"Loverboy" - Home Sweet Home - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum:  RP Archive (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=113) +--- Forum: Archives (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=13) +---- Forum: "Anarchy Special" RP Board (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=10) +---- Thread: "Loverboy" - Home Sweet Home (/showthread.php?tid=17902)

"Loverboy" - Home Sweet Home - Vincent Lane - 01-10-2015 Tampa – It stopped raining. The cab drives away down the street as “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane looks up toward the opening door of apartment number 13. Loverboy stumbles trying to find words. How does he say hello to someone he hasn’t seen in nearly a decade? Someone he thought was dead until a week ago? The door opens and the frame fills with a bouffant of platinum blond hair, very much like Loverboy’s. The air is on a young boy, maybe nine years old. He opens the door and holds it there, staring disinterestedly at Loverboy, and holding an electric guitar. “Yeah?” The kid seems like he’d rather be doing absolutely anything else besides holding the door and talking to the rock n’ roll megastar. “Hey, little dude… is… uh… Nikki here?” “You mean my mom? Yeah. She’s here. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!?” The kid turns away and moves back into the apartment, leaving the door hanging ajar. After a moment, a stunning raven-haired woman fills the entry way with an hourglass pin-up figure. Her hair pinned in a 50’s inspired up-do, and her lips matching her cherry red fingertips, she cocks her hip and blows a large, pink bubble with the gun snapping in her mouth. “Well, well, well. The man himself. Come in here and meet your son, Vinnie.” “Nikki… it’s really you?” She smirks, the shiny dermal piercings in her cheeks shining in the finally shining sun as the hipster glasses in her nose tilt crookedly. “Who else would it be, Vinnie? The pope?” She walks into the apartment, again leaving the door wide open as an invitation for Loverboy to follow. After a moment, taking deep breaths, he does. Inside, the apartment is minimal. Sparse furnishings fill the rooms, surrounded by plain white walls. If not for the people standing inside and the car out front, the apartment could easily be confused as vacant. Nikki walks to the small, threadbare sofa and sits down, kicking off her leopard print wedges and lighting a cigarette. “Bobby!” Nikki screams toward the back room, prompting the long-haired boy to head back from his room. He swats the hair from his eyes and tightens the sleeves of the flannel shirt around his waist, then addresses his mother in a disaffected, rebellious youth-style voice. “Yeah? What? I’m busy.” “Oh, you’re busy? Well, get your mother a glass of tea and then sit in here for a minute. We need to talk.” The boy rolls his eyes. Heading into the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator and reveals very little in the way of food. He takes out a gallon jug of instant iced tea and pours some into a nearby mason jar. Bringing the drink to his mother, little Bobby plops down next to her on the couch and sighs. “What do you want mom? Who’s this dude? Some new boyfriend?” Nikki drains the mason jar of most of its contents, then pulls a drag off of her cigarette. With the ash spent to the butt, Nikki drops what’s left of the cigarette into the half inch of remaining tea, setting the jar onto the small coffee table in front of her as she lights a second cigarette. “When did you start chain smoking?” Loverboy scrutinizes the half dozen full ashtrays strewn about the apartment, then looks back at the two sitting on the couch. “When I needed to kick. Don’t interrupt. Bobby, listen… this is Vinnie Lane.” “Who’s that?” Loverboy looks legitimately stunned and takes a step back, slapping his forehead and knocking the pink bandanna off of his hair. “What’s wrong with this kid? Is he autistic or something? Like there’s anyone who doesn’t know who Vinnie Lane is! I’ve met aspies in third world countries through the Make A Wish Foundation who knew who I was.” “We don’t watch wrestling, Vinnie.” “Yeah, man. Wrestling is for .” “Whoa! Dude! You sure this is my kid?” “WHAT?” “God damn it, Vinnie. I see you haven’t gotten any better at being subtle.” “Did this ugly lesbian call me his KID? MOM?” Nikki’s eyes bore through Loverboy as she ashes out her second cigarette and reaches for the pack again. Seeing that it’s empty, she crushes the pack into a ball and throws it onto the floor. “Yes, Bobby. Vinnie is your dad.” “You told me my dad died of AIDS.” “Well, I figured it was possible, since he barely asks anyone their name before sticking his admittedly pretty pecker into any slut with daddy issues.” “Dude, Nikki, I was never like that when we were together. And I’m in a committed relationship as we speak! Don’t lie to the kid! Bobby, my little guy, I never had AIDS or anything else for that matter. The only thing I ever got from sexing up the ladies was a weird alien thing that came out of a porn star this one time. Don’t ever go to Russia, dude, trust me.” “Bobby, your dad’s an idiot, that’s why I told you he was dead. Now, get a ten from my purse and run down to the Habib store, get me some smokes. Okay? Take your time. You can buy a candy bar too.” “Yes!” Bobby jumps off the couch and runs into the other room, emerging a second later with a bill clutched in his hand. He jogs out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. “Dude, you let your kid buy you cigarettes? That shit’s illegal, you know.” “They don’t care at the corner store, Vinnie, relax. It’s not like he’s out scoring me morphine.” “Yeah, well, I guess it’s a good thing you got cleaned up. What happened, anyway?” Nikki stands up and walks to the kitchen, opening the fridge again and wiggling her ass at Loverboy as she bends over. Loverboy looks away, but she caught him glimpsing for just a second too long. “Bringing back some memories, Vinnie?” She says as she smiles back at him over her shoulder, giving her bubbly butt another shake. Loverboy blushes and turns away again as Nikki walks toward him with a glass of juice. “Don’t be shy, Vinnie. I know you missed me, and all the things we used to do. I missed you too.” Nikki gets close to him, cupping his crotch in her hand as he squirms. “Nikki, come on dude, I told you… we can’t do any of this. I have a fiancée. Bobby will be back soon.” “Take this drink Vinnie. Relax. Tell me about the XWF.” Reluctantly, Loverboy takes the glass from Nikki and takes a sip of the purplish liquid. He looks at the glass with a scowl. “Jesus, what is this? It tastes like shit.” “Hush, it was cheap.” “Fucking awful.” “So tell me about the fed, Vinnie. Seriously. What do they pay you?” “What do they pay me? Come on, man. That’s kinda rude. Suffice it to say, I do good. My merch sales are through the roof. There’s kids wearing Vinnie Lane bandannas, Vinnie Lane shades, Vinnie Lane shirts… every single show, dude. Their moms all line up to have me sign their titties while their dads sulk because they don’t have my face, my body, or my personality. Look at this winning smile, man.” “You’re definitely every bit as good looking as I remember.” “Definitely. Hotter even. Have you ever seen an Adonis belt? Look…” Loverboy pulls the front of his shirt up and tucks it under his chin, simultaneously tugging down the waistband of his pants to reveal the knots of slender muscles across his lower abdomen and waist. “Boom. Look at that shit. I have to keep half a t-shirt on in the ring so that all the ladies in the crowd don’t hit Shane with paternity via osmosis lawsuits. It’s a legit threat. Probably one of the reasons his potato-loving ass tries to keep me as far away from the Uni Title as possible.” “That doesn’t make sense… if you’re such a big draw, why not feature you more?” “They feature me whether they like it or not, man. Whether I’m opening the show against a scrub like Shelby Cobra or main eventing with a crowd killer like Frodo, they get huge gates and huge PPV buy rates. Shit, the house show I main evented had a record setting attendance. A house show, of all things. So they make their money regardless of if I have a belt around my awesome waist. They won’t be able to keep me down much longer though, dude, the fans are starting to see through the bullshit of lame duck ‘stars’ like Frodo and Luca. Especially Luca. The guy’s added more middle names than victories in the last six months. You’re talking about a guy who watched John Samuels, who is one smooth motherfucker, even I have to admit, change his race to identify with a new demographic and thought to himself ‘Hmm, I want to do that, but instead of cool black folks I want to associate myself with Mexican stereotypes.’ He honestly decided to make himself a worse version of El Tiburon. What the fuck?” “Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. By this time next week, Luca Tijuana will be an afterthought, again, after getting yet another ‘comeback match’ squashed by the megastar. Yeah, he won once when I was in the match, but that was a race to see who could pin Davey Mosier first, nothing to be proud of. You don’t see me talking about how proud I am of beating Darren Dangerous do you? Even though name-dropping Double D is suddenly as in-demand as reinforcements in Barney Green’s wrestling boots. Look, I’ve lasted longer watching 2 Girls 1 Cup than I have through a Luca promo. The dude’s voice is the equivalent of a BBW queef remix, only now he added a shitty accent. What the fuck is a mang, you know?” “I don’t know. Honestly. No idea.” “Dude, I feel kinda dizzy. Must be the damn Florida humidity. I need to sit down.” Loverboy goes to the couch and sits down in it heavily. Nikki follows him and starts running her hand up and down his leg, though he pushes it away. “Stop that shit, man. I’m trying to get this shit off my chest. You want to know what it’s like to be in the XWF? What it’s like to be a megastar and a main event attraction across the world? It’s not all limos and private jets, dude, I can tell you that. It’s having to share a locker room with idiots like Maverick. A dude who might just drop his pants and take a shit in the middle of a hallway, you never know. It’s really disturbing, like a Simon Lyster promo or a conversation with John Madison. Plus, and I’m not a doctor, but I think the motherfucker has worms. He drags his ass across the canvas like a dog with an itchy asshole. That’s not sanitary, man.” Loverboy lays his head back against the cushions of the couch, and Nikki straddles on top of his lap, setting a cell phone onto its side and turning its video camera on. “I don’t feel good, dude. I think I’m gonna pass out… why did that drink taste so funny?” “Because you’re too stupid to just offer me money up front to take care of your son, that’s why. So I think a little sex tape to show your blonde bimbo will get me exactly what I want.” Loverboy’s eyelids flutter closed as Nikki unzips his jeans and reaches inside, and the scene fades.