by Paul O'Brien
“No, thanks,” Lenny replied. He was standing in front of the van he wanted. A brand new 1972 VW Kombi Van. This was the van he was going to drive the champion to Shea in.
Bree walked up to her husband and stood between him and the van. “I'm trying real hard here, Lenny.”
“What?”
“Can I help you, sir?” the fresh-faced salesman asked, with too much enthusiasm.
“Can we get another minute?” Bree interrupted.
Lenny walked from the van to give Bree some space. “What is it?”
Bree couldn't quite pull her sentence together in her head. He had bamboozled her. “Are you a fucking retard, Lenny? Is that what you are? A spastic?”
“What?” Lenny replied, absolutely taken aback.
Bree was trying to remove her flailing hair from her mouth. “You don't see anything wrong with this?”
“With what?”
“Our life together. The way this all turned out.”
Lenny's confusion just grew and became more perplexing. “What?”
“You say 'what' one more time, and I'm going to beat you to death with a car, Lenny.”
“I don't understand what's happening. I thought today was going to be a happy day.”
“A fucking happy day?” Bree repeated with dismay. “You haven't been home for weeks and when you finally call to let me know you're still alive, you ask me to meet you at a car lot. In Queens? Does this equal happiness to you?”
Bree waited to see a light bulb or a sudden realization hit Lenny, but there was nothing brewing. “This fucking business you're in...”
“I work hard. I make money. We have things.”
“You missed both your son’s birthdays this year,” Bree said walking away. “I'm not living this life with you anymore.”
Lenny hurried after her. “What does that mean?”
Bree stopped. “We're at home, Lenny. It doesn't have to be this way. We could be doing our own thing. I have ideas I want to show you. Ways we can make our own money.”
“All I'm getting here, Bree, is a better way of driving my family around.”
“Do you want to come with me, or do you want to buy something to impress those fucking wrestlers when you drive them around?”
Bree waited, but only long enough to see that Lenny wasn't coming with her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
September 29th 1972. New York.
It was warm enough to sit out on Danno's porch. Ricky was ready, Lenny was ready, but Danno was quiet. His mind was racing for one last rally, one slender hope of retaining the belt and shutting down the hearings.
He had 'let' Proctor get away with so much because he thought he could stiff him in the end and come out with all the money and the belt to the cheers from all his Boys.
Now, Proctor did all he did and he still got the prize at the end. That was driving Danno crazy.
“The ring crew goes into the Stadium today,” Ricky said, trying to sound optimistic. “The place is going to look big time. They've got this machine now that looks like smoke.” Ricky's enthusiasm petered out when he noticed Danno wasn't really following him. “Cool,” Ricky said in response to himself.
“The machine looks like smoke?” Lenny asked.
“What?” Ricky replied.
“That's what you said. A machine that looks like smoke.”
“No, it fucking makes it look like smoke.”
“What though? What is it?”
“The fucking air or whatever. It's a machine that makes the air look like smoke.”
“You ring Proctor, and tell that prick I'm still in charge until tomorrow night,” Danno said with authority.
Ricky nodded. “Of course.”
“This is still my match and my finish. If he doesn't like it, he can kiss my ass.” Danno threw the last dregs of his coffee out into the driveway and walked to his door.
“Boss?”
Danno stopped, but couldn't even bring himself to look back. “Yeah?”
“The first chance we get, we level this guy.”
Danno paused and Ricky waited for an answer, or some sign of fight. Danno just walked into his house.
On the walk down his hallway, Danno grabbed the open letter from his staircase and read the heading one more time:
You are invited to attend the Task Force on Professional Wrestling one week from today.
Danno crumpled the letter and flung it into an open doorway on his way to the kitchen.
September 30th 1972. New York.
It was cold, but it was beautiful and dark; quiet more than anything. Just a few of the ring crew were tightening the buckles and sliding under the ring with wires and cables. No one knew that Danno was in the last row of the nose bleeds. A venue like this was why he wanted the business from his father. The energy of thousands of people being entertained and enthralled by the actions of two men in a fifteen-foot by fifteen-foot ring was the ultimate for Danno. He was a fan long before he was an owner.
“Cold, isn't it?” Annie said as she approached her husband along the back row.
He was caught unaware. “What are you doing here?”
Annie sat in the seat next to her husband. “Lenny told me you were here. The poor man needs to go home to his own house, Dan.”
“Did he?”
Annie shook her head and linked Danno's arm. “He's outside,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
The hugeness and the stillness of the place reeled Annie in straight away. “It's going to be one for the ages.”
Danno afforded himself a little smile. She was right. It was going to be one for the ages. This was the match and the venue that people would still be talking about in fifty years time.
“Remember when we hired in that bear to wrestle some of the guys ‘cause we thought it would sell a few tickets?”
Danno laughed. Somewhere in the back of his brain was a locked closet full of his rookie failures. “And the poor mime I hired to wrestle himself in a sixty minute draw?”
“We were really broke back then.”
Danno hugged Annie in closer. “Some people would say we were happier, though. Not fucking me. We were miserable.”
“Yep.”
Danno surveyed the stadium once more and drank it all in.
“Are we going to lose?” Annie asked.
She never got into finishes before. She never really got into anything to do with the business side of wrestling before. Danno even felt strange breaking kayfabe with her.
“Yeah. We're going to lose tomorrow.”
“Well then, you were the best of them, Dan. You made the people believe again.”
Danno chuckled. “That's ‘cause it was real. I'm like the magician who set himself on fire and all the reviews rave about the impressive illusion.”
“Well, what's the alternative?” Annie asked, looking up at her husband's strained face. “What else can you do?”
Danno felt a rush of openness make its way to his mouth. “I want it both ways, Annie. I want to stay on top, but I don't want to get my hands dirty doing it.”
Annie wanted to ask what dirty hands meant, but she thought she already knew. Danno wasn't made for that side of the business.
“You've done it. You've made your mark. Let someone else have the stress of it all. There's no need to get your hands dirty.”
Danno kissed Annie on top of her head and patted her lap to move. They both got up from their seats.
“I'm not ready to hand it over,” Danno said as he directed Annie to the exit. “But I will.”
September 30th 1972. New York.
A coffee-fueled Lenny walked quietly into the back room of a low-ceiling amusement arcade. There was a ring set up in the middle of the room where Babu, Proctor, and Gilbert were standing. Gilbert had on his red wrestling trunks and boots. He was not in shape.
The door closing behind Lenny alerted them to a new visitor.
“Sorry, Danno sent me down,” Lenny said to the pissed-off look
ing trio in the ring.
“Kayfabe,” Gilbert said under his breath.
Lenny was offended by the comment. “The boss sent me down. I'm not some mark who ambled in off the street.”
Proctor laughed disbelievingly. “Do you hear this prick?” he said as he got out of the ring and walked to Lenny. “Aren't you the little lady I floored up here a couple of years ago?”
“Danno wants you two out of here,” Lenny said, looking over Proctor's shoulder to Babu. “The boss wants the champ rested.”
Proctor grabbed Lenny by the jaw and made him focus on his face. “We're not done here. Get the fuck out of the building before I open you up.”
Lenny again looked for Babu's direction. Babu nodded. Lenny slapped away Proctor's hand and walked back out the door. He was emboldened by Danno's new faith in him. He was also terrified of getting hit.
“That guy is a little cunt,” Proctor announced as he got back in the ring. “Let's get back to work.”
“Babs, you want to go with that finish instead?” Gilbert asked Babu.
“No. And if you abbreviate my name again, I'm going to break you in half.”
Proctor and Gilbert were getting exhausted. For the last two days, they laid out a hundred different finishes to the giant champion. Every one of them he rejected just to fuck with them.
“Well, what do you want to do?” Proctor asked.
“Get a shower,” Babu said as he threw his leg over the top rope and exited the ring. “We're on in about seven hours. We'll figure it out when we get in the ring.”
Ricky entered the room with a coffee for Babu. “Go and get yourself some rest, champ.”
Babu left the room.
“None for us, Ricky?” Proctor asked.
“I wouldn't drink your fucking coffee anyway,” Gilbert said. “So you can shove it up your ass.”
Gilbert bumped past Ricky on his way out the door.
“Good job raising that one,” Ricky said to Proctor.
Proctor smiled and gathered together his things from the bench.
“The boss don't want you here later.”
Proctor stopped and quickly moved from anger to reason. “Why not?”
“He said you're not welcome and he can't guarantee your safety from the Boys if they hear you're in the building.”
“Does that include you, too?”
“Yeah.” Ricky turned to the door. He wanted to hurt Proctor as bad as he possibly could, but everything had to wait until the time was right.
“I thought this was all about the money, Ricky? That's what we all live and die for.”
“And?”
Proctor knew he was going to be all at sea without a solid number two to take care of the details. Someone who had just been through it. Someone who helped steer the shit hole that was New York into a money machine.
“If you want to jump to Florida and make some real money, I won't hold any grudges.”
Proctor had offered and inquired about Ricky before, but just to upset Danno more than anything. For all Ricky knew, it could have been part of the angle that Proctor and Danno were working at the start of this thing. Something this time told him that Proctor meant it.
“Three hundred and fifty a year. You'd run the show. I'd call you every now and then from a beach. We wouldn't have to even look at each other.”
Proctor sensed curiosity. Ricky had ample time to move on, but he didn't. His old school money attitude was just right for such an offer.
“If we're all here to make money, then I don't think you're going to get more than that sticking with Danno. Chances are, he won't even stick around himself. What do you do when he jets off to his retirement? Has he left you enough to live on? Fatso is going to be looked after no matter what happens with the government next week.”
Ricky knew the belt was leaving, which meant his money would drop considerably. If Ginny was out, he was out. What was he going to do for a living if they did ban pro wrestling?
“If I hear from you before I get to Florida tomorrow, I know you're in. If I don't, I know you stayed on the sinking ship.”
Proctor left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
September 30th 1972. New York.
The most important call Lenny ever received in his wrestling life. He still had the phone in his hand. “Bring the champ. Everyone is in,” was the simple message.
He caught a glimpse of himself in his new three-piece polyester plaid suit. He was big time. This night was big time. But Lenny really just wanted to go home. He really wanted to pick up the phone and beg Bree to let him come home.
But he didn't. He, instead, stood in the lobby of the hotel and thought about it.
“Lenny?” Gilbert shouted from behind. Lenny thought for sure that he was hearing things.
“Lenny?”
Lenny looked around to see Gilbert in his wrestling gear, with an icebox full of beer in his hand. He had the elevator door held open with his foot. There was blood on his chest and he looked like he was drunk, stoned or both.
“I'm not doing it,” Gilbert said unemotionally before taking his foot from the doors to let them close.
Lenny watched in quiet disbelief as the elevator pinged to the fifth floor.
“What the fuck was that?”
Lenny pushed open the only door ajar on the fifth floor. Pee Chu Ming was passed out on the floor by the bed. “He was supposed to get me there,” Gilbert said from the bathroom.
“What? What's happening? You should have been gone an hour ago.”
“What time is it?” Gilbert asked, stumbling toward Lenny. He dropped a prescription bottle on the tiled bathroom floor.
“Is he... what's wrong with him?” Lenny asked about Pee Chu.
Gilbert slapped Lenny in the face. “Tell me I'm awesome.”
Lenny stumbled back.
“Tell me I'm awesome, motherfucker!” Gilbert jumped on the bed and leaped onto Lenny, which drove them both back into the dressing table.
Gilbert got up and high-fived himself. “I'm fucking awesome. I'm going to be the best fucking champion of all time.”
Lenny was still a confused mess on the floor. “You have to go. They're waiting on you.”
Gilbert started stomping his bare foot down on the side of Lenny's head. “Let them wait. Let them all wait for the champion.”
Babu walked into the room in a business-like manner. He grabbed Gilbert by the back of the neck and flung him effortlessly toward the door. Gilbert didn't even open his mouth to protest. Babu then scowled at Lenny and signaled for him to get up.
“I was coming to get you. I swear, I was,” Lenny said as he bolted for the exit.
Gilbert grabbed his icebox and both he and Lenny left the room, one being way quieter than the other.
Babu leaned his ear into Pee Chu's mouth to make sure he was breathing. His eyes were open, but he wasn't able to speak. Babu turned him onto his side and jammed a pillow into his back to make sure he couldn't roll back. He looked into Pee Chu's eyes and could see there was someone home. He just needed time to ride it out.
Lenny slid open the door on the VW Kombi van downstairs in the parking lot. Babu hurried in and sat on the floor and covered his head with a towel while Gilbert stumbled in, clinging to his icebox.
Lenny waited for Gilbert to put the box down before he swiped it from the back and slammed the door shut. A single bottle of beer fell out and rolled under the seats.
“Hey, motherfucker,” Gilbert protested.
“You've had enough,” Lenny said through the window.
Lenny walked around to get in the driver’s seat. Babu quickly slapped Gilbert in the balls which dropped him to his knees. “You get your head right for doing business or I'm going to kill you right here. Do you hear me?”
Gilbert nodded.
Babu slapped him hard across the face to sober him up.
Lenny cracked open his door and started the engine. “We're going to be cutting it tight.”
Gilbert,
from his kneeling position, spotted the loose beer bottle and fetched it from under the seat. Lenny sped out of the underground parking lot and began the short journey to the stadium.
“I wasn't inside,” Gilbert mumbled ashamedly.
“What?” Lenny said, unable to hear from the front.
Gilbert was more interested in coming clean to Babu in the back. “I was in rehab. A few actually. One in Omaha, which kicked me out after a couple of weeks. Two in Los Angeles, and one Upstate on a farm. I wasn't in prison.”
Gilbert looked at his unopened drink. “This time, I've been sober for over four months so my old man called me back.”
Babu wanted to say something, but didn't. He could see a real man behind all of the King bullshit that was going on. He gestured for Gilbert to give him the bottle. Gilbert thought hard about it. Lenny was struggling to drive and see what was happening at the same time. He veered suddenly to the right to avoid running into the back of a bus.
Gilbert flew into Babu's lap with the precipitous jolt. “Watch where you're going, asshole,” Gilbert shouted.
“Sorry,” Lenny shouted into the back.
Gilbert popped up and ran for Lenny. He grabbed him around the neck from behind and the van started to careen all over the road.
“Say I'm awesome, fuckstick. Say it,” Gilbert shouted into Lenny's ear.
Lenny couldn't talk even if he wanted to; Gilbert was choking the life out of him. He could feel a darkness coming in from his peripheral vision. His fingers began to slip from the wheel.
“Say I'm awesome motherf...” Gilbert was yanked away from finishing his sentence by Babu who knocked him silly with one slap.
Lenny carefully pulled in and steadied himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking fuckface motherfucker?” he said as he mimed getting over his seat into the back. Even through his anger, he could see that Babu had enough. It was time.
Lenny settled himself and moved steadily back into the flow of traffic. Gilbert pulled himself into a ball, hugging his last remaining unopened drink, in the back of the van. Babu slid back down into his sitting position on the floor.