Blood Red Turns Dollar Green, no. 1

by Paul O'Brien

  “Ricky?” Proctor shouted across ringside. He enjoyed making Danno's former right-hand man dance in front of his own Boys. “Read me that schedule again.”

  Ricky took out his hardcover book and began to read. “Mondays – West Palm Beach. Tuesdays is the Fort Homer Hesterly Armory in Tampa. Wednesdays - TV in the day and Miami that night. Thursdays in Jacksonville and Friday is Fort Lauderdale, or maybe Arcadia? Saturday in Lakeland or St. Petersburg, and Sundays are Orlando or Ocala.”

  Proctor quickly began to realize how Danno got rich so quickly. It was almost a pity the big, fat Paddy wouldn't be there to see him hold the belt over his head.

  “Everyone hear that?” Proctor shouted to all the various people milling around. “We're going to make this place the hottest territory in the US.” Proctor proudly sat down. He quickly sprung back up and half-heartedly offered, “For Gilbert.”

  There was a dribbling of respectful applause. Proctor sat back down and bathed in his own excitement.

  “What do you want me to do about the hearings?” asked Barry Banner from the seat behind.

  Proctor was annoyed that he couldn't just have one minute to enjoy this without Danno creeping in to ruin it somehow. “Do you think they were sincere about this politician having something on Danno?” Proctor asked.

  “No. But there's no way to tell for sure.”

  Proctor weighed up the situation one more time. He knew that if he did nothing, and the government shut Danno down, he ran the risk of losing it all before he even started. He could see himself in the middle of the ring in a packed arena with no giant to wrestle and no belt to take. He hated that Danno waited until Proctor told the whole of Florida the match was on, before telling him there might be trouble. He was going to have to take a risk, and he knew it.

  Proctor and Barry's focus was pulled to a commotion in the entrance. They both stood up to see what was going on. Babu walked through the entrance with his belt over his shoulder.

  It looked like Danno had just sent down some insurance to put Proctor at ease. He quickly whispered to Barry, “Do it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  October 4th 1972. New York.

  Mickey Jack Crisp didn't know the city that well. The cab he took to follow his man took him right outside Fraunces Tavern in lower Manhattan. He'd been standing outside in the freezing cold for a couple of hours, waiting on his man to appear. He walked up and down to try and find a suitable place to deliver his message.

  On Pearl Street, a doorway might have to do. He couldn't let him get to the openness of Broad Street. Word Mickey got was that this was to be done straight away. No time for anything elaborate, just a straightforward delivery in a short amount of time: Mickey's specialty.

  Ricky made the careful tipoff call to Danno who immediately instructed Tiny Thunder to follow the action. Danno knew that nothing was going to happen when the Senator was at his office. If anyone was to do anything, it was only going to happen in the time it took him to get from work to home. Tiny followed the Senator the night before, but no one showed up. He even slept in his car outside the Senator's house just in case there was a late night caller.

  This night was the last night before the hearings. If anything was going to happen, then it was going to have to happen now.

  Watching Mickey Jack pace the street outside, it looked like Tiny might get the pleasure of phoning the boss with good news, after all.

  October 4th 1972. New York.

  Danno sat at the mouth of the departures lounge eating a pot of yogurt. Melvin stared at him as he demolished the treat in his hand.

  “It helps settle my stomach.”

  “Listen, Danno. I don't know what's going on here, but if you don't begin to talk, we're going to have to leave our discussions for the Task Force tomorrow. Is that what you want?”

  Danno licked his spoon and dumped it in the bin beside his seat. “You don't like me, do you Melvin?”

  “I don't know you enough to have any thoughts on you, personally.”

  Danno watched Annie by the phone. “You know I didn't get into this business until fifteen years ago. In wrestling terms, I'm still a blow-in.”

  “But your father was one of the top guys, according to my office.”

  “I won't speak to his name, but one thing I can tell you is that he did everything he could to keep me out of it. When he...” Danno found it hard to even finish that sentence. “Anyway, he left the business to my mother,” Danno said with a laugh. “Who, in turn, kept it away from me until she died.”

  Melvin was furiously taking notes.

  “Then the lawyer kind of just gave it to me. Like a booby prize. There was no one else left to give it to, so I got it.”

  “Now, what year did you seize control?”

  Danno lit a cigarette and leaned into Melvin. “You're getting off on this, aren't you, Melvin?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don't you Athletic Commission people just usually sign stuff and go to meetings about stuff? What are you doing out here with me?”

  Melvin stopped writing. “Because I think what you do is a con and a black eye to real sports, Mr. Garland.”

  “Oh, we're back to Mr. Garland now, are we?”

  “Furthermore, I think that children can't tell the difference and try your choreographed moves as real, to dire consequences.”

  “In your opinion.”

  “Well, we hope to prove that as fact tomorrow, so until then, yes, my opinion.”

  Danno slipped a glance over to Annie. She again shook her head.

  October 4th 1972. New York.

  Senator Tenenbaum left the Fraunces and walked a little woozily toward Broad Street. Mickey briskly entered between two parked cars and pushed the Senator down the steps of a basement apartment. He rolled down to the bottom and before he could react with any noise, Mickey was on top of him with his gloved hand over his face.

  “Listen to me very carefully. What's on your schedule for tomorrow?” Mickey asked.

  The terrified Senator tried to answer, but Mickey wouldn't remove his hand. “Exactly. Fucking nothing. Do you hear me? You have no business tomorrow. Isn't that right?”

  Hilary nodded his head in agreement. Mickey reached into his pocket and tried to open a hunting knife with his teeth. The Senator tried to struggle free and scream for help, but Mickey was just too strong. He sat atop the squirming and horrified man and just kept trying to pick open the folded over blade with his teeth. “Fucking thing.”

  Senator Tenenbaum continued to make muffled screams into Mickey's hand. “Wait,” Mickey whisper-shouted at him. The struggle continued. Mickey jabbed his gloved thumb in Hilary's eye to get his attention.

  “Now wait,” Mickey repeated. “I'm going to remove my hand for a second. If you scream, you won't be leaving here alive. Do you hear me?”

  The petrified Senator nodded and began to cry with terror. “Please,” Hilary whispered. “I can do... pay you ten times...”

  Mickey punched Hilary hard in the face, which broke his nose. “What did I fucking tell you?” Mickey warned.

  The Senator grabbed his face and his blood ran through both of his kneaded-together hands. Mickey opened the knife and put his hand back over the Senator's mouth. He stabbed him twice in each thigh. Hilary screamed in agony. “You stay away from business that's not yours. If I hear you saying anything other than you were mugged by some niggers tonight, then I'm going to come back and cut you in half.” Mickey knocked him out cold with an elbow smash to the chin.

  October 4th 1972. New York.

  It was like deja-vu. Same airport. Same people. Different night. Still no talking. Melvin was starting to lose his composure.

  At the other side of the room, the phone rang and Annie quickly answered. Danno's eye was caught by sight of her standing up in the background.

  “When did you become aware that the business you're now in was fake, Mr. Garland?” Melvin asked, unaware of Annie conducting business behind him.


  Danno waited for Annie's signal.

  Melvin tried to catch Danno's attention. “Mr. Garland? When did you know that professional wrestling outcomes were prearranged?”

  Annie gave Danno the thumbs up. He released a sigh of relief and calmly cracked open a can of soda. “Fuck you and all belonging to you.” He leaned forward and looked Melvin square in the eye as he began to pour the contents of the can all over his lap.

  “What the... are you doing?” Melvin shouted as he jumped up and frantically tried to wipe the drink from his trousers.

  Danno walked into his face. “It's the fourth of October at roughly half past eight. We've been in each other's company for two hours. Don't you forget that.”

  Danno clinched his teeth in anger at Melvin and walked off. Melvin was left baffled at Danno's behavior.

  The elimination of Senator Hilary J. Tenenbaum was one roadblock out of Danno's way, for now. It was time to deal with the other one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  October 5th 1972. Texas.

  Annie tried to read the in-flight magazine, but she couldn't get her husband out of her head. She asked Danno to catch her up, and, for the first time in their marriage, he did so without any side talk. All the maneuvering that goes into keeping afloat in his business genuinely took her by surprise.

  She could see the temptation to make it more simple. To have less voices at the table. She just wasn't sure how long Danno could keep it ordered that way.

  He told her about the deals he had been cutting behind the scenes lately. She wanted to be filled in before she had to represent him.

  Annie Garland was studious and logical. She couldn't figure out what her husband's play was in Texas.

  She knew it was all going to be different after the match the next night. It was almost impossible to get from one end of the wrestling business to the other without getting your hands dirty.

  Maybe Terry Garland knew what it took to stay on top of the business more than anyone. Maybe that's why he didn't want Danno involved. Maybe he knew his son just wasn't that kind of person. But that's not to say that Annie Garland wasn't.

  October 5th 1972. New York.

  Danno locked the door of his house after having a good night’s sleep. His bag was packed for the long trip to Florida. He still hadn't been able to check in with his wife, Ricky, Babu, or Lenny, and probably wouldn't until the chain of events began to flow. He wondered anxiously if they all had been able to set the table for later tonight.

  “Danno,” Melvin called from his car that was parked in Danno's driveway.

  “Just on my way, Melvin. Where is the meeting taking place again?” Danno asked while checking his watch.

  Melvin got out of his car. “Don't fucking talk to me like that.”

  Danno was a little taken aback by the usually placid man walking toward him.

  “What?” Danno asked innocently.

  Melvin couldn't contain himself. “Senator Tenenbaum has just been released from the hospital, you lying bastard.”

  Danno passed Melvin on his front steps. “That's terrible. Give him my best.”

  “Danno?” Melvin shouted. “I'm going to do everything in my power to get this done. Do you hear me?”

  Danno stopped walking and turned back suddenly. Melvin wasn't as brave when Danno was facing him. “What did you say?” Danno asked as he dropped his bag. “What did you say?”

  Danno took the few front steps like a man half his age and weight. Melvin back-pedaled in fear until he slammed himself against Danno's door.

  “Listen to me, you asshole, go back to your meetings or whatever it is you do before I figure that you're a real problem to me. ‘Cause if I do figure that out, it won't end up good for you. Do you hear me?”

  Melvin nodded quickly.

  “I don't like your suggestive tone here today, either.”

  Melvin struggled to regulate his breathing in the face of such aggression.

  “Now, the good Senator was hurt when?” Danno asked.

  Melvin struggled to answer the question the way Danno wanted it answered, so Danno upped his volume. “Fucking when, I said.”

  “Last night. It was last night.”

  Danno pushed forward even further. “Which was when?”

  “October 4th.”

  “At what time?”

  “He said it was around eight or eight thirty.”

  “And where was I?”

  Melvin paused. Danno balled his fist and held it to Melvin's face. “Where was I, fuckface?”

  “With me.”

  “Exactly. Now, get the fuck off my property.”

  Danno stepped aside and let him scurry from the front of the house to his car. Melvin sped down the driveway to the road where his tires squealed off into the distance.

  October 5th 1972. Florida.

  Luke answered the phone. If it weren’t for that, Bree would have let it ring out again. Hearing her little boy talk with his father over the phone broke her heart. He couldn't understand why he never got to see his Pop anymore. Bree couldn't, either.

  She let Lenny sit quietly on the other end for minute. Just a minute to catch his thoughts, to think about what he was going to say.

  “Lenny?” she eventually said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I'm leaving tonight with the kids. I don't want to fight. I just want you to know what's happening.”

  “You're not taking my kids, Bree.”

  Bree calmly replied, “Don't do that, Lenny.”

  “What?”

  “Don't start to act interested in them now.”

  Lenny slid down the wall in another hotel lobby in another part of the country. “Where are you going?” he asked her.

  “I don't know. Back home to California.” Bree was reluctant to speak and Lenny could sense it. “Are you meeting someone else out there?” he asked.

  “No, you asshole.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I'm... going to set up something for me and the kids.”

  “A business?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “My Dad said he would help me out. Like an investment. I've got a lot of family out there. We'll be fine.”

  “I want to come with you.”

  “Lenny...”

  Lenny could feel the likelihood of an argument, and a hang up edging closer, so he tried to settle the conversation back down. “What is it? The business?”

  Bree paused. She wasn't sure about telling him.

  “What? What is it? What did you decide on?”

  Lenny listened keenly to the sounds of his children playing in the background.

  “Bicycles,” Bree answered simply.

  “Bicycles?” Lenny asked, hoping she misunderstood the question.

  “Yeah.”

  Lenny was puzzled. “Is that a business?”

  “Yeah. The numbers are impressive. There are more bikes being made in the US than cars right now. The sale of bikes has risen over fifty percent in the last year alone. The manufacturing...”

  “I'm sorry I took your rings, Bree.”

  Bree went so quiet that Lenny wondered if the call had been dropped. “Hello?”

  “Yeah, Lenny. I don't know what you've got yourself into, but it's making you a different person and it’s broken your family too. So, I hope it's worth it for you.”

  Lenny shimmied back up the lobby wall. “Gimme one more chance, Bree. I love you. I swear I'm done here. I'll sell bikes with you, or make them, or whatever your plan is. I will. You can come down here to Florida and we can go to Disneyworld and then wherever you want. I promise, Bree. I think I'm going to lose you. I really do, and it’s terrible. I think I'm going to... I don't know, Bree. I'll take the kids around the park, and then we can stay, or go, or do whatever you want to do...”

  “Lenny?”

  “No, please. I'm just... it's just hit me. I swear. I'm done here. Just tomorrow night and then that's all. Come down here a
nd meet me.”

  “I've got to put the kids to bed.”

  Lenny knew that there was no point in continuing his plea. “Okay.”

  “Okay, Lenny.” Bree hung up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  October 5th 1972. Florida.

  Babu sat at the sleepy bar and lowered down another drink. He was quite enjoying being away from New York. Not because he didn't like the city, but, at least down here, he could find a little out-of-the-way bar and have a quiet drink.

  Or at least, that's what he thought.

  Proctor's promo and the subsequent pictures had traveled far and wide in the State of Florida. Wrestlers who usually wouldn't be known from the New York scene were all over the TV, Babu being the biggest.

  Proctor, like an old pro, played brilliantly to his people. He was a simple man, a father, looking for revenge for what was done to him by the big city folk. A gang attack that was 'real’. Everyone could understand that story. This wasn't some wrestling bullshit. The people of Florida thought that someone could actually die in the Jacksonville Coliseum.

  And they paid to watch.

  October 5th 1972. Florida.

  Flawless Franco had Proctor in a loose headlock in the middle of the ring in the otherwise empty arena. “Drop down, leap frog, dropkick,” Franco said.

  Proctor pushed Franco, who duly ran to and sprung back off the ropes. Proctor dropped down to his belly in the middle of the ring and Franco jumped over him and continued running into the ropes at the other side of the ring. Proctor followed behind Franco and leaped into the air and kissed the side of Franco's head with a drop kick. Franco bumped to the mat like a sniper had just shot him.

  “Perfect,” Franco said from his 'lifeless' position. “Nice and snug.”

  “My timing is off,” Proctor said with frustration.

  “You're not going to have to worry about too much of that with the giant anyway, Proctor,” Ricky offered from ringside.

  “Is that big asshole going to call the whole match in the ring?” Proctor asked Ricky.