by Pat White
He shucked his leather coat, took off his Stetson, and passed them over the top rope to the stage assistant. As his opponent’s crazy music blasted in sync with blue and orange flashing lights, Tiger Lady crawled to the ring post and gripped the ropes. Snapping her head from side to side, she acted as if she expected an assault. She played terrified pretty well. Maybe she wasn’t such a bad actress.
Wrapping his arms around the top rope, he leaned back to stretch out his shoulders, waiting for Neurosis to make his grand entrance. The kid had a distinctive style, Jack had to give him that. The shrill sound of sirens and bells grew to an eardrum-shattering pitch. Tiger Lady plastered her gloved hands over her ears and squinted her eyes. She’d better get out of the damn ring before the punk catapulted himself into the center of the action. Jack knew the kid didn’t like to wait until the official ring of the bell to throw the first punch, and Jack didn’t want to worry about tripping over Tiger Lady.
As Neurosis approached the mini-trampoline that would send him flying into the squared circle, Jack stormed over to Tiger Lady.
“Get out of the ring!” he shouted at her, his voice competing with the blare of sirens.
She couldn’t hear him. He reached down to pull her to her feet. The second his hands made contact with the bare flesh of her shoulders, she lunged at him, swinging her arms like a mad woman. He lost his balance, falling backward over the top rope with Tiger Lady in his arms. They hit the outside mat covering the unforgiving cement with a thump. Sure, Jack was used to falling out of the ring, but he wasn’t ready for this tumble, and he surely wasn’t prepared to cushion a freaked-out Tigress.
Shocked and embarrassed, he lay there for a good minute, listening to the crowd heat up with excitement. His ego wasn’t too pleased with this turn of events. Being taken out by a little, eye-gouging cat woman would take months to live down in the locker room.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the overhead fluorescent lights. He was getting too old for this.
“You guys done down there?” Neurosis asked, staring over the top rope. Only then did Jack realize that Tiger Lady covered him like a blanket, straddling his groin with shapely, well-toned legs.
Tiger Lady sighed, her warm breath tickling his neck. This was definitely not part of the plan. Nor was the stirring below his waist.
With flattened palms, she pushed against his chest and gazed at him.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“Good, then you’d better get off me before I embarrass myself.”
Those cornflower blue eyes narrowed to slits. He saw it coming this time and caught her right wrist, then her left before those gloved hands of hers could make contact.
“I’m getting real tired of being beat up before the match even starts.”
He jackknifed into a sitting position and she squeaked, but couldn’t free herself. Their faces nearly touched, and the spicy scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils.
“Let me go!” she growled, and this time she sounded like all cylinders had clicked just right.
“No slapping.”
She glared.
“Are we having a match here or what?” Neurosis called down to them.
“Hold your ponytail,” Jack shouted and looked into the woman’s eyes. They burned fire.
“I’m letting go now,” he said.
He slowly loosened his grip and she scrambled off him. He got to his feet, cursing the day he’d failed to add the words “creative control” to his contract. And he’d thought being a hood ornament for a Zamboni had been bad.
A sharp sting sliced his back.
“What the—”
He spun around and caught the thin edge of the whip as Tiger Lady let a second snap fly.
“That’s it!” He yanked the whip, pulling her flat against his chest. “You’re on my side, got it?”
She squirmed against him, squeaking and snarling. What a feisty little thing. With closed fists, she hauled off and swung at him, anywhere, everywhere, nearly catching his jaw a second time with a gloved fist. He didn’t get paid enough for this kind of abuse.
Jack pulled her by the wrist toward the ring post. “I don’t know where Sully found you, but after this match I’m going to make sure he sends you right back where you came from, ratings or no ratings.”
He ripped a spare TV cable from the floor and wrapped it around her waist. The crowd roared with delight. Tiger Lady swung her arms, a few punches making contact. He didn’t care. She was a menace. Wrestling was dangerous enough without having to worry about being ambushed by a crazy woman. He knotted the cable firmly at the small of her back, trying to ignore the tingling of his fingers as they brushed against her bare, soft skin. Securing the other end of the cable to the ring post, he stepped out of range and pointed an index finger in her face. “Behave.”
She shrieked and swiped at him with a gloved paw. He couldn’t figure this one out. One minute she was too nervous to do her job; the next she acted the consummate tigress, poised and ready to rip out his heart.
“Let’s go, Hudson!” Neurosis called.
As Jack circled the ring, Neurosis stalked him from the ropes threatening to take unfair advantage when Jack returned to action.
The referee finally corralled Neurosis into the corner and Jack climbed through the ropes. The crowd cheered, eager for the fight to begin. When Neurosis charged, Jack clotheslined him across the chest. The kid went down, and Jack applied a sleeper hold.
“They’re wild tonight,” the kid said through clenched teeth.
“You’re not kidding.” He pretended to tighten the hold, and Neurosis pounded on the mat with his fist in mock frustration.
Neurosis outmaneuvered Jack and delivered a few punches to his ribs. He ground his teeth. Great. The damned ribs again. It seemed like it took forever for those things to heal.
“Sorry, I forgot,” the kid said, and whipped Jack into the turnbuckle. He hit chest first and fell backward onto the mat. This was going to be a long match. Neurosis pinned him and the crowd cheered with delight. What the hell? Jack was the baby face, the champion. They shouldn’t be cheering his abuse.
Neurosis threw five punches to Jack’s forehead. Usually the fans would shout the number of blows a wrestler unleashed on his opponent. Not this crowd. It was as if they were completely disinterested in the match.
The crowd screamed, quieted, and screamed again. He glanced at the sea of faces. They weren’t even focused on the ring. Neurosis froze in mid-swing, and both men glanced at the main attraction.
The women were going at it by the announcer’s table.
“They’re stealing our heat,” the kid said. “That’s not fair. I had some really cool stuff planned for this match.”
Edible Eve tackled Tatianna, and they both went down.
“Dammit,” Jack shoved the kid off of him.
“What the hell?”
“We’d better break it up.”
He marched to the ropes faster than he’d intended. Something knotted his gut. The thought of Tiger Lady going one-on-one with Edible Eve didn’t sit right.
As he approached the corner, Neurosis drop-kicked him from behind and Jack went flying into the turnbuckle. Was anything going to go right tonight? At least he had the presence of mind to cushion the blow with his arm.
He spun on his opponent and readied for the attack. The kid charged, and Jack shouldered him out of the ring as planned. Only this was supposed to happen fifteen minutes into the match. The kid took out Prince Priceless, landing in his lap. At least Jack got the satisfaction of seeing the Prince dethroned.
“Jack! Jack, help!” Tiger Lady cried.
Edible Eve clutched a fistful of Tiger Lady’s hair in either hand and was banging her head against the perimeter mat. He slipped through the ropes but before he could get there, Eve started clawing at Tiger Lady’s mask. Something must have snapped because Tiger Lady started kicking and punching, for real. Eve shrieked, a shocked and horrified
expression creasing her heavily made-up face.
Must have been a pride thing, but Eve wouldn’t let go of her opponent’s hair. This was getting dangerous. He bolted from the ring, glancing over his shoulder at Neurosis, who was still sprawled across Prince’s lap. The kid had promised Eve a wild night, and she was getting one. More than she’d bargained for, no doubt.
Jack grabbed Eve from behind and placed her gently aside.
“She punched me! Did you see that? She really punched me,” Eve cried.
“Calm down. Go help your boy over there.”
Eve rubbed her jaw with manicured fingers and snarled at Tiger Lady before storming off.
He turned to Tiger Lady, who was visibly trembling. Long, gloved fingers held her mask firmly in place. When she saw him approach she started to scoot back under the ring skirt. He knelt down.
“Are you okay?” he asked above the howls of enthusiastic fans.
“She tried to kill me.” Her lower lip quivered.
He reached out and cupped her chin between his forefinger and thumb. This was it. He was going to lose a couple of fingers.
“Look at me. You’re okay,” he said, suddenly wanting to see more of her face than blue eyes and blood-red lips.
What was happening to him? He was in the middle of a match for Pete’s sake.
A blow across his shoulders reminded him exactly where he was. Another crash sent him tumbling into the metal steps. Could this night get any stranger? He rolled onto his back and looked up at Eve who stood over him wielding the damn bell. Then she started for Tatianna. He got to his feet and ripped the bell out of her hands.
“I said, stay away from her!” he shouted for the audience’s benefit.
She skulked away to help Neurosis recover, or at least to extract him from the Prince’s lap.
The pressure of two hands snaked around his waist from behind. He looked down to see Tatianna’s gloved fingers interlaced firmly at his midsection. Now what?
He turned to face her, or rather look over her. Even wearing those stilts, she barely came up to his neck. Head tipped back, she stared up at him with glassy eyes. She looked loopy or something. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Thanks,” she whispered. She took off a glove and touched his cheek.
His face burned red hot. The crowd roared. He could have sworn this was real, real gratitude, real attraction. Whoa. Back up. This was all part of the angle. It had to be.
“You’re welcome.” He gently closed his fingers around her wrist and removed her hand. If there was one thing Jack never got confused about it was the real and unreal facets of his life. The wild story lines and comic characters were make believe, even if the wrestling itself and subsequent injuries were painfully real.
Suddenly, his breath was cut off by a TV cable snaked around his neck. Neurosis must be back in the saddle.
“Be good,” Jack croaked to Tatianna as the punk dragged him five feet, whipping him into a metal guardrail.
Okay, now Jack was back in familiar territory. A head crash into the stairs, a few kicks to the face, flinging a metal chair for good measure, and this match would be back on track. Unfortunately his focus was still a little off.
“In the ring! In the ring!” the referee ordered from the top rope.
Jack out-maneuvered Neurosis and sent him flying into a group of spectators.
“Black Jack Attack! Black Jack Attack!” the crowd chanted.
They were getting worked up, all right. He threw the kid over his shoulder and set-up for an atomic drop, but Neurosis pushed himself off and shoved Jack, shoulder first, into the ring post. He bounced off the metal and ended up falling face down in Tatianna’s lap.
At this point nothing would surprise her, Frankie thought, staring down at Black Jack’s mane of black waves. He scrambled off her, color flushing his cheeks.
“Sorry.” A half smile curled the left side of his mouth. Was that a dimple?
The roar of the crowd made her head spin and her heart race.
“Black Jack Attack! Black Jack Attack!”
He got to his feet, but kept looking at her as if he couldn’t quite break the spell. His eyes weren’t nearly as dark as before. Or were they?
The orange-haired wrestler hit him from behind, and he went down in front of her. The crazy wrestler sat on Jack’s back, interlaced his fingers under Jack’s chin and yanked back on his neck. She closed her eyes. Uncle Joe said it was a skill to wrestle without getting seriously hurt. Her neck ached just looking at the men go at it.
The crowd roared and she opened her eyes. The bad guy had ripped a TV monitor from the announcer’s table. He was going to crush Jack’s skull. No, she couldn’t let that happen. Jack wasn’t such a bad guy, even if he had dragged her out here over his shoulder, kissed her against her will, and tied her to the ring post. He did save her from that raving lunatic who nearly ripped her hair out and exposed her true identity.
She searched for a weapon, fumbling under the ring skirt for something, anything. They usually shoved miscellaneous supplies under the ring after setup. She remembered that from the one time her mother let Uncle Joe bring her to work when she was a kid.
She glanced over her shoulder. The crazy wrestler was closing in on Jack, TV monitor in hand. She dug deeper...
“Ah!” She pulled a heavy wrench from beneath the ring and raced up behind the orange-haired freak. Maybe she wasn’t strong, but she was accurate.
The crowd roared as Black Jack’s opponent raised the monitor above his head. Any second now it would come crashing down on a helpless Black Jack. Under normal circumstances she hated violence. She couldn’t even kill a mosquito if it was biting her arm.
Tonight was anything but normal.
She wound up, closed her eyes, and swung. Her fingers sprung open at the feel of metal hitting muscle. At least she thought she’d hit the crazy wrestler’s back muscles.
A collective gasp hushed through the stadium.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes. Her stomach clenched at the sight of Jack, sprawled face down on the announcer’s table. No, it couldn’t be. She had perfect aim, precision wind up.
His psycho opponent shot her a puzzled look, then yanked Jack off the table, dropped him on the floor and covered him.
“One, two, three!” the crowd shouted along with the referee’s count.
Neurosis jumped to his feet and caught his female as she leapt into his arms.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner and new WHAK champion. Neurosis!”
Sirens and bells burst her eardrums. She stared down at Jack’s motionless body. Oh, God. She killed him. All Uncle Joe wanted her to do was step in for the missing Amazon woman, dress the part and satisfy the fans. Instead, she killed WHAK’s biggest star.
The crowd’s roars turned into violent jeers directed at Frankie. Suddenly they went quiet as a paramedic team rolled a stretcher up the aisle.
A part of her wanted to go to him while another part wanted to escape to the safety of her real life.
“What have I done?” she said under her breath.
The paramedics shifted Jack’s limp body onto a backboard, and placed him on the stretcher. As they wheeled him past the crowd, fans called out encouragement for the star’s quick recovery.
Her ears rang with panic. Black Jack had to be okay, Uncle Joe couldn’t lose his company, and she couldn’t go to jail for manslaughter. It would be awfully hard to share a quiet dinner with her future fiancé from a cell in Joliet.
“No!” She chased after the stretcher, sprinting about ten feet then abruptly snapping back and landing on her fanny. The damn TV cable was still knotted at her waist. She shifted it around front, ripped off her gloves and dug her nails into Black Jack’s expertly-crafted knot. Panic took hold as the medical crew wheeled Jack through the narrow Monkey Tunnel out of sight.
“No! No!” She pulled, tugged, chewed. No dice. “Someone cut this thing off me!”
The crowd stared at her in amaze
ment. Security guards restrained fans that no doubt wanted to string her up for murdering their hero. No, he couldn’t die. She’d be locked up for twenty to life and her uncle would end up selling shoelaces on street corners. Besides, Black Jack was kinda cute.
“I’m having a breakdown!” she cried, ripping off her shoe and digging a spiked heel into the knot. “You can do anything if you set your mind to it, you can do anything if you set your mind to it,” she mumbled. Where was Maxine when she needed her? The knot finally came free.
Frankie hobble-raced toward the stretcher, kicked off her other shoe and caught it in mid-sprint. She bolted through the Monkey Tunnel to the back of the arena and glanced right, then left. The paramedics were wheeling the stretcher through Gate Six. The door slammed behind them.
“Wait!” A shoe gripped in either hand, she sprinted through the stadium and got to the exit as an EMT closed the ambulance door.
“I’m going with you.”
“Frankie! Frankie!” Uncle Joe called after her. “It was wonderful! Spectacular! Sensational!”
The paramedic blocked the ambulance door. “We’ve got it under control, ma’am.”
“No, but you don’t understand. I… I…” What? She was the one who’d crushed the patient’s skull? “I have to go with him and make sure he’s okay.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Uncle Joe patted her shoulder. “Frankie—”
“Uncle Joe, I need to ride in the ambulance.”
“You’re a good girl Frankie, but your job’s done now. Let the professionals take over.”
“I have to get in there.”
Uncle Joe’s face lit up. She didn’t care what angle was brewing behind his twinkling gray-blue eyes. She had to make things right, had to make sure Black Jack would live to fight another day.
“Of course you need to ride in the ambulance.” Uncle Joe motioned to a cameraman.
A light above the camera flashed on and Frankie squinted against its blinding shine.
“Go on, let her in,” Uncle Joe directed the ambulance driver.
The paramedic hesitated.
“Out of my way. I’m ... I’m his woman,” she blurted out.