Post by Elliot Bowman IV on Aug 10, 2020 17:30:37 GMT -6
OOC: The first part of this RP is written in past-tense since it's basically a retelling of the last scene of my last CD RP. The rest is written in present-tense. This is probably the longest RP I've written in about a decade, but it's the last CD RP I'm going to be writing until after my match at Prime 70, so I had to make it count. I hope you enjoy reading it! Feedback is always welcomed, just drop me a PM. Take care!
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"Attaboy"
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3PM Monday - August 3rd, 2020
Bowman Gym - Greenfield, MA
OFF-Camera
Once Max went outside to move Elliot's Mercedes, Elliot removed his boxing gloves and sneaked over to a window facing the parking lot. He opened the blinds just enough to peek out. What he saw didn't exactly surprise him. What surprised him was just how long it had taken Max to finally make a move on Annabelle.
"Attaboy, Max. It's about freakin' time."
For two decades, Elliot knew of Max's little crush on Annabelle. He'd done everything he could to push Max in the direction of actually pursuing it. Except he never gave him direct permission. Instead, Elliot would point out things like, "look at that ass. Bet you wouldn't mind sinking your teeth into that." Somehow Max mistook Elliot's horny-ness as him having feelings of his own for Annabelle. Max was the one with a crush, but he was loyal to his bro. When you grow up living in a mansion, wearing expensive clothes and always having the best of everything, you have to be careful who you let get close to you. Max was the only kid in school who DIDN'T want Elliot for his money. The only problem was that Max never really stuck up for himself. Not in the same way he was always sticking up for Elliot, that is.
"Twenty years. That's gotta be a new record," Elliot mused. He watched as Max kissed Annabelle on the cheek and waved like a doofus as she drove away, then he returned to the punching bag to act like he hadn't seen anything once Max came back inside.
6PM Tuesday - August 4th, 2020
Max's Residence - Greenfield, MA
OFF-Camera
Elliot could hear the lock disengage and then the door opens up. He smirks when he sees Max, wearing his best suit and having done something unusual with his hair. He must've brushed it or something, Elliot guesses. Elliot moves past him and plops down on Max's only piece of furniture: a futon.
"You're wearing THAT to Vegas? A little much, don't ya think?"
"What?"
"Tonight we're gonna go to Sin City. Gonna place a few bets, then kick back and watch the money flow in."
"Uh..."
Max scratches a non-existent itch at the base of his skull.
"I, uh... kinda had other plans for tonight."
"Oh? Do tell," Elliot leans forward and gives Max his complete, undivided attention.
"I... sorta told a friend I would meet her--I mean, him--for a couple drinks. He's, uh... got some issues going on and needs somebody to talk to."
"Really? But I thought all your friends were right here in this room."
"We, uh... It's a friend I met a couple weeks ago. At, uh... the grocery store."
"The grocery store, huh? That's odd. I didn't know you could afford groceries."
"I manage."
"You know, Max. Buddy. Pal. If you'd just accept the offer I made, you could afford a lot more than just the bare essentials. Why won't you let me add you to the payroll? Let's make this manager thing official. I'd sleep better tonight if I thought it possible that you might actually get lucky with Annabelle later on."
Max's pupils enlarge to the size of saucer plates. Uh-oh!
"Listen, I can explain!"
"Explain what? Why it took you so freakin' long to finally hook up with her? Please, spare me the details. I've known all along. But I also know that Annabelle doesn't want a spineless man. You had to come up with that yourself."
"You mean you're okay with it?"
"Never been more okay with anything, Max."
Elliot stands up and wipes the Cheetos dust off the backside of his pants.
"You mean it? You're okay with me taking Annabelle out to dinner?"
"Only if you agree to let me pay for it. I owe you back-pay for the last couple weeks, now don't I?"
"You're not gonna quit offering to pay me even though I'm cool with not being on your payroll, are you? You're my best friend, Elliot. I don't wanna make everything about money."
"Look," Elliot puts a hand on each of Max's shoulders and looks him dead in the eye. "You're doing me a service. When people do people a service, they should expect to be paid. Otherwise it's a favor, and you know how I feel about owing people favors."
"How much do you think my services are worth, hmm?"
"I'm thinking about starting you off at minimum wage."
Max takes a step back, a look of disgust on his face.
"Minimum wage?! Really?!"
Elliot bursts out laughing. It takes him a moment or two to recompose.
"I'm kidding, Max," Elliot pats him on the arm. He pulls an envelope out from his pants pocket and hands it to Max.
"What's this? It's a little too light and thin to be a stack of money," Max says, turning the envelope over in his hands.
"Just open it."
Max does as he's told. He reaches in and pulls out a debit card.
"Uh? Thanks?"
"That right there," Elliot points at the card. "Is tied in directly to my own account. You now have full access to everything I've got. Don't go crazy or anything, but you can use it for whatever you want, whenever you want. Like I said though, don't go crazy."
It's not like Elliot actually has to tell Max to be careful with his expenses; Elliot's the one who blows through money like there's no tomorrow. But anyway, Max is rendered speechless. Instead he lunges at Elliot, wraps his arms around him, and lifts him up into the air in a big ol' bear hug.
"Okay, okay. You can let me down now. You have a date to go to, remember?"
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! This means so much to me!"
"Meh. It's whatever."
"Whatever? This is the nicest thing anybody's ever done for me!"
"So you agree to be my OFFICIAL manager, then?"
"Yeah, man. Definitely."
"Good, now get outta here and go get some! I'm gonna hang here, have a beer and watch some Skinemax, but I'll lock up when I leave."
Max showers Elliot with a few more thank-you's--and another big hug--before heading out to go on his date two decades in the making.
Once Max is gone, Elliot pulls out his cell phone, punches in a number, and puts the phone to his ear.
"Yeah, it's me. Operation Fixer-Upper is a go. I want the whole shebang; my buddy deserves the best. Apartment 3A, yeah. See you soon."
Elliot hangs up the phone and slips it into his coat pocket.
"You don't wanna live in my mansion, then I'll bring some of my mansion here," he says to himself as he looks around Max's bare, uninspired apartment. Max's landlord is a real piece of shit who lowers the bar so much you wouldn't even trip over it. In fact, you're more likely to fall on top of said bar. If it weren't for Elliot's intervention several months back, there would still be cockroaches roaming around. The landlord still has trouble moving his arm from when Elliot literally had to twist it to get him to hire an exterminator, the cheap bastard.
There's a knock at the door and Elliot opens it. Several men in uniforms come streaming in with cleaning equipment. Elliot starts pointing out what he wants done and the men get to work. A man from the local moving company enters the apartment holding a clipboard.
"Mr. Bowman, everything's waiting downstairs. We just need you to sign here."
The man hands Elliot a pen and points at the bottom of the clipboard where he needs to sign. Once that's taken care of, Elliot turns his attention back to the hustle and bustle going on all around him. If Max's date went well, Elliot and his crew had, say, three or four hours to get the job done in time. For the sake of the 'mission,' Elliot does what you don't see too many billionaires do: he picks up a sponge and gets to work cleaning.
10PM Tuesday - August 4th, 2020
Heading Toward Max's Residence - Greenfield, MA
OFF-Camera
Max and Annabelle walk hand-in-hand down a sidewalk lit up by streetlights. They're laughing and having a good time. Max has his jacket slung over his shoulder and his shirt is untucked.
"You sure you don't wanna go to your place?" Max interrupts their jolly good time to ask.
"What's the point of hiring a babysitter if mommy's home, silly?"
"Fair enough."
Max's mood starts to wane as the daunting realization that he'll have to show his decrepit, falling-APARTment to the woman he very much wants to impress dawns on him. They're now just a single block away.
"I'm glad we finally got the chance to do this, Max. You guys aren't gonna be around much moving forward, I take it. You're off to Rome in about a week, right?"
"Yep, and then it's Dubai after that."
"Sounds like a world tour."
"Pretty much. That's why we picked Prime. We'll get to see a lot of interesting places."
"That sounds fantastic. I wish I could join you, but I've got the girls, and a business to run."
"Who says I wanted to invite you?" Max says with a smile so she'll know he's just playing around.
"I think I could probably convince you," she replies, running her free hand up his shirt from his belly button to his chest.
"I think you might hold a convincing argument, sure."
They've entered the parking lot of Max's building. An ominous feeling overtakes them both. For the third time in just as many months, all the lights in the parking lot are out.
"That cheap bastard needs to hire a professional," Max comments to himself, but of course Annabelle hears him.
"I take it your landlord isn't a fan of spending money on his tenants' safety."
"Oh, you noticed the lack of lighting too, huh? Yeah, he's really something. Hold on, I've got a flashlight on my phone."
Max takes his hand back from Annabelle and grabs his phone out of his pocket.
"Annabelle. I figured I'd find you here. Who's this little twerp?"
"Who the hell--"
"Jeff?! Is that you? Where are you? What are you doing here?" Annabelle has taken a few nervous steps back, now trying to pinpoint the voice in the sea of blackness. She's got Max by the arm and she's pulling him back out of the parking lot. Max drops his phone and he hears pieces of it break off on impact.
"Shit, I can't see a damn thing. What's going on?"
"It's Jeff, my EX-husband," Annabelle makes sure she says the last part loud enough for Jeff to hear her, wherever the bastard is hiding. "Jeff, this isn't funny. We've been divorced for two years. You gotta move on."
"Is that what you're doing?"
"Y-yes. That's exactly what I'm doing."
"You honestly think this little turd-muffin is man enough to replace ME?"
Judging from his voice, Jeff is practically on top of Max and Annabelle, but Max still can't see a damned thing. A solid shove comes out of the darkness and Max nearly falls on his butt, dragging Annabelle with him. He pulls her to her feet and tries to maneuver them around their attacker so that his silhouette stands out against the street lamp about 15-yards away. Judging by Jeff's outline he's at least six-and-a-half feet tall, and almost equally as broad. Max isn't the type to just run away, but even if he was he couldn't leave Annabelle alone with this behemoth in a dark parking lot. Suddenly, a pair of headlights turning on near the apartment building and a screech of tires burning rubber alerts them to the presence of somebody else in the parking lot.
"What the--"
The car barrels toward them, but Max pulls Annabelle out of the way. Jeff is a little less fortunate, however, as there's nobody to do the same for him. The driver in the car whips the tail end of it around to collide with the walking, talking, brick shit-house of a man. A head leans out the driver's side window.
"Get in, both of you."
"Elliot? Is that you?"
"In. Now. No time to talk."
Max leads Annabelle to the car and opens up the backseat. She climbs in and Max follows. Before he can even shut the door completely the car is moving again. Max looks out the back window to see if Jeff has gotten back up--which he has--and he tells Elliot to floor it.
"What the HELL was that all about? How'd you know we were in trouble? I figured you'd be long gone by the time we came back."
"Well, I just so happened to be having a smoke break outside your building when some suspicious-looking sumbitch caught my eye. I watched him monkeying around with the lights and figured something shitty was gonna happen. Good thing my bong was in here and I needed a toke, huh?" Elliot laughs, though it's mostly out of relief rather than humor. "I guess I'm not the only one making enemies nowadays, eh?"
"Yeah, we're just two peas in a pod. Annabelle, are you okay?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I'm okay."
"Where to, miss? Will you be safe at your place tonight?"
"Who knows. Jeff is as unpredictable as they come. I need to go home and get the girls, take them somewhere safe. Give him enough time to cool off."
"He's done stuff like this before, hasn't he?"
"They don't call him my ex-husband because he's a swell guy."
"I wish I'd known sooner."
"Why, so you wouldn't have gotten involved with me?"
"No, it's not that. I just would've bought a taser. Or, in his case, an elephant tranquilizer gun."
Despite the wretchedness of their current predicament, Annabelle actually laughs as the trio head further into the night, and farther away from Max's apartment building.
Bowman Gym - Greenfield, MA
OFF-Camera
Once Max went outside to move Elliot's Mercedes, Elliot removed his boxing gloves and sneaked over to a window facing the parking lot. He opened the blinds just enough to peek out. What he saw didn't exactly surprise him. What surprised him was just how long it had taken Max to finally make a move on Annabelle.
"Attaboy, Max. It's about freakin' time."
For two decades, Elliot knew of Max's little crush on Annabelle. He'd done everything he could to push Max in the direction of actually pursuing it. Except he never gave him direct permission. Instead, Elliot would point out things like, "look at that ass. Bet you wouldn't mind sinking your teeth into that." Somehow Max mistook Elliot's horny-ness as him having feelings of his own for Annabelle. Max was the one with a crush, but he was loyal to his bro. When you grow up living in a mansion, wearing expensive clothes and always having the best of everything, you have to be careful who you let get close to you. Max was the only kid in school who DIDN'T want Elliot for his money. The only problem was that Max never really stuck up for himself. Not in the same way he was always sticking up for Elliot, that is.
"Twenty years. That's gotta be a new record," Elliot mused. He watched as Max kissed Annabelle on the cheek and waved like a doofus as she drove away, then he returned to the punching bag to act like he hadn't seen anything once Max came back inside.
6PM Tuesday - August 4th, 2020
Max's Residence - Greenfield, MA
OFF-Camera
Elliot could hear the lock disengage and then the door opens up. He smirks when he sees Max, wearing his best suit and having done something unusual with his hair. He must've brushed it or something, Elliot guesses. Elliot moves past him and plops down on Max's only piece of furniture: a futon.
"You're wearing THAT to Vegas? A little much, don't ya think?"
"What?"
"Tonight we're gonna go to Sin City. Gonna place a few bets, then kick back and watch the money flow in."
"Uh..."
Max scratches a non-existent itch at the base of his skull.
"I, uh... kinda had other plans for tonight."
"Oh? Do tell," Elliot leans forward and gives Max his complete, undivided attention.
"I... sorta told a friend I would meet her--I mean, him--for a couple drinks. He's, uh... got some issues going on and needs somebody to talk to."
"Really? But I thought all your friends were right here in this room."
"We, uh... It's a friend I met a couple weeks ago. At, uh... the grocery store."
"The grocery store, huh? That's odd. I didn't know you could afford groceries."
"I manage."
"You know, Max. Buddy. Pal. If you'd just accept the offer I made, you could afford a lot more than just the bare essentials. Why won't you let me add you to the payroll? Let's make this manager thing official. I'd sleep better tonight if I thought it possible that you might actually get lucky with Annabelle later on."
Max's pupils enlarge to the size of saucer plates. Uh-oh!
"Listen, I can explain!"
"Explain what? Why it took you so freakin' long to finally hook up with her? Please, spare me the details. I've known all along. But I also know that Annabelle doesn't want a spineless man. You had to come up with that yourself."
"You mean you're okay with it?"
"Never been more okay with anything, Max."
Elliot stands up and wipes the Cheetos dust off the backside of his pants.
"You mean it? You're okay with me taking Annabelle out to dinner?"
"Only if you agree to let me pay for it. I owe you back-pay for the last couple weeks, now don't I?"
"You're not gonna quit offering to pay me even though I'm cool with not being on your payroll, are you? You're my best friend, Elliot. I don't wanna make everything about money."
"Look," Elliot puts a hand on each of Max's shoulders and looks him dead in the eye. "You're doing me a service. When people do people a service, they should expect to be paid. Otherwise it's a favor, and you know how I feel about owing people favors."
"How much do you think my services are worth, hmm?"
"I'm thinking about starting you off at minimum wage."
Max takes a step back, a look of disgust on his face.
"Minimum wage?! Really?!"
Elliot bursts out laughing. It takes him a moment or two to recompose.
"I'm kidding, Max," Elliot pats him on the arm. He pulls an envelope out from his pants pocket and hands it to Max.
"What's this? It's a little too light and thin to be a stack of money," Max says, turning the envelope over in his hands.
"Just open it."
Max does as he's told. He reaches in and pulls out a debit card.
"Uh? Thanks?"
"That right there," Elliot points at the card. "Is tied in directly to my own account. You now have full access to everything I've got. Don't go crazy or anything, but you can use it for whatever you want, whenever you want. Like I said though, don't go crazy."
It's not like Elliot actually has to tell Max to be careful with his expenses; Elliot's the one who blows through money like there's no tomorrow. But anyway, Max is rendered speechless. Instead he lunges at Elliot, wraps his arms around him, and lifts him up into the air in a big ol' bear hug.
"Okay, okay. You can let me down now. You have a date to go to, remember?"
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! This means so much to me!"
"Meh. It's whatever."
"Whatever? This is the nicest thing anybody's ever done for me!"
"So you agree to be my OFFICIAL manager, then?"
"Yeah, man. Definitely."
"Good, now get outta here and go get some! I'm gonna hang here, have a beer and watch some Skinemax, but I'll lock up when I leave."
Max showers Elliot with a few more thank-you's--and another big hug--before heading out to go on his date two decades in the making.
Once Max is gone, Elliot pulls out his cell phone, punches in a number, and puts the phone to his ear.
"Yeah, it's me. Operation Fixer-Upper is a go. I want the whole shebang; my buddy deserves the best. Apartment 3A, yeah. See you soon."
Elliot hangs up the phone and slips it into his coat pocket.
"You don't wanna live in my mansion, then I'll bring some of my mansion here," he says to himself as he looks around Max's bare, uninspired apartment. Max's landlord is a real piece of shit who lowers the bar so much you wouldn't even trip over it. In fact, you're more likely to fall on top of said bar. If it weren't for Elliot's intervention several months back, there would still be cockroaches roaming around. The landlord still has trouble moving his arm from when Elliot literally had to twist it to get him to hire an exterminator, the cheap bastard.
There's a knock at the door and Elliot opens it. Several men in uniforms come streaming in with cleaning equipment. Elliot starts pointing out what he wants done and the men get to work. A man from the local moving company enters the apartment holding a clipboard.
"Mr. Bowman, everything's waiting downstairs. We just need you to sign here."
The man hands Elliot a pen and points at the bottom of the clipboard where he needs to sign. Once that's taken care of, Elliot turns his attention back to the hustle and bustle going on all around him. If Max's date went well, Elliot and his crew had, say, three or four hours to get the job done in time. For the sake of the 'mission,' Elliot does what you don't see too many billionaires do: he picks up a sponge and gets to work cleaning.
10PM Tuesday - August 4th, 2020
Heading Toward Max's Residence - Greenfield, MA
OFF-Camera
Max and Annabelle walk hand-in-hand down a sidewalk lit up by streetlights. They're laughing and having a good time. Max has his jacket slung over his shoulder and his shirt is untucked.
"You sure you don't wanna go to your place?" Max interrupts their jolly good time to ask.
"What's the point of hiring a babysitter if mommy's home, silly?"
"Fair enough."
Max's mood starts to wane as the daunting realization that he'll have to show his decrepit, falling-APARTment to the woman he very much wants to impress dawns on him. They're now just a single block away.
"I'm glad we finally got the chance to do this, Max. You guys aren't gonna be around much moving forward, I take it. You're off to Rome in about a week, right?"
"Yep, and then it's Dubai after that."
"Sounds like a world tour."
"Pretty much. That's why we picked Prime. We'll get to see a lot of interesting places."
"That sounds fantastic. I wish I could join you, but I've got the girls, and a business to run."
"Who says I wanted to invite you?" Max says with a smile so she'll know he's just playing around.
"I think I could probably convince you," she replies, running her free hand up his shirt from his belly button to his chest.
"I think you might hold a convincing argument, sure."
They've entered the parking lot of Max's building. An ominous feeling overtakes them both. For the third time in just as many months, all the lights in the parking lot are out.
"That cheap bastard needs to hire a professional," Max comments to himself, but of course Annabelle hears him.
"I take it your landlord isn't a fan of spending money on his tenants' safety."
"Oh, you noticed the lack of lighting too, huh? Yeah, he's really something. Hold on, I've got a flashlight on my phone."
Max takes his hand back from Annabelle and grabs his phone out of his pocket.
"Annabelle. I figured I'd find you here. Who's this little twerp?"
"Who the hell--"
"Jeff?! Is that you? Where are you? What are you doing here?" Annabelle has taken a few nervous steps back, now trying to pinpoint the voice in the sea of blackness. She's got Max by the arm and she's pulling him back out of the parking lot. Max drops his phone and he hears pieces of it break off on impact.
"Shit, I can't see a damn thing. What's going on?"
"It's Jeff, my EX-husband," Annabelle makes sure she says the last part loud enough for Jeff to hear her, wherever the bastard is hiding. "Jeff, this isn't funny. We've been divorced for two years. You gotta move on."
"Is that what you're doing?"
"Y-yes. That's exactly what I'm doing."
"You honestly think this little turd-muffin is man enough to replace ME?"
Judging from his voice, Jeff is practically on top of Max and Annabelle, but Max still can't see a damned thing. A solid shove comes out of the darkness and Max nearly falls on his butt, dragging Annabelle with him. He pulls her to her feet and tries to maneuver them around their attacker so that his silhouette stands out against the street lamp about 15-yards away. Judging by Jeff's outline he's at least six-and-a-half feet tall, and almost equally as broad. Max isn't the type to just run away, but even if he was he couldn't leave Annabelle alone with this behemoth in a dark parking lot. Suddenly, a pair of headlights turning on near the apartment building and a screech of tires burning rubber alerts them to the presence of somebody else in the parking lot.
"What the--"
The car barrels toward them, but Max pulls Annabelle out of the way. Jeff is a little less fortunate, however, as there's nobody to do the same for him. The driver in the car whips the tail end of it around to collide with the walking, talking, brick shit-house of a man. A head leans out the driver's side window.
"Get in, both of you."
"Elliot? Is that you?"
"In. Now. No time to talk."
Max leads Annabelle to the car and opens up the backseat. She climbs in and Max follows. Before he can even shut the door completely the car is moving again. Max looks out the back window to see if Jeff has gotten back up--which he has--and he tells Elliot to floor it.
"What the HELL was that all about? How'd you know we were in trouble? I figured you'd be long gone by the time we came back."
"Well, I just so happened to be having a smoke break outside your building when some suspicious-looking sumbitch caught my eye. I watched him monkeying around with the lights and figured something shitty was gonna happen. Good thing my bong was in here and I needed a toke, huh?" Elliot laughs, though it's mostly out of relief rather than humor. "I guess I'm not the only one making enemies nowadays, eh?"
"Yeah, we're just two peas in a pod. Annabelle, are you okay?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I'm okay."
"Where to, miss? Will you be safe at your place tonight?"
"Who knows. Jeff is as unpredictable as they come. I need to go home and get the girls, take them somewhere safe. Give him enough time to cool off."
"He's done stuff like this before, hasn't he?"
"They don't call him my ex-husband because he's a swell guy."
"I wish I'd known sooner."
"Why, so you wouldn't have gotten involved with me?"
"No, it's not that. I just would've bought a taser. Or, in his case, an elephant tranquilizer gun."
Despite the wretchedness of their current predicament, Annabelle actually laughs as the trio head further into the night, and farther away from Max's apartment building.