Tussle

by Jacob Chance

“Quite a thing we do,” Russ pauses a beat and then turns around to face me, “isn’t it?” Before I can answer he continues, “I never get tired of it.”

  He sinks down into the plush leather chair next to mine. “This gamble of yours appears to have some legs.” He leans over the arm of his chair and on to mine. “So, we’re going to run with it.”

  “Hey Dad, sorry I’m late.” Lilah hurries into the suite and straight up to her father, kissing him on the cheek. “It’s been a really busy day.” She turns back without taking a seat. “Unless this is an emergency, I can’t stay.” She smiles, “Things to do, people to talk to...” and walks right back out of the suite. After all the notifications going off on her phone in the elevator, I’m not surprised she’s got things to take care of.

  Russ stops talking, watches her leave and smiles, clearly proud of his daughter.

  “I like your instinct to keep it quiet like you did on this, Jesse.” He's all business again. “The reaction from not only the fans, but everyone behind the curtain was great.” Russ sits up at the edge of his chair. “They didn't know what hit them, what was real or not. It was brilliant.”

  “Thank you, Russ. That means a lot coming from you.”

  “We’re going to play that angle up. You're out of control. You've gone rogue.” Russ waves his hands in the air. “Now I've spoken to Jimmy and he's on board. I'm going to give you boys a little creative freedom here and there, but I'm telling you like I told him, no more warnings. We all stay on the same page.”

  I keep it short and simple. “Done.”

  “Good. Now as far as tonight goes, I'd like you to stay up here during the show.”

  “Up here? With you?” I'm confused.

  “I was thinking you could use the suite next to this one; it's empty. That way you can...”

  “I can stay out of sight and nobody will know where I am or what I'm up to.” I grin at the thought of it.

  “Exactly.” Russ sees my expression and the corners of his lips lift upward. “The less anyone knows, the better. I'll start the show off with an in-ring appearance, condemning your actions and saying you've been temporarily banned from all of our events.”

  “I like it. Sounds good to me.”

  “We'll play it up all night and then Jimmy can talk some trash about you and do his thing to end the night,” Russ pauses and holds his hand out, prompting me to speak.

  “And then I’ll do my thing to end the night.” I say it with as much confidence and swagger as I've ever spoken with in my life.

  “That's what I want to hear.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Like I said, I've already spoken to Jimmy and he's good to go.” Russ rises to his feet and slaps me on the shoulder again. “I'll need this suite now so unless there's anything else.”

  “No problem.” I stand and prepare to leave. “Thanks, Russ.”

  Before the door can close behind me, I've got my phone out and I'm texting Wyatt.

  Me: Get up to the luxury suites ALONE. ASAP.

  Thirty minutes later I've caught him up on the plan for tonight. “I'm good to go. Are you sure Jimmy’s good for this?” Wyatt asks.

  “Russ says he's on board. Keep it quiet backstage. Let them wonder,” I remind him as he heads toward the door and back down to the locker rooms.

  “Fucking right, I'll play it perfectly. No worries.”

  I relax back in one of the leather chairs and stare down at the arena as the ringside hosts amp the crowd up and introduce World Class Wrestling’s CEO, Russ Turner. I turn the tv on inside the suite, so I can listen to the play by play.

  Russ is a master at playing up to the crowds and his on-air personality is what you'd call larger than life.

  Normally Russ takes up the better part of five minutes strutting to the ring and preening for the fans. A lover of the attention, he prefers to milk his time in the spotlight for all it’s worth. Tonight, he's all business, solemnly standing dead center of the ring within thirty seconds of his intro.

  “Quiet down, please.” Russ asks the raucous fans at ringside. Their faces show surprise at his reserved manner, as he usually plays to their taunts. “I'd like to address the attack on our champion, Jimmy Holley, last night.” Immediately the crowd responds with a chant. Jesse Gunn. Jesse Gunn. Jesse Gunn. Soon it becomes a deafening roar throughout the building.

  “What is wrong with you people?” Russ shouts at the crowd, acting as if he's disgusted by their reaction. “Jesse Gunn’s actions last night were disgraceful.” Russ’ voice builds with each word. “He's nothing more than a thug.” His face is flushed red with anger and I chuckle when I notice the vein in his temple popping out.

  “Jesse Gunn. Jesse Gunn. Jesse Gunn.” The fans continue, the volume increasing with each chant.

  “Alright, now that's enough. Jesse Gunn has been heavily fined for what he did,” Russ admonishes the crowd and they eat it up, responding with a round of jeers.

  “I have also banned Jesse Gunn from any and all World Class Wrestling events until further notice.”

  The crowd voices its collective displeasure like only professional wrestling fans can, “Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.” Russ walks back up the ramp and waves at them like a conquering hero. “Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.”

  The crowd reaction is more than I could’ve hoped for and I'm still basking in it ten minutes later when I get a text from my sister.

  Ronnie: Now that was a pop!

  Me: Ya think? Lmfao. I laugh as I text back.

  Ronnie: Guess I gotta up my game. Her answer comes right away.

  Me: Guess you better… Champ.

  I like to tease her, but my sister is by far the best woman wrestler in the business. The things she’s done both physically and with her on-air personality have taken women's wrestling to new heights in WCW.

  Ronnie: Well then, I guess you better watch and see. She teases back.

  Ronnie is the main event match tonight, defending her title against Aiko-Aiko, a newly arrived big name out of New Japan Pro wrestling, who dresses in a samurai inspired robe and face paint. The ladies say she's a real hard hitter in the ring, and she’s still learning English, so the language barrier is tough to navigate during matches.

  By the time their match rolls around, I'm flush with adrenaline and slowly pacing the room like a caged animal waiting to escape.

  Immediately after the match Jimmy will be making an in-ring appearance and I won't be far behind. He’s already been filmed arriving to the arena covering his face with a ball cap and sunglasses.

  The announcers at ringside keep cutting away to backstage cameras and interviews with other wrestlers, who say they’ve seen no signs of me anywhere in the building.

  I check online and see that Lilah is doing her thing as well. The official WCW Twitter account is running live streams every half hour, searching throughout the backstage areas for any sign of me. The crowd has been waiting all night for the possible confrontation and they're chomping at the bit for something to break off.

  I hear Ronnie’s entrance music and catch sight of her on the monitor, standing with her back to the crowd at the top of the ramp. She's dressed in her usual short black leather robe with an oversized hood covering her head. The women's championship belt is draped around her waist and she's wearing cutoff jeans, with black boots and knee pads.

  The music builds, and the in-ring announcer calls out “Ronnie Gunnnnnn.” When she spins around and throws off her hood, my sister is wearing one of the WCW Golden Boy masks. The masks are an officially licensed photo image of Jimmy's smiling face and can be purchased for nineteen-ninety-nine at any of a dozen vendors inside the arena.

  The crowd explodes with thunderous cheers when they see it as Ronnie confidently struts to the ring like she owns the place. She’s obviously spoken to Wyatt, who couldn't keep a secret from my sister if his life depended on it.

  I immediately text him.

  Me: Really?

  It takes a minute for him to respond.

 
Wyatt: Sorry.

  Me: Pussy. I jest.

  Wyatt: See you soon. He texts right back.

  Fifteen minutes later Ronnie has Aiko wrapped up in the middle of the ring in a chokehold she likes to call the Gunn-lock. Seconds later the match is over with Aiko “out cold” and Ronnie still the champion.

  She jumps up on the top turnbuckle in the corner facing the luxury suite I'm in and points up to it. I smile at the crowd's reaction as she holds her title belt in one hand and the Golden Boy mask in the other.

  Jimmy’s music begins to play as Ronnie is walking back up the ramp. He steps out from backstage and stands at the edge of the ramp. He's still wearing the ball cap and sunglasses.

  Ronnie slowly slides the mask back over her face as she reaches the top of the ramp.

  The fans go wild as Jimmy slowly steps around my sister shaking his head and continues toward the ring. “What the hell is it with this family?” he barks into the microphone.

  The crowd gives another round of cheers at the mention of my sister.

  Jimmy removes the sunglasses and cap, revealing a nasty set of purple bruises under both of his eyes. His nose still looks swollen and painful. I can't believe he let me break it.

  “Jesse Gunn.” Jimmy calls out in anger and the crowd roars. “Let me tell you something, punk.”

  This is our cue.

  The crowd begins to separate directly across the arena from where I am.

  Wyatt, dressed in jeans and a black hoodie is sprinting down the stairs, through the fans toward the ring. He stops ringside and raises his head, allowing the audience to see he's also wearing a Golden Boy mask. Everyone assumes it's me.

  Time to go.

  “Yeah c'mon in here, punk.” Jimmy lifts the middle rope and invites him in. Wyatt doesn't move.

  “Get in here and let's do this,” Jimmy shouts.

  Wyatt stands ringside staring up at an increasingly angry Golden Boy.

  I quickly exit the luxury box and sprint down the stairway on the opposite side of the arena.

  Before anyone even notices me, I've hurdled the barrier and I'm sliding under the bottom rope into the ring behind Jimmy. I'm dressed similarly to Wyatt and when I stand up at Jimmy’s back the crowd catches sight of my custom Golden Boy mask. The eyes have been blackened with a permanent marker I found in the luxury suite.

  The fans cheer and Jimmy plays it up, slowly looking up from Wyatt and into the crowd. Before he can turn around, I grab him around the waist and perform a belly to back snap suplex, flipping him straight back overhead and driving him down neck first into the mat.

  I quickly climb the corner turnbuckle to the top rope and perform a five-star frog splash onto a prone Golden Boy, while still wearing the mask.

  The fans are eating it up and cell phone cameras flash from every direction.

  “Masks, really?” Jimmy whispers as I pick him up off the mat.

  “Seemed like a good idea.” I mumble back.

  “Douchebag,” he whispers.

  “Neck breaker,” I whisper back. Grabbing his neck, I turn him around and perform a spinning neck breaker on him. Jimmy plays it up, rolling and shaking on the mat.

  Wyatt takes off his mask, ducking under the ropes to join in the fun. When I finally rip the mask off, the crowd ignites with its approval.

  I slowly strut around the ring twice before I see Jimmy struggling to get to his feet.

  Just as he reaches a standing position I take two quick steps and deliver a super kick to the side of his face.

  Wyatt laughs hysterically and guides him back to a standing position. I step over and kick him in the stomach, grabbing him by the back of the neck and sticking his head between my legs. “Betcha like that don't ya?” I tease him loud enough for the ringside crowd to hear as I grab the back of his waist and pull him up, so his legs are draped over the front of my shoulders.

  “Says the guy getting tea-bagged in front of all these people right now,” Jimmy whispers back.

  Camera flashes fill the arena once more as I drop Jimmy down onto his back and shoulders in a tooth rattling power-bomb.

  “My God... It’s Jesse Gunn. Somebody get security. Jesse Gunn has crashed the show,” One of the television hosts calls out live on air.

  Wyatt slips back under the ropes and retrieves a folding table from under the ring. He sets it up at the bottom of the entrance ramp. “Jesse,” he yells out to me with his arms raised above his head, calling for me to use the table.

  I casually swagger around the ring taunting Jimmy. “Did you want to talk to me?” I rip my shirt off, throw it down into his face and stand over him with my arms outstretched. “Well here I am, Jimmy.” I reach down and slap him hard across the face. “Ohhh,” the crowd shouts a collective groan at the sound of it.

  Grabbing hold of Jimmy's arm and neck, I pull him up off the mat. “You good for the big bump?” I speak directly into his ear.

  “No, but let's do it anyway.” He sounds sure enough for me. I snatch the back of his neck and push his head down between my legs again. This time when I roll him up into the ready position, I step over to the edge of the ring and pause for effect.

  “No, Jesse no. Don't do it,” The ringside announcers shout into their headsets.

  “Do it,” Wyatt calls up from beside the table with a large grin on his face.

  I take a step back to steady myself and I whisper a count to Jimmy “one-two-three.”

  I toss Jimmy over the top rope, sending him ten plus feet through the air before he lands dead center on top of the table.

  “No-No-No,” the ringside announcers plead on air as his body crashes through the table and onto the floor, leaving him sprawled out amongst the splinters and debris.

  The trio of ringside announcers are all shouting into their headsets.

  “Jesse Gunn has lost his mind.”

  “He's nothing more than a common street thug.”

  “Someone needs to call the police because Jesse Gunn is guilty of an attempted murder out here right now.”

  I step over and snatch one of the headsets off the closest mouthpiece. “Gimme this thing.” I slide the earpieces over my head and immediately hear the backstage director yelling.

  “What is he doing now? What is he doing?”

  I stand over Jimmy, who is once again bleeding profusely from his previously broken nose and pull several one hundred dollar bills out of my pocket. “You think I care about a fine?” I slap Jimmy across the face and the ringside fans begin to throw a few drink cups in my direction. Some of them are not empty.

  “Here's what I think about your fine.” I stuff the bills into his mouth.

  “That's right, there's your fine,” Wyatt taunts Jimmy over my shoulder and then turns back to the fans, shouting “Golden Boy - Golden Boy.”

  “Your time is up.” I slip off the headset and rip the title belt from around his waist. “I’ll be seeing you real soon. Stay golden, Jimmy Boy.”

  I hop up on to the announcers table and raise the title belt overhead slowly, holding it up long enough to whip the crowd into a near frenzy, before laying it on the ground just out of Jimmy's reach. Wyatt laughs and follows me as I strut back up the ramp. The reaction is so much better than I expected. I've never seen anything like it. We end up dodging drink cups and slapping away the arms of several overzealous fans who seem to believe we are in fact attempting to murder the Golden Boy right here in front of all these people.

  “Holy shit.” Wyatt jumps on my back. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”

  “Have you ever heard anything like that?” I drop him to his feet and we are bouncing off the walls as we enter the backstage area. Most of the other wrestlers stay clear, unsure of how to react as they see Jimmy entering backstage with a medic and walking straight to his private locker room.

  “Nice work.” Ronnie walks straight up to me with a big smile and quick hug. “Listen to them,” she pauses, and we take in the roaring, stomping crowd. I've never heard anything lik
e it and it feels great. “They're still on fire out there.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jesse

  Lights strobe all around us breaking up the darkness with flashes of light as we make our way to the area reserved for our party. The tables are along the rear wall allotting us as much privacy as possible. Grit, the name of the club is a fitting one. There’s nothing fancy about this place, the decor runs more toward dark, dirty and seedy. It reminds me of a club I went to in London when we visited there last year. Places like Grit, are my favorite to visit. We can come and unwind after a show without causing a riot. I’m not sure if the patrons aren’t wrestling fans or if they just don’t give a fuck, but either way, I’m grateful for a night to chill with my friends.

  Sinking down into one of the chairs, I tip it back to balance on two legs and lean against the wall. My narrowed eyes glide over the bodies on the dance floor seeking out one in particular. The strobes make the dancers’ movements look more interesting than they are, except for the platinum blonde dancing by herself in the corner. In this case, the lights are a detriment to her natural beauty and grace. I should know, I’ve watched her enough times that I can practically predict what she’ll do next.

  She prefers to dance alone, completely immersing herself in the music. Blocking out everything else, dancing is a natural function for her body, like breathing. It’s part of who she is, and she never looks freer or more relaxed than when she’s letting loose on the dance floor. No matter how much she tries to blend in with the crowd, I always manage to find her. She couldn’t hide from me if she tried. My body’s so in tune with hers; we vibrate on the same frequency or some such thing because I’m always cognizant of where she is - even when I try not to be.

  Now that I know she takes belly dancing lessons, I can see the influence it has in her movements. Her hips roll and undulate like rippling waves on the ocean. The oscillating motion is hypnotic to observe and has me imagining what she’d look like riding my cock.

  The waitress comes to take our order and I begin to relax. We’ve been here for ten minutes so far and no one has wandered over to ask for an autograph or to take a picture with us.