Body Slammed!

by Ray Villareal

  “That had to be the sweetest promo the Angel of Death has ever cut,” Wally said. “Does your dad write his own material?”

  “Yeah,” Jesse said. “He’s one of the few wrestlers Frank Collins, the promoter, trusts to do it. Almost all the other wrestlers have their lines written out for them.”

  “I’m going to miss the Angel of Death,” Wally said, “but I’ll be looking forward to seeing your dad as Elijah Nightshade.”

  Goose wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You know, I’ve never met a chick who knew so much about wrestling,” he said.

  Wally scowled at him. “And I never met anyone who referred to me as a chick.”

  “Hey, I just call them as I see them,” Goose said. “You are a chick, right? I mean, with that weird haircut, from the back, you sort of look like a dude.”

  Wally stood and gathered her Tupperware container and plastic bottle. “You know what? The air at this table has begun to stink. Excuse me, but I think I’ll sit somewhere else.”

  “Wally, wait!”Jesse grabbed his lunch tray.

  “What’s with that chick?” Goose asked. “Can’t she take a joke?”

  “Shut up, Goose!” Jesse said and hurried after her.

  Wally sat at a table with a group of girls. One of the girls, Jora Enge, said to her, “I told you, you were wasting your time trying to talk to those jocks. There’s not an ounce of gray matter between them.”

  “Shh. Here comes one of them now,” Emily Robinet whispered, nodding in Jesse’s direction.

  He approached their table and said, “I’m really sorry about that, Wally. Goose is a moron. You can’t take anything he says seriously.”

  “Are you in the habit of hanging out with morons?” Jora asked, defending her friend.

  “Probably,” Jesse said, smiling. “But it’s a habit I’ve been trying to break. Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for a response, he placed his lunch tray on the table and sat on a round stool across from Wally.

  “Say hi to my friends, Jora and Emily,” Wally said. “And that’s Alyssa.” She pointed to a girl with long, red hair, who had her head lowered, almost buried, in her sandwich. Alyssa didn’t look up to acknowledge Jesse.

  “So anyway, this kid dangles his shirt over a bridge, Nikki grabs it and he pulls her out of the water,” Jora told Emily and Alyssa, finishing the story she had begun sharing before Wally and Jesse arrived.

  “Are you talking about that kid from Dallas who saved Nikki Demetrius’s life?” Jesse asked.

  Jora slapped her friend on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “See, Emily? Even this jock knows about it. The story’s been all over the news. I don’t know how you could’ve missed it.”

  “I told you, I don’t watch a lot of TV,” Emily said.

  “My mom knows the kid,” Jesse told them. “He’s a student at the school where she teaches.”

  “What’s your mom doing teaching in Dallas?” Wally asked. Then she caught herself. “Oh. I guess your parents aren’t together. Sorry.”

  Jesse shrugged. “They’re divorced. But hey, life goes on, right?”

  “So tell us about the kid who saved Nikki’s life,” Jora said. “What was his name? Ronnie something?”

  “Rawly,” Jesse said. “Rawly Sánchez.”

  The girls gathered closely as Jesse filled them in on the story his mom had shared with him of the student at North Oak Cliff High School in Dallas who had rescued world-famous fashion model Nikki Demetrius from drowning after she had driven her car into Winnetka Creek. Even Alyssa stopped eating her sandwich and scooted in to listen.

  While Jesse was talking, a tall, thin boy came from behind Wally and kissed her on the cheek. “Call me, okay?” he said.

  “I will,” Wally replied and kissed the air as the boy walked away.

  Jesse felt a sudden stab of anxiety in his gut. “Boyfriend?” he asked warily.

  The girls giggled.

  “Brandon?” Wally said. “Hardly.” She paused, then asked, “Why? Would it bother you if he was?”

  “No, I . . . uh . . . was just wondering if you were seeing anyone right now,” Jesse said.

  “Why do you want to know?” Jora asked.

  “I think he’s hitting on Wally,” Emily said.

  “I think he is, too,” Jora agreed.

  “No, Jessup. I don’t have a boyfriend,” Wally said. “Don’t really want one, either. Tell you what, though. If you’re interested in the job, I’ll take your application. But I’ll be honest with you. I’m not hiring right now.”

  “Well, maybe I can do some volunteer work, then,” Jesse said, enjoying Wally’s playful words.

  “Stop by my office later on, and we’ll talk about it,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Jesse was sitting in the den, doing his homework, when Pollo began to bark. Jesse’s grandfather peeked out the window and said, “Your papi’s home.”

  Moments later, Jesse’s father, Carlos Montoya and TJ Masters walked in the house. They had just returned from having wrestled in Seattle. Carlos lived in New Braunfels, a small town outside of San Antonio, and Jesse’s father had invited him and TJ for dinner before they headed home.

  After they washed their hands, they sat at the dining table with Jesse and his grandfather, while Jesse’s grandmother heated their food.

  “Well, champ, it’s done,” Jesse’s father said. “The Angel of Death is finished.”

  “Yeah, Güelo and I saw your promo on TV,” Jesse said.

  “You know, at first, I hated the whole idea. I mean, I’ve been the Angel of Death for a long time. But after hearing what creative has mapped out for Elijah Nightshade and the Assembly, that stupid gimmick may just work.”

  “I think so, too,” Carlos said. “I talked to Marv and Cassandra, and they’re pretty excited about it.”

  “Man, I’m starting to get jealous here,” TJ said. “I’d like to be part of Elijah Nightshade’s Assembly, too. Maybe I could play Brother Tristan.”

  “You’re getting your own push, TJ,” Jesse’s father said. “Frank told me he was really impressed with your performance last night.”

  “Thanks, Mark. Collins says that he’s planning to put me in a feud with Jason Cage. Ever since the Midnight Raiders split up and Sean LaRue left the company, the creative team’s been looking for someone to work a program with Jason. We’re about the same size, so I think we can put on some outstanding matches.”

  “You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, TJ,” Carlos said. “And if the ACW can talk Judson Tanner’s people into agreeing to a match between you and him, you could be headlining The Final Stand in the spring.”

  Jesse gave TJ a “thumbs up.” He was sure that TJ would soon be a top-tier wrestler in the ACW. Then the boys would have to respect him. And Goose wouldn’t be able to refer to him as “The Jobber.”

  Jesse’s grandmother came in carrying steaming dishes of meat loaf, with kernel corn and green beans. She told Jesse to help her serve the iced tea.

  While they ate, Jesse’s father said, “Pa, I’m going to need Ramón González’s number to schedule an appointment for a haircut.”

  “You don’t need an appointment, Marcos,” Jesse’s grandfather said. “Ramón takes walk-ins.”

  “I know, but I’m going to need more than a haircut. Frank wants me to dye my hair and my eyebrows white as part of my Elijah Nightshade character. Shirley Washington’s already measured me for the white suits I’ll be wearing.”

  “Are you still planning to debut as Elijah Nightshade Sunday night, Dad?” Jesse asked.

  “Yeah. At Checkmate, I’ll cut a promo with Carlos, Marv and Cassandra standing alongside me. I’ll preach about how we’re there to cleanse American Championship Wrestling of its transgressions. Then, during the main event, we’ll interfere in the title match between Sloane and Savage and take out both wrestlers.”

  “I wish I was wrestling at Checkmate,” TJ said. “I’m not even being invited to go to the show. Since I
’m not on the card, Collins doesn’t want to pay for me to be there.”

  “You’ll get your chance,” Carlos told him. “In the meantime, continue to train hard and work hard. Study your craft. Learn to use psychology to tell stories in the ring.”

  After they had eaten, Jesse’s grandmother told Jesse to get ready so she could take him for his driving lesson.

  “Why don’t you let me do that, Mrs. Baron?” TJ asked. “Jesse can drive my car.”

  “Thank you, TJ, but Jesse’s never driven any car but mine,” she said.

  Jesse stared at TJ, hoping he wouldn’t say anything about their outings.

  “We’ll just drive around the neighborhood a few times,” TJ said. “That’s all. I’ll make sure Jesse drives real slow. It’s the least I can do to pay you back for this great dinner.”

  She looked at Jesse’s father. “It’s okay,” he said.

  She walked Jesse and TJ to the door. “Now, mijo, TJ’s car isn’t an old clunker like my Honda. Don’t step too hard on the gas. A sporty car like TJ’s can get away from you if you don’t watch it.”

  “I’ll make sure Jesse drives carefully, Mrs. Baron,” TJ said. “We’ll be back shortly.”

  Jesse sat in the driver’s side of the car and buckled his seatbelt. “Where to?”

  “Go down the street and turn right. Then get on I-35,” TJ said. “Let’s go to the Dairy Queen.”

  “But I’ve never driven on the highway before.”

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything, Jesse. You’ll do fine.”

  Jesse drove up the ramp and onto the interstate without any problems. The Dairy Queen was four and a half miles ahead. When they arrived, TJ ordered two Heath Bars Blizzards.

  While they sat in a booth enjoying their treats, Jesse said, “You looked like a completely different wrestler last night, TJ.”

  “Yeah, it’s amazing what you can do when you’re allowed to use some offense, isn’t it? But it was easy working with Chris. We’d already put on the same match at house shows. Plus, we used to wrestle against each other back in our SSW days.” TJ sighed. “I just wish my pops had seen my match.”

  “How do you know he didn’t?” Jesse asked.

  TJ snorted. “My pops wouldn’t watch Monday Night Mayhem if you tied him to his chair and sat him in front of the television with his eyes pried open.”

  “That’s too bad,” Jesse said. “How about your mom? Does she watch your matches?”

  “Probably not. She does whatever my pops tells her to do, so if he doesn’t watch the show, neither does she.”

  “Maybe things will change once you make it big in the ACW,” Jesse said.

  TJ wiped his mouth with a napkin and pushed his Blizzard cup to the side. “Hey, listen, what are you doing this Sunday?”

  “I don’t know. Going to church with my grandparents, I guess.”

  “And then?”

  “We’ll go home for lunch. Then me and my grandpa will watch football. The Cowboys are playing the Eagles. That ought to be a pretty good game.”

  “And then?”

  Jesse wondered what TJ was leading up to, but he continued. “At seven, we’ll probably watch Checkmate.”

  TJ folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “How’d you like to take a little trip to Mexico with me this Sunday?”

  “Mexico?” Jesse chuckled, thinking that TJ was kidding. “I can’t go to Mexico.”

  “It’ll just be a quick trip. We’ll only be gone a few hours. You have a passport, right?” TJ asked, recalling that Jesse had mentioned he had vacationed in Mexico City. “’Cause you’ll need it to get back into the U.S.”

  Jesse could hardly believe what he was hearing. Cruising around San Antonio with TJ was one thing, but going with him to Mexico was out of the question. “Man, I’d love to go, TJ, I really would. But there’s no way my grandparents or my father will let me.”

  TJ wiggled an eyebrow. “Who says they have to know?”

  Jesse’s stomach tightened. TJ was serious. He really was inviting him to go to Mexico. “But what will I tell them? I mean, I can’t be gone all day without having a good reason.”

  TJ took the spoon out of his Blizzard cup and licked it. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  “Why do you want to go to Mexico?” Jesse asked, his heart palpitating at the thought of possibly making the trip with him.

  “I um . . . I have some business I need to take care of there, and I need a translator to help me.”

  “But my Spanish isn’t all that great,” Jesse admitted.

  “Are you kidding? I heard you sing that Mexican song that your pops wrote. I don’t understand a word of Spanish, but you sounded pretty good.”

  “Yeah, but just because I can sing in Spanish doesn’t mean I can speak it.”

  “Well, your Spanish has gotta be better than mine.” TJ checked his watch. “Come on, I’d better get you home before your grandma starts to worry.”

  Jesse drove back to his house. When he turned into the driveway, he saw the curtains from the front window pull back. He stepped out of the car and handed TJ his keys.

  “You think about what we talked about, and let me know,” TJ said. “Okay?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Since the Sidewinders’ football season was over, there was no practice. The players were told to use the football period to work out. The temperature outside was fifty-seven degrees, perfect for running laps.

  Jesse and the guys used their time to jog around the track. After the fourth lap, they took a break and rested on the grass.

  While they sat there, Jesse thought about TJ’s invitation. TJ had said that it was a two-and-a-half hour trip to Nuevo Laredo from San Antonio. Add another two hours to cross the border on both sides, if the traffic was heavy. Then another hour to take care of his business.

  Jesse wished he could go, but how would he explain to his grandparents where he would be for approximately ten hours without alarming them?

  He considered telling them that he would be spending the day at Goose or Wendell’s house, but they’d never buy it. Four hours, maybe five, they might believe, but never ten.

  It also dawned on him that if he was to go to Mexico, no one would know where he was. Jesse had heard tons of horror stories about border towns, like Nuevo Laredo. He didn’t think anything bad would happen to them, since he and TJ would only be there for a short time. But as a precaution, he decided to confide in the guys, even if it meant that Goose might hassle him about hanging out with “The Jobber.”

  “Why does Masters want to go to Mexico?” Wendell asked. He opened a water bottle and gulped a drink.

  “I don’t know,” Jesse said. “He says he has some business to take care of.”

  “Maybe he wants to buy some early Christmas presents,” Bucky said. “You know, like those marionette puppets. Man, I love those things.”

  Goose grabbed his plastic bottle and squirted water on his face. “Are you guys blind or what? I can tell you exactly why The Jobber—sorry, Jesse—I mean, Masters wants to go to Mexico. The same reason lots of athletes go there, to buy steroids.”

  “That’s not why,” Jesse replied sharply, but the thought had crossed his mind. His father had told him stories about how some of the boys in the locker room used anabolic steroids illegally to bulk up when they were being given a push.

  The ACW had a wellness program that prohibited the use of performance-enhancing drugs, such as steroids. Wrestlers could be suspended, or even fired from the company, if they were caught using them. Still, that didn’t deter some of the boys, desperate to become main eventers, from using them and taking their chances.

  “Come on, Jesse,” Goose said. “Wise up. Do you really think Masters wants to go all the way to Mexico to buy puppets?”

  “That’s not all they sell there,” Bucky said indignantly.

  “Steroids,” Wendell muttered, shaking his head. “Man, you couldn’t pay me to take them. Coach Blaylock sa
ys that steroids can cause all kinds of health problems, like heart disease and high blood pressure. I’m already at risk of having those problems because of my weight. I don’t need steroids speeding things up for me.”

  “Not only that,” Goose said, “but if Coach catches anybody using them, he’ll kick them off the team, like he did Lloyd Dinsmore.”

  Jesse remembered Lloyd Dinsmore. It was hard not to notice him. Lloyd was a huge defensive end with thick veins that popped out of his biceps. One of the first things Coach Blaylock did when he arrived was to force Lloyd to submit to a drug test because he suspected him of being on steroids.

  “I’ll bet you a dollar that’s why he wants to go,” Goose said. He drank the rest of his water, then tossed the bottle on the ground next to his towel.

  “I hate to say it, Jesse, but I think Goose might be right,” Wendell said.

  “Yeah, Goose might be right,” Bucky agreed.

  Jesse yanked a handful of grass from the ground and tossed it toward the track. “So what if he is? What do you guys care what TJ does?”

  “I don’t care what The Jobber does,” Goose said. He stood and brushed the grass from the back of his shorts. “But if he is planning to buy drugs in Mexico, and he gets caught, you and him could end up in huge trouble with the law. And I don’t even wanna think about what it would be like to spend time in a Mexican prison.”

  A sudden premonition of fear filled Jesse’s heart. He could envision TJ being stopped by the Border Patrol guards and TJ getting mouthy with them. Jesse had already talked his way out of going to jail once, but he didn’t think the Mexican police would be as forgiving.

  Wendell gave Jesse a look of uneasy puzzlement. “Why exactly do you want to go to Mexico with TJ?” he asked.

  Jesse shrugged. “Because he invited me. It’s just something to do on a Sunday afternoon.”

  “You’re not thinking about buying steroids, too, are you?” Wendell asked, scrutinizing Jesse’s face for clues.

  Jesse rose to his feet. “You know, I’m getting sick of all this. Ever since I started hanging out with TJ, you guys have been trying to run him down.”