Phone Calls

Chris Matthews: “We have a problem.”

Chuck looks up from his coffee and newspaper, raising an eyebrow. Chris tosses a stack of papers in front of him. They were in Chris’s kitchen. Chris had let Chuck spend the week there, since Chicago flights had been delayed due to the weather. It was easier to fly into Tennessee, and Chris had been kind enough to give Chuck a place to stay until he needed to get home.

Chuck Matthews: “What’s going on?”

Chris Matthews: “From our latest Battle Grounds, and our Pay-Per-View.”

Chuck looks through the pages, skimming his eyes over the papers. He quickly notices the problem.

Chuck Matthews: “We lost viewers?”

Chris nods.

Chuck Matthews: “Any idea why?”

Chris Matthews: “Of course I know why. It’s all that we ever get mail and calls about these days.”

Chris hands Chuck copies of various letters and emails. Chuck takes a look at them. He lets out a long sigh.

Chuck Matthews: “Come on…”

Chris Matthews: “You know what we need to do.”

Chuck Matthews: “Yeah.”

Chris Matthews: “Are you going to do it?”

Chuck shrugs, and looks at the papers. The mail was mostly from various groups, mostly investors in ME stock. Most letters were complaining about the increasingly controversial nature of the shows on MEN TV. They had already gotten hell for The Shit Pit, and even more for The Mystery Crew, due to Matt’s being perpetually high throughout every episode. Now? It was the unnecessary levels of violence. Complete disregard for censors. And most recently, the alleged ‘praising of gay/lesbian lifestyles.’

Chuck Matthews: “She’s hurting from last week. We’re probably safe for this week…but I suppose I need to talk to her soon.”

Chris Matthews: “The critics don’t like them. Personal feelings aside Chuck…this could hurt your company.”

Chuck Matthews: “I know.”

Chris stares at him for a moment.

Chris Matthews: “What are you thinking?”

Chuck Matthews: “I’m thinking of a few things, actually.”

Chris takes a seat across from Chuck.

Chris Matthews: “You don’t want to try and ruin another of her relationships.”

Chuck shrugs.

Chuck Matthews: “It’s not really a priority, no.”

Chris shrugs.

Chris Matthews: “Do what you gotta do. I mean, it’s her or the board. You can’t make everyone happy.”

Chuck Matthews: “We just need to keep Alison and Ashley off Battle Grounds. So long as people don’t see them on television, there will be nothing to complain about.”

Chris Matthews: “I suppose.”

Chuck Matthews: “It’s not like I can fire them. If I fire them, and they find out why, I get special interest groups up my ass, and I’m looked at for discrimination. If I let this go on unresolved, we continue losing ratings, and run the risk of getting fired from my own company.”

Chris Matthews: “Welcome to the business world. If it was easy, everyone would do it.”

Chuck groans.

Chuck Matthews: “Your advice?”

Chris shrugs.

Chris Matthews: “Get her off TV.”

Chuck Matthews: “And how do you propose I do that?”

Chris Matthews: “The only complaints I’m getting is how your show is glorifying their lifestyle. Probably because she’s champion. Get the belt off Alison, and I’m sure that will alleviate the problem.”

Chuck Matthews: “Hmm…”

Chris Matthews: “Of course, you could also go the Chuck Matthews route and figure a way to detroy their relationship.”

Chuck Matthews: “I’m starting to like that one.”

Chris sighs.

Chris Matthews: “Do what you have to do, I guess. Just think about what you’re getting yourself into.”

Chuck smirks.

Chuck Matthews: “Don’t I always?”

Chris frowns, and leaves the room. Chuck thinks for a bit. He picks up his phone and begins flipping through the contacts.

Chuck Matthews: “Come on, I can’t have deleted that number…”

He finally finds the number he’s looking for, and punches it in, listening to the dial tone. Once…..twice………three times…..

Chuck Matthews: “Pick up…”

Another ring……..

???: “Hello?”

Chuck Matthews: “Oh good, you answered.”

???: “Why are you calling me?”

Chuck Matthews: “I’m calling in a favor.”

???: “Fuck you.”

Chuck Matthews: “Hold on a second there. You owe me.”

???: “Like hell I do.”

Chuck Matthews: “Two years ago. I helped you. You told me you owed me a favor, anytime, anywhere. I never called it in. I’m doing it now. You owe me.”

There’s an audible groan at the other end of the line.

???: “It’s been ages, Chuck. What makes you think I care to help you out?”

Chuck Matthews: “You don’t even know what the favor is. It’s about Alison.”

There’s a pause.

???: “Fine. I’m listening.”

Chuck Matthews: “It’s easy, really. All I need is dirt. Find me anything there is to know about Alison Williams. Things that could really fuck with her life. Something that nobody else knows.”

???: “And why would I do that?”

Chuck Matthews: “Because she’s becoming a problem, and I need that problem fixed. Don’t question my motives. You said you owed me a favor, I’m calling in that favor, and you’re going to do it. Or are you a liar?”

There’s a growl-like noise at the other end.

???: “Fine. You got your fucking dirt. I got just the thing, anyway. I’ll give it to you as soon as I can.”

Chuck grins.

Chuck Matthews: “Wonderful.”

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Chuck Matthews: “You’re totally sure about this?”

Chuck sits in his living room, talking on the phone.

Jason Hawk: “Yeah. It’s for the best, I think.”

Chuck laughs.

Chuck Matthews: “I’ve been there, done all that. It gets tough after a while.”

Jason Hawk: “You’re telling me.”

Chuck Matthews: “So what exactly did you want me to do?”

Jason Hawk: “Oh, whatever. Just make it look convincing. Maybe go after my back. I injured my back a while ago, I could easily sell a big shot to it as reinjuring my spine.”

Chuck thinks for a moment.

Chuck Matthews: “Powerbomb to a ladder work for you?”

Jason Hawk: “Sounds good to me. Just take it easy. I’d rather not break my back for real.”

Chuck laughs.

Chuck Matthews: “I’ll do my best.”

There’s a long silence.

Chuck Matthews: “Still kinda shitty that it’s over.”

Jason Hawk: “Yeah. But shit happens, I guess. At least you still got that sweet flippy move I taught you.”

Chuck laughs.

Chuck Matthews: “I’ll be sure to keep using it.”

Jason Hawk: “You better.”

Another silence.

Chuck Matthews: “We’ll miss you, buddy.”

Jason Hawk: “Alright, don’t be getting all Tim on me.”

Chuck laughs.

Chuck Matthews: “I didn’t mean it like that. Douche.”

Jason laughs.

Jason Hawk: “Anyway…we’ll have to hang out sometime. For old time’s sake.”

Chuck Matthews: “For sure.”

Jason Hawk: “For now though, I gotta go. Bai nao.”

Chuck is about to say goodbye, but Jason hangs up. Chuck frowns.

Chuck Matthews: “Stupid Hawk.”

He’s about to put the phone down, but it immediately begins vibrating again. He glances at the screen.

Incoming Call
Unknown Name
Unknown Number

Chuck hesitates for a moment, then picks up.

Chuck Matthews: “Hello?”

???: “Is this Charlie Matthews?”

Chuck Matthews: “Who’s asking?”

???: “Maybe you don’t remember me. Nathan Dole.”

Chuck Matthews: “From Prometheus?”

Nathan Dole: “Hell yeah! You remember me?”

Chuck Matthews: “Yeah. Shit, long time, no see. How’ve you been? How’d you get this number?”

Nathan Dole: “I got it from Jess. Shit’s been wild, man. Playoffs are coming up, and we’re getting ready.”

Nathan Dole was a quarterback for the New Orleans Saints. He was a pretty solid player, and though his team wasn’t the best, there were some who were predicting the Saints to make it to the big game…though very few actually expected them to win it.

Chuck Matthews: “Good luck man. Here’s hoping you guys win it.”

Nathan Dole: “Oh, that’s right, you’re a Bears fan, aren’t you?”

Chuck Matthews: “Fuck off.”

Nathan laughs.

Nathan Dole: “Anyway, we’re thinking about getting together. The old gang. Jessie, Lars, Cody, Sean, Bridg, Mel, and me. You in?”

Chuck Matthews: “Uh…yeah, sure. When?”

Nathan Dole: “Not sure yet. I’ll give you the details later on. I’ll probably have my wife with me though. So I mean, feel free to bring your family along if you want. I think Lars is gonna have his kids with him too.”

Chuck Matthews: “Yeah, sure thing. Sounds good Nate. Nice talking to you.”

Nathan Dole: “Anytime, man. Later.”

Chuck Matthews: “Bye.”

He hangs up. Nathan Dole? Of all people, he didn’t expect to get a call from him. He hadn’t talked to the guy in years. Fuck, almost 8 years now, come to think of it. Strange.

Chuck sits back in his seat. He wondered why there was a sudden interest to hang out. As far as Chuck knew, none of them had really seen each other since high school. Hell, he was sure that Lars and Jessica hadn’t even spoken since they had broken up, nearly seven year ago. It wasn’t that the group didn’t like each other. They just had their own lives. Cody, Sean, Nate, and Lars were all professional athletes. Chuck had his wrestling career. Jessica was about to graduate med school. They all had their own agendas, their own careers, and their own families. There wasn’t much room for anything else, let alone getting in contact with old high school friends.

Chuck flips through his phone, looking at his calendar. Aside from IWF, he really didn’t have anything else to do. IWF was most of his life, and it took up most of his time. Otherwise, there was really no reason he couldn’t go…but did he want to? Did he really want to face these people again? People that he hadn’t talked to in years?

Why the fuck not?

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Chuck Matthews: “Oh, the wonders of IWF booking.

So we got a guy returning, with no issues with anyone on the roster quite yet.

We got Chuck, who just got done taking his tag team partner out of action indefinitely.

HEY, LET’S PUT CHUCK ON ANOTHER TEAM!

Really?

It’s times like this, I wonder why I ever gave up my shares of IWF. I could be making matches myself, and saving us from such stupidity. But instead, we get retarded matches that make no sense whatsoever, and we get to sit back and thank ol John Eastwick for it.

Oh look, I just broke the fourth wall. Got a problem with it, John?

But this is irrelevant, I suppose. What’s done is done, and here I am, teaming up with Vincent Van Rose.

For fuck’s sake, I’ve already had to team up with this guy twice in the past. And what happened? That big dumb asshole got himself pinned. I mean, I might be the best tag competitor in the business today, but I’m not a fucking miracle worker. Some guys simply don’t belong in that ring. Vincent Van Pinned is one of them.

I belong in that ring.

I’ve proven, over and over again, that I belong in that ring.

I’m a multiple time world champion. I record holding tag champion. I’ve won awards, I’ve won titles, I’ve won matches of the year. Everything there is to do in wrestling, I’ve done it, and damn it did I look good when I did.

Vincent Van Rose? IWF Champion for a month. Congratulations. Here’s your participation trophy. Now run along with all the other IWF Champions and play nice.

It’s only a matter of time before I get my hands on the IWF Belt myself. And when I do, I can guarantee, there won’t be any seven-day bullshit. There won’t be any failure to defend the belt. IWF had better hope and pray that I don’t get hold of the IWF title, because when I do, you’ll be seeing my name on the belt for a long fucking time.

But first thing’s first. I need to deport our resident alien. Welcome back to IWF, by the way, Ruben. Nice of you to join us. Last time I saw you, you were whining and complaining about the way I ran things, and how I was a liar and a scoundrel, and how I should never be trusted….basically what everyone who’s ever known me has ever said. Congratulations, Ruben. Originality points for you!

And then there’s Craig. My old friend Craig. How’s life treating you, Craig? Still that musclebound meathead you were a few years back? Sure as hell seems that way. All brawn, no brains. But I’ve come to expect that from you. That’s all you’ve ever been good for, isn’t it Craig? Being someone else’s lackey. Whoever made the best deal got to boss you around for a few months, right?

That’s a lesson I’m sure you’ll learn very soon, Ruben. Craig Hemming does it for the money. He’ll beat up his own grandmother if the price is right. But if granny comes along with a better offer, he’s going to march right back to you and beat you into the ground instead.

That’s an issue for another time. For now, you get to sit and gloat about winning a ladder match and taking the tag titles away from Apex. You get to compete against me in a tag match again this week.

You know what I’m looking forward to, Ruben? That time when you and I meet, one on one, just like we did back in the old days. Remember my last match in that place? It was your stupid honor system that cost you the match.

I wonder…do you still hold that so dear today? Would you still make that one fatal mistake?

Or are you going to keep hiding behind others to do your dirty work?

Questions need answering, amigo.

Oh, and then there’s Brandon. Brandon, who, like Ruben, hasn’t beaten me in singles competition here in IWF. Oh, right, Brandon likes to talk about the other company. The one that I killed. The one I destroyed. Hell, the one that was so much fun to take down, I did it three times. Yeah, that place. Remember?

I sure as hell do.

The one time we faced off in IWF, he failed to beat me. That’s funny to me. Brandon will sit there and think he’s the best wrestler on the face of the earth. He’ll sit there and tell me I’m past my prime, that I should have retired ages ago.

But I think those fans of mine with a modicum of intelligence will know exactly what my game is. They know me all too well. Chuck Matthews doesn’t care for the small battles. He cares for the war. Small victories are nice. A tag win here, a random match there, that’s all well and good. But when the time came to step up, Brandon? You failed. You can sit there and say I never beat you…but when the two of us fought one on one? You didn’t beat me either.

I find it amusing, your claim to my unwillingness to let other people steal my spotlight. Because in a way, you’re right…and at the same time, you’re so painfully wrong. I compete in tag matches…hell, I compete in any match, and I go out, and I perform. Win or lose…I put on entertaining matches. Hell, I’ve got the match of the year trophies to prove it. I am the man to watch. Chuck Matthews equals ratings. Boom. End of story. Discussion over.

I carry my teammates through matches because I’m flat-out better than them. You can tell people that it’s because I don’t give them the chance…but we know that’s wrong. The problem is that when you’re competing, with Chuck Matthews, against Chuck Matthews…you can win the match, or you can lose the match. But damn it if people aren’t talking about how entertaining I made it. I’m a man who was built for this industry. I’m athletic. I’m charismatic. I’m smarter than anyone else in this business. And perhaps most importantly of all? I can entertain. When I talk, people shut up and listen. When I move, people watch. Everything I do has a purpose. Everything I say makes an impact.

This week’s tag match? Not important.

The battles that will take place soon…when I give Ruben Spicardo here what’s coming to him…when I finally decide my time has come to take the IWF title for myself…those are the big battles. Those are the war enders.

And those are the ones that I win.

As for you, Van Rose? Good luck. I’m not bailing you out of this one.”