The Hurting Circus

by Paul O'Brien

  Kid waited beside his father.

  “He’s going to kill your boy in the ring, come time, Lenny.” Ade said. “You know that?”

  “No he won’t, Ade,” Lenny replied. “There’s no match.”

  “What?” she said. For every step that Ade took forward, Lenny balanced it out with a step backward.

  “The boxer chickened out,” Lenny said. “We did everything we could to get him to face our wrestling champion. Everything.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Ade asked.

  “Haven’t you heard? The boxing heavyweight champion is scared of us.” Lenny fired a magazine from his pocket toward Ade. She had no clue what was going on as she picked it up. On the cover was a full-sized picture of Kid, and a small picture in the bottom corner of Jinky Keeves looking over his shoulder. The headline read: THE KID WHO KILLED BOXING.

  This was Lenny’s long con. Ade knew that wrestling magazines needed at least a week to turn up on the shelves. This magazine edition was dated for the next day, and it couldn’t have been more like wrestling if it tried. In the real world, the wrestler was literally running from the boxer. In the press, however, it was the boxer who, after being legitimately humiliated at the press conference, wouldn’t fight.

  Lenny knew that by getting to the press first, it meant their side of the story was the correct one. The boxing world was already on the defensive. There was nothing like a four-page story with quotes to get the narrative straight.

  “Lenny?” Ade asked. Her face was riddled with confusion and sadness. “What are you doing?”

  Lenny turned back. “Fuck you, Ade. Don’t you think for a second that I don’t know what you did to Ricky.”

  Lenny and his son left.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  1984.

  Fourteen days after Lenny got out.

  New York.

  Lenny got his father to drop him off in midtown. He was embarrassed by the ride, so he asked to be let out a couple of blocks before Benson’s. His press conference angle was everywhere, on every paper and every news report, but he still couldn’t afford a cab into the city.

  “So what you’re doing makes you—what?” Edgar asked.

  “What?” Lenny replied. He was off in thought and wasn’t really tuned in to what Edgar was asking.

  “Luke—or Kid—or whatever he calls himself, is your boy. I know that. And Jimmy idolizes you too. I’m asking you to put them first. Put them before this fucking business poisons this whole family top to bottom. Or worse.”

  Lenny put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I will put my family before anything. I promise. But I can make something for us all. I know I can.”

  Edgar pulled in where Lenny asked him to. “I can’t not … be fond of you. You know what I mean. Love you, or whatever. You’re my son.”

  Lenny leaned in and gave Edgar a hug. Edgar patted Lenny awkwardly on the head.

  “Here,” Edgar said. “Here’s something till you have yourself—” Edgar reached into his pocket and gave Lenny a couple of fifty-dollar bills. Lenny thought about putting up a little fight, but he was desperate.

  “Thank you, Pop,” Lenny said as he took the money and got out of the car.

  Edgar drove away and Lenny refocused on the task at hand. He walked two blocks until he saw the red canopy extending out over the sidewalk. Lenny knew of Ben Benson’s, but he’d never been in there before. It had been the boss’s favorite. And it was where Joe would be.

  Lenny wanted to find Joe before Joe found Lenny.

  He walked in and was met with a good lunchtime trade. He passed the large PRIME MEATS sign with the bull’s head on it and walked to the nice corner table where Joe was sitting with Donta Veal. Before Joe could say anything, Lenny slapped the New York Times down on the table. “They’re all the same. We got the cover in every newspaper in New York. Every carpenter, cop, postman, and firefighter in the city is talking about us again.” Lenny sat down beside Donta, facing Joe. “Nice to see you both again. I now have the most talked-about champion in decades. We both know that he’s money. Correct?”

  Joe was being outplayed by a rookie boss. But what could he do? He considered his first words carefully. “You’re a fucking cunt,” Joe said. “And not smart enough to construct something like this yourself.”

  Donta snorted a little as he sliced up his steak.

  “Those boxing guys were pawns to raise our profile,” Lenny said. “I’ve done that. Now it’s time to talk about our business. We need to do what Danno wanted done: we need to unify our two wrestling heavyweight titles back together tomorrow night.”

  “That’s what I said the other night by the river,” Joe replied.

  “You make it sound like we had a nice stroll or something, Joe,” Lenny said. “Do you mean when you sent this piece of shit to come drag me out of bed? The night that you threatened my life? You mean that night by the river?”

  Joe knew that Lenny held all the cards this time; he’d just have to listen and try to get a fair deal for himself in this match. His potential for a national expansion hinged on Joe being able to present a united front.

  “Well, things have changed since that night,” Lenny said.

  “Changed?” Joe asked.

  Lenny answered. “Now I get eighty percent of the gate, and my champ goes over.”

  “You want eighty percent and the win?” Joe asked.

  “I don’t want anything; that’s just what’s going to happen,” Lenny said. “Eighty percent my way and we get to leave with the unified heavyweight championship of the world.”

  Joe threw Donta a quick look, telling him to not react.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, all of a sudden?” Joe asked.

  Lenny stood up. “It’s up to you, Joe, to make sure that this match makes it to the Garden.”

  Joe popped up out of his seat, too. “Sit the fuck down,” he said. He knew that this much interest, money, and—most importantly—publicity in the unification meant that nothing bad could happen. The world was watching New York wrestling once again, and that meant Joe’s national TV partner, too. Joe Lapine was caught. Lenny knew it. Joe knew it.

  Lenny nodded at Donta, and then at Joe, before leaving the table.

  “Lenny, wait,” Joe said, following Lenny through the restaurant. “Eighty percent is fine, but you can’t have the win.”

  Lenny stopped and smiled. “I will pay you back every cent you put into New York while I was inside. I’d be grateful to you—if I didn’t know you so well.”

  Lenny walked through the door out into the hectic New York street. Joe followed. He said, “Lenny, you’re willing to screw over Ade Schiller, Maw Maw Vosbury, Tanner Blackwell, and me all in the same move? Come back to the table, and I can protect you.”

  “You have no choice but to protect me,” Lenny said. “Or your house of cards here in New York will all be for nothing. You made yourself the face of this territory when you had no right; now you have no choice but to make sure that it’s the cleanest territory in America.”

  Lenny turned away, but stopped. “Hey Joe,” he called back. “Is that spotlight I’m hiding under big enough for you now?”

  Lenny was pulling off the greatest act in wrestling history. And Joe was actually starting to believe that he wasn’t petrified. “See you in the Garden tomorrow night,” Lenny said as he walked away.

  Donta stood in the doorway of the restaurant. “Why don’t you let me sort this out, once and for all?” he said to his boss.

  Joe shook his head. Donta wasn’t a finesse kind of guy. Joe needed subtlety, a plan, and more time. But Donta was beginning to get sick of these guys pushing Joe around.

  Ginny was wavering badly. He didn’t know why they had all his things packed up and by the door; where were they bringing him? Why couldn’t he stay in his room?

  Where was his ice cream?

  “Hello? Where am I going?” he asked a couple of visitors who walked by his door. “Where am I going?�
�� he asked some delivery guys who didn’t even look in his direction.

  Ginny began to panic; everything was changing. He remembered his suitcase beside him, and remembered having it on the road, going to all the matches and all the towns. He remembered all the great times he had as a proud, professional wrestler—as well as all the great times he’d had with Ricky. He remembered the life they had and how very much he missed him. Ginny cried and wiped his nose. In moments of clarity like this, he knew what was happening to him. There was nothing scarier than knowing that your whole life was being erased, day by day, minute by minute.

  Ginny had gone from being a tough, strong, independent man to an old fool who people looked past whenever he spoke.

  As quickly as his memories had come back to fill him up, they went away again. “Hello? Where am I going?”

  “This way,” said an orderly.

  Ginny stood and put out his arm for the man to take. He wasn’t too sure on his feet anymore and needed the help. The orderly just walked ahead. Ginny shuffled behind him.

  “Hello? Where am I going?”

  Upstairs, Ginny was shown to his new room, and his new roommates. His bill hadn’t been paid, and the nursing home wanted Ginny’s prime first-floor room for someone else. He was now on the fourth floor, where all the other forgotten and agitated old people went.

  Ginny looked around and saw his future. It scared him. Made him turn. Made him walk as fast as he could back the way he came. He took the stairs down three flights before anyone even knew that he was gone. His heart beat strong in his chest, and as he burst through the front door, he saw that there was nothing or no one there for him. He couldn’t see his father or his brother, and the outside didn’t look like the street that Ginny had grown up on at all. He was totally confused. In his mind, he was a boy, and this was where he lived. He knew he was a man too, somewhere, though.

  “Is Mr. Lennon still alive?” Ginny asked a passing person. Mr. Lennon had taught Ginny how to wrestle. He had taken him from the street, taught him manners, and showed him how to be a man. Ginny noticed that the large gate at the end of the drive was open. “You better mind that the dog doesn’t run out under the milk cart. Do you hear me?” Ginny said to no one in particular.

  “Hello!” Ginny shouted.

  “Wait,” came a voice from behind.

  Ginny stood still, doing as he was told. He’d forgotten that he was going to bust out of there. He’d forgotten that he had good lungs still. He’d forgotten that he was going back to the fourth floor.

  So he waited. And heard a musical horn play.

  The Pagladoni’s Ice Cream van pulled into a visitor’s parking spot.

  Ginny might have forgotten a lot of things, but ice cream was still his favorite. “Are you for me?” Ginny wondered to himself. He was overcome with the need to know. “Are you for me?” he said a little louder.

  Ginny began to walk toward the van. “Are you for me?”

  Carlo Pagladoni walked around the back of his van and pulled out Ginny’s favorite ice cream medley.

  “Are you for me?” Ginny shouted.

  “Of course I am, Ginny,” Carlo answered.

  “Where I am going?” Ginny asked.

  “We’re going to get all of this fixed,” Carlo said.

  “Can I come too? I’ll get one of Babu’s neckties,” Jimmy said, following his father around Babu’s spare room.

  “Not tonight, buddy,” Lenny answered.

  “But I want to be there too,” Jimmy said.

  Lenny slid on the suit jacket that Ade had given him money for. “I know, but you and I will do something tomorrow.”

  “How can you take one of your children out for dinner, and not the other one?” Jimmy asked. “Isn’t that child abuse or something?”

  Lenny put on some cologne. “It’s business.”

  “Yeah, the family business, and I’m family.”

  Lenny stopped what he was doing and paid attention to his youngest son. He could see the frustration and hurt in his boy’s face. “You’re too young. And you don’t need to be around this business—trust me.”

  “I’m not a child,” Jimmy said.

  “I’ll drop you off at Granddad’s before—”

  “I don’t want to go there,” Jimmy said. “I want to go back to Mom’s.”

  Lenny had never heard that from Jimmy before. “Okay.”

  “I want to go now,” Jimmy said.

  “You can’t.”

  “I want you to bring me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? ’Cause your stupid fucking plan isn’t—”

  “Hey!”

  Jimmy shut his mouth quickly.

  “Now, listen to me,” Lenny said. “I understand that you’re frustrated, Jimmy, but this is nearly all over. Your brother and I have to be seen out in the city,” Lenny explained. “We’ve got a huge match coming up in the Garden tomorrow, and I still have to prove myself—”

  Lenny sat on his bed, and patted the space beside him; Jimmy sat defiantly with his back to his father.

  “I’m walking a wire here,” Lenny said. “And I have to keep my eyes on the finish line for another few days. Then we get paid. Then we are going to do exactly what you want to do.” Lenny put his hand on Jimmy’s head. “You hear me, son?”

  Jimmy reluctantly nodded, but he wasn’t totally sold.

  Lenny and Jimmy rolled up to Edgar’s place in the back of a taxi. Lenny spotted his parole officer’s car parked a few doors down from his father’s house.

  “You can let him out here,” Lenny said to the driver.

  Jimmy looked up ahead to see what the problem was; he immediately saw what Lenny saw.

  “This fucking guy,” Lenny said to himself as he looked for his money.

  “We should handle him,” Jimmy whispered.

  Lenny knew that Jimmy was serious. “No, we don’t deal with him—we avoid him,” Lenny said.

  “He’s too tight around our necks, Pop,” Jimmy said.

  Lenny nodded in agreement and kissed his son on the forehead. “If he asks—”

  “I know,” Jimmy replied. “I know how to avoid an interrogation.”

  Lenny watched his son walk toward Edgar’s house. “Okay,” he said to the driver. “Let’s go.”

  As he walked to the house, Jimmy listened for his father’s taxi pulling away. When he heard it, he veered toward Tad’s car. “Hello,” Jimmy said, as he knocked on Tad’s window. The parole officer had been making little cheese and cracker treats for himself that went flying at Jimmy’s appearance out of nowhere. Jimmy opened the door and let himself into the passenger’s seat.

  “Can I do something for you?” Tad asked.

  “You want to catch my dad, don’t you?” Jimmy asked. Tad shook his head. “Then what are you doing here all the time?” Jimmy said.

  “I have the right to be where I want to be. Do you understand that?” Tad asked, picking a little cheese square from his shirt.

  “I know what he’s doing that he shouldn’t be doing,” Jimmy said.

  “Really?” Tad replied.

  “Yeah,” Jimmy said. “He doesn’t flush after he takes a shit, you pig, bacon asshole,” Jimmy said as he got out of the car laughing. He stopped, returned, and opened Tad’s door again. “You come around here again, and I’ll tell the chief of police that you stuck your little finger in my ass just now.”

  Tad couldn’t hide the horror on his face. Jimmy slammed the door again. He decided that he couldn’t have done a finer job.

  The Holland Hotel on 42nd Street was where Babu and Danno used to eat. So it was where Lenny and Kid met. They needed to look like they owned the city—like they were at the top of the tree. The truth was that both of them could barely afford to be inside the doors. Lenny had some money his father had given him, and Kid had a few bucks saved that he’d wanted to bring home to his mom. In the wrestling business, though, perception was everything. If they wanted to be treated like somebodies, then
they had to go where all the somebodies went.

  “Do you think you’ll want dessert?” Lenny asked, as he looked at the menu and ran some math in his head. They had just been seated, but Lenny was already afraid of the bill.

  “I just want to hear what we have to talk about,” Kid answered. Lenny understood; he couldn’t expect things between them to turn around in under a couple of weeks.

  “What way do you see this match going?” Lenny asked.

  “Whatever way you tell me it goes,” Kid replied.

  “Well, we have a lot more freedom now because of the awesome job you did at the press conference.”

  “You really think these guys are going to let that slide?” Kid asked.

  “You know what I was taught when I first started in this business? That the greatest shield you have against all the snipers in the long grass is success. You are kept around and alive as long as you can make money.” Lenny put out his hand for his son to slap. Kid didn’t move. “Well,” Lenny said. “We’re fucking money.”

  “Am I winning, or am I doing the job?” Kid asked.

  “We make the call on that now,” Lenny said. “I want you to keep your belt and get his, too. The money is in keeping you front and center. You’re the one in the papers; you’re the one who people are talking about. Did you hear that the Garden is sold out?”

  Kid didn’t seem to care one way or another. “Okay.”

  “I know it’s going to take time for us to work out—” Lenny stopped and waited for Kid to finish the thought. He wanted a sign that they were on the same page.

  Kid leaned into the conversation for the first time. “I don’t hate you. I don’t love you. I just know that I don’t need you in my personal life. You’re my boss, or whatever fucked-up thing this is. I don’t even know what’s happening.”

  Lenny was just glad that his son was at least talking, even if he was saying things that were hard to hear. “What do you mean you don’t know what’s happening?” Lenny asked.

  Kid sipped his water and thought about whether he even wanted to talk this out or not. “One minute, Ricky and Babu are afraid of what you’re going to do if you find me in the wrestling business, and now you’re like a pushy stage mom with me.”