Post by Deleted on Jan 27, 2021 5:47:38 GMT -6
The Law Office of Edward. T. Jamison
Dallas, Texas.
December 15th, 2020
Multi-billionaire oil tycoon magnate Charles Gabbard grieves in the consoling embrace of his offspring Sarah and David as the final piece of paperwork pertaining to his recently deceased son Ricky is signed and filed by the clean-shaven attorney.
”Where is Calista?” Charles cries.
David and Sarah share concerned looks. The odds of Calista, their dearest younger sister, attending this meeting in person is slim. She didn’t visit Ricky when he suddenly fell terminally ill and she didn’t attend his funeral, so popping up now would be akin to a unicorn being spotted.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK
The office door opens and speaks of the devil, Calista Gabbard peeks her head in before finding it suitable enough to enter fully. Charles sheds the support of his two eldest and hurries to Calista, draping her in a big hug - a hug that’s returned in only half measure. She stiffens as he sobs on the shoulder fabric of her designer blouse, but considering the tragic circumstances she lets him mourn and offers what few encouraging words she can think of.
”Calista! You came?!?!” Exclaims Sarah with happy surprise.
”Thank God!” David adds.
They gather into a family hug and grieve it out for a while. This isn’t the time nor place for family feuding. They break from the hold and take their seats around the table as the ever patient and understanding Mr. Jamison, executor of Ricky Gabbard’s final will and testament, politely nods to each and aims his focus at Calista.
”Your timing, though late, is still oddly impeccable. You’re the last beneficiary I must get sorted out today to resolve your brother’s will.”
She smiles at him but also gives him the ‘hurry up with it’ gesture.
”Very well, Ms. Gabbard. Your brother actually devoted some length to address you in this section of his will. I will get right into what he wrote for you.”
The attorney extraordinaire adjusts his horn rimmed glasses and finds the spot outlining Calista’s portion.
Calista slams a balled fist across the table which halts the proceedings.
”Hurry up to the part where I get my share of his stuff!”
Her dad and siblings protest her audacity but she goes silent, only bellowing a huff as twinges of guilt surface within. Mr. Jamison uses his smooth talking lawyer-ness to bring calm among them and continues with the reading of the will and testament.
A ball of unease knots Calista’s stomach. She doesn’t like where this is heading.
Calista’s chest tightens with apprehension to complement the knot in her tummy. Her knuckles crease with whiteness as she grips the arms of the chair she’s sitting in.
Calista bolts to a stand completely aghast. Her sleek frame quakes from the anger and shock and fear swirling inside her.
”THE HELL YOU FUCKING SAY! I’M NOT DOING ANY OF THAT SHIT! WHO THE HELL WILL GET HIS STUFF IF I REFUSE ANYWAY?”
Charles rises with fury matching his screaming daughter and draws a hand back to give her five across the eyes, but luckily for her the siblings jump in between them. Verbal chaos breaks loose and this time the smooth talking Mr. Jamison is unable to reign it in, so David and Sarah take the lead by escorting their father from the office to prevent him from giving Calista the ass whipping she’s twenty-five years overdue.
”Hey… hey-hey….. He’s out of the office… it’s just you and me now. I’ve got your answers, just please sit so we can get through this.”
Calista feels weak in the knees anyway so she plops back into her chair and buries her face into her hands.
”Okay? So, basically, it works like this. If you don’t do this, Ricky’s money and assets are held in trust to your dad and siblings. The same happens if you actually decide to do this, until you reach 25 victories of course, then it’s all yours. If it’s any consolation you’re net worth is still in the hundreds of millions.”
The rich bitch looks up at him and wipes tears from her pretty peepers.
”You, idiot! I was worth two billion four months ago. I’ve gone from the penthouse to the poorhouse. I’m in poverty in this aristocracy!”
Poor Mr. Jamison doesn’t know quite how to respond for once, so he slides the EWC Rampage contract across the table to her.
”Then I highly suggest you sign it after some more thought and proper planning. You’re an incredibly wealthy woman. If I were you I’d sign it and then just buy a bunch of opponents to take a dive for you. Just don’t think about it too long, because the date of competition is set for mid February. You have sixty days to get some training in and learn this stuff.”
She says nothing in reply. He lingers, waiting for some kind of response, but the stunned woman remains silent while staring at the contract. More awkward moments pass with no rebuttal from the aristocrat, so Mr. Jamison slides her a bottle of water to get some kind of reaction from her.
Calista suddenly comes to life, grabbing the water and tossing it against his office wall. She follows up with nothing more than mouth agape as though to verbally assault him, yet her emotions choke those words back until they are just a squeak and gruff. Calista jolts to her vertical base and gathers up the contract. She looks totally crushed and lost, and the two share a difficult glance a moment before she turns and darts out of his office.
End.
Dallas, Texas.
December 15th, 2020
Multi-billionaire oil tycoon magnate Charles Gabbard grieves in the consoling embrace of his offspring Sarah and David as the final piece of paperwork pertaining to his recently deceased son Ricky is signed and filed by the clean-shaven attorney.
”Where is Calista?” Charles cries.
David and Sarah share concerned looks. The odds of Calista, their dearest younger sister, attending this meeting in person is slim. She didn’t visit Ricky when he suddenly fell terminally ill and she didn’t attend his funeral, so popping up now would be akin to a unicorn being spotted.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK
The office door opens and speaks of the devil, Calista Gabbard peeks her head in before finding it suitable enough to enter fully. Charles sheds the support of his two eldest and hurries to Calista, draping her in a big hug - a hug that’s returned in only half measure. She stiffens as he sobs on the shoulder fabric of her designer blouse, but considering the tragic circumstances she lets him mourn and offers what few encouraging words she can think of.
”Calista! You came?!?!” Exclaims Sarah with happy surprise.
”Thank God!” David adds.
They gather into a family hug and grieve it out for a while. This isn’t the time nor place for family feuding. They break from the hold and take their seats around the table as the ever patient and understanding Mr. Jamison, executor of Ricky Gabbard’s final will and testament, politely nods to each and aims his focus at Calista.
”Your timing, though late, is still oddly impeccable. You’re the last beneficiary I must get sorted out today to resolve your brother’s will.”
She smiles at him but also gives him the ‘hurry up with it’ gesture.
”Very well, Ms. Gabbard. Your brother actually devoted some length to address you in this section of his will. I will get right into what he wrote for you.”
The attorney extraordinaire adjusts his horn rimmed glasses and finds the spot outlining Calista’s portion.
”Dear Calista,
What happened to you? We were so close growing up. But you shut me out of your life years ago when I decided to pursue my passion of professional wrestling instead of toeing the family line stateside. I really wish you would have come with me overseas. I was able to forge even larger business contracts for our family using the eastern hemisphere wrestling market. I flipped the script on the whole ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it too’ adage. You would have loved it here. Instead you treated me cruelly. You completely disowned me. Nobody else in the family disowned me despite their disputes with me over it. That hurt me more than any bump I took inside the ring. “
What happened to you? We were so close growing up. But you shut me out of your life years ago when I decided to pursue my passion of professional wrestling instead of toeing the family line stateside. I really wish you would have come with me overseas. I was able to forge even larger business contracts for our family using the eastern hemisphere wrestling market. I flipped the script on the whole ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it too’ adage. You would have loved it here. Instead you treated me cruelly. You completely disowned me. Nobody else in the family disowned me despite their disputes with me over it. That hurt me more than any bump I took inside the ring. “
Calista slams a balled fist across the table which halts the proceedings.
”Hurry up to the part where I get my share of his stuff!”
Her dad and siblings protest her audacity but she goes silent, only bellowing a huff as twinges of guilt surface within. Mr. Jamison uses his smooth talking lawyer-ness to bring calm among them and continues with the reading of the will and testament.
”And now I’m supposed to give you the equal split share of my money and assets. Sure, Calista. I’ll do that. But it will be done conditionally. As I lay here dying, begging you to visit me to no avail, I’m also looking at the Extreme Wrestling Corporation contract I worked so hard to get but can’t make use of because I’m going to pass away. So, being the cheeky man that I am, I actually signed it. But I made sure Mr. Jamison listed you as my valet-manager, with the elective option that if something were to happen to me like death or career injury you could activate the competitor clause and kinda-sorta take my place if you were so inclined to. And Calista, my lovely sister, you’re going to want to.”
A ball of unease knots Calista’s stomach. She doesn’t like where this is heading.
”If you want your share of my billions and my business assets, you will have to activate the competitor clause. You will then have to compete on EWC’s Friday Night Rampage program every other Friday because, well, I know how you love to throw those yacht parties every Friday and it’s time you got away from that. You’re twenty-five years old and have never worked a day in your life. You’ve jet-setted the world to immerse yourself in cultural histories. You’ve spent more time in aerobics classes, book-worming, and tinkering with those bots than you have in dad’s businesses and entrepreneur programs. Dad may not have it in him to make you earn your keep but I will try even in death.”
Calista’s chest tightens with apprehension to complement the knot in her tummy. Her knuckles crease with whiteness as she grips the arms of the chair she’s sitting in.
”This condition will last until you reach 25 victories in EWC. One victory for every year you’ve been alive. Once you reach that goal, my share is all yours to do as you please. I’m not leaving you totally stranded dearest sister; you will retain the services of Mr. Jamison as well as Rex Norris. The latter was my manager over here. The man is savvy and will serve you well. Mr. Jamison has his contact information if you decide to retain his services. I know you’ll hate me for all of this, but I’m doing this out of love - tough love - for you.”
Calista bolts to a stand completely aghast. Her sleek frame quakes from the anger and shock and fear swirling inside her.
”THE HELL YOU FUCKING SAY! I’M NOT DOING ANY OF THAT SHIT! WHO THE HELL WILL GET HIS STUFF IF I REFUSE ANYWAY?”
Charles rises with fury matching his screaming daughter and draws a hand back to give her five across the eyes, but luckily for her the siblings jump in between them. Verbal chaos breaks loose and this time the smooth talking Mr. Jamison is unable to reign it in, so David and Sarah take the lead by escorting their father from the office to prevent him from giving Calista the ass whipping she’s twenty-five years overdue.
”Hey… hey-hey….. He’s out of the office… it’s just you and me now. I’ve got your answers, just please sit so we can get through this.”
Calista feels weak in the knees anyway so she plops back into her chair and buries her face into her hands.
”Okay? So, basically, it works like this. If you don’t do this, Ricky’s money and assets are held in trust to your dad and siblings. The same happens if you actually decide to do this, until you reach 25 victories of course, then it’s all yours. If it’s any consolation you’re net worth is still in the hundreds of millions.”
The rich bitch looks up at him and wipes tears from her pretty peepers.
”You, idiot! I was worth two billion four months ago. I’ve gone from the penthouse to the poorhouse. I’m in poverty in this aristocracy!”
Poor Mr. Jamison doesn’t know quite how to respond for once, so he slides the EWC Rampage contract across the table to her.
”Then I highly suggest you sign it after some more thought and proper planning. You’re an incredibly wealthy woman. If I were you I’d sign it and then just buy a bunch of opponents to take a dive for you. Just don’t think about it too long, because the date of competition is set for mid February. You have sixty days to get some training in and learn this stuff.”
She says nothing in reply. He lingers, waiting for some kind of response, but the stunned woman remains silent while staring at the contract. More awkward moments pass with no rebuttal from the aristocrat, so Mr. Jamison slides her a bottle of water to get some kind of reaction from her.
Calista suddenly comes to life, grabbing the water and tossing it against his office wall. She follows up with nothing more than mouth agape as though to verbally assault him, yet her emotions choke those words back until they are just a squeak and gruff. Calista jolts to her vertical base and gathers up the contract. She looks totally crushed and lost, and the two share a difficult glance a moment before she turns and darts out of his office.
End.