Blood Red Turns Dollar Green Volume 2

by Paul O'Brien

  “Just tell him I’ll be a second. Can you do that?” Lenny replied, taking him up on his offer.

  “He’s going to cry, Dad.”

  “No, he’s not.” Lenny closed his door and wiped the sweat of the desert from his brow.

  James Henry immediately began to bawl. Lenny couldn’t believe his luck. A crying child instantly stressed him out. He thought about pulling Bree out of her job and marching her home.

  What kind of man looks after the kids while the wife works?

  He looked at the two little distressed faces looking out from the dirty back window. “I just wanted to go to the store – right there – to get you both some candy,” he shouted and mimed in an attempt to cross the road guilt free.

  It wasn’t going to work. James Henry’s bottom lip grew bigger with sorrow.

  How does Bree calm them down?

  Lenny remembered her saying something to him about cassettes one night after he came off the road.

  “Do something Dad,” an equally flustered older brother said from the backseat.

  Lenny got back in the car and rummaged in the glove compartment. He pulled out a few battered eight-tracks and turned on the ignition. He slipped a tape into the player and soon a sweet a capella children’s song came on. Lenny watched his youngest son’s face turn from despair to curiosity.

  “Mom,” Luke joyfully pronounced.

  Lenny panicked a little before he realized his boy was talking about the song. The little one was right – it was Bree. She was singing a song in that beautiful voice that Lenny hadn’t heard in a lot of years.

  “I will get you something nice,” he mouthed to the older one as he put his finger to his lips and slipped out of the car.

  Luke watched as his father dodged the heavy traffic to get to the store. He desperately tried to see further but couldn’t with his brother on his lap. He rolled down the window and the cars outside sped past inches from his face.

  The waiting was agony. Luke pushed James Henry off his legs and rose to his knees and peeked slightly out the window. Lenny was still nowhere to be seen.

  He peeked again.

  Maybe he’s buying me a new Etch-a-Sketch like Dory Pike has back home?

  James Henry was ‘singing’ along with his mother and happily waving his See n’ Say around.

  Luke thought his brother would be fine there alone if he went and had a closer look. He carefully opened his own door and dropped his small foot onto the sticky Vegas road. His opened door was way too tall for him to see over so he couldn’t judge the oncoming traffic. He stooped for a better view and watched the cars hurtling towards him.

  On the back seat, James Henry was also crawling towards the door. The sounds, and adventure his big brother was taking, were even more curious than the song.

  “Stay there, James Henry,” Luke demanded, to no avail. “Do you hear me? Only I’m big enough,” he said.

  The baby propped himself up in a seated position in front of Luke and playfully threw his toy into the road. Luke turned and absentmindedly followed the course of the toy.

  “Luke,” Lenny shouted as he stuffed a brown paper bag into his shirt from the other side of the road.

  Luke froze with fear a foot into the road.

  “Go back to the car,” Lenny shouted.

  He knew by his son’s face that he was shocked and confused. Lenny could also see a red Pontiac speeding closer to his child.

  He manically tried to jostle with the traffic on his side to make it to his boy.

  “Luke, get back to the car now,” Lenny ordered.

  Luke didn’t move. He couldn’t.

  “Run.”

  The little boy just stood in place, totally helpless.

  “Turn around Luke,” Lenny screamed.

  Luke turned to face the oncoming car. Lenny launched himself through the small, dangerous gaps in the traffic and snatched his son up into his arms, just as the red Pontiac sped past.

  “I’m sorry Daddy. I wanted to see where you went to,” Luke said as he cried with fright on his father’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay, little man,” Lenny said as he moved his baby back safely into the seat. Luke was vined around his body as Lenny got in himself. “It’s okay.”

  Lenny, Luke and James Henry sat in the back of the Long family car listening to Bree sing them a lullaby as the craziness of Las Vegas rumbled outside their windows.

  Lenny began the stomach churning audit of events, detailing the very narrow miss.

  “What have you got in the bag, Daddy?” Luke asked through his floods of tears.

  “Nothing son,” Lenny lied.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  New York.

  The floor to ceiling glass panel windows were making everyone nervous outside the church. The wrestlers on top of the card – those that could afford it – stayed in their blacked-out limos for fear of being seen socializing with their ‘sworn enemies.’ The lower card wrestlers dispersed themselves around the grounds until the sermon began. There didn’t seem to be anyone from the public around – but that’s not to say any of the wrestlers would be forgiven by their promoters for ‘breaking character’ either.

  Ricky walked the pathway that was cut through the manicured gardens of the church grounds. The tree branches overhead leaned across each other to form a woven guard of honor. He knew it was going to be a long day. He liked Annie and missed her terribly too. Not that anyone was going to be thinking of him and his problems.

  In the absence of Danno, Ricky was unofficially appointed the Wrestler’s Wailing Wall.

  All disputes, matches, wrestling cards and wrestler problems just fell to him by proxy. But Ricky had his own problems. All he was focused on was Ginny, alone and slightly confused looking, by the church door. Ricky wanted to put his arms around him and help him tuck in his ruffled shirt. He wanted to put his arms around him and protect what he had become – a joke to the younger wrestlers who took every single opportunity to disrespect and laugh at him when his back was turned.

  Ricky could see it, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Because, like everything in the wrestling business, there was a facade that must be kept intact at all times. None of The Boys worked with fags. None of The Boys would shower with them or be seen with them. And The Boys certainly wouldn’t take orders from one.

  So Ricky guiltily walked past his partner’s smile and outstretched right hand and marched straight into the church. For both their sakes.

  On his way down the hard stone aisle he was grabbed gently by a well-pressed Texan. “The Garden is flat, Ricky,” Wild Ted Berry said in a hushed tone.

  Ricky nodded in acknowledgement. His silence didn’t impress Bill one bit. “I’m telling you that The Garden is flat and all you can do is nod?”

  Ricky nodded again and continued towards the top pew.

  They were to tour around and finish their loop once a month at The Garden. That was the New York company’s stronghold. The building where they always gave a little more. A title match, a TV taping, a cage match – something extra. Something you don’t see at every card.

  Others expected a sold-out house but Ricky was more realistic. The last time they ran a card in New York was only a couple of weeks before, and they didn’t deliver their main event. It was the most hyped and anticipated main event in their history. The New York crowd rioted and tore up Shea Stadium where they had paid to see it. Not enough time had passed for them to forget.

  That’s why the house was flat.

  “Just a note of condolence for the boss,” The Folsom Nightmare said before Ricky could build up a head of steam.

  Ricky took the card. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

  “Terrible day.”

  Ricky again nodded and tried to move on.

  “Doc says I’m good to go,” Folsom said without real conviction. “My Achilles is healed all back up. Healed, get it?”

  Ricky looked along the row and could see one of Folsom’s many young sons trying valia
ntly to hide his father’s crutch under the pew. Wrestlers who didn’t wrestle didn’t get paid and there were a lot of young faces looking in Ricky’s direction.

  “Folsom… ” Ricky began.

  Folsom leaned in closer to talk about business. “I could start back in Battle Royals or something. The Boys will look out for me, Ricky. I could come over the top and take a bump on my back or something. I don’t need to put pressure on my foot straight away.”

  Ricky could see a proud father pleading with him in front of his family.

  “We’ll give it some more time,” Ricky said as he lay a useless hand on Folsom’s shoulder. “You’ll be back soon.”

  Folsom forced a smile.

  “You’d think Proctor King would have at least shown to pay his respects,” Ricky said as he left.

  He walked away with a heavy heart knowing that The Folsom Nightmare, hurt in the ring, would never wrestle again.

  He also knew that Proctor not being there would spread like wildfire.

  Midgets, beauty queens, tattooed faces, gold sunglasses, new black suits, hugely obese twins, a bald old woman, toothless mountain men, islanders, a one-legged man and a giant.

  Christ Church was stuffed with representatives from all over the wrestling world. All the other bosses from the National Wrestling Council were there. Even though their Annual General Meeting was officially off, promoters from Japan, Europe and Africa still arrived. They all wanted to make sure that Danno saw them sad. If they could only swing one tour with Danno’s huge champion they could roll in the money. So they did what any self-respecting promoter would do – they out-cried each other.

  “Where’s the boss?” Ricky asked the huddled crowd at the top pew. Nobody knew.

  Across the aisle, the chairman of the National Wrestling Council, Joe Lapine, wondered where Danno was too. Beside him stood the boss of the Carolinas, Tanner Blackwell.

  “Danno killed his own champion,” Tanner said to Joe.

  “I tried for days to talk him out of it,” Joe replied. “He was blind with rage.”

  None of the bosses ever cry when a world title gets taken from someone. This increases the chances significantly that they are next in line to receive it.

  “I heard he did it himself?” Tanner said to Joe.

  Joe leaned in and whispered, “What?”

  “Last night. Danno did the job himself.”

  Joe shook his head disbelievingly. “No way.”

  Tanner smiled.

  Hiring someone from outside to kill is one thing. The guy with the whole business in his hands doing the killing was something completely different.

  “Not in a million years,” Joe said.

  Joe, like everyone else, didn’t think Danno Garland had it in him to kill. But Tanner knew. He paid to find out.

  The priest shuffled from the sacristy door and his jowly face hung down like a melted candle. His entrance cued the gathering to daydream about being champion, having the champion or who held them back from being champion.

  For those in the wrestling business, those three permutations of the one possession gnawed and prodded at them and demanded most of their time.

  With that heavyweight title came a lot of power and a lot of money. There wasn’t a single person in attendance who didn’t want both.

  Ricky looked at Annie’s casket and couldn’t help but imagine what her last seconds were like. The cops wouldn’t tell Danno much more than where she was found and how she was killed. They hadn’t got to the who part yet. They said some prints were found and a man was seen walking towards her room.

  “Please rise,” the priest said from the altar.

  Danno had been such an infrequent visitor that the priest never even noticed that the husband of the deceased wasn’t even in attendance.

  Ricky noticed though.

  Outside, Danno stood with his back to the church wall and his face in the sun. He couldn’t walk through the doors. His legs just wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t be close to her again until he fulfilled his promise.

  “He’s started,” Ricky said from the large arched doorway in his most gentle voice.

  “Did you find Curt Magee yet?” Danno said without looking away from the sky.

  Ricky was uncomfortable with just how loose Danno was with his words in public. “I’m trying to keep things moving with the business. All the other bosses are in town and we have The Garden coming up.”

  Danno turned directly to his long time confidante. “Fuck the business, Ricky. You find the man who killed my wife. You track him down and you fucking hold him till I get there. Do you hear me?”

  Through the window Ricky could see everyone straining to look at them outside. Even the priest was distracted.

  “Do you hear me?” Danno asked again, suddenly becoming overwhelmed. He stopped himself crying. “How can I go in there to her? How can I stand in the same room as that poor woman when I haven’t made it right?”

  “I’m sorry about what happened. My heart is broken for you but … ”

  “But what?”

  Ricky walked a little closer and spoke a little softer. “Boss, you need to let yourself grieve or mourn or whatever it is people do at times like this.”

  Up close and on their own, Ricky could see just how broken Danno was. He was missing.

  “I just want him to feel like I do,” Danno said.

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t. I want the bastard to feel exactly like I did when I heard. Like I did when I had to see her laid out like that. I want his family to feel that loss. Like I am.”

  Danno moved to leave. “And I will. If it’s the last thing I do on this earth. I will make good on my promise. And I’ll transfer this pain I have onto them.”

  Ricky struggled to verbalize his reluctance to follow his boss. Such words were unfamiliar to him but Ricky was simply a retired wrestler – a man who loved the wrestling business. He wasn’t a detective or hitman and, unlike a lot of the people at the ceremony, he had no desire to be.

  Ricky followed him. “Where are you going?”

  “If I have to ask for their help instead of yours then I will,” Danno said about the other bosses. “I want Curt Magee found or I’m going to go like a tornado across all the territories until I find him.”

  Danno walked for the large gates as Ricky stopped in his tracks.

  “Cause someone out there knows where he is,” Danno shouted back.

  Ricky tried to figure out how to cool all this down. He knew that Danno accusing the other bosses of hiding a murderer wasn’t going to end up good. Bosses can’t just take each other out whenever they feel like it. That makes everyone at the top nervous.

  In the wrestling business funerals only grant you pity for a day. Then it’s all about the money again.

  A weak and unfocused Danno was a gift to everyone who wanted what he had. And Ricky knew that everyone in that church was using the opportunity to gauge just how wounded Danno was.

  Nevada.

  Lenny felt stupid and childish and secretive. And excited. He simply didn’t want word getting back to his wife that he was back looking at this sort of thing again.

  So a purple, tiled public restroom it had to be.

  He sat in the stall and silently pulled out the brown bag from inside his shirt. Luke sat on the floor directly outside his father’s stall with a mouth full of candy and his little brother on his lap, sucking on a popsicle. Their faces were a pleasurable, sugary mess and their fingers were too sticky to part.

  Luke dropped one of his sweets on the restroom floor. He waited for his father’s instruction to leave it where it fell. It never came, so he wiped the escaped sweet and popped it in his mouth.

  “You nearly finished in there, Dad?” Luke asked with his mouth full.

  Lenny pulled a magazine from his paper bag and delicately opened it. He missed those glossy pages. The smell of a new publication.

  USA WRESTLING CHRONICLES.

  “Dad?” Luke again aske
d. “Are you nearly finished in there?”

  A stranger entered and tried to figure out what two little boys where doing sitting on the floor of a public restroom.

  The seven-year-old’s arm was still in one sleeve of his jacket but the other empty sleeve was running underneath the stall where Lenny was standing on it. Like holding a dog on a leash.

  “Nearly finished, son,” Lenny answered.

  The bemused stranger went about his business.

  Lenny couldn’t wait any longer to see if his debut as a referee made the magazines. Growing up in Long Island, Lenny used to buy stacks of those same magazines to catch up on all the matches and new champions in the wrestling world. He religiously tore out the center poster and replaced the image on his wall, based on who was new and cool. One man never got replaced on the Long wall though – The Sugarstick Shane Montrose. Lenny considered this his reconnaissance. After all, he’d have to know what was happening in the wrestling world if he was to go back. It was just a pity that wrestling magazines were always weeks behind.

  In the middle of Las Vegas, with his kids on the floor and his wife dealing cards, Lenny Long was the happiest man in the world. Because of wrestling.

  It would soon make him feel a whole lot different.

  New York.

  The old back bar room was dark and smoky. Even the process of mourning had to be kept away from the public. Every major boss and their top wrestling stars were dotted along the chipped tables and cozy booths.

  When someone of note in the wrestling business dies, it’s a good networking opportunity. When someone belonging to a boss dies – you better be there or your name gets blackened. But when the wife of a boss gets killed, and the killer is still out there, you better be there or theories start to form and questions begin to get asked.

  And so, Annie Garland’s wake was standing room only.

  The back room of a nightclub wasn’t where Annie Garland should have been remembered – but rules are rules. Protect the business at all times.

  Even when business is the last thing on your mind.

  Danno sat alone, and in thought, at the top of the room. Everyone was giving him space and time. He wasn’t eating, he wasn’t drinking. And he wasn’t talking. Most of the other ‘mourners’ were trying to figure out how long is respectful enough to stay sober.