Body Slammed!

by Ray Villareal

  “Chill out, man,” Goose said. “Wendy’s got a legit concern. I don’t give a flip about The Jobber, but I don’t wanna see you get messed up because of him.”

  Jesse’s eyes narrowed with contempt. “You want to know what I think? I think you guys are jealous. You wish you could have an ACW superstar for a friend. You wish you could be me. Well, you’re not. You’re just a bunch of losers who hang out with other losers.” He grabbed his duffle bag and stalked off the field.

  When he arrived home from school that evening, Jesse went into his bedroom and called TJ. He needed answers—lots of them—before making a decision. TJ was at the Kemper Arena in Kansas City, getting set to wrestle Kid Dynamo.

  “Before I agree to go to Nuevo Laredo with you, I need to know something,” Jesse said with unusual bluntness. “Are you going there to buy steroids?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Are you?”

  There was a long pause. Finally TJ said, “Understand this, Jesse. I’m getting a push in the ACW, right? But if I’m gonna reach the top, I need more mass. I mean, my size is okay when I go up against guys like Jason Cage or Tashira Nagasaki. But if I’m gonna look credible against Solomon Grimm or Butcher Murdock or Jumbo Jefferson, I need to be bigger. The ACW’s all about having the right look. You can be the most skilled performer in the ring, but if you don’t have the right look, it doesn’t matter. That’s why Chris isn’t getting a push any more. He doesn’t have the right look. Know what I mean?”

  “So that’s why you’re going to Mexico?” Jesse asked, flinching at hearing his suspicions confirmed. “To buy steroids?”

  “Look, if you don’t wanna go with me, that’s fine,” TJ said curtly. “I just thought I’d invite you.”

  “But buying steroids without a prescription is illegal, even in Mexico,” Jesse said. “What if you get caught?”

  “Nothing’s gonna happen, Jesse. Believe me. People do it all the time. But even if the Border Patrol finds them on me, the worst thing that’ll happen is that they’ll confiscate my stuff and I’ll have to pay a fine. Listen, I’ve gotta go. The show’s getting ready to start. We’ll talk later.”

  Jesse sat his cell phone on his end table. As he did, he noticed the JAMAICAN RUDEBOYS CD Wally had given him sitting next to his lamp, so he decided to play it. The music wasn’t bad; it had a good beat. He stretched out on his bed and gazed up at the blades on his ceiling fan as they slowly rotated.

  TJ sounded upset. But then, Jesse had come off talking to him like a scolding mother. What did it matter to him if TJ took steroids? TJ was an adult, capable of making his own decisions.

  Jesse worried that if he didn’t go to Nuevo Laredo with him, perhaps TJ would stop inviting him to do other things. Maybe TJ would decide that Jesse was still a kid, not worth bothering with.

  But he would need an excuse for being gone all day—a darn good one. As he listened to Wally’s CD, an idea slowly formed in his mind. Would it work? Maybe. Yes, of course it would. The plan was brilliant!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “It’s good to see you again, Wally,” Jesse’s grandmother said. She and her husband were sitting on the front porch with their dog Pollo when Jesse and Wally arrived.

  “Buenas tardes, Molly,” Jesse’s grandfather said. “Welcome to our house.”

  “It’s Wally,” Jesse’s grandmother corrected him.

  Jesse’s grandfather laughed. “Don’t be silly, Ofelia. Wally’s a boy’s name. I heard you say Molly, like Jesse’s mami.”

  “My name is Wally, Mr. Baron. Wally Ann Morúa.” She hunched over and petted Pollo. “What a beautiful dog.”

  “Thanks. His name’s Pollo,” Jesse told her.

  “Pollo?” Wally asked. “As in Spanish for chicken?”

  “Yeah. My grandparents named him Pollo because when he was a puppy, he used to be scared of their cat, Gremlin,” Jesse said. “That’s Gremlin hiding in the bushes.” He pointed to a large black cat, who was staring at them with wide, green eyes.

  “Pollo, Duck . . . Do you name all your dogs after birds?” Wally asked.

  “You would think so,” Jesse said. He excused himself and Wally from his grandparents and took her inside the house. He smiled secretly. Step one of his plan had been set in place.

  After they left, Jesse’s grandfather asked his wife, “Why would her parents name that girl Wally Ann?”

  “She was named after her father.”

  “She has a father named Wally Ann?”

  “Ay, Alfonso!”

  Jesse took Wally to his room where he showed her his toy collection. “The wrestling action figures were gifts from the company that makes them,” Jesse said. He picked up a plaster bust of Superman ripping off his Clark Kent suit. “I bought this one at a store in Dallas called Heroes and Villains when I spent the summer with my mom.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s right. You mentioned that your mom teaches in Dallas,” Wally said. “Divorce must be tough, huh? At least you still have your parents. I never got to know my dad.”

  Jesse pulled out a chair from his desk for Wally to sit on, and he sat on his bed. “Does your mom talk about him much?”

  “Some. I know that he was Doctor Wallace Morúa, a well-respected orthopedic surgeon at Southwest General Hospital.”

  “A doctor. Wow.”

  “My mom was a patient of his. She went to see him when she hurt her hip in a bike-riding accident. And like they say, the rest is history. Anyway, I have a ton of photos of him. He sort of looked like a young Tommy Lee Jones, the actor.”

  Jesse took the JAMAICAN RUDEBOYS CD from its case and slipped it in his boom box. While it played, Wally bobbed her head in beat with the music. Then she rose from her chair, balled her hands, bent her elbows and began to dance. She stepped in with her right foot and crooked her left fist forward. She pulled her left arm back to her hip, and on the next beat, she repeated the same movement with her left foot and right fist.

  “This is called skanking,” Wally said. She took Jesse’s hand. “Come on, Jessup, try it. Follow my moves.”

  Jesse made his first attempt at skanking.

  A short while later there was a knock at the door. Jesse’s grandfather poked his head inside and said, “Mijo, your papi’s here.”

  Jesse turned off the music and led Wally into the living room. When she saw Jesse’s father, Wally’s mouth fell open. “Holy cats, Jessup! Is that your dad?”

  Except for his height, Jesse’s father did not resemble the ominous-looking, long-haired, skeleton-face Angel of Death. His hair, shorter than Jesse had ever seen, had been dyed snow white. His thick eyebrows, too, were white.

  “Dad, I want you to meet my friend, Wally. She’s the girl I told you about who found Duck.”

  “Nice to meet you, Molly.”

  “Wally!” everyone said in unison.

  “It’s a real honor to meet you, sir,” Wally said, shaking his hand. “I am mega fan of yours.”

  “Really? So you watch Monday Night Mayhem?”

  “Every week without fail. And I’m ordering Checkmate this Sunday.”

  Jesse’s father crooked his mouth, indicating that he was impressed.

  Jesse hadn’t expected Wally to mention that she was a wrestling fan, but by her saying so, helped solidify his plan.

  “Is this your Elijah Nightshade look?” Wally asked, her eyes fixed on Jesse’s father.

  “Yes, and except for my barber, Ramón, you all are the first to see it.” He excused himself and went to his room.

  “Don’t go to sleep, Marcos,” Jesse’s grandmother called out. “Supper will be ready soon.”

  It was time for step two of his plan. Jesse innocently asked his grandmother, “Is it all right if Wally eats with us?”

  “Thanks, Jessup, but I should be leaving,” Wally said. “I don’t want to be in the way.” She strapped her purse on her shoulder.

  No, you can’t leave. You’ll mess up everything!

  “You won’t be in the way,
” Jesse blurted out. “Really. We’re used to having company. Right, Güela?”

  “Sí, mijita,” Jesse’s grandmother said. “There’s plenty of food.”

  “Call your mom and tell her that you’re having dinner with us,” Jesse said.

  The longer Wally remained at his house, the more credibility his story would have later.

  Jesse had planned to tell his grandparents that Wally had invited him to go to church with her on Sunday. After church, he would say, he would go out to eat with Wally and her mother.

  Then Wally’s mother would drop them off at the movie theater at the mall to see the new action/adventure flick, The Missing Element. After that, he would spend the evening at Wally’s house watching Checkmate.

  There would be no reason for his grandmother to question him. She had already met Wally’s mother. She had even been inside her home. By bringing Wally to his house, Jesse hoped his grandmother would assume they were dating. She would be happy that Jesse had found another girlfriend after his break up with Sara Young.

  “Thanks for the invite, Mrs. B.,” Wally said after she called home.

  “De nada,” Jesse’s grandmother said. “Alfonso, help me in the kitchen. And Jesse, why don’t you play Wally that song on the guitar that you played for us a few weeks ago?”

  “The guitar?” Wally said. “Jessup, you’re a man of many talents.”

  You don’t know the half of it, Jesse thought, gloating over his scheme. He picked up the guitar, and he and Wally sat on the couch.

  “This song is about a woman who sneaks out of her house to go partying at a bar,” Jesse explained. “Her husband finds her dancing with another man, so he drags her out of the bar, takes her to an empty house and kills her. Then he shoots himself.”

  “Sounds like a real jolly tune,” Wally joked.

  Jesse played and sang his song. He finished with “Ya Julia está en el cielo, y el marido en la prisión. Dadle a sus padres consuelo, y que Dios les de su perdón.”

  “Holy cats. What a downer,” Wally said. “And you said this is based on a true story?”

  “According to my grandfather, yeah,” Jesse said.

  “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you’re not where you’re supposed to be,” Wally said somberly.

  After dinner, Jesse and his grandmother took Wally home, but Jesse asked his grandmother to let him drive.

  When they arrived at her house, Jesse escorted Wally up the steps and went inside to see Samson, while his grandmother waited in the car.

  Jesse stole a peek through the Chinese fans that covered the windows. Because Wally’s house stood on a hill, he couldn’t see his grandmother’s car below. Good.

  When they came back out, Jesse and Wally stood on the porch. Under the glow of the porch light, Jesse took her in his arms and kissed her lovingly on the lips.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sunday morning, Jesse was dropped off in front of Wally’s house at nine o’clock. He had told his grandmother that Wally wanted him to go to Sunday school with her.

  As soon as his grandmother drove away, Jesse hurried to he nearby Walmart parking lot, where TJ was sitting in his car, waiting for him.

  “Glad you decided to come. Hop in.”

  An exhilarating feeling rushed through Jesse’s body. Forget school. Forget the Sidewinders. Forget Riley King and ole what’s her name. Forget Goose and Wendell and Bucky. This was the life! To be free to go and do whatever he wanted. Jesse rolled down his window and let the cool November air slap his face. “We’re going to México, baby! Woo!” he cried.

  TJ laughed. “Yeah! México!” He turned up the volume on the radio as it blared out Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama.”

  Heading south on I-35, Jesse and TJ joked and laughed. They talked about football, wrestling and girls. Jesse couldn’t recall when he’d had this much fun, and they hadn’t done anything yet.

  After a while, their energy subsided, and they rode in silence. Jesse curled up in his seat and took a nap.

  TJ cranked up the radio as Jim Morrison belted out “Light My Fire.”

  His pops hated the music TJ listened to, which TJ couldn’t understand. The music came from his pops’ generation. But then, his pops rarely listened to music. His car radio buttons were all set on conservative talk radio stations.

  A few miles outside of Laredo, Jesse woke up. He looked out the window at the dry, grassy, open land. He thought about why they were traveling to Mexico, and a disturbing image of Johnny Surfer appeared in his mind.

  Johnny Surfer was a long-time jobber in the ACW who had died of a heart attack at age thirty-two. Jesse’s father said that the real cause of Surfer’s death was an enlarged heart, brought on by excessive steroid use.

  Jesse sat up and told TJ, “My coach says that taking steroids isn’t safe. He says that they can cause all kinds of health problems. Is that true?”

  TJ gathered his thoughts. Then he said, “Well, it depends on what you mean by safe. Is it safe to eat red meat? There’s research that says that eating red meat can cause heart disease. They even say that red meat contributes to the development of cancer.” He turned down the volume on the radio. “But that’s not stopping McDonald’s from selling Big Macs, right? The thing is, Jesse, you’ve gotta live your life. You can’t be scared of trying out new things just ’cause they might be risky. Life is all about risks.”

  TJ made sense. Sort of. Except that the difference between hamburgers and steroids was that it wasn’t illegal to eat a hamburger.

  Still, Jesse couldn’t help wonder what effects steroids would have on his body if he decided to take them. Would they build up his muscles like Popeye’s? Would he look like Lloyd Dinsmore? He wanted to ask TJ to help him buy steroids, but he hadn’t built up the nerve to ask him yet. He had brought along eighty dollars that he had withdrawn from his bank account just in case. Maybe he would ask TJ about the steroids once they were at the pharmacy.

  Shortly before noon, they arrived in downtown Laredo. Already, long lines had begun to form, as hundreds of Mexican nationals, as well as tourists and shoppers, made their way toward the Juárez-Lincoln International Bridge to cross into Nuevo Laredo, Tamaulipas, Mexico.

  TJ slammed his hand on the steering wheel and swore. “This is what I was afraid of. It’s gonna take forever to cross.”

  Jesse looked at his watch and calculated how much time he had left. Checkmate would end at around ten o’clock, but his grandmother would expect him home soon after that. If he had to, he could call to say that he was staying at Wally’s a little longer. But he had school the next day, and his grandmother would want him home no later than eleven.

  As they inched along the highway, TJ said, “When we get to the border, the first thing they’ll wanna know is where we’re from. Since I’m a gringo, they’ll probably ask us in English, but you never know. That’s where you come in.”

  Jesse thought about what the question would sound like in Spanish. “¿De dónde son ustedes?” He would reply for the both of them: “Somos de San Antonio.”

  “And from what I’ve been told, they’ll also wanna know why we’re going to Mexico,” TJ said. “You tell them that we wanna to do some shopping and that we’ll return to the U.S. as soon as we’re done.”

  That part was tougher. Jesse wasn’t sure if he could say all that in Spanish.

  His palms grew clammy, and his arm pits began to leak as reality began to sink in. What was he doing? He had no business going to Mexico. Jesse stared at the sea of cars ahead of them. He wished he could tell TJ to turn back, but it was too late.

  “Once we cross the border, we have to find a place called Farmacia Maldonado,” TJ said. “We’ll ask for a guy who works there named César Diego. He’ll help us get what we need.” TJ patted Jesse on the back. “Hey, buddy, don’t look so serious. Everything’s cool.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Wally got out of bed and glanced at her wall clock. It was almost ten. She made her way to the k
itchen, thinking her mother might be in there, having breakfast.

  The coffee pot was on, and there were dirty dishes in the sink. The Sunday newspaper was strewn on the breakfast table. Wally figured her mother had left for her Pilates class.

  Samson pawed at the sliding glass door, pleading to be let back in. Wally’s mother had put him outside to do his business. Wally opened the door, and Samson trotted to his bowl and nibbled on his food.

  Wally poured herself a cup of coffee. She opened the pantry door and took out a box of granola bars, but to her disappointment, the box was empty. She could have sworn there were still two granola bars left.

  She tossed the box in the trash can and opened the fridge, wondering what else there was to eat. She brought out the egg carton, thinking she would make scrambled eggs, but she had a better idea. She checked the pantry to see if there was any bread. A few slices remained in the package, more than enough to make French toast.

  Wally whisked eggs, milk, cinnamon and a teaspoon of vanilla in a bowl. Then she dipped two slices of bread in the mixture and heated them on the griddle. French toast was one of the first meals her mother had taught her how to make.

  Wally sat at the table and searched for the Sunday comics to read while she ate. On the top part of the comics page was Luann, Wally’s favorite comic strip. In it, Gunther had invited Luann to the dance, but she was putting him off, hoping another boy would ask her to go with him.

  Wally touched her lips and sighed, thinking about Jesse’s kiss. It had caught her completely by surprise. Yet, she didn’t resist. Wally didn’t realize Jesse felt that way about her. Sure, she had flirted with him, but she didn’t think Jesse took her seriously.

  The last boy Wally kissed had been Andrew Albits. They had met the year before, when Wally was a freshman and Andrew was a senior. They went out a few times, but their relationship ended when Andrew graduated and moved to Tempe to attend Arizona State University. He promised to stay in touch, but after two brief emails, Wally never heard from him again.

  A jock. Wow. Who would’ve thought a jock would be interested in her? And on top of that, Jesse’s father was one of her all-time favorite wrestlers.