by Pat White
“Doctor?” she urged.
“Looks like a concussion. Won’t know how serious until we take some x-rays.”
“Is it normal for him to be unconscious like this?”
“That’s not from the head injury. He passed out when the paramedic administered the IV. Needle phobic.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised that a man like Jack Hudson could be daunted by something as small as a needle.
The patient moaned and brought his right hand to his face, as if shielding his eyes. “What the hell?”
She backed up into Uncle Joe, afraid of Jack’s reaction when he spotted her. Then she remembered: He’d only recognize her as Tatianna the Terrible. She stood a little straighter.
“Sir? I’m Dr. Carson. Do you know your name?”
“Jack. Jack Hudson.”
“Do you know what happened to you, Mr. Hudson?”
“I got clobbered by a seven-hundred-pound gorilla.”
The doctor pulled out a pen-sized flashlight and shined it in Jack’s right eye.
“Enough already,” Jack protested, batting the doctor’s hand away. “I was clubbed by a crazy woman.”
“How about these people? Do you recognize them?”
He squinted and stared at Frankie. Guilt flashed in bold neon letters across her forehead. His gaze drifted to her right and landed on Uncle Joe. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
“Jesus, Sully. You’re like a vulture circling a carcass.”
“Just wanted to check up on my biggest star.”
Jack grunted.
“Doctor?” a nurse interrupted. “We need you in room two.”
“I’ll be right there. Mr. Hudson, they’ll be taking you for x-rays in a minute.”
“I’ve been hit in the head enough times to know I don’t need x-rays.”
The doctor pushed aside the curtain and glanced over his shoulder. “I’d have to disagree considering you didn’t even recognize your own wife.” The doctor slid the curtain closed.
“My what?” Jack sat up, gripped his head with both hands and collapsed back onto the bed.
Uncle Joe giggled.
“Sully,” Jack growled.
“I’m going to have to ask all of you to leave,” the nurse ordered.
“One minute, nurse, just sixty seconds?” Uncle Joe winked at Billings, who put his arm around the nurse.
“I don’t suppose you have any kids who like wrestling?” Billings guided her out of the examining area. Uncle Joe shut the curtain behind them.
“Get out,” Jack said, his right arm shielding his eyes.
“We have business to discuss,” Uncle Joe protested.
“Yeah, like the broad standing next to you? Don’t tell me, you had a minister marry us while I was unconscious to beef up next week’s ratings. Come on, Sully, you know I like them tall and bone skinny.”
Maybe insults would get them to leave, Jack thought.
“This is my niece and WHAK negotiator,” Sully said. “We said she was your wife so they’d let us in to talk to you.”
“Yeah, catch me when I’m down. I know the drill.”
“You were great tonight, Jack. The fans were hot, out of control.”
Sully took a step toward him. Jack was cornered, had nowhere to go. A familiar feeling.
“Things are turning around for us. Just think, when you turn heel on next week’s show—”
“Are you nuts!” Jack shouted, clutching his head to ease the spear of pain slicing through his skull. “You’ve got to be out of your mind.”
“Take ’em by surprise, Jack. That’s what tonight taught me. That’s why we’ve been losing fans. They crave the unexpected, larger-than-life stories filled with emotion and drama.”
“I won’t turn heel.”
The thought of thousands of young fans watching him draw blood from a hero tied his stomach in knots. It had taken years to build his reputation, to become a hero that impressionable kids could look up to. It would take one match to trash that image to hell.
“It’s only three more months. Then your contract’s up and you’re free to go on with your life.”
“As what? A complete jerk?”
“Heels have gone on to very successful careers as announcers, actors, heck, even politicians.”
“I came into this business a hero, and I’m going out the same way.”
God, let him be a hero at something.
“I’m sorry, but my advisers feel strongly about this.”
“And who the hell are your advisers? Billings? The man was a career jobber. He won five, maybe six matches in fifteen years. Or did this lady standing next to you suggest you destroy the persona I’ve worked years to build?”
Sully’s niece crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m here to negotiate, not make up stories. You all seem quite capable of doing that without my help.”
Another hard-ass. Great.
“I won’t turn, Sully. Now, get out.” Jack crooked his arm over his face. The dull throb grew to a persistent hammer. The shuffling of papers echoed across the small examining area.
“I’ve got a contract here,” Sully countered. “If you break it I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.”
“You sonofa…” Jack lunged for the promoter, hoping to apply an illegal chokehold of his own, but his knees buckled and he went down. He groped for the counter to keep from falling flat on his face. The room spun as test patterns of red, yellow, and white flashed across his eyes.
Someone gently grabbed his arm and helped steady him. He didn’t open his eyes, afraid he’d be sick from the sight of IVs, latex gloves, and blood-pressure cuffs spinning around the room.
“Lie down,” a woman’s voice said.
Thank God the nurse had returned to save him from Sully and his evil niece.
Flopping back onto the bed, he opened his eyes. The drill sergeant niece stood over him, her hand still holding onto his bare arm.
“I don’t need your help.” He wrenched his arm away and closed his eyes, but not before he caught sight of her pained expression. Why should he care?
The hammering grew into a full-blown demolition of his remaining brain cells.
“There is an alternative,” Sully said.
“Yeah, like I strap you to the hood of that fancy Lincoln Town Car and drive you into Lake Michigan.”
“Jack, believe it or not. I’m looking out for your best interest.”
He squinted at Sully, who wore that cheesy smile, the one that meant major pain and suffering was around the corner.
“Spit it out,” Jack said.
“I’ll reconsider your turning heel if you extend your contract by a year.”
Jack’s knee ached at the thought. “You’re dreaming.”
“It’s critical to WHAK, a way to recover our ratings.”
“I’d rather recover my health.”
“How can you do this to the organization that made you what you are today?”
He glared at the promoter. “Don’t even go there. I’ve been a cash cow for the last ten years and we both know it.”
“That’s why we need you to stay on for a little longer.”
“No.”
“Then heel it is. Unless …”
Sully nodded at his niece and she batted her eyes. Man, they made a great team. If they were a wrestling team they’d be called Pain and Destruction.
“Will you consider something else?” Sully smiled again and Jack had the sudden urge to buzz the nurse for a quick shot of morphine.
Sully stepped closer, his eyes twinkling with victory. “You don’t have to turn heel if you agree to make Tatianna your permanent partner.”
Chapter Four
“Are you nuts?” Jack said. “This was a one-time gig.”
A crash echoed through the room, slicing more pain through his skull.
“Sorry.” The niece righted a cart she’d knocked over, and glared at Sully. The old man ignored her and paced the room, raising one hand in
the air as if giving a State of the Union address.
“This is exactly the type of drama and emotion we need to get us back on top. You and Tatianna are perfect together.”
“Uncle Joe?” The niece reached for his arm.
“Tatianna’s fascinating, electrifying—”
“She’s a lunatic,” Jack interrupted.
“She’s spectacular, amazing—”
“She’s a klutz.”
“But she’s got that special something,” Sully argued. “Charisma, magic.”
“She’s dangerous!” Jack shouted.
“She didn’t mean to hurt you,” the niece defended.
He studied the woman Sully claimed was his niece, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed with determination. Her colorful eyes—a myriad of blues, greens, and yellows—were hidden behind large-framed glasses. He’d never seen eyes quite like hers before.
Hell, he couldn’t let a pair of gorgeous eyes sidetrack him. The concussion must be worse than he thought. Clenching his jaw, Jack refocused on his current crisis: getting out while he could still walk.
“Well, she did hurt me,” he said.
“Tatianna was only trying to help,” the niece countered.
“I can do without that crazy woman’s help. I’ll live a lot longer, that’s for sure.”
“She’s new at this, a last-minute replacement. She thought Neurosis was going to smash your skull with the TV monitor.”
“If she didn’t know the game she shouldn’t have stepped into the ring.”
“But—”
“Listen, lady, you obviously don’t know much about this business.” He propped himself up on his elbows and stared her down, all five-feet-nothing of her. He didn’t know women came this small. Short, that is. She obviously wasn’t small in other, more important places, which he could tell she tried very hard to conceal.
“That Tiger Lady bimbo is a nut case, a psycho-idiot who had no business being anywhere near the ring.”
Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she fisted her right hand by her side as if she ached to give him a right cross of her own. And they said he took his job too seriously.
Sully sidestepped his niece and smiled, flashing expensive capped teeth. Jack hated that grin.
“It’s okay, Jack, we’ll find you a new Tatianna.”
“Forget it. I won’t have anything to do with that story line, contract or no contract.”
It would be nice to keep some personal integrity, he thought. Then he considered the alternative. Not much integrity in turning heel.
“There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” Sully brushed a speck of lint off the shoulder of his suit.
Jack ground his teeth. Sully had him by the balls and they both knew it. Jack couldn’t afford to be wiped out financially, not with most of his money invested in Butch’s youth fitness centers. Then there was the balloon payment due next month on the construction loan. They were finally about to break ground on his mountain cabin, the dream that had kept him going for the last five years.
“I’ll tell Billings you’re turning heel. He’ll schedule you on the Milwaukee card against Cowboy Gil,” Sully said. “We’ll send you out with some brass knuckles, a buckskin knife, maybe even a chain saw.”
“Get the hell out of here!” His pulse pounded in his ears.
A nurse ripped the curtain aside.
“We’re leaving,” Sully said.
The nurse went to Jack and checked his pulse.
“I need Morphine, Demerol, a kick to the head. Just put me out,” Jack said.
“We don’t want you out, exactly, Mr. Hudson, but we can probably do something for the pain.” She tapped at his IV bag and grabbed something from the tray.
“Milwaukee, next Monday, you can slice Gil to pieces in front of all his little cowpokes,” Sully taunted from the curtain.
“Get out!”
“Reconsider my offer and I’ll give you a week off followed by two weeks of light promo appearances with Tatianna.”
“Nurse, call security.”
“Okay, now, Mr. Hudson. Take a deep breath and everything will be fine.”
She turned and Jack caught sight of the ten-inch needle squeezed between her latex-gloved fingers. His heart did a skippity-hop-thump, his breath caught in his throat, and the world faded to black.
***
The next morning Frankie paced Uncle Joe’s office like a woman on caffeine overload. “What do you mean you can’t find a replacement?”
Okay, so she was a bit overexcited, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d tossed and turned all night thanks to nightmares about leather-clad cowboys.
“Take it easy, princess,” Uncle Joe said. “There’s plenty of time. It’s not like Jack’s going to be back soon. He’ll take a few days to recover.”
She paced the office, her stomach churning with dread. Why did she get the feeling that her uncle wasn’t putting a lot of effort into finding another Tatianna?
“Have you discussed the situation with him today?” she said.
“No, but I doubt I was the first person Jack wanted to talk to when he woke up.”
“Gee, I wonder why.” She collapsed in the leather wingback chair opposite his desk. “What can I do to expedite this process?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He popped another butterscotch candy. “Everything will work out fine, like always.”
She considered that statement. “Fine” was a relative term when dealing with Uncle Joe. Last night’s disaster had proved anything but fine.
“Why don’t I trust you?” she said.
“Me?” He placed an open palm to his chest and his gray-blue eyes widened.
She stared him down. “I won’t go out there again. I won’t dress up and make a fool out of myself.”
“I understand, but you were wonderful, a natural. You saved us from the gallows.”
“I’m not an exhibitionist,” she said, ignoring his praise. “I don’t belong anywhere near a ring.”
“The ring is part of your heritage.”
“Mom spent my whole life telling me otherwise.”
He glanced at her, crestfallen. “When I think about the hard work, the blood and angst drained from my soul to create WHAK.”
She felt the guilt hammer swing away.
“And when I’m gone, it’s over. Kaput. No one to take over. No one to carry on my good work.”
“Listen, Uncle Joe.” She stood, plastered her hands on his desk and leaned forward in her most intimidating pose. “I’m not here to dress up and prance around like a furry fluff ball, or hang on a wrestler’s arm.”
“But Frankie—”
“My job is to dig you out of financial debt. That’s it. I have no interest in taking over the family business.”
“Honey, don’t say that.”
“And let me be clear: the last place I want to be right now is surrounded by ignorant, grunting, testosterone-charged gorillas that you generously call athletes!”
Uncle Joe’s eyes bugged out of his head as if he’d been stabbed with a fireplace poker. He’d never been speechless before. She straightened and righted her linen suit jacket with a snap of the hem. She kinda liked this.
“I’ll be in accounting.” With a lift of her chin she spun around and came face to chest with washed-out blue denim.
Uh oh. She swallowed hard. Her gaze drifted up, locking on to a pair of fiery green eyes.
“Ignorant, testosterone-charged gorilla?” Black Jack said, his voice low and threatening.
Her own voice caught in her throat.
“You don’t consider us athletes?”
She backed up against Uncle Joe’s desk and fumbled behind her for a paperweight, a picture frame, or a pen to poke his eye out. Cripes, the violence was rubbing off on her.
“I… I…” She curled her fingers around something firm with a pointed edge.
“Who do you think you are, anyway?” he said in that throaty wrestler’s voice she knew t
he guys used when being interviewed by Prince Priceless. “You think a lot of yourself, don’t you Niece Sullivan?”
“My name is Frankie.”
“That’s right, a guy’s name. Figures.”
He moved suddenly and she instinctively snatched the weapon from Uncle Joe’s desk and raised it over her shoulder, ready to strike.
He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made her skin tingle.
“What, you gonna light my fire, babe?”
She glanced at the object in her hand: a cigarette lighter in the shape of a naked woman. A well-endowed woman no less, and Frankie was fondling her breasts.
“Ah!” She tossed the lighter on the floor.
“Tsk, tsk. Now that’s no way to treat a lady.” He picked up the hand-carved lighter and rubbed his thumb across the pointed nipples.
Her pulse hammered against her throat. What was happening?
As he reached around her to place the lighter on the desk, the inside of his muscular arm brushed against her shoulder. She inhaled the scent of male mixed with deodorant soap and closed her eyes. Her heart beat triple time as images invaded her thoughts, images of strong, male hands, touching and exploring her naked body.
The sound of a man clearing his throat shocked her back to her senses. Jack stared her down with a sly grin easing across his full lips.
“Sully, where’d you find this one? A convent?”
She ground her teeth and curled her fingers into her palms. What she wouldn’t give to plant one knuckle sandwich on the corner of this guy’s cocky jaw.
He took a step back and glanced at her hands, clenched firmly by her side. “Again with the fist. You sure have a short fuse for a lady.”
The emphasis on the word “lady” wasn’t lost on her. The funny thing was, she didn’t have a short fuse. Up to this point in her life, she’d had no fuse at all. Anger was a wasted emotion. It didn’t change anything. She and her mom had learned that the hard way.
“You surprised me, that’s all,” she said. “We didn’t expect you back today.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t.” He eyed her slowly, methodically, as if analyzing every curve of her body. Luckily she was wearing a loose-fitting vest under her suit jacket.
