Post by CBK on Jun 5, 2016 18:10:13 GMT -6
Atlanta, GA
Druid Hills
Workout Room, Wayne Residence
Druid Hills
Workout Room, Wayne Residence
Jab. Hook. Dip. Jab. Jab. Hook. Dip. Jab. Jab. Hook. Dip. Jab. Ryan Transyke, the fire-eyed trainer of Curtis Wayne, struggled to keep pace with the two hundred eighty pound monster as punch after punch collided with the training pads looped to his forearms. Drenched in sweat, Curtis Wayne never falters, never misses, never skips a beat. Never slows down in his rotation. Just keeps jabbing. Hooking. Dipping. Jabbing.
Career consultant Shane Gillum stands in the far corner of the workout facility adjacent to the Wayne residence. Shane watches in amazement at the 32 year old man testing his limits at 5:00 AM on this otherwise quiet Tuesday morning. Shane Gillum has been a career consultant for Curtis Wayne for roughly 8 years now. Wayne decided he needed to sign a consultant that could act as a legal agent on his behalf when he decided the HWA was going down the tubes. Since then, Shane Gillum, Ryan Transyke, and Curtis Wayne have all been dedicated to one thing; growth.
Not physical growth. But spiritual growth. Mental growth. Financial growth. Curtis Wayne didn’t want to be big, although you may assume that by looking at him. Curtis Wayne wanted to leave room to grow. You ever heard the saying “It’s lonely at the top?” Of course you have. So why the hell ever decided to go there? Stay grounded. And for God sakes, get better every day. It always seems to work out for those who don’t strive to be something they aren’t; if you aren’t great, don’t act like it. If you have no morality, do not act righteous; if you aren’t Curtis Wayne…well it sounds like you don’t stand a chance in a wrestling ring.
Why grow if you don’t want to be at the top? Because the top is something that is completely subjective to the eye of the beholder; there is no “top”. When men fall under the perception that they are at the top, their time is marked; for every man in the world is replaceable. It’s only when you believe that you are unstoppable that you become obsolete.
Shane Gillum seems to be breaking a sweat just watching Ryan Transyke struggle to hold the training pads any longer. Jab. Hook. Dip. Jab. Over and over. Shane Gillum glances around at all that has come in his eight years of employment with Curtis Wayne. The mansion, the cars…let’s not forget the pay raise. Shane is actually the one responsible for the workout room; he did the numbers, he did the purchasing of the equipment. Shane Gillum was a mastermind of sorts; he knew exactly what to do and when to do it. The hard part is getting a man that stands eight inches above you to listen to your advice when he’s pissed. Because he won’t. Ever.
Curtis Wayne finally slows to a stopping point after noticing Shane had entered the room. It almost took Wayne as surprise. Shane had been so busy promoting Wayne’s book that they had not met up in months. Curtis grabs a towel from a rack located about 3 foot to his right, wipes some of the sweat from his face, arms and chest, and approaches Gillum.
Career consultant Shane Gillum stands in the far corner of the workout facility adjacent to the Wayne residence. Shane watches in amazement at the 32 year old man testing his limits at 5:00 AM on this otherwise quiet Tuesday morning. Shane Gillum has been a career consultant for Curtis Wayne for roughly 8 years now. Wayne decided he needed to sign a consultant that could act as a legal agent on his behalf when he decided the HWA was going down the tubes. Since then, Shane Gillum, Ryan Transyke, and Curtis Wayne have all been dedicated to one thing; growth.
Not physical growth. But spiritual growth. Mental growth. Financial growth. Curtis Wayne didn’t want to be big, although you may assume that by looking at him. Curtis Wayne wanted to leave room to grow. You ever heard the saying “It’s lonely at the top?” Of course you have. So why the hell ever decided to go there? Stay grounded. And for God sakes, get better every day. It always seems to work out for those who don’t strive to be something they aren’t; if you aren’t great, don’t act like it. If you have no morality, do not act righteous; if you aren’t Curtis Wayne…well it sounds like you don’t stand a chance in a wrestling ring.
Why grow if you don’t want to be at the top? Because the top is something that is completely subjective to the eye of the beholder; there is no “top”. When men fall under the perception that they are at the top, their time is marked; for every man in the world is replaceable. It’s only when you believe that you are unstoppable that you become obsolete.
Shane Gillum seems to be breaking a sweat just watching Ryan Transyke struggle to hold the training pads any longer. Jab. Hook. Dip. Jab. Over and over. Shane Gillum glances around at all that has come in his eight years of employment with Curtis Wayne. The mansion, the cars…let’s not forget the pay raise. Shane is actually the one responsible for the workout room; he did the numbers, he did the purchasing of the equipment. Shane Gillum was a mastermind of sorts; he knew exactly what to do and when to do it. The hard part is getting a man that stands eight inches above you to listen to your advice when he’s pissed. Because he won’t. Ever.
Curtis Wayne finally slows to a stopping point after noticing Shane had entered the room. It almost took Wayne as surprise. Shane had been so busy promoting Wayne’s book that they had not met up in months. Curtis grabs a towel from a rack located about 3 foot to his right, wipes some of the sweat from his face, arms and chest, and approaches Gillum.
Curtis Wayne: “Man, I thought I’d never see you again! Good to see ya brother.”
Shane Gillum: “Feelings mutual man. Feels like ages.”
Curtis Wayne: “Always does. Thank you for getting here so quickly. When I called, I figured it would be at least a couple of weeks before you made it. How was Florida?”
Shane Gillum: “Great. Hot, but great. The book is still selling well. Now that you’re about to be on tour, I signed a lease in your name for an apartment in Orlando about five miles from the airport. That way, especially if you’re going transcontinental, you’ll have a place to stay.”
Curtis Wayne: “Thanks again man. You ready to go have a chit-chat with these lawyers? I’m really not even sure what the hell is going on to be completely honest.”
Shane Gillum: “This guy is an idiot. I don’t know why in the world he is trying to do this to you. It won’t work. We have the best Intellectual property attorney in the State of Georgia. I know this probably doesn’t matter to you, but he said he’s even going to do it for free for the publicity alone.”
Curtis Wayne: “Yeah, that’s exactly what I need. A lawyer who likes the media. I’m gonna go take a shower. I’ll be ready in an hour.”
Curtis Wayne steps away, towel slung over his shoulder, with an aggravated look on his face. It’s hard to stay focused when people from your past take jabs at you. You chose your path. Now let me continue with mine.
*Fade Scene*
*Fade Scene*
Wells Fargo Tower
Atlanta, GA
Law Office of Yuri Henderson, 14th floor suite C
Atlanta, GA
Law Office of Yuri Henderson, 14th floor suite C
Shane Gillum and Curtis Wayne fit in well, especially when surrounded with business-minded ego maniacs like themselves. That is mostly what you will find outside of a law office in a bank tower. Crazy attracts crazy, right?
The waiting room is pretty well lit. Wayne and Gillum wait patiently for the self-interested jury shredder. Curtis Wayne is dressed to impress. Even without knowing that Curtis Wayne’s three piece suit was nearly in the tens of thousands, the custom Rolex on his wrist spoke its own language in and of itself. I guess in a legal setting we can call that “Res ipsa loquitur”. Any other day, we can just call it a rock of diamonds.
Shane Gillum was in his usual attire. And if you didn’t know him, you surely wouldn’t know that; Shane Gillum never went anywhere without wearing a freshly pressed, cleaned suit, his shoes shined and his teeth sparkling. Shane Gillum attracts some of the finest people in the city of Atlanta, or all over the United States, frankly. Although Curtis Wayne will never say it, without Shane Gillum, Cannonball-Kid might still be a thing of the past. And he sure as hell would have never sold a copy of his book. Shane Gillum was a mastermind of sorts…
Curtis Wayne checks his watch twice, the first time to check the time, and the second to admire its beauty. The only audible thing in the room right now is the secretary angrily hammering at the keys of her desktop behind a mahogany desk by the check in. For some reason, Curtis Wayne is comforted by this. In just a few moments, he is going to be trading in the sound of a finger going over a keyboard to the sound of an intellectual property informing him of his most recent lawsuit. Wayne wasn’t particularly worried about the lawsuit, as Wayne has been sued before. It wasn’t the substance of the suit bugging him; it was the person who filed it.
Just as Curtis Wayne’s mind begins to drift, the phone at the desk rings. The secretary answers the phone, says a few words, and hangs it back up.
The waiting room is pretty well lit. Wayne and Gillum wait patiently for the self-interested jury shredder. Curtis Wayne is dressed to impress. Even without knowing that Curtis Wayne’s three piece suit was nearly in the tens of thousands, the custom Rolex on his wrist spoke its own language in and of itself. I guess in a legal setting we can call that “Res ipsa loquitur”. Any other day, we can just call it a rock of diamonds.
Shane Gillum was in his usual attire. And if you didn’t know him, you surely wouldn’t know that; Shane Gillum never went anywhere without wearing a freshly pressed, cleaned suit, his shoes shined and his teeth sparkling. Shane Gillum attracts some of the finest people in the city of Atlanta, or all over the United States, frankly. Although Curtis Wayne will never say it, without Shane Gillum, Cannonball-Kid might still be a thing of the past. And he sure as hell would have never sold a copy of his book. Shane Gillum was a mastermind of sorts…
Curtis Wayne checks his watch twice, the first time to check the time, and the second to admire its beauty. The only audible thing in the room right now is the secretary angrily hammering at the keys of her desktop behind a mahogany desk by the check in. For some reason, Curtis Wayne is comforted by this. In just a few moments, he is going to be trading in the sound of a finger going over a keyboard to the sound of an intellectual property informing him of his most recent lawsuit. Wayne wasn’t particularly worried about the lawsuit, as Wayne has been sued before. It wasn’t the substance of the suit bugging him; it was the person who filed it.
Just as Curtis Wayne’s mind begins to drift, the phone at the desk rings. The secretary answers the phone, says a few words, and hangs it back up.
Secretary: “Mister Wayne? Mr. Henderson will see you now. Let me walk you to his office.”
The secretary looked just as angry when standing in front of the desk as she did behind it; but this was a totally different kind of angry. The kind of angry that makes a man wonder if she’s married. As the secretary turns around, Wayne and Gillum exchange glances and a smirk as they follow suit behind the secretary and into the office of Yuri Henderson.
Yuri Henderson is an intellectual property lawyer with a hell of a record. Henderson doesn’t lose; he’s like the legal system’s version of Cannonball-Kid. Only maybe even better. Mr. Henderson stands about 6’1, roughly 200 pounds, and is of mixed complexion. It’s rather hard to tell where he’s from, but to be honest, it doesn’t really matter. The man walks with open shut cases all the time. I guess that’s how the proverbial cookie crumbles when you graduate Salutatorian from Columbia Law School. If you hear him tell the story, he never paid a dime for law school. He’s arrogant, cocky, flashy, and rude as hell. But the guy is good. I guess when you’re that good at what you can do, you can act however the hell you want. I wonder if the CEO of Wells Fargo felt the same way when he allowed Mr. Henderson to purchase property in the tower. Hell; why rent it when you can buy it?
Curtis Wayne and Shane Gillum both firmly shake hands with Yuri Henderson. The inside of his office is like something out of a movie. There are so many awards, trophies, certificates and plaques plastered to the wall and atop the mantle (yes, there’s a fireplace in his office – on the fourteenth floor), he could probably be mistaken for the President of the United States.
The two gentlemen take a seat in their respective, and might I mention comfy, lounge chairs as Yuri takes a seat behind the desk. You can tell Yuri doesn’t wear glasses, but it seems as though he needs them as he peers downwards through them, reading the court summons that Curtis Wayne had been served two weeks ago.
Yuri Henderson is an intellectual property lawyer with a hell of a record. Henderson doesn’t lose; he’s like the legal system’s version of Cannonball-Kid. Only maybe even better. Mr. Henderson stands about 6’1, roughly 200 pounds, and is of mixed complexion. It’s rather hard to tell where he’s from, but to be honest, it doesn’t really matter. The man walks with open shut cases all the time. I guess that’s how the proverbial cookie crumbles when you graduate Salutatorian from Columbia Law School. If you hear him tell the story, he never paid a dime for law school. He’s arrogant, cocky, flashy, and rude as hell. But the guy is good. I guess when you’re that good at what you can do, you can act however the hell you want. I wonder if the CEO of Wells Fargo felt the same way when he allowed Mr. Henderson to purchase property in the tower. Hell; why rent it when you can buy it?
Curtis Wayne and Shane Gillum both firmly shake hands with Yuri Henderson. The inside of his office is like something out of a movie. There are so many awards, trophies, certificates and plaques plastered to the wall and atop the mantle (yes, there’s a fireplace in his office – on the fourteenth floor), he could probably be mistaken for the President of the United States.
The two gentlemen take a seat in their respective, and might I mention comfy, lounge chairs as Yuri takes a seat behind the desk. You can tell Yuri doesn’t wear glasses, but it seems as though he needs them as he peers downwards through them, reading the court summons that Curtis Wayne had been served two weeks ago.
Yuri Henderson: “So who is this Paul Hawley guy? And why is he suing you? Let me see if I can help you.”
Shane Gillum: “Paul Hawley is…or was, the owner and operator of EWW, Extreme Wrestling Warfare. It was a wrestling organization based out of Louisiana that was created in 2001 and has been defunct since 2007. It appears as though Mr. Hawley took it upon himself to file a suit against Mr. Wayne for copyright infringement and libel. Apparently, Mr. Hawley believes that our mutual client, Curtis Wayne, defamed his name in his book entitled “Mat Struggles” and is chasing after punitive damages. Also, Paul believes that he is the sole owner of the name “Cannonball-Kid” when used for a commercial purpose and in an organization whose main revenue stream involves sports-entertainment.”
Yuri Henderson: “What is the dollar amount Mr. Hawley is looking to gain?”
Shane Gillum: “Two mi-“
Curtis Wayne: “Two million fucken dollars. That stupid piece of shit hasn’t spoken a word to me since he inducted me into his wrestling organizations Hall of Fame, and now he wants to sue me. For two fucking million dollars. I can’t-“
Yuri Henderson: “Please, Mr. Wayne. No need to get upset. We can beat this guy. It should be relatively easy to discredit most of his claims. Mr. Hawley just filed for bankruptcy six months ago. From what I understand, the man just lost his home. He has no legal physical assets to his name. I’m really not even sure how he was able to afford an attorney. Either way, I assure you, this is going to be a small slap on the wrist and-“
Curtis Wayne: “Slap on the wrist? What do you mean slap on the wrist? We’re gonna win right? So how in the hell should this affect me anyways?”
Yuri Henderson: “Mr. Wayne, if I may. If I recall correctly, I said we could probably discredit MOST of his claims. Not all of them. You referred to him as a thief, claimed that he cheats on his taxes, claimed that he cheated on his wife every day, claimed that –“
Curtis Wayne: “Okay, I get it. I shouldn’t have went after him in my book like I did. But how the hell is he going to get anything out of me if it’s all true?”
Yuri Henderson: “How many of those claims can you prove, Mr. Wayne? Do you have physical proof that he cheated on his wife or his taxes? Does he have an arrest that involves theft?”
Curtis Wayne: “No, but – “
Yuri Henderson: “The only thing that can cover your ass in a defamation lawsuit is the truth. Unfortunately, we have no proof of anything. He has a 10 page excerpt written and edited by yourself that was published for a commercial purpose. I would suggest that we settle with Mr. Hawley. I would not recommend taking this to litigation.”
Curtis Wayne: “So what dollar amount do you think is going to get him off my ass?”
Yuri Henderson: “That’s a good question, Mr. Wayne. So, he seeking punitive damages, one million dollars of that from your book. I can easily fight the copyright suit, as intellectual property is my specialty. That I can assure you, he will not win. The law clearly states it must be used in perpetuity for a commercial purpose or a copyright is invalid. I would say we settle right in the middle on the defamation suit. He wants a million, I say we give him 500,000.00 and we all go on our merry way.”
Curtis Wayne: “Half a million fuckin dollars? For THAT?”
Yuri Henderson: “Such is the cost of business, Mr. Wayne. Now the authority with jurisdiction over this case may suggest you pay Mr. Hawley a royalty for every book you sell in the future, to help compensate for future damages. I can take care of all of that paperwork. It would be a very small amount, I’m sure.”
Curtis Wayne: “Look…I’ve known him on a personal level for a long time. I haven’t seen him in nine years, but I know him…I can’t believe he will actually go through with this. Do you think it’s a bad idea to call him?”
Yuri Henderson: “Do not call him, Mr. Wayne. He is not your friend. He is the defendant. End of story. He is suing you. Anything you say to him will be used against you and will probably cost you thousands, if not millions. I am going to e-mail both of you some paperwork to fill out, so I can file a motion for summary judgment and settle this thing. If you have any questions during this process please call me. I have business cards at the desk by the front. Thank you for stopping by.”
Yuri Henderson promptly stands up and extends his hand for a handshake. Curtis Wayne follows Shane Gillum in shaking the man’s hand and exiting in the door behind them. As they close the door behind him, you can just vaguely hear Curtis Wayne utter the words…
Curtis Wayne: “Half a million fuckin’ dollars…”
*End Scene & Roleplay*
