Chapter 83: Big Kahunas and Lovers
We were shown into the vast conference room arranged inside the arena.
So having Tiffany Maxen here means we get the full VIP treatment, huh.
It had been striking, even from the moment we arrived at the parking lot — a whole crowd rushing out to carry our bags and fuss over us. Then people who looked like they'd wandered straight out of a movie hovered around, waiting on us hand and foot.
They'd laid out all kinds of teas and cookies so that a long meeting wouldn't wear anyone down, a courtesy that left an impression of its own. And to top it all off, the butler who clearly belonged at the Maxen estate had come along as well.
……And yet, aside from us — who had arrived just the tiniest bit late — not a single person had shown up in the conference room yet.
"Shall I prepare some tea for you, mademoiselle?"
"The 'Gyokuro,' please."
"Of course. Right away."
"And I'll have—"
The moment I opened my mouth, thinking it was my turn, the butler turned his back on me without a word.
I froze with my hand still half-raised, and Tiffany snickered.
Somewhat embarrassing.
"Your face has gone red."
"……I'll take water, then."
"The Gyokuro is fine. It's a green tea — why not just share mine?"
"I'm good."
"Oh, come on. When else would you ever get the chance to drink tea like this?"
"I take it it's expensive?"
"Wasn't it fifteen hundred dollars for a hundred grams?"
"……That's no joke."
"Well, it's people like us paying these prices and drinking this stuff that keeps money circulating in the world, you know."
Not long after Tiffany said that, the tea arrived.
"Besides, this tea helps calm the mind and body, so it's perfect for a meeting."
"So it lives up to the price."
"No — it's the other way around. The price is so high that you believe it does."
How cutting.
I gave a wry smile as I watched Tiffany sip her tea with impeccable elegance. Then, from somewhere, came the sound of ragged, labored breathing.
Turning around to see what it was, I spotted our screenwriter standing up on the small stage, wound tight as a spring.
For the record, today's presentation was his job. I'd only tagged along to chime in here and there where needed.
Though, of course, by the end I'd probably end up doing most of the talking anyway.
His eyes met mine, and I gave him an encouraging look. He looked like he might pass out at any moment, but the writer somehow dug a portable flask out of his jacket and took a long swig…
Is that going to be okay?
I was still staring at him in bewilderment when the four members of Revolution arrived at the conference room.
The first through the door, scowling furiously, was Hunter. Flair, Batista, and Orton filed in behind him.
"Well, hello, Hunter. It's been a while."
"……Mademoiselle."
"I told you to call me that after we broke up — and you actually go and do it? Honestly. No balls on this man at all."
Tiffany giggled.
Truly a terrifying woman.
At any rate, she seemed to be one step ahead in the war of nerves. Hunter, belt in hand, took a seat across the table from us.
And then, last of all—
The smell of hamburgers drifted in from somewhere.
"Damn, what a busy day this has been!"
At that gravelly voice, everyone rose from their seats. I, too, went to greet him as he pushed open the door.
Bart Maxen.
In his hand was a paper bag from Big Kahunas Burger, a famous brand.
"Sorry about this. I haven't had lunch yet. Everyone, sit. I'd like to hear the presentation while I enjoy this delicious Big Kahunas burger."
"What did you get to drink, sir?"
"A milkshake, obviously. The way it goes down is just to die for."
Bart let out a hearty laugh at Hunter's question, and then his gaze swept around the room.
"Kung-Fury. Looking forward to another brilliant idea from you today."
"They're his ideas, actually, sir."
"That transparent little act of yours is part of your charm, you know."
His gaze, burger in hand, finally landed on Tiffany.
The only person in the room who didn't need to stand when the Chairman walked in.
"It's been a while, Tiffany."
"Yes, Father. A year, wasn't it?"
"We talked on the phone often enough — that's about as much catching up as we need."
Seeing his own daughter for the first time in a year, and yet he showed not a trace of warmth.
Tiffany, for her part, didn't so much as bat an eye. Bart tossed the bag down carelessly, sat, and looked across the room.
"Begin."
"Yes, sir! Right away, sir!"
The writer nodded, and the broad outline of the script appeared on the big screen.
In the meantime, Bart unwrapped his burger, took a light bite, and looked at me.
Then he spoke.
"You ever had one of these?"
"……No, sir."
"Shame. It's the best burger in Georgia. I'm in the mood to savor every last bite of it today."
"Then the smooth, sweet milkshake should take care of that."
"No."
Bart's eyes glinted faintly.
What he means is: whether the presentation is to his taste — that's what really matters.
And with that, the presentation began.
Our screenwriter turned out to be considerably better at presenting than I'd expected.
The expressions of the Revolution members seated across from us began rotting, gradually, from the very start.
"When, uh — when Kung-Fury was called up to the main roster, it was Nick Flair who manipulated things so that he received the wrong contract."
Framed this way, it opened the door to the detail that Flair had tried to shut out a former GCW Champion — me.
In other words, it was a script engineered to send my status rocketing skyward.
Hunter grasped that immediately, baring his teeth and glaring at me.
Flair beside him, surprisingly, did little more than let out a sigh.
"To put it simply, our intention is to fold GCW into the company's internal universe going forward and build storylines around it."
"Hmm…"
Bart's expression was ambiguous.
Catching that, Tiffany added a word of her own to the writer's pitch.
"Father, GCW's current viewership is nothing to sneeze at. Measured against production costs, its profits actually surpass both Burning Kong and Rakedown."
"……It's doing that well?"
"Yes, sir. We've prepared the financial statements."
At Tiffany's flick of the fingers, the writer on the stage hastily worked the laptop linked to the screen.
The financial tables flashed up, and Bart's eyes darted to a single spot.
"Still only a tenth of what Burning Kong and Rakedown pull in, I see."
"Yes — but put another way, it achieved those results without any of that kind of promotion or support."
"Sin."
Bart turned to me.
"And Hunter."
"……"
Tiffany's face flushed crimson at being ignored. But Bart paid her no mind and pressed on.
"What do the two of you think?"
"A superb idea, sir. With such a capable leader on board as well, I don't see any problems at all."
I deliberately lifted Tiffany up a little, so she wouldn't lose her nerve.
But it only seemed to stoke Hunter's anger for no good reason.
"That's absurd."
"Why is that?"
"Are you planning to put the GCW wrestlers on equal footing? Those men have neither the talent nor the ability."
"That's just a difference in booking."
"Impossible. Where in GCW is there a better wrestler than me?"
"Uh, standing right here, actually."
"……You little shit."
"Russell too, for that matter. You asked me honestly, so I'm giving you my honest impression."
"I suppose you're entitled to say that."
As Hunter rose from his seat in a fury, Bart cut in as if to restrain him.
"But what matters is what the public thinks. In this room, nothing beyond that — no personal feelings — goes into what you say."
"Yes, sir. My apologies."
"Apologize to Hunter, not to me."
"Sorry 'bout that."
"Ghhk…"
"In any case — with that said, I can't say the script fully satisfies me either. It feels a bit… bland."
I shot Bart a sidelong glare.
Knowing his personality, this was exactly the moment he'd be primed to spout some pointless nonsense.
But every now and then — a very rare every now and then — his remarks did strike a nerve.
Cruelly so.
"We need impact."
He'd arrived at the same conclusion I had.
But the "impact" Bart meant was something rather different from mine.
He wanted some kind of stimulation — some provocative element — injected into the show.
And we were put on the test bench.
"Well? Any ideas, you two?"
"……"
"It's too bland as it stands. Not enough pulling power to carry the audience along."
"W-well, if I, having been away for so long, return to Burning Kong—"
"And who are you, exactly?"
Tiffany's tail between her legs at Bart's words. I scratched my cheek lightly.
An idea? I had one.
One that would satisfy that man down to his rotten bones. But if I said it out loud, Tiffany would hate it.
Guess I'll be getting an earful about this later.
Having decided that, I let Bart's expectant gaze wash over me for a moment.
Across the table, the Revolution members wore looks that said: go ahead, try us.
Their faces clearly read — what idea could a rookie who'd only just come up possibly have?
And honestly, fair enough.
It was true that very few people in the world could catch the point Bart was making in a moment like this and run with it.
But I could.
Looking forward just a little to watching their faces twist, I opened my mouth.
The answer was simple.
"We add a lovers' storyline."
"A lovers'…?"
"Hunter and Tiffany played a couple in the old shows, didn't they?"
"Oho."
Bart's face lit up like a man savoring every last molecule of flavor in his Big Kahunas.
Tiffany's face, meanwhile, flooded with shock. Across the table, Hunter glared at me like he wanted me dead on the spot.
But as I'd said—
Even attention like this, these days, only served to make my presence felt.
"Tiffany and I become lovers. And we use that in the psychological warfare against Hunter. What do you think?"
"No. No, that won't do."
Bart Maxen shook his head.
Dammit.
In that fleeting moment I read his mind, spiraling toward something far filthier, and frowned slightly.
"Tiffany seduces you! To drive Hunter up the wall! Now that would be fun!"
What an absolute dog of a man.
But what could I do?
This was a madman who'd willingly roll himself in filth for the sake of an entertaining show.
Of course he'd think his own daughter ought to play the seductress on television, too.
"Ha — now this is fun! But we need to think about face bookings too, so naturally you turn her down! And Tiffany wears more and more scandalous outfits!"
"F-Father…"
"You're feeling up her pants, and you're shocked by how big it is! Bwahahahaha! This is going to be comedy gold!"
Bart roared with laughter.
And before him, Hunter, Tiffany, and I each felt something entirely different.
Tiffany Maxen lit a cigarette.
The conference room, after everyone had gone.
Someone had tried to clear away the Big Kahunas Burger wrappers. Tiffany's gaze lingered on them for a moment.
Business partners, after all.
And now partners in the script as well. She figured she owed me a little consolation.
With that thought, I watched the long column of ash fall from her cigarette.
After a few more cigarettes, Tiffany finally spoke.
"Quite a script."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it can't be helped."
She took it coolly, unexpectedly so.
Perhaps it was the power of a cigarette she didn't usually smoke. She admitted, more easily than I'd imagined, that my approach had been the right one.
And it was true.
There was no denying that, framed this way, the script fit the current Burning Kong formula far better.
Through the provocative elements, I'd be able to get over even harder, and the intensity of the feud would climb higher still.
An old lover returning as an enemy is, after all, a deeply compelling story.
"I'm counting on you going forward. And honestly, Father was out of line back there."
"Because he ordered up a script like that?"
"He basically said GCW amounted to nothing, didn't he? And I've been working myself half to death for it these past six months."
"Then we just keep growing GCW until Bart has no choice but to acknowledge it."
"Well, either way, we got Father's approval, so the biggest mountain is behind us."
Tiffany nodded, then picked up her jacket — set well apart so it wouldn't absorb the smell — and shrugged it back on.
"Shall we head out, then?"
"Where to?"
"Have a drink with me at least. I promise I won't get drunk and whine."
"……I thought you were fine?"
"With a father as insane as mine, if I just shrug it all off like it's nothing, I start to feel like I'm turning into the same kind of person."
I followed Tiffany, smiling bitterly, into the elevator.
Whatever she said, she had to have been hurt deeply. She was, after all, his one and only daughter.
Some things you never get used to.
But because she knew it had to be done, she swallowed it all down inside.
I watched her like that for a moment, then finally let out a single remark.
A word of comfort, meant to lighten the mood.
"Try not to piss yourself this time."
SMACK!
……Right on the nose.