Everyone chuckles at that comment, Farrah included.
”Dismissed, everyone. Great job today.”
As the people file out, one enters as Farrah shuts off the projector. The Jersey Hellcat isn’t even aware of her presence until the woman comes forward and speaks. Though Farrah recognizes her as James’ sister, Ashtyn, she couldn’t recall if they’d ever spoken beyond a few words in passing. She was on the Board of Directors and, in his own words, was James’ polar opposite. She hadn’t been at the meeting, hence Farrah’s surprise.
”Mrs. Cornett? Sorry, I didn’t see you come in. Something I can do for you?””
”Please, Farrah… we’re family. Ashtyn is fine.”
”You still outrank me.”
”Considering that you tell James what to do half the time, I think YOU outrank ME.”
Both women laugh heartily at that before composing themselves, at which point Ashtyn explains her presence.
”I just wanted to tell you personally how impressed I am with how you’ve taken to this position. Despite all the obstacles, you’ve earned the respect of the people in your division and made considerable progress with C24. James couldn’t have chosen better for this position… or a better wife.”
She got a blush out of Farrah with that one, but the Jersey Hellcat composes herself quickly.
”That means a lot, Ashtyn. I’m still in ‘trying not to fuck up’ mode, truth told.”
”Well, give yourself a little credit. Not just for this, but for keeping up with your wrestling responsibilities, taking care of the family and your music. I’d be run into the ground by now if I tried to do all that at once!”
”Hard work is all Zoey and I know. If I didn’t have so much to do, I’d go stir-crazy.”
”The infamous Zoey… when do I get to meet her?”
Laughing a little, Farrah shrugs her shoulders.
”Whenever you want, time allowing. James considers her part of the family, so it’ll likely happen sooner or later…”
Farrah’s personal phone buzzes in her pocket and she takes it out, showing the ID to Ashtyn. Nodding quietly, she briefly embraces Farrah, a gesture that is returned, then slips out as Farrah answers the call.
”Yeah?”
”Meeting’s already over? I wanted to make time to come down and see what you had in store, but things got a bit heady at home. Pretty sure I don’t have to explain why.”
James’ familiar voice speaks through Farrah’s phone, and his words make her sigh and shake her head. She almost puts her fist through the table but forces herself to uncurl her finger and simply lean… to not give in to anger.
”No… no, you don’t. And the meeting went all right. We’ve got some people to call and a couple shows in mind. Eric, of all people, called up in the middle of things and if we can work something out C24 will be running all the HYBRID programs.”
Composed as he always is, even James can’t hide his excitement there.
”You’re doing the whole company proud, Spice!”
”Doing my best, lover. But after the last week or two, a no-holds-barred, knock-down-drag-out against the Winters twats is going to feel like a vacation. Before you say it, yes, I am taking them seriously. I’d still rather take chair shots to the head and Christy’s bitching and bragging than stand in a boardroom dressed in a $1,000 suit and $200 boots trying to look like I know what I’m doing.”
”Then I want you to delegate for the rest of the week. Focus on the match. You’ve given them something to accomplish, so stand back and let them do it. If there’s any issues, they can come through me first until you can give them proper attention. Deal?””
Chuckling, Farrah shakes her head a bit, taking her hair down from the twist for the sake of relief.
”Only because this is a title match and I want these two shut up for good… or at least a couple weeks. I’ll see you at home. Love you.”
”Love you too.”
Fade out.
* August 26th, 2017, early-morning *
* En Route to Lacklanland *
* Somewhere over New York *
My Fists Do My Talking
The private jet for Cornett Enterprises allows for the Boardwalk Angels to travel in comfort to one last engagement before they drop into Las Vegas for Queen of the Ring. They’re about to fly right into the heart of Lacklanland, of all places, to attend the wedding of Sarah Lacklan and Kenzi Grey, something that neither Angel ever expected to be a part of. But such is life. The camera is already on and watching when the feed opens up for us, with Farrah and Zoey sitting across from one another watching the world through the small windows.
Well… that’s what Farrah is doing. There’s a ton on the Crimson Angel’s mind at that very moment, and not all of it is fit to discuss on OR off-camera. Zoey, meanwhile, seems to be scribbling in a notebook, though what she’s writing is impossible to tell from the camera’s stationary angle. Farrah looks her partner’s way from time to time, and at other times she turns to the championship belt sitting in the seat next to her, same as Zoey’s rests by her. There are others on the plane, soft voices in the peripheral telling us as much, but none of them enter this area. It is time, after all, to address the Dynasty one last time before Queen of the Ring. As expected, Farrah is kicking things off this time.
”Never thought I’d see the day. A few months ago we all wanted to strangle each other and had hatred that colored every interaction we had… and now we’re flying off to wish them well at their wedding and have actually been cordial with one another for the past month. Life is fucking strange, Zee.”
”Kenzi and Sarah deserve happiness the same as anyone else. I’m glad we’re not at one another’s throats anymore.”
Zoey speaks quietly, almost too much so to hear, and her hand never stops moving across the page.
”The more things change...”
”...the more they stay the same. Kenzi and Sarah have grown and matured. We have stepped up our own game as well, in and out of the ring.”
”Change is the name of the game. Or evolution if you want to get fancy.”
Farrah turns toward the camera at this point.
”You have to evolve in this business. What works in one match might not work in another. The same tactics that bring one opponent low might leave you wide open for the next one to put you down. That goes beyond the in-ring facet of the game, too.”
After jotting down a few more lines, Zoey closes the notebook, sets it aside, and gives the camera her attention as well.
”Exercise, tape-watching, how you rest, how you eat… they all play a part. Every match that we head toward sees us make subtle alterations to our preparations. Sometimes those work out for the better and sometimes they don’t. This dedication to being our best helped us not only win but successfully defend our tag team championships as well.”
”By the same token, it wasn’t enough to let us beat Amarai, Amy Jo Smyth or Mackenzie in the six-woman tag several weeks back. But despite the loss, we learned something from that encounter. No excuses: they were the better women that night. Next time that won’t be the case. We don’t feel a lick of shame losing to three of the most impressive and prolific singles champions in LAW history. How could we?”
Farrah smirks slightly, brushing some hair behind her ear.
”Do you think that’s why the Dynasty tried to sound so confident when they spoke up again the other day, Zee? Because if so… they’re really grasping at straws now.”
Not sharing in the amusement, Zee stares calmly into the camera, almost expressionless.
”Does it matter why they feel the way they do or said the things they said? Not from my perspective. We laid everything out to them last week, plain as we could speak, and it went in one ear and out the other. And that’s if they listened at all.”
”Signs point to ‘no’.”
Now Farrah’s smirk gives way to a colder, calmer expression.
”At best, Dynasty? You’re trying your damnedst to be like us and not even coming close. Zee and I talked a bit ago about evolution and that’s the crux of your problem: you’ve let yourselves stagnate. I swear I could play your messages toward us on top of one another from the first time we scrapped until and hear virtually the same thing. Same threats, same fake respect, same promises of victory… aside from Kayla’s newly-acquired multiple personalities, you two are broken records. On a good day, I might give Christy some credit for sticking to her guns as far as being a belligerent bitch-face, but today isn’t a good day for you two. Tomorrow and Sunday aren’t looking a hell of a lot better. They say that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Well…”
The Crimson Angel chuckles, albeit darkly. The Magical Maiden allows a thin smile to manifest.
”...what happens in the Boardwalk Brawl at Queen of the Ring will affect you for the rest of your careers.
”In a sense, we get it: the tag team championships, the legions of amazing fans, the reputation that comes from being one of the best tag teams on the planet and certainly the best team in LAW… who wouldn’t want that? That’s all any self-respecting wrestler wants to be the best and recognized as such. The problem with you two is that you don’t want to work for it. You’re either incapable or unwilling to put in the work and make the changes necessary to reach those heights. Maybe it’s the sacrifices or the fear of failure; the only people who know the reason are the two of you. But it’s clear that you’re at a dead end at this point in your careers.”
”Doesn’t stop you from complaining, though, does it, Kayla?”
Snapping off a little bit on the calmer of the Dynasty sisters, Farrah leans back in her seat a little, almost glaring at the camera now.
”Complaining about the way people perceive you is a waste of time and breath, Kayla. The image that you put on, what you say and do, that’s what colors people’s perceptions of you. You don’t give off the aura of someone who works hard at what they do. You offer up excuses. You change your attitude the way most people change clothes. And when you fail in the ring, you start lashing out. No one gives half a fuck about your family’s company, your sister’s bike shop or what either of you do outside of wrestling. The people showing up at the arenas and cheering us on? They care about whether or not you can entertain them while you’re in the ring and get the job done against your opponents. And you can’t.
I work for a major company the same as you do, heading up an entire division of it. I do that at the same time that I’m trying to raise an expanding family and launch a music career as well as being a wrestler. And I take pride in that. The difference between you and I is that I don’t use it as an excuse. When I step into any arena and those lights burn hot and bright, none of that matters. All that matters is wrestling. Zee? She’s a licensed therapist working on opening her own physical therapy center as well as earning a doctorate. That’s on top of her stage performances and even assisting Katalina Star with her personal empire. But, same as me and very unlike you two, she puts all that on the back burner when it’s time to step between the ropes. You getting the point yet?”
”Your excuses are weak. The reason people see you as they do is because they haven't been given a reason not to. Certainly not by you.”
”There’s not a damn thing either of you can ‘teach’ us. This notion that this title match will be different because there’s no rules to speak of, that solitary thought that’s allowing you to sleep at night with a little hope in your heart? It’s idiotic. What, you think that Zee and I are not going to take advantage of the lack of rules ourselves? Do you not think we can get down and dirty? She almost took both your heads off with a steel chair a couple weeks ago, girls… don’t forget that. Worse news? That was just the tip of the iceberg.”
Zoey, never turning from the camera and barely blinking her uncovered eye, continues to stare.
”Do you want to know the real reason my wife took you over her knee like a spoiled child and spanked you red, Kayla? Do you?”
She leans in a little bit more. The magician smiles, but it is not a welcoming one.
”It’s because that’s what you are. And when she gets her hands on you next? She’s going to do far, FAR worse. And she will. But not until Farrah and I have had our way with the both of you up and down the Las Vegas Strip. We will batter you both from the Excalibur to Mandalay Bay, from the Bellagio to the Venetian. This is our match, Dynasty, and it’s in MY town. No matter where we drag you two to deliver the fight that you so dearly desire, they’re going to be chanting our names. Sin City is going to get a taste of pure holy wrath thanks to the Boardwalk Angels.”
”All the fancy thoughts you have about clipping our wings and leaving our reign in tatters… it makes for a good chuckle, Dynasty, but that’s about it. That’s been the tone of your words toward us since January. It never changes. And you wonder why you keep losing to us. Well, wonder no longer. You want to cut off our wings and take our championships? You’d better bring Grace along. And Britney. And every ‘assistant’ that Christy has fired and every married man Kayla has slept with. Hell, you’d better bring an ARMY.”
As one, the Angels pick up their titles and put them over their shoulders, the light flowing in through the windows causing the gold to gleam beautifully.
”Seeing these over our shoulders is as close as you’ll ever get to holding them yourselves, Dynasty, without engaging in a little grand theft championship. And if you go that road I swear to you that I’ll tie you both to the back of my bike and drag your towheads from Vegas to Cape Fear.”
”This gets settled once and for all between us at Queen of the Ring. Say good-bye to your golden dreams. Maybe this time, after we’ve put you down like you’re begging for us to do, you’ll finally wake up and see that we were right: it’s time for you two to make a change. Your careers depend on it.”
”But it’s too little, too late, where it concerns your chances of becoming LAW Tag Team Champions. Angels fly high, higher than eagles, past the moon and stars.”
”As high as Heaven’s gates before diving toward Earth itself to deliver the final coup de grace.”
”No more threats, no more fake promises…”
”Stand up and fight that you might lose with pride...”
”...and get ready to fly.”
The final words are spoken in unison by both Angels as the scene cuts to black.