CREEK, Shelby Montgomery

[Shelby Montgomery Creek]

SHELBY MONTGOMERY CREEK

FULL NAME: Shelby Montgomery Creek.
NICKNAMES: none really
AGE: Thirty five
GENDER: male
SEXUALITY: Straight
STATUS: Single
GROUP: Citizen
GRADE: N/A
MAJOR: N/A
JOB OCCUPATION: Owner/Operator of Creek's Customs and Co-Owner of  The Museum, a multi-level nightclub

HAIR: Light brown, almost reddish blonde, cropped close some of the time, though he'll grow out the top and keep the sides neat, too.
EYES: Blue.
SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: His left leg is full of them from all the surgeries to fix it.
TATTOOS: The Olympic rings on his ribcage though no one sees them.
PIERCINGS: None.
PLAY-BY: Glen Powell!

LIKES: Cars, protecting people, hitting the race track, baseball hats, intelligent women, mango pineapple smoothies, jigsaw puzzles, Formula 1 racing, dirt bikes, off-roading, beanies, Christmas, Snowboarding (once upon a time), touring micro-breweries, dogs, reading, tending bar, karaoke night, open mic nights, pub food, working on cars
DISLIKES: Doing inventory, having to balance the books, cats, rodents, people who turn the corner of a book instead of using a scrap piece of paper or an actual bookmark, black coffee, black olives, cop shows, belligerent assholes, having to play bouncer, housework, birds
FEARS: snowboarding again, the pub getting robbed, breaking his other leg
SECRETS: Shelby's name has been forgotten by the world, even if it's still in the history books, sports section, and he likes it that way. He wants to live his life without people pestering him about the Olympics. However, that is the reason behind his slight limp when he gets overly tired. He doesn't tell anyone why he's limping.
PERSONALITY: Shelby is a Down-to-Earth kind of guy who prefers a good pub and a cold beer over a dance club any day of the week. He's very mechanically gifted, able to tear apart and put together just about anything and have it working better than before he'd gotten his hand at it. He likes to think he's a pretty funny guy but not all his jokes land and he's alright with that; can't be everyone's cup of tea after all. He's a little closed off and will happily, and easily, steer the conversation away from himself, especially if his slight limp is brought up. For the most part, he's happy to talk about the pub he co-owns with his sister or the shop he owns on his own, he's happy to shoot the breeze with whoever starts up a conversation but he's not willing to talk about his life before his move to New York. That was a lifetime ago and he's not interested in bringing the past and all that horror show with him. He's had affection in his life but he's never been in love, at least, not in that all-consuming, reach for the stars sort that people write stories about. He's had girlfriends before and he thinks he can be romantic but he's not always consistent with it and he's well aware of that. He does try but sometimes he gets carried away with work, or because he does have two businesses, he's always busy and there's not always time for those grand gestures. He's so much better at the little things.

MOTHER: Mary-Anne Creek & fifty-seven.
FATHER: Maxwell Creek & sixty.
SIBLINGS: Mitchie Creek & twenty-nine, sister.
OTHERS: N/A.
PETS: Roscoe & Akita
Buddha & Bulldog
HOMETOWN: Aspen, Colorado.
HISTORY: Maxwell and Mary-Anne met at a car show when they'd been young. Mary-Anne had gone with her father. He loved cars and had passed on the love affair to his only child, his daughter. Maxwell had grown up surrounded by cars. He could tear them apart and put them back together again before he could walk. She knew engines inside and out and worked for her father's shop where they did custom work and she was the engine girl. Maxwell had an affinity for bodywork. If he could take it apart, he could put it back together again, and he loved a good demo job. They met in front of a Shelby GTO and sparks flew. They started talking, started dating, started a lot of things that ended with them walking down the aisle and exchanging vows. They were happy, in love and they had two kids within seven years. A couple more years saw Mary-Anne's father semi-retire and the happy couple take over the shop.

Shelby was named after Carroll Shelby, co-creator of the Shelby Mustangs. It was no wonder at all that there would develop of love of all things cars. Shelby was six years old when he first helped his father take apart and reassemble the engine of a '68 GTO. It was emerald green with slick black leather seats and Shelby had dreams of being the one to drive it when he was older. Those dreams did become a reality and the only car he truly enjoys driving even now. Taking apart and putting cars back together again was the only thing father and son did together. Mother and son had more extreme hobbies together and she was the one who taught him how to snowboard when he'd barely known how to walk. By the age of five, Shelby was rushing down the more advanced hills at the ski resorts. By the age of ten, he was a nationally rank snowboarder with his sights set on the Olympics. It had been his dream since they'd included the sport in the Olympics. He wanted that gold medal around his neck. When he was a teenager, he qualified but fell during a routine run before he'd even left for the games. A concussion cost him the games that year but he fought every year afterwards. Four years later, he was back and better than ever. He walked away from those games with a gold medal around his neck and a great big, shiny smile on his face. He took to talk shows, did radio interviews, enjoyed the attention but knew it was back tot he slopes so he could be just as good the next time the games rolled around.

Another four years of training with the best, another qualification and another set of games he was prepared for. What he wasn't prepared for was his board being tapered with just before his practice run. A small screw, even two, should have been insignificant, nothing at all to worry about but Shelby knew his boards, all of them, better than he knew anything else. He knew it the second he'd started his run that something was off but hadn't thought it would cost him the games. He figured he'd be able to adjust it when he got to the bottom, fix it and be done with it. Nothing ever really works out the way you plan it and this was no exception. He didn't make it one hundred feet down the hill when the other screws that had been overcompensating for the lack of stability snapped, his leg, still locked into the brace, slipped right off and he lost his balance, shattering his leg in more than a dozen places. He was rushed to the hospital where they managed to set what they could with screws and little bits of metal and repaired what they couldn't. Shelby was a mess, which was made all the worse when he was told he could never snowboard again. He'd lost all his hopes and dreams of a second gold in the blink of an eye and all because he hadn't stopped himself immediately to right the wrong.

It came out while he was recovering in hospital that one of his competitors saw him as a threat, which he most certainly was, and wanted to take him out of the running. It worked but it also took him out as well and landed him in a nice prison cell to serve out his time because what he'd done had been a serious crime, even if he hadn't really thought it through completely. Shelby was very well compensated for what had happened, he'd lost his only form of income, his career was gone and so was the life he'd known. He'd lost so much. His return to Colorado was not a joyous one and it broke his entire family to see him sulk the way he did. He could barely walk, it took ages for him to get to a point where people could barely notice the limp. Eventually, his name fell from the headlines and people forgot all about Shelby Creek, Golden Boy. A couple years went by but Shelby was no better off and he realised, he couldn't be in Colorado anymore. It was too painful to be in the place where all his dreams had come true. He went to his mother's study, she was a high school sociology teacher, and threw a dart at the map she had on her wall. It hit Newark but he thought Greenwich Village was close enough.

With the money he'd gotten in the settlement, Shelby purchased a rundown building to transform into something he could call his own. It took a long time to sort it all out, get all the permits and then decorate but eventually, Creek's Customs was born. He hired the best and loved to get covered in the grease, doing what he loved. A couple years went by and his sister decided to make the move from Colorado to New York, following in her brother's footsteps. She liked the cars but she wanted something else. In the end, she prepared a whole business plan and presented it to him with all the facts and figures. He liked it, wanted to help his baby sister out and thought it would be a good investment. He helped with the loan, put in his own money and went in search of the proper building. It was a bit rundown but it was also on the cheap side because of it. They picked it up and within eleven months, The Museum opened to a steady flow. Over the first six months, Shelby and Mitchie auditioned karaoke DJs and Trivia Night Hosts, trying to bring a bit of fun to a night out. They had already sorted out an Open Mic Night for Wednesdays, Trivia Thursdays with the winning team's tab cleared for the night and karaoke Friday nights because it was a good time. Saturday's were reserved for a house band, which took them little more than a week to find. The rest of the time, though they were open seven days a week, were left as just regular nights. They had good food, good music and interesting entertainment, they had a good staff and for the first time in a really long time, Shelby was actually happy with his life. Everything seemed to work out so well for the past few years and now that he's recently turned thirty-five, Shelby is finally starting to realise there is more to life than just the businesses he loves. Idealistically, he'd like someone to share it all with, though days at the shop and nights at the pub are hectic and he's aware of it.

YOUR ALIAS: Cali
RULE WORDS: I've taken care of these.
WHERE YOU FOUND US: The bottom of a bottle.
SAMPLE:

Nahhh!

 

[Cali]