Post by Deleted on Jun 19, 2016 4:53:56 GMT
FADE IN:
He races to the intercom on his desk and presses the button.
Mickey disconnects the intercom call and springs into action. He reaches into his desk and pulls out a HARVARD SCHOOL OF SPORTS MANAGEMENT DIPLOMA.
Mickey turns to the wall behind his desk and takes off the BERGEN COMMUNITY COLLEGE DIPLOMA, replacing it with the more prestigious degree.
The door to the office opens. It is LUCY LENNOX.
20's, dark hair, tattoos running up her arm, as well as significant portion of her uncovered body.
Mickey races to the large mirror hanging over the wet bar on the far side of the office.
Mickey is fixing his tie in the mirror.
Lucy is reluctant to answer. Out of concern, Mickey marches to the door and peers out into the
RECEPTION AREA,
It is packed with a motley crew of ruffians and degenerates-- lots of tattoos and beards and shaved heads-- all restlessly and aimlessly seated around the reception area. It looks more like a homeless shelter than the reception area of a sports management company.
Mickey is distraught by this cast of misfits. He leans in toward Lucy and whispers.
Through the double glass doors, we see AMARILLO NASH, grizzled, long locks and dark shades, donning leather boots, a leather hat, and sleeveless leather vest revealing chiseled arms. He is walking toward the entrance to Conway Management.
If you look up bad ass in the dictionary, Amarillo Nash will be staring back at you.
Lucy's jaw drops at the sight of him. She is drooling.
Mickey quickly enters his office and shuts the door.
IN MICKEY'S OFFICE,
Mickey grabs a seat at his desk and takes deep breaths.
The intercom buzzes. Mickey hits the button.
The door opens, and in walks Amarillo Nash.
Mickey smiles at Nash, holding up a finger requested a minute to finish his "phone call."
We can hear the dial tone coming through the receiver.
Mickey flashes a big smile, but senses Nash's growing impatience.
Mickey hangs up the phone and rises, grinning at Amarillo across the room. Mickey comes around the desk to greet Nash.
The wrestler looks like he is in no mood for small talk or bullshit.
Mickey grabs his seat at his desk, sitting opposite the wrestling prospect.
Mickey chuckles, somewhat nervously.
For the first time, Nash takes off his shades, to get a good, hard face-to-face look with the man who wants his business. It makes Mickey pretty uncomfortable.
Nash breaks the silence with a chuckle, and then another chuckle, which causes Mickey to chuckle, and then Nash's chuckle's some more, as well as Mickey; and the next thing you know, we have a full blown chucklefest going on.
Mickey senses that Nash is relaxed, so Mickey is relaxed.
Dallas cuts him off.
Busted. Mickey holds his smile as long as he can muster.
Mickey is starting to sweat. He sticks his thumb in his collar to loosen it up.
Amarillo rises from the seat and heads toward the door.
Mickey rises, following suit.
INT. CONWAY MANAGEMENT - RECEPTION AREA - CONTINUOUS
Loud cheers as the entire reception area clears out.
Nash turns to Mickey
Nash leaves Mickey in the dust, following the band of misfits through the glass doors and out of Conway Management.
Mickey looks despondent. He turns toward Lucy and shrugs, and then turns back toward his office.
Mickey perks up. He turns around to see a couple:
WALTER HOBBS, mid-to-late 30's, white bread, schlubby, somewhat of a putz, and his wife LANA, mid 30's red hair, put together, standing in the reception area.
As Walters moves toward Mickey, he momentarily stumbles, catching his balance on the coat rack adjacent the entrance, and them catching the coat rack right before it falls.
Reluctantly, Mickey shakes his hand.
Walter looks confused.
Walter is deflated. He sheepishly raises his hand.
Mickey looks to Lana, and then to Walt, and then back to Lana. Mickey begins to laugh.
Mickey looks around his empty reception area. He looks to Lucy, who shrugs. He rolls his eyes, opens the door to his office, and holds out his arm, inviting them into his inner sanctum.
Walt follows his wife Lana toward Mickey's office. Along the way, he passes Lucy, getting a good gander at her in all of her tattooed splendor.
Walter smiles at her.
INT. MICKEY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Mickey has a seat at his desk.
As Walt an Lana approach the seats opposite Mickey's desk, Walt takes note of the diploma hanging over his desk.
Walt turns to this wife.
Lana reaches out and grabs her husband's hand.
EXT. MACK-CALI CORPORATE PLAZA - PARKING LOT - AFTERNOON
We open in the parking lot of the Mack-Cali Corporate Plaza, located in the serene suburbs of Paramus, New Jersey. We hear the deafening roar of the engine of a motorcycle. A HARLEY pulls into the massive lot of the multi-story office complex and comes to a stop in one of the open spots near the front of the lot.
Boots hit the pavement. Black leather biker boots. Bad ass biker boots. With a skull and crossbones on them.
CUT TO:
INT. MACK-CALI CORPORATE PLAZA - CONWAY MANAGEMENT, LLC - CONTINUOUS
MICKEY CONWAY, 40's, slender, pensive, wearing his finest grey suit, stands at the large windows in his sixth floor office suite, peering down on the parking lot.
His eyes are fixed on the man with the bad ass biker books stepping off of the bad ass Harley that has pulled into the lot six stories below:
Mickey gazes upon this man with an uneasy intensity. Mickey checks his watch.
MICKEY
Oh shit.
MICKEY
Lucy, he's here.
LUCY
(O.S.)
(O.S.)
(intercom)
Who's here?
MICKEY
Who do you think? Amarillo Nash.
He just pulled into the lot.
LUCY
(O.S.)
(O.S.)
(intercom)
What? He's not supported to
be here until twelve thirty.
MICKEY
Yeah, well he's early! Get in here!
Mickey turns to the wall behind his desk and takes off the BERGEN COMMUNITY COLLEGE DIPLOMA, replacing it with the more prestigious degree.
The door to the office opens. It is LUCY LENNOX.
20's, dark hair, tattoos running up her arm, as well as significant portion of her uncovered body.
LUCY
What do you want me to do?
MICKEY
How do I look?
LUCY
Fix your tie.
MICKEY
How's everything out there? Is everyone set?
LUCY
I rounded up the best I could find.
MICKEY
What does that mean?
RECEPTION AREA,
It is packed with a motley crew of ruffians and degenerates-- lots of tattoos and beards and shaved heads-- all restlessly and aimlessly seated around the reception area. It looks more like a homeless shelter than the reception area of a sports management company.
Mickey is distraught by this cast of misfits. He leans in toward Lucy and whispers.
MICKEY
Where did you find these guys? You know
what-- forget it, I don't want to know.
LUCY
It was the best I can do on short notice.
MICKEY
Just take your seat, okay-- look like you're doing
something important. Buzz me as soon as he walks--
If you look up bad ass in the dictionary, Amarillo Nash will be staring back at you.
Lucy's jaw drops at the sight of him. She is drooling.
MICKEY
Shit.
IN MICKEY'S OFFICE,
Mickey grabs a seat at his desk and takes deep breaths.
MICKEY
You can do this. You can do this.
MICKEY
(into the intercom)
Yes?
LUCY
(O.S.)
(O.S.)
(intercom)
Mr. Nash is here to see you.
MICKEY
Send him in.
Mickey disconnects the intercom call. He takes two more deep breaths, and then picks up the receiver to his phone, placing it to his ear.The door opens, and in walks Amarillo Nash.
MICKEY
(into the phone)
(into the phone)
Of course, baby, the shot is yours! What did
I say-- I promised you your shot, and you're
getting your shot-- Mickey C always delivers.
We can hear the dial tone coming through the receiver.
MICKEY
(into the phone)
Having the title shot isn't the issue...the only
question you need to answer is whether you can
handle the fame and fortune coming your way. So
what do you say, champ-- can you handle it all?
MICKEY
(into the phone)
What am I saying? Of course you can handle it all...
Oh, you're too kind, I'm just doing my job, but that
is nice of you to say...You're welcome...Ciao baby.
The wrestler looks like he is in no mood for small talk or bullshit.
MICKEY
Amarillo Nash, Mickey-- Mickey Conway. Sorry,
you're catching me on a busy day, as you can
see from the waiting area; and on top of all
of that, I had to take a call to give some
good news to a very important client, but now
you have my undivided attention. Please, sit.
MICKEY
So tell me, what is it that I can do to
make you a client of Conway Management?
AMARILLO
I don't know, by the looks of things, you
seem pretty busy. Leaves me wondering if
you'd even have the time to take me on.
you'd even have the time to take me on.
MICKEY
Well of course-- you're Amarillo Nash-- you'd
be given top priority here at Conway Management.
be given top priority here at Conway Management.
Nash breaks the silence with a chuckle, and then another chuckle, which causes Mickey to chuckle, and then Nash's chuckle's some more, as well as Mickey; and the next thing you know, we have a full blown chucklefest going on.
AMARILLO
I like that. Top priority. Those sound like
I like that. Top priority. Those sound like
wise words-- make the client feel important.
Is that something they taught you up at that
fancy Harvard School of Sports Management?
MICKEY
Oh yeah, that was Professor Flemington's mantra.
First semester, he summed up sports management by
saying it was all about client relations and--
AMARILLO
Mickey, there's no such thing as the
Mickey, there's no such thing as the
Harvard School of Sports Management.
MICKEY
I beg your pardon?
AMARILLO
You heard me. The Harvard School of Sports
You heard me. The Harvard School of Sports
Management is horse shit. You made it up.
MICKEY
Amarillo, listen, I can assure you that--
AMARILLO
Just like you made up your client on the phone
Just like you made up your client on the phone
with the guaranteed title shot, just like you
made up the standing room only waiting area.
MICKEY
Amarillo, I can understand the skepticism in this
business. But I assure you with absolute certainty
that I have no idea what you're talking about.
AMARILLO
Oh, you don't?
Oh, you don't?
Mickey rises, following suit.
MICKEY
Amarillo, wait, let's talk about this
and let me show you what I can offer.
CUT TO:
INT. CONWAY MANAGEMENT - RECEPTION AREA - CONTINUOUS
Nash pays Mickey no mind. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out two hundred dollar bills. He opens the door and enters the reception area, holding up the bills for the MOTLEY CREW in the reception area to see.
AMARILLO
Anyone thirsty? First round down at
Finnegan's around the corner is on me.
Finnegan's around the corner is on me.
Nash turns to Mickey
AMARILLO
You're fucking pathetic, Conway. Only a fucking
idiot would take you for a real manager.
idiot would take you for a real manager.
Mickey looks despondent. He turns toward Lucy and shrugs, and then turns back toward his office.
VOICE
Excuse me, we're looking for Mickey
Conway. Is this the right place?
WALTER HOBBS, mid-to-late 30's, white bread, schlubby, somewhat of a putz, and his wife LANA, mid 30's red hair, put together, standing in the reception area.
MICKEY
I'm Mickey Conway. Can I help you?
WALTER
Mr. Conway, it is such a pleasure to
meet you, sir. I'm Walter-- Walter H-
WALTER
I'm Walter Hobbs.
WALTER
And this is my wife Lana.
MICKEY
Yeah, listen, we don't accept solicitations
around here, so if you're selling something--
WALTER
Oh no, we're not selling
anything, right honey?
anything, right honey?
LANA
That's right. We're not selling anything.
MICKEY
Okay, then what are you, a
couple of Jehova's witnesses?
Walter looks confused.
LANA
Mr. Conway, we're here to
seek out representation.
MICKEY
For who?
LANA
For my husband.
MICKEY
Your husband? Where is he?
Walter is deflated. He sheepishly raises his hand.
WALTER
I'm...I'm her...husband.
Mickey looks to Lana, and then to Walt, and then back to Lana. Mickey begins to laugh.
MICKEY
That's a good one. Who put
you up to this? Lucy, did
you put them up to this?
you up to this? Lucy, did
you put them up to this?
LUCY
Don't look at me.
LANA
Mr. Conway, please, we only need
a couple minutes and we will make
it worth your while, I promise.
a couple minutes and we will make
it worth your while, I promise.
MICKEY
Right this way.
Walt follows his wife Lana toward Mickey's office. Along the way, he passes Lucy, getting a good gander at her in all of her tattooed splendor.
Walter smiles at her.
WALTER
You look like a rainbow!
CUT TO:
INT. MICKEY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Mickey has a seat at his desk.
As Walt an Lana approach the seats opposite Mickey's desk, Walt takes note of the diploma hanging over his desk.
Walt turns to this wife.
WALTER
Oh look, honey, he want to the Harvard
School of Sports Management. Impressive.
The couple have a seat. Lana places her cell phone on Mickey's desk.
MICKEY
Yes. Impressive indeed. So let's get
down to it, shall we? I'm a busy man.
How is it that you think I can help you?
WALTER
Well I--
LANA
Why don't you let me explain, sweetie?
Mr. Conway, my husband's a good man, a
hard worker, a solid provider, but he's
recently been let go from his job as the
junior varsity wrestling coach at Bound
Brook high school after they had to cut
the program to make way for girl's tennis.
WALTER
Curse title nine! Sorry.
LANA
Anyway, it's always been one of Walt's
lifelong dreams to pursue his passion,
which is wrestling, on a professional
level, and so well, I figured, with the
layoff, and considering he only has so
many more years left in his prime--
MICKEY
I'm sorry, did you say his "prime?"
WALTER
I'm thirty...ish. Mid thirties.
Thirty five. And nine-- ten
months. I'm thirty six.
MICKEY
You look fifty.
LANA
Mr. Conway, I ask that you not
judge by appearance. Despite how
he may look, Walter is quite the
gifted athlete, and when he sets
his mind to something, I assure
you he goes at it with gusto.
WALTER
I always told my squad, you can achieve
anything in life if you believe hard enough.
MICKEY
And what was their record last year?
Two, eighteen and one.
MICKEY
Right. Thank you for your time,
folks but I think I'm gonna pass.
This isn't about the money,
Mr. Conway. We have savings.
This is about my dear Walter
getting a chance at his dreams.
MICKEY
I can't promise you anything.
LANA
Of course not.
MICKEY
And you have to understand, even
if I could find a place who would
be interested in giving you a shot,
pro wrestling isn't like that stuff
on the mats that you're used to. I
have seen some crazy shit in my day.
People get maimed, they bleed, they
bruise, this is a hazardous occupation.
Mickey turns to Walter.
MICKEY
Exactly how old are you?
WALTER
I'm thirty...ish. Mid thirties.
Thirty five. And nine-- ten
months. I'm thirty six.
MICKEY
You look fifty.
LANA
Mr. Conway, I ask that you not
judge by appearance. Despite how
he may look, Walter is quite the
gifted athlete, and when he sets
his mind to something, I assure
you he goes at it with gusto.
WALTER
I always told my squad, you can achieve
anything in life if you believe hard enough.
MICKEY
And what was their record last year?
Beat.
WALTERTwo, eighteen and one.
MICKEY
Right. Thank you for your time,
folks but I think I'm gonna pass.
Walter looks resigned to the decision. Lana is gutted. Mickey rises from his desk and starts walking toward the door. Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs follow him.
Mickey opens the door.
Mickey shuts the door.
LANA LANA
But you can't pass.
MICKEY
Miss Hobbs, I am sorry, but I'm running a
talent agency here, and in order to be an
agent of talent, I need-- you get the idea.
But you can't pass.
MICKEY
Miss Hobbs, I am sorry, but I'm running a
talent agency here, and in order to be an
agent of talent, I need-- you get the idea.
Mickey opens the door.
LANA
But we can pay you.
MICKEY
Come again?
LANA
We can pay you for your services, a
monthly stipend, say two thousand
dollars? On top of whatever your
commission might be?
Mickey is thinking about it.Come again?
LANA
We can pay you for your services, a
monthly stipend, say two thousand
dollars? On top of whatever your
commission might be?
MICKEY
You're gonna pay me
to be your manager?
This isn't about the money,
Mr. Conway. We have savings.
This is about my dear Walter
getting a chance at his dreams.
MICKEY
I can't promise you anything.
LANA
Of course not.
MICKEY
And you have to understand, even
if I could find a place who would
be interested in giving you a shot,
pro wrestling isn't like that stuff
on the mats that you're used to. I
have seen some crazy shit in my day.
People get maimed, they bleed, they
bruise, this is a hazardous occupation.
Walter wears an expression of concern as Mickey discords.
LANA
We are not worried about that, are we honey?
WALTER
I'm sorry, did you say maimed?
LANA
Honey, this has been your dream for
far too long and I will not let you
pass this up and live in constant regret.
MICKEY
I'll tell you what, let me make a few calls,
see what I can do, and get back to you.
WALTER
I'm sorry, did you say maimed?
LANA
Honey, this has been your dream for
far too long and I will not let you
pass this up and live in constant regret.
MICKEY
I'll tell you what, let me make a few calls,
see what I can do, and get back to you.
WALTER
He said maimed.
He said maimed.
Lana shakes Mickey's hand.
LANA
Thank you Mr. Conway. Walter
won't let you down, I promise.
Thank you Mr. Conway. Walter
won't let you down, I promise.
Walt shakes his hand, although his mind is still fixed on "maimed."
MICKEY
Lana, a pleasure, and
you as well Mr. Hobbs.
Lana, a pleasure, and
you as well Mr. Hobbs.
Walt exits Mickey's office. Lana follows.
LANA
Oh sweetie, I forgot my
phone, I'll catch up with you.
Lana returns to Mickey's office, shutting the door behind her. Her total demeanor has changed. Gone is the sweet, wholesome woman championing her husband's dreams. In its place is a cunning vixen of a woman.
Mickey gazes upon her curiously.
Mickey gazes upon her curiously.
MICKEY
Miss Hobbs, did you forget something?
LANA
Let's cut the shit, Harvard.
MICKEY
I beg your pardon?
Miss Hobbs, did you forget something?
LANA
Let's cut the shit, Harvard.
MICKEY
I beg your pardon?
Lana slowly walks a circle around Mickey.
LANA
Oh, you'll beg my pardon alright. I
want to make something very clear.
I'm not looking for some Micky Mouse
exhibition bullshit for Walter. What
I want for Walter is the roughest and
toughest promotion you can find.
MICKEY
Miss Hobbs, I appreciate that you
think your husband has heart, but-
LANA
Oh, he has heart, alright-- a thirty-
six year old heart. And I've got a
three million dollar life insurance
policy on that thirty-six year old
heart of his, for which I pay some
pretty hefty premiums, and I expect
to cash in. Do you understand what
I'm saying to you, Harvard?
LANA
Oh, you'll beg my pardon alright. I
want to make something very clear.
I'm not looking for some Micky Mouse
exhibition bullshit for Walter. What
I want for Walter is the roughest and
toughest promotion you can find.
MICKEY
Miss Hobbs, I appreciate that you
think your husband has heart, but-
LANA
Oh, he has heart, alright-- a thirty-
six year old heart. And I've got a
three million dollar life insurance
policy on that thirty-six year old
heart of his, for which I pay some
pretty hefty premiums, and I expect
to cash in. Do you understand what
I'm saying to you, Harvard?
Mickey gulps. She steps toward him, getting real close, invading his personal space-- her lips within inches of his.
LANA
(seductively)
Good. You find him a home, and I
will give you what you want most.
MICKEY
Wait, you know Amarillo Nash?
(seductively)
Good. You find him a home, and I
will give you what you want most.
Mickey closes his eyes. He puckers his lips. Lana takes a step back.
Mickey opens his eyes, confused.
Mickey opens his eyes, confused.
LANA
Amarillo Nash. Signed,
sealed, and delivered.
Amarillo Nash. Signed,
sealed, and delivered.
MICKEY
Wait, you know Amarillo Nash?
Lana begins to chuckle.
LANA
Do I know him? Do you think this
is all a coincidence that I just
walked in here, today of all days?
LANA
Do I know him? Do you think this
is all a coincidence that I just
walked in here, today of all days?
Lana shoots Mickey a seductive glance.
LANA
I know Amarillo. I
know him very well.
I know Amarillo. I
know him very well.
Mickey's mind is blown.
LANA
Good day, Harvard.
Good day, Harvard.
Lana exits Mickey's office. Once she is gone, he quickly runs to his desk and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
WALTER
Did you find it, sweetie?
LANA (O.S.)
I sure did, baby. I'm so
absent-minded some time.
WALTER (O.S.)
I think that went very well!
I think that went very well!
Mickey lights up his cigarette.
FADE TO BACK
FADE TO BACK
