Post by Jules on Feb 9, 2013 9:48:03 GMT -4
MADE IN HACKNEY: Expansion Pack 1 (CoTT)
Episode I
Episode I
Lenny woke with a pounding head, the offspring of his exploits the night before. He tried to shift his weight, but the lethargy and the roughness of the hangover strangled his muscles rendering his movements sloth-like. His head pounded harder and harder, a biting reminder of the punishment he handed out to his body with every shot of tequila he slammed back. He groaned, but regret didn’t factor into his thinking. This was a ‘steps to success’ programme, and he knew the first step to defeating this hangover was getting out of this bed. But the pounding in his head continued unabated. He looked over his shoulder: the naked next to him was unfamiliar; in fact the room was unfamiliar. That was a puzzle that would need to be solved as soon as the fog in front of his memory cleared. But first Lenny knew something had to do something about the pounding in his head.
BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP!
Realising that the battering ram bludgeoning his brain was the relentless ringing of his mobile, Lenny dragged himself out of bed, the sudden convulsion of his stomach all too ready a reminder of the rebellion of his body against the intoxicants, and retrieved the device from the pocket of his jeans. Seeing the identity of the caller he gruffly answered.
“What?”
“Good morning Mr. Lansbury,” Mr. Black greeted.
“It’s fucking shocking to tell the truth. My head is pounding, I feel like I’m going to puke up my guts. None of this is helped by you calling at, er, whatever unsaintly hour of the morning this is.”
“It’s 9.37am, Mr. Lansbury.”
“What’s wrong with you, mate! Don’t you ever sleep?”
“Not on the company’s time. We need to talk.”
Lenny sighed; he needed some aspirin and stomach salts, not this bald prick’s voice gnawing at his ear. The mysterious occupant of the bed turned to face Lenny through sleepy eyes. In spite of the panda eyes, Lenny knew the booze hadn’t led him to the rough neck of the words. A sudden flash of memory: 19, student, boyfriend away for the weekend, ‘British accents are so cute’. Yeah, this had been as sure a thing as jellied eels in the East End, and nasty too (who said yank birds were frigid?). Lifting the sheet, she gestured him back to bed.
“Can’t we do this another time,” Lenny requested, his body already following to where his mind wanted to be.
“I’m afraid ‘Touchstone’ need an answer immediately.”
“Fire away, chief,” Lenny said absently, half way to the bed and dancing along to the tune of his pied piper.
“We need an answer about Clash of the Titans.”
“Run me through it again,” placing a knee on the cusp of the mattress.
“Showcase tag team tournament hosted by Visionary Wrestling Incorporated. We put your name forward, but they need to know – are you in or out?”
“Er, I’m in,” with a sudden touch Lenny felt a jolt of excitement rush through his body. “I’m definitely IN”, he exclaimed.
“And your partner?”
“I tend not to play so ‘nice’ with others,” he replied, looking down at her; with a knowing smile she continued about her task.
“I’d really like some input from you on this one; if we’re going to back you financially, we have to believe there is a winning chance. Is there anyone in particular you would like to work with?”
“Listen sunshine,” Lenny began, pushing her away. “You’re my representatives; it’s your job to sort this out. So pull your bollocks out of your arse and find someone pronto. But if you want a head start: find me the craziest bastard you can. I need someone I can trust. Sanity means there’s a scheme, a plan, an agenda. I don’t much like schemers, and lunacy is something I know well, it’s something I can trust....and make sure he can wrestle.”
“We’ll be in touch.”
“Before too long I imagine.”
Lenny hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed, his gaze averted to her.
“What you waiting for love? It’s not gonna fix itself.”
End.
