‘Sure’n let’s be hearing you now.’
‘If you want.’ I raised my dead mike to the required level and began to call my intro, ‘. . . and his opponent, in this title match, all the way from Dublin, Ireland, the GWA Transcontinental Champion, Liam . . . The Man . . . Matthews!’
The Irishman’s long, thick blond hair flew as he shook his head, vigorously. ‘Christ man, where did the big D dig you up? You make me sound like a selling plater. I am the coming man in this organisation, and that’s all you can do for me?’
‘What more do you want?’ I demanded.
‘I want you to call out my name like you were introducing Jesus Christ, John Lennon and Muhammad Ali all in one. I want you to hang on to every letter, as if you couldn’t bear to let them go. I want you to have those little girls screaming for me before you’ve even got halfway through.’
And why would they be screaming for you, you greasy Irish toe-rag? I thought. I decided against voicing it though. ‘I’ll work on it,’ I said instead. ‘I’ll stay up all night working on it if I have to.’
‘As well you do, Ozzie boy. Otherwise you’ll come by the same injuries as the last fella.’ He gave me one of the least pleasant smiles I had ever seen and turned away, trotting across to the ring where Everett and the Black Angel of Death awaited his pleasure, together with Dee Dee, the ‘manager’, dressed this time in a casual shirt, rather than his incredibly loud jacket.
I stared after him, pondering his threat, wondering whether to take it seriously.
‘Don’t you worry about that one, mate.’
The thick Glasgow accent came from behind me. I turned, to see a man standing beside the piled up speakers. He looked to be in his early to mid-thirties; he was fair-haired, wearing grimy jeans and a faded GWA tee-shirt, and his face was streaked with dust and sweat. He was tall, about six three, and brick-built. ‘Liam likes to chuck his weight around. Just ignore him.’
I nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll enjoy ignoring the bastard, in fact.’ I looked at the newcomer. ‘You a wrestler?’
‘Christ no. I’m one of the road crew. We’re the really tough boys around here. Ma name’s Gary O’Rourke, by the way.’
‘Oz Blackstone.’
‘How did you come to land this job, Oz?’
I took immediate refuge behind my previously rehearsed lie. ‘I’ve done a bit of acting. A friend of mine introduced me to Everett, and he decided to give me a shot at it.’
Gary nodded. ‘Aye, he’s a good bloke, is big Daze. So’s the other Yank, Jerry.’
‘What are the rest of the wrestlers like?’
‘Ach, apart from Liam who’s a nasty wee shite, the most of them are okay. Yon Darius, he looks fuckin’ terrifying in the ring, but he’s a pleasant big guy outside of it. Even the lassies are fine.’ He pointed across the arena, towards one of the women I had seen earlier: she was doing stretching exercises. ‘Sally, over there, Sally Crockett: she’s a real stunner. She comes from Manchester; the other women in the squad are Yanks.
‘As for the boss’s wife . . .’ His voice tailed off.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ve met her.’
I paused and looked at him. ‘How tough are these guys, really?’
Gary grunted and ran his thick fingers through his hair. ‘Depends what you mean by tough. If you mean how are they in a real fight: some of them - the likes of Johnny King and Rockette there - wouldnae last two minutes in our local, but as for some of the others . . . Jerry Gradi, now, he’s a fuckin’ monster. So’s Darius. He wears that loose ring costume, but you see him out of it. Man, he’s so hard, the only bit of his body that moves is his dick.’
‘What about Daze?’
The Glaswegian frowned. ‘The Boss is brilliant in the ring. It’s just so easy for him. He can even handle big Jerry like he was a wean. You look at him and you realise that he’s holdin’ so much back. As for how tough he is, the only thing I could say to that is that if he ever got mad at me, Ah’d send for the SAS . . . and even then Ah wouldnae expect to get anythin’ better than a draw.
‘The really impressive thing about these guys though is what they can do wi’ their bodies. Look at that.’ He pointed to the ring. I turned, in time to see Darius pick up Liam Matthews, lift him to shoulder height and choke-slam him down flat on his back on to the padded canvas.
‘Liam weighs maybe a bit over fifteen stone. He and all the rest of them take that sort of hammering every week in life, but they just absorb it and come back for more. Now that’s tough.’
‘Is it a good crowd to work for?’ I asked him, casually.
‘Aye, it is. Big Daze tries to run this like a fitba’ team. He goes out of his way tae make sure everybody’s happy.’
‘And are they?’
‘As far as Ah can tell. It’s the best place Ah’ve ever worked, Ah’ll tell ye.’
‘Where did you work before?’
‘Buildin’ trade.’
‘What brought you here?’
Gary shrugged his impressive shoulders. ‘Ah just fancied a change. Thought it would be nice tae work inside. The travel was an attraction too.’
The roadie bent and picked up one of the big speakers. ‘Ah’d better get on wi’ it.’ He grinned. ‘So’d youse, unless you want the pride of Dublin after you!’
I took him at his word and spent the next hour rehearsing, while Gary and the other five roadies worked around me, setting up the big Bose speakers on stands and building a ramp which rose from floor level at ringside until it stood about four feet high at the doorway which led to the changing area. When I asked one of the roadies what it was for he told me that it was to allow the crowd to see each wrestler as he made his way to the ring.
Make that ‘her’. I had just surrendered my microphone to the sound man when the blonde whom I had seen exercising on the other side of the hall came wandering over in my direction. Gary had been right: she was a stunner, with legs that seemed to go on for ever.
‘Hello there,’ she said, with a smile. ‘You’re the new announcer, I hear. I’m Sally Crockett.’
I shook the hand which she offered. ‘I know; Gary told me.’
‘Ah.’ The smile widened. ‘He’s a good lad, is our Gazza.’
A year before, I’d have launched into a serious pitch. Marriage had changed me, though. I left out the pitch, and scratched my nose instead, showing her my wedding ring as I slipped out a clumsy compliment.
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘I saw you getting the Liam treatment earlier on.’
‘It was nothing.’
‘I’m glad you think like that. He’s a bit of a bully, is our Liam. Thinks he’s God’s gift, too.’
Her accent was English, but without any regional twang that I could recognise. Her tone told me, though, that she didn’t share Matthews’ opinion of himself.
‘How did you get into this business?’ I asked her.
‘I just fancied it. I used to be an athlete. I did the Heptathlon, but I wasn’t up to Olympic standard - my hurdles were lousy - so I looked around for a change of sport, and found this. I love it.’
‘Don’t you ever get hurt?’
Her pretty face clouded over. ‘Only once. I was in a mixed tag-team match with Darius, against Matthews and Anita Rose, one of the American girls.’
‘What, did she clock you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, Liam did. A couple of days before he’d been pestering me for a date, so much so that I told him to eff off. There was a part in our match, where I was supposed to wind up in the ring with him, hit him with a drop kick and then take a body slam. The drop kick went okay, but he mistimed the slam and broke two of my ribs.’
‘Accident?’
‘No way,’ she said, bitterly. ‘He’s too good a wrestler for that. He claimed it was though, and Daze had to take his word for it.’
I was still pondering the character of my Irish pal, when Everett called out from the ring. ‘Okay, folks, that’s it; everybody back on the bus. Change at the
hotel then meet up for dinner at eight.’
Chapter 7
When I stepped back into our suite just after seven o’clock, Jan was sitting at a small table, working on a file of accounts which she had slipped into our case.
‘I see you’re enjoying Newcastle, then,’ I said.
‘Saves me having to do it tomorrow. So how did it go? Have you spotted the saboteur yet?’
‘I’ve spotted a room full of them. It could be anyone . . . other than Everett. I met a nice lady wrestler, though,’ I added as an afterthought.
My wife smiled. ‘Ah, but is she as good as me?’
‘Couldn’t say. Try some holds on me and I might be able to tell you.’
‘Best of three falls?’
I closed the folder on the table. ‘Or a submission . . .’
We wound up being five minutes late for dinner, but it didn’t seem to matter. When we found the reception room that had been set aside for us, the afternoon’s cast of characters was milling around, talking shop. There was a free bar set up against the wall. As we made our way towards it, I noticed that all the wrestlers seemed to be on soft drinks.
Happily, it wasn’t compulsory. I helped myself to a Holsten, and poured a glass of white wine for Jan. As I was handing it to her, Everett came wandering across. Although we stood a little distant from the rest, he still spoke quietly. ‘Any thoughts, Oz, now you’ve seen the operation?’
‘I don’t like that bastard Liam,’ I said. ‘How’s that for starters?’
The big man grinned. ‘Not many do. I only hired him because he has some of the best moves in the business. No, I meant . . .’
‘I know what you meant. It’s too early for me to get a handle on anything yet. I’ve been getting to know the wrestlers as best I can, but I thought it best to start off talking to the road crew. I had a chat with that big bloke, Gary O’Rourke.’
‘The new guy?’
My eyebrows rose. ‘New, is he?’
Everett chuckled. ‘Well, maybe four months ain’t so new. He’s a good worker, that’s for sure. Earned himself a pay rise after three months. Did he say anything of interest?’
‘Only that he likes his job. You’re a popular guy with the roadies . . . which cuts across the notion that one of them might have been behind your two incidents.’
‘Maybe so.’ He fell silent and his eyes dropped for a few moments. I looked over my shoulder, and noticed that Jan . . . looking absolutely sensational, I thought, in her white blouse and close-fitting grey skirt . . . had drifted off, to strike up a conversation with Sally Crockett and one of the American women wrestlers.
‘Hell Oz,’ Everett continued. ‘I don’t see any of the road crew being involved in this. Tony Reilly would be far more likely to do a deal with someone in the ring team. “Shut down GWA and I’ll give you a top man contract with CWI.” That’s the offer he would make.
‘You come across anything odd this afternoon?’
I looked up at him, and shook my head. ‘To be honest, nothing. I don’t know how much I’m going to be able to help you here.’
‘You’re helping me already, man,’ he retorted. ‘Just being my eyes and ears on the shop floor. One special thing you can do for me tomorrow night too.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked, a shade apprehensively.
‘I want you to keep an eye on the prop that Darius and Liam are going to use in that last scene, the aluminum crush barrier. Your seat during the bouts will be alongside the guy who rings the bell. That special barrier will be a few feet from you.
‘There’ll be action outside the ring in a few of the earlier bouts. I want you to make sure that no one moves the damn thing in the confusion, like switches it for the one next to it. If Darius came down from that height on a real steel barrier, it could finish him. And after what happened with that damn chair, I’m taking no chances.’
‘I won’t take my eyes off it, I promise. Even when I’m announcing.’
‘That’s good.’ Everett paused. ‘Say, I got another announcement for you to make tomorrow. We got a special guest in the audience, thanks to Jack Gantry. Remember those tickets I gave to your buddy Dylan? He and Susie won’t be able to come after all, so Jack’s persuaded the Lord Mayor of Newcastle to come along with him.
‘We invited him, of course, but his office turned us down. An invitation from Mr Glasgow, though, that’s different.’ He grinned. ‘It always helps to have influential friends, don’t it. I want you to introduce him at the start of the show. Okay?’
‘Sure. Just give me the details tomorrow.’
As Everett nodded I looked back towards Jan. Sally and the other woman had moved to join another group, but Liam Matthews had taken their place. She flashed me a quick look over his shoulder, a ‘get over here’ look.
‘Hello honey,’ I said, as casually as I could manage as I moved towards her. ‘Sorry about that.’
Matthews looked over his shoulder. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘Sure and if it isn’t little Ozzie.’ I kept the smile fixed on my face.
The Irishman stepped sideways, his shoulder blocking my path to Jan’s side. ‘Now Ozzie, you wouldn’t be about to do anything as stupid as to come between the Man and this lovely lady? You wouldn’t, would you?’
There was a swaggering menace about him; I felt this unfamiliar swelling in my chest and realised, to my surprise, that it was anger. ‘This lovely lady is my wife, Liam,’ I said, as evenly as I could.
He laughed, out loud. ‘She never is! Your wife?’ As he turned back to Jan I stepped past him and stood by her side. ‘My God, you poor darlin’. How lucky it is for you that Liam’s come along to show you what you’ve been missing. Why don’t you ditch Mr Skinny here for the weekend? Why take an inch when you can have a whole foot?’ He leered suggestively at her and scratched his crotch, like a Spanish crooner.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done it while his hand was busy, but I couldn’t stop myself.
In extreme circumstances, I once kicked a bloke in the balls, but in all my life I had never actually thumped anyone, until that moment. I didn’t really know how to do it, but it seemed to come quite naturally. I bunched my right fist into a tight ball and threw it as hard and as fast as I could with all my weight behind it, at the centre of the Irishman’s smug, grinning face. It was first time lucky: my punch caught him square on the nose, sending him reeling backwards.
As he straightened up, looking at me with complete astonishment, the blood came spurting out, flowing freely over his chin, staining his white, frilled shirt. It was at that point that I began to question the wisdom of choosing the GWA Transcontinental Champion as the target for my first-ever right-hander.
Matthews’ face twisted into a snarl. Jan tried to pull me away, but he launched himself at me. I, of course, was all punched out. I have no idea what would have happened if a huge black hand hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, catching the Irishman by the throat and lifting him clear off his feet.
His face turned bright red in an instant, as his hands grasped Daze’s wrist, and his feet kicked in mid-air. I looked round and up at the giant; the expression of sheer fury on his face scared me far more than Liam ever could have.
‘This lady is my guest.’ He ground out the words as the Transcontinental Champ’s face began to turn blue. ‘I don’t know what you said to make Oz slug you, but I can guess. You ever say anything like it again, or you give Oz trouble over this, then however good you might be, you are fired from this organisation. Understood?’
Somehow Matthews managed to nod. Everett dropped him, like something nasty he’d been obliged to hold against his better instincts. ‘That’s good. Don’t forget it now - I meant every word. Go get yourself cleaned up.’
The bloody, purple Irishman shot me a glance full of hatred, turned on his heel, and headed for the door.
‘I’m sorry about that SoB, Jan,’ said Everett, his anger giving way to embarrassment.
Diane had come to her husband’s side. Surprisingly she looke
d shaken by the sudden violence. ‘Most of the people in this industry are gentlemen,’ she said, in a soft accent which I thought might have been Southern States or even Californian. ‘That one certainly is not.’
‘That’s all right,’ Jan grinned. ‘He’s lucky I didn’t hit him, instead of Oz.’ She slipped her arm around my waist. ‘He doesn’t always do that, you know. Only when he’s hungry.’
The big man laughed. ‘We better go eat then!’ He stood back, ushering Jan towards the buffet table through the gathering, which was gradually recovering its assembled voice. ‘I reckon he got the message, Oz,’ Everett whispered, as we followed her, and as Diane appeared at his side. ‘But just in case, don’t turn your back on the bastard tomorrow.’
That was something I had decided already for myself.
Chapter 8
The working day began at twelve noon. Before that Jan and I had time for a wander round the centre of Newcastle in the watery sunshine of a mild winter day. We found that the commercial heart of the city was smaller than Glasgow, or even Edinburgh, but it had a nice feel to it, regardless.
The Eldon Square shopping centre housed some pretty impressive stores, but the place was made for me when I found a branch of Slater Menswear, master tailor by appointment to the glitterati of Glasgow. I took it as a sign from someone, and bought a new red bow tie for my first ever television appearance. Somehow, it seemed to steady the nerves which were gathering in my stomach.
The taxi which was to take Jan to the Metro Centre dropped me at the Arena dead on twelve noon. I could see at once that the roadies had been hard at work. The GWA logo seemed to shout at the city from its position on the wall above the main entrance, flanked by huge likenesses of Darius and Liam.
With the bag containing my dinner jacket and trousers slung over my shoulder, I stepped into the hall, after showing my staff pass to the security men, who were on guard already. Inside, all the temporary seating had been put in place, much of it set out on floor space which on other occasions was used by the city’s basketball and ice hockey teams.
Wearing Purple (Oz Blackstone Mystery) Page 7