Post by jamesradford on Dec 16, 2019 15:38:19 GMT -5
12/16/2019
DAYS INN BY WINDHAM
1439 George Washington Hwy N, Chesapeake, VA 23323
James sat on the edge of his queen bed and stared at the stain in the carpet just under his feet that turned the aqua carpet a darker color. At fourty-three dollars a night, the Days Inn by Windham wasn't exactly the Ritz Carlton, but he was hoping that maybe he wouldn't be assaulted by bed bugs, or at the very least not catch herpes. Other than the cracks in the wall, the refrigerator that made a low hum over in the corner, and the shit decor that you find in American motels when traveling the country on a budget, the room seemed pretty clean. He wasn't going to test that theory under a black light, rather its what he had to tell himself if he was ever going to get any rest.
Bobby had been insistent that they come to Virginia early, despite the fact that the show wasn't until the 29th of December. He claimed there would be press for them to do, radio spots, etc. Reality is, that was the only time he could get a good deal on a camera rental, and so James had been the first person to speak his mind going into the upcoming Guerrilla Warfare match. He was confident in his approach and what he said, which was only the truth, but now he was starting to get anxious. Other people had started coming out of the woodwork in response, and they all seemed so much more intense. It left him wondering if what he had said was enough, but what were words, right?
It wouldn't matter in the end what the twenty superstars heading into this cluster had to say about it, it's all about what they were going to do when they got there. He had no doubt that everyone involved was coming for blood, and why not? This was their opportunity to make history, to become the Union Battleground Champion. The idea that he was going to be apart of that was overwhelming enough, but the fact that he could walk out of Norfolk as the top champion in a top promotion...it hadn't really entered his mind.
But as the days continued towards the event, the more animated his Manager had become. He was surprised to see Bobby Benson so enthralled with the art of preparation when he didn't seem prepared for anything in his life except for what insane outfit he was going to wear from day to day. Bobby had researched everyone in the match, found footage on them from various promotions, and laid out a battle plan against each opponent. The only thing he couldn't do is predict at what order James would enter the match, and quite frankly, that would be the biggest advantage of all. It would stand to reason the person who came into Warfare at number twenty would be the odds on favorite.
James shook his head, pushing up off the bed and swaggering over to the mini-fridge to scoop up a beer. It was clear the unit was only doing a half ass job of bringing the bud light to a passable drinking temp when he took the first swig and his instinct was to spit it out. Instead he gulped hard, swallowing the warm liquid down his throat where it hit his stomach like a brick. He was disappointed when he sat the beer on the bathroom vanity and looked into the mirror.
The man looking back at him wasn't the same as when he started, that much was for sure. His time in PAW, AWE, and the independent circuit had taken their toll. He was never the death match type, so he didn't have the same scars as some of his opponents in this match, but it didn't change the fact that he hadn't gone without his own share of injuries. Every single one of them earned in the line of duty, putting on a show, trying to give the people what they wanted. He didn't so much care about whether he was remembered as a great champion after his career was over, but it was important to him that the fans knew that he had given them everything he had every time he stepped into that squared circle. While some needed the validation, his was found in being a workhorse for whatever company was willing to take a chance on him.
The door to the room opened, causing him to look in the mirror behind him to see Bobby Benson squeezing through the door and then closing it shut behind. Bobby dropped a grocery bag onto the table with two seats by the single window, and then looked up as if seeing James at the other end of the room for the first time. The wily manager couldn't help but notice that the expression on Country Fine's face wasn't exactly pleased to see him.
"James, I told you that you could have your own room. You're the one that insisted that we bunk together to keep the costs down."
Bobby also knew that James realized that he was the one paying for their road expenses beyond the per diam that Union Battleground had agreed to in his contract, and that he didn't want to owe the man anymore than he had to. The thought caused Bobby to purse his lips a little before he sighed and stepped around the table to plop down in one of the uncomfortable seats.
He immediately began to squirm, unable to find a decent spot, and finally waved his arms at James in exasperation. "If we are going to bunk together, could we not have found a better place to stay. I mean, the Marriott's just down the road. I'm sure we could get a prime rate for a two week stay!"
James shook his head which relayed through the mirror, and Bobby sank in his seat, accepting the fact that there would be no comfort found here. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched as James eventually grabbed his luke-warm beer and stepped back over to the edge of the bed. Just as he grabs the remote and lifts it towards the television, Bobby leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.
"James..."
Radford's eyes twitched in that direction, but he never truly took his eyes off the television. "Yeah?"
"I'd like for us to start fresh, James. I know that things didn't go as planned in AWE, but you gotta believe me when I say that I had your best interests at heart."
The statement resulted in a full sidelong glance in Bobby's direction, and James snorted before turning back to regard the television.
"Bobby...I asked you not to cheat in my matches, and you did anyway. And when I tried to get out of our contract, you held me hostage because of debts I didn't even know you had spent on me. To top it all off...you actually paid someone to come out and attack me, costing me a match, just so you could prove who was really in charge of this partnership. That's a whole hell of a lot to bury!"
Bobby rolled his eyes dismissively and threw his hands out at his side. "That was then, baby! This is now! We've got a real shot here, James. Union Battleground isn't some mom and pop's operation. It's the big time, and you could really break out in a place like this. I mean, wouldn't you do anything for an opportunity like that?"
"Not anything..." His response came quick, and without thinking, which caused Bobby Benson's blood to boil.
"God damn it, you self righteous prick! I'm trying to extend an olive branch here, and all you can do is throw it up in my face that I tried to help you. And that's what it was, James! I was just trying to help you!"
Bobby stormed out of his seat and threw open the front door, disappearing out onto the balcony before slamming it shut. James watched him go with little reaction, knowing that in a few seconds he would come back in with hat in hand again, claiming that he was sorry and that he was only looking out for him. They had already gone through this same exorcise three times this week, and that was because Bobby Benson only knew one selfish way of doing things, and his way ran counter to his own. Of course he wanted James to succeed, because when he was a big deal that meant Bobby was a big deal. The contract that he had foolishly signed so many years ago had guaranteed that. And who knows. Maybe James would make Bobby a lot of money one day by becoming a great wrestling attraction, but he certainly wouldn't do it by employing his manager's philosophy. He'd do it on his own, with his integrity intact, and a stetson hat pulled low on his head.
And maybe...just maybe...that could happen at Guerrilla Warfare.
Bobby had been insistent that they come to Virginia early, despite the fact that the show wasn't until the 29th of December. He claimed there would be press for them to do, radio spots, etc. Reality is, that was the only time he could get a good deal on a camera rental, and so James had been the first person to speak his mind going into the upcoming Guerrilla Warfare match. He was confident in his approach and what he said, which was only the truth, but now he was starting to get anxious. Other people had started coming out of the woodwork in response, and they all seemed so much more intense. It left him wondering if what he had said was enough, but what were words, right?
It wouldn't matter in the end what the twenty superstars heading into this cluster had to say about it, it's all about what they were going to do when they got there. He had no doubt that everyone involved was coming for blood, and why not? This was their opportunity to make history, to become the Union Battleground Champion. The idea that he was going to be apart of that was overwhelming enough, but the fact that he could walk out of Norfolk as the top champion in a top promotion...it hadn't really entered his mind.
But as the days continued towards the event, the more animated his Manager had become. He was surprised to see Bobby Benson so enthralled with the art of preparation when he didn't seem prepared for anything in his life except for what insane outfit he was going to wear from day to day. Bobby had researched everyone in the match, found footage on them from various promotions, and laid out a battle plan against each opponent. The only thing he couldn't do is predict at what order James would enter the match, and quite frankly, that would be the biggest advantage of all. It would stand to reason the person who came into Warfare at number twenty would be the odds on favorite.
James shook his head, pushing up off the bed and swaggering over to the mini-fridge to scoop up a beer. It was clear the unit was only doing a half ass job of bringing the bud light to a passable drinking temp when he took the first swig and his instinct was to spit it out. Instead he gulped hard, swallowing the warm liquid down his throat where it hit his stomach like a brick. He was disappointed when he sat the beer on the bathroom vanity and looked into the mirror.
The man looking back at him wasn't the same as when he started, that much was for sure. His time in PAW, AWE, and the independent circuit had taken their toll. He was never the death match type, so he didn't have the same scars as some of his opponents in this match, but it didn't change the fact that he hadn't gone without his own share of injuries. Every single one of them earned in the line of duty, putting on a show, trying to give the people what they wanted. He didn't so much care about whether he was remembered as a great champion after his career was over, but it was important to him that the fans knew that he had given them everything he had every time he stepped into that squared circle. While some needed the validation, his was found in being a workhorse for whatever company was willing to take a chance on him.
The door to the room opened, causing him to look in the mirror behind him to see Bobby Benson squeezing through the door and then closing it shut behind. Bobby dropped a grocery bag onto the table with two seats by the single window, and then looked up as if seeing James at the other end of the room for the first time. The wily manager couldn't help but notice that the expression on Country Fine's face wasn't exactly pleased to see him.
"James, I told you that you could have your own room. You're the one that insisted that we bunk together to keep the costs down."
Bobby also knew that James realized that he was the one paying for their road expenses beyond the per diam that Union Battleground had agreed to in his contract, and that he didn't want to owe the man anymore than he had to. The thought caused Bobby to purse his lips a little before he sighed and stepped around the table to plop down in one of the uncomfortable seats.
He immediately began to squirm, unable to find a decent spot, and finally waved his arms at James in exasperation. "If we are going to bunk together, could we not have found a better place to stay. I mean, the Marriott's just down the road. I'm sure we could get a prime rate for a two week stay!"
James shook his head which relayed through the mirror, and Bobby sank in his seat, accepting the fact that there would be no comfort found here. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched as James eventually grabbed his luke-warm beer and stepped back over to the edge of the bed. Just as he grabs the remote and lifts it towards the television, Bobby leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.
"James..."
Radford's eyes twitched in that direction, but he never truly took his eyes off the television. "Yeah?"
"I'd like for us to start fresh, James. I know that things didn't go as planned in AWE, but you gotta believe me when I say that I had your best interests at heart."
The statement resulted in a full sidelong glance in Bobby's direction, and James snorted before turning back to regard the television.
"Bobby...I asked you not to cheat in my matches, and you did anyway. And when I tried to get out of our contract, you held me hostage because of debts I didn't even know you had spent on me. To top it all off...you actually paid someone to come out and attack me, costing me a match, just so you could prove who was really in charge of this partnership. That's a whole hell of a lot to bury!"
Bobby rolled his eyes dismissively and threw his hands out at his side. "That was then, baby! This is now! We've got a real shot here, James. Union Battleground isn't some mom and pop's operation. It's the big time, and you could really break out in a place like this. I mean, wouldn't you do anything for an opportunity like that?"
"Not anything..." His response came quick, and without thinking, which caused Bobby Benson's blood to boil.
"God damn it, you self righteous prick! I'm trying to extend an olive branch here, and all you can do is throw it up in my face that I tried to help you. And that's what it was, James! I was just trying to help you!"
Bobby stormed out of his seat and threw open the front door, disappearing out onto the balcony before slamming it shut. James watched him go with little reaction, knowing that in a few seconds he would come back in with hat in hand again, claiming that he was sorry and that he was only looking out for him. They had already gone through this same exorcise three times this week, and that was because Bobby Benson only knew one selfish way of doing things, and his way ran counter to his own. Of course he wanted James to succeed, because when he was a big deal that meant Bobby was a big deal. The contract that he had foolishly signed so many years ago had guaranteed that. And who knows. Maybe James would make Bobby a lot of money one day by becoming a great wrestling attraction, but he certainly wouldn't do it by employing his manager's philosophy. He'd do it on his own, with his integrity intact, and a stetson hat pulled low on his head.
And maybe...just maybe...that could happen at Guerrilla Warfare.