Post by TheLostBoys on Jan 18, 2017 4:01:15 GMT
*ring, ring* *ring, ring* *ring, ring*
The unabated sounds of a home phone rang throughout the humble abode nestled in the heart of Western Australia’s capital of Perth. Already feeling quite comfortable one tenant, a middle-aged male, refused to budge from his position on the couch. His determination, or stubbornness, paid off as the sound of footfalls from another section of the house and the near incomprehensible sound of one-sided chatter alluded to the man’s partner putting an end to the incessant dial tone. That was until...
“Kyle. Kyle honey it’s for you.”
‘For me?’ He thought. With all further pretense of solitude destroyed the gentleman named Kyle removed himself from the living room and begrudgingly accepted the phone from his partner who replied to Kyle’s inquisitive glance with a shrug.
“Hello, Kyle Martin speaking. Whom may I ask am I talking to?”
“Who?...Sam Braxton? I don’t…Wait. You mean the Sam Braxton of Triforce? The Bobby Walker, Dean Coulter and Sam Braxton, Sam Braxton?”
“Wow! This is definitely a surprise. Sorry to hear about the breaking up of the team. You guys were golden. Anyway what can I do you for?”
“What? Really? That’s amazing!...For sure, how can I help?...Actually, you know what. Where are you two at the moment?...Sydney? I’ll fly out there in a couple of days and we can talk shop. Iron out the details….Yeah no problem at all…I’ve already got some ideas…It’s going to be epic…Alright see you in Sydney.”
*Click*
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“He’s not going to show!” Sam Braxton paced back and forwards, almost every limb of his body twitching in a show anxiety and restlessness as Dean Coulter watched on from his seat. After many years Dean was more than used to Sam’s excitability, but even he found the pacing maddening.
“We agreed on 2pm right? Well it’s just hit 2 now so ease back a bit Dude. Here.” Dean passed his friend a 20-dollar note. “Grab yourself a drink and then sit down before you dig yourself a trench.”
“But no caffeine!” he quickly added as Sam ducked into the Café/Bar. For this all important, pending meeting they had chosen the creatively named Café Sydney, not far from Circular Quay, as the rendezvous point and had procured a quaint table out the front to be easily spotted by, or easily spot, their guest.
Sam returned with a bottle of Hanh’s Super Dry and Dean thought better than to make a comment. Just as Sam took his seat at the table they were met by their expected arrival, Kyle Martin, the gentleman from Perth.
“Afternoon boys.”
“Mike!” Sam and Dean shook the hand of their guests, Sam perhaps a bit more vigorously then necessary and offered him a seat.
“Please, it’s Kyle Martin now. I gave up the moniker of Mike Crisis some time ago.”
“And you don’t regret it? Like at all?”
“No. I am happily retired. Got myself a great life and I feel no need to look back. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have some connections and networks. In saying that let's get to the crux of the matter.”
“Sam and I agreed that despite enjoying the time off, definitely a good decision, the time has come that we should return to the game.”
“But not here?”
“Nah, the Triforce name carries with it too much baggage. Mostly good stuff mind you. But we want to separate ourselves from that. We want to start a fresh. And since you made quite a name for yourself over the States we thought you’d be the guy to talk to about where and how to break into the market.”
“It’s quite a jump.”
“We thought it time America learnt our names.”
“I can definitely respect that. I’ve got a few places in mind actually, a few people I can talk to. When would you like to get started?”
Having been mostly quiet for the duration of the conversation, afraid he’d embarrass himself too much by fan-boying, Sam seized his moment.
“Right now!”
The trio shared a chuckle and politely ordered themselves some lunch.
“Well there is this one place. Never been there myself but word on the street speaks very highly of it…”
The unabated sounds of a home phone rang throughout the humble abode nestled in the heart of Western Australia’s capital of Perth. Already feeling quite comfortable one tenant, a middle-aged male, refused to budge from his position on the couch. His determination, or stubbornness, paid off as the sound of footfalls from another section of the house and the near incomprehensible sound of one-sided chatter alluded to the man’s partner putting an end to the incessant dial tone. That was until...
“Kyle. Kyle honey it’s for you.”
‘For me?’ He thought. With all further pretense of solitude destroyed the gentleman named Kyle removed himself from the living room and begrudgingly accepted the phone from his partner who replied to Kyle’s inquisitive glance with a shrug.
“Hello, Kyle Martin speaking. Whom may I ask am I talking to?”
“Who?...Sam Braxton? I don’t…Wait. You mean the Sam Braxton of Triforce? The Bobby Walker, Dean Coulter and Sam Braxton, Sam Braxton?”
“Wow! This is definitely a surprise. Sorry to hear about the breaking up of the team. You guys were golden. Anyway what can I do you for?”
“What? Really? That’s amazing!...For sure, how can I help?...Actually, you know what. Where are you two at the moment?...Sydney? I’ll fly out there in a couple of days and we can talk shop. Iron out the details….Yeah no problem at all…I’ve already got some ideas…It’s going to be epic…Alright see you in Sydney.”
*Click*
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“He’s not going to show!” Sam Braxton paced back and forwards, almost every limb of his body twitching in a show anxiety and restlessness as Dean Coulter watched on from his seat. After many years Dean was more than used to Sam’s excitability, but even he found the pacing maddening.
“We agreed on 2pm right? Well it’s just hit 2 now so ease back a bit Dude. Here.” Dean passed his friend a 20-dollar note. “Grab yourself a drink and then sit down before you dig yourself a trench.”
“But no caffeine!” he quickly added as Sam ducked into the Café/Bar. For this all important, pending meeting they had chosen the creatively named Café Sydney, not far from Circular Quay, as the rendezvous point and had procured a quaint table out the front to be easily spotted by, or easily spot, their guest.
Sam returned with a bottle of Hanh’s Super Dry and Dean thought better than to make a comment. Just as Sam took his seat at the table they were met by their expected arrival, Kyle Martin, the gentleman from Perth.
“Afternoon boys.”
“Mike!” Sam and Dean shook the hand of their guests, Sam perhaps a bit more vigorously then necessary and offered him a seat.
“Please, it’s Kyle Martin now. I gave up the moniker of Mike Crisis some time ago.”
“And you don’t regret it? Like at all?”
“No. I am happily retired. Got myself a great life and I feel no need to look back. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have some connections and networks. In saying that let's get to the crux of the matter.”
“Sam and I agreed that despite enjoying the time off, definitely a good decision, the time has come that we should return to the game.”
“But not here?”
“Nah, the Triforce name carries with it too much baggage. Mostly good stuff mind you. But we want to separate ourselves from that. We want to start a fresh. And since you made quite a name for yourself over the States we thought you’d be the guy to talk to about where and how to break into the market.”
“It’s quite a jump.”
“We thought it time America learnt our names.”
“I can definitely respect that. I’ve got a few places in mind actually, a few people I can talk to. When would you like to get started?”
Having been mostly quiet for the duration of the conversation, afraid he’d embarrass himself too much by fan-boying, Sam seized his moment.
“Right now!”
The trio shared a chuckle and politely ordered themselves some lunch.
“Well there is this one place. Never been there myself but word on the street speaks very highly of it…”
Well howdy there pardner.