Blood Red Turns Dollar Green, no. 1

by Paul O'Brien

  The other bosses marched in group, with their wives, out of the room. There was no way they were getting caught up in this.

  Ricky grabbed Proctor from behind. Proctor put out his hands in a show of surrender.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Ricky said as he marched him to the door.

  “Are you going to let him treat me like this, Danno?”

  Ricky stopped and waited for his boss' nod. Danno looked around at the demolished room. His wife was crying and Lenny was pouring blood and moaning loudly on the floor.

  “Danno?” Proctor said. “Think about what we shook on.”

  Danno straightened himself up and cleared his throat. “Get rid of the cunt.”

  Ricky and Oscar stood in front of Proctor. He straightened his attire and walked himself out of the room.

  His small posse followed behind, all staring at Danno with bad intentions.

  The terrified hotel manager quickly became horrified as he entered his best room.

  “Oh, Danno. What am I going to do here now?” asked the manager in a French accent.

  “Can someone take Mrs. Garland home?” Danno asked. “It's okay, I'll be home in a couple of minutes.” Danno kissed his shaking wife on the forehead and handed her over to a pair of open arms. “Stay with her till I get home,” Danno ordered his wife’s escorts.

  “My fucking room is ruined, Danno,” the manager said.

  Danno escorted him to a private spot. “I'll pay you for the room of course, the damage and any business you're going to lose this week while it gets fixed.”

  “What happened?”

  Ricky and Oscar walked back into the room, shaking their heads at Danno.

  “You better leave, Frenchie,” Danno said to the bewildered manager.

  The Folsom Nightmare cradled Lenny and rested him down behind an overturned table in the corner. All the other wrestlers moved in together. The sounds of drunken anger could be heard running along the hall. Ricky stood front and center and threw his jacket to the side.

  Proctor, the Jap, the Ugly Handsome One and the Afro, all came around the corner. Proctor's face was contorted with anger and drink. “You think I'm going to leave ‘cause you told me to, Danno?” Proctor shouted as he entered the room.

  The New York circle of wrestlers walked forward to protect their boss.

  Danno walked in between both groups and pulled a small pistol from his inside pocket. He held it to Proctor's forehead. “I will blow the top of your fucking head clean off, Proctor.”

  Proctor stopped advancing. Even Danno's cluster was shocked and uncomfortable at his over the top reaction.

  Ricky carefully walked forward. “Boss?”

  Danno never took his eyes off Proctor. “Bad things happen to me when it comes to my wife, Proctor. You apologize for manhandling her or you're dying right here.”

  Proctor quickly sobered up. “You better be ready to use that, Danno.”

  “I fucking am.”

  Ricky put a calming hand on Danno's shoulder. Danno shrugged him off. “Apologize.”

  Proctor looked Danno's Boys in the eye and smiled. “No.”

  Danno dropped Proctor to his knees with a direct kick in the balls. He clicked back the hammer and choked the handle as he pressed the barrel into Proctor's closed eye. “I've spent decades keeping her away from animals like you.” Danno jabbed the gun into Proctor's mouth. “Do you fucking hear me, you cunt?”

  “Boss,” Ricky pleaded.

  “Answer me, Proctor.”

  “Boss?”

  “Fucking answer me.”

  Ricky again interjected. “Boss, the cops are coming.”

  Danno retuned himself back into the room where he could hear the sirens in the background.

  “We're going to do this very same thing again, very fucking soon.” Danno said as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his gun hand. Proctor stayed locked on Danno. Pee-Chu and Barry grabbed Proctor under the arms and dragged him from the room. Danno pocketed his gun.

  “That fucking asshole,” Pee-Chu said to his boss as they hurried along the hallway.

  “The old man has got the balls for this after all,” Proctor said laughing, and limping uncomfortably down the hallway.

  March 16th 1969. New York.

  A rolled up dish cloth never tastes good. It certainly doesn't when you're choking on your own blood at the same time. Lenny wondered if they used this cloth for mopping up dog piss. Sure tasted that way.

  “Don't blow that nose, Lenny,” Danno warned.

  Lenny nodded from his sitting position on Danno's kitchen counter top. He had been placed there by his slightly wobbly boss, like a child with a grazed knee.

  “You blow that and your eyes will close instantly. You'll be fucked. Uglier than usual.”

  Ricky Plick decapitated a few beers and laid one down beside 'Dr.' Danno Garland - who was looking up Lenny's nose, guided by the light of a match. Ricky stuffed another beer in Lenny's hand. “For after,” Ricky said.

  “After what?” Lenny mumbled through the cloth.

  Danno blew out the match. “There's only one thing for a break like that.”

  “What's that?” Lenny wanted to know.

  Danno quickly vice-gripped Lenny's nose and yanked it downward. Lenny howled in pain as the mixture of crunch and pop sounded inside his own head.

  “It's done,” Danno informed him. “You're in a bad way, kid. Your face looks like the inside of a surgical bucket, Luscious Lenny Long.”

  Ricky nodded. “Yeah, Luscious. Nice job, boss.”

  Lenny gingerly slid down from the counter and looked at himself in the mirror. His nose was deformed, but better than the last time he checked. His eyes were meaty and swollen and he was missing bits of his front teeth. “Proctor's got a head like a fucking anvil.”

  “Things got out of hand.” Danno held up his drink and waited for his two guests to follow. “I'll sort things out with him tomorrow.” They all three clinked and downed a mouthful of cold beer.

  “I think I have some TV breakfasts in here. Have you seen these things? Shit in a dish. Should be lovely at this hour of the night,” Danno said, leaning into his fridge.

  “How is Mrs. Garland, boss?” Ricky asked.

  Danno opened the microwave and threw the food in. “Two valium and some fresh sheets. I mightn't see her till next Friday.”

  Danno approached Lenny and put his arm around him. “You did a stupid fucking thing tonight, Lenny. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, boss.”

  “People who put themselves out like that get rewarded in a very special way,” Danno said as he pressed 'cancel' and took the TV breakfast from the microwave. “People who put themselves out like that get the egg,” he said as he opened the tray. “And I won't hear nothing about it.” Danno took out the runny egg and put it in Lenny's hand.

  “I don't think it's done, boss,” Lenny replied.

  “Done enough,” Danno said as he tucked in to his lukewarm sausage.

  “I'm done,” Ricky told Danno.

  “I've seen women who can drink more than you, Ricky.”

  “No, I mean done. I'm retiring.”

  Danno dropped his fork and strangled down his half warm, half chewed lump of meat. “You're done?”

  “Yeah. Couldn’t find a good time to tell you. Things are happening fast for you these days.”

  Danno wiped his hands on Lenny's shirt. “Done?”

  “Yeah. My back, you know.”

  “Fuck me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Done?”

  Ricky nodded.

  “You're my number one, Ricky.”

  “Not no more, boss. I'm not crying or anything. It's just I wanted to let you know before the magazines come out tomorrow.”

  “How do they know?”

  “Want something in the sheets, all you have to do is tell another wrestler.”

  “Fuck me. Done, huh? I mean, I knew you were hurting.” Danno hugged Ricky.

&
nbsp; “I'd like to get involved more,” Lenny threw into the conversation. Both men stopped talking and looked at Lenny. They both started to laugh.

  Lenny was a little offended. “What?”

  Both men clinked their glasses and laughed harder.

  “What? What did I say?”

  Lenny's reaction to their reaction made them laugh even louder.

  “You don't think I'm tough enough?”

  “I know you're not,” Ricky said.

  Lenny got more and more hurt at the way they viewed him. “Why not?” He instinctively blew his nose and his eyes closed shut. Danno's laughs went silent as he struggled to breathe.

  “I can't fucking see.” Lenny said, feeling the laughter himself.

  Ricky collapsed into a seat holding his belly.

  Danno suddenly stopped dead. “What the fuck?” He walked to his window and saw an orange reflection dance on the glass. “Annie, get up,” he shouted up to his bedroom. Danno suddenly scurried to the front of the house and ripped open his front-door. “Ring the fucking fire department,” he shouted back to Ricky as he inch-stepped towards his new Cadillac.

  Ricky instinctively walked to the front door and Lenny latched on to him as a guide. Ricky watched, entranced, at the fire rising in Danno’s driveway.

  The flames were blooming and swelling around the Cadillac’s immaculate white interior. The red paint on the outside was ruined and bubbling. Ricky snapped to and cut Danno off with a tackle before he got to close to the car.

  “Get off me, Ricky. Get off me.”

  Ricky held his boss down. It was gone. Destroyed.

  “Annie,” Danno shouted. “Annie!”

  “This thing might blow. Isn't that what cars do?” Lenny said and asked at the same time as he carefully made his way along the outside wall.

  Danno shrugged free from Ricky and ran as fast as he could back into his house. Ricky tried to follow but the driveway was cut off by a wall of impenetrable heat.

  The car began to groan with the sounds of expanding metal. Ricky changed direction and quickly ushered himself out onto the street where Lenny was standing. He guided a half-blind Lenny behind a parked car on the other side of the road.

  “Danno,” Ricky roared at the top of his voice. “Stay down.”

  The blast from the gas tank shot straight up and its impact shattered all of the front windows in Danno's house.

  Lenny stood in awe of the destruction. “Holy fuck.” Even though he could only make out watery shapes and colors, it was still mightily impressive.

  Ricky ran back towards the house. “Lenny, call the fire department. Get some help.”

  Lenny looked slowly around the complex. It looked like neighbors of the Garlands were now out and beginning to gather at a distance. Lights were switching on in the houses across the road. In the middle of the chaos, Lenny could feel someone watching them from the darkness at the end of the street.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  June 29th 1969. New York.

  “They look better than my real ones, don't you think?”

  Bree was unpacking in the room across the hall.

  “Honey?” Lenny said as he held his lips open in the mirror. “They look really good, don't they?”

  Bree walked into the unfurnished bathroom and looked. “They're great. Can you get some stuff from the car now?”

  Lenny walked down the hall with his lips peeled back and his teeth clenched. “It feels funny to have proper teeth again.”

  “Lenny?”

  Lenny stopped and turned back toward his wife's voice. Bree stood in the hallway and kicked off her shoes. Lenny had seen this look before. “C'mere a minute.” Bree slipped into the room that would be their bedroom.

  Lenny hurried like a child chasing the ice-cream truck. It had been a long time.

  “We don't have nothing to lie on, and the floor boards don't look that comfortable,” Bree said.

  “I swear to god, I will find a sheep or a blanket or something to lie on if you let me have sex with you right now.”

  “Deal.” Bree undid the buttons on her frayed bellbottom jeans and waved Lenny out of the room to begin scavenging the few boxes and bags they owned.

  Lenny recklessly trampled from room to room. He stumbled down the raw board stairs and he rummaged through the boxes stacked in the hallway, tossing family treasures and memorabilia aside.

  A glint of smashed glass caught his eye by the door. The once coveted picture of Our Lady lay smashed in a makeshift bin in the corner. Lenny found it under their bed in the move. Bree used to pay more attention to that image than she did to him sometimes.

  All that had changed after the funeral. Lenny never heard her mention her faith or God since.

  “You find anything? It's getting cold up here.”

  “No, it's not. Do some Jumping-Jacks.”

  Lenny dug deeper and pulled out an old coat. Perfect. He backed up and jumped the stairs three steps at a time. Before he cornered into the bedroom, he slowed down and took a breath.

  There she was, the woman he loved, waiting naked in the corner of the room. She shielded herself from the chill in the room by gently rubbing both her arms. Her hair was...

  “Is that it? Is that what you got? A coat?”

  “What's wrong with that?” Lenny said, tearing off his clothes like a child at the beach.

  “A coat?”

  “It's soft.”

  “You used to wear it fishing, Lenny.”

  “Please, honey. I have to go soon. Don't leave me hanging.”

  Bree looked down at Lenny. “You're not.”

  “Fucking fuck, Bree.”

  Lenny tried his best to pull the big puffy red seat from the back of their car. He was wearing Bree's floral dressing gown and struggled to dislodge the seat and keep himself decent at the same time.

  Bree carefully peered out the top window. “Should I come down and help you?”

  “No. Stay there, the way you are. I'll just be a sec.”

  Lenny dragged and pulled the seat to the door. Neighbors and cars passed as his gown came undone under the struggle. Everything was on show, but Lenny no longer cared. He was getting that seat into the house before their son came home from school, no matter what.

  Lenny grappled the seat into the hallway, peeled off the little material still on him, and slammed the door. “Come down here, woman.”

  “How are we going to do it on that?”

  Eleven minutes later, and Bree sat, naked, on the red puffy chair in their hallway. Lenny was placid and relaxed, lying on the floor by her feet. He playfully nibbled on her toe as she swung her leg, in contentment, past his face.

  “Stop,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Feet are disgusting.”

  “Tasty feet.”

  Lenny again began to nibble.

  “Stop.”

  Lenny stopped, but his legs weren't recharged enough to actually get up and function yet, so he stayed where he was.

  “Is the door locked?” she asked.

  “I think so.”

  “What would you do if your mother walked in now?”

  “Die. And vomit.”

  “I'd say, How do you do Mrs. Long? Turned into a fine boy, hasn't he?”

  “Stop.”

  “Show your mother the trick you showed me a few minutes ago.”

  “Stop.” Lenny scraped over a stranded newspaper with his foot. The cover had a picture of Danno's burned out car and a caption that read:

  SPORTING DECENCY UP IN SMOKE.

  “Did you see this?” Lenny asked as he leafed through the inside.

  “Yeah. You better not get wrapped up in that madness.”

  “Danno thinks that someone leaked it to the papers. I heard him saying that there's too much info that people couldn't possibly know in there.”

  Lenny opened to the article and showed Bree the accompanying photo of two wrestlers working in the ring. “Will you make me a costume?”

  “N
o.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cause you're not seven.”

  Lenny continued to scan the magazine. “What would my gimmick be?”

  “Your what?”

  “Gimmick. My thing. What makes me different to everyone else. Every wrestler or manager has a gimmick. Some wrestlers have bull horns or bowler hats or feather boas.”

  “How about you're the only who doesn't wear clothes?”

  “Perfect.”

  Lenny got up and danced naked around their hallway. “I could dazzle my opponent with my gorgeousness and then hit him in the head with my giant, virile testicle.”

  “Left or right?”

  “Left is bigger.”

  “Is it?”

  Lenny seemed surprised that Bree didn't know that fact. “Yeah.”

  “Let me see.” Bree put out her hand.

  Their inspection was interrupted by their front door handle being pulled down forcefully.

  “Fuck,” Bree said as she ran up the stairs. Lenny was already at the end of their hallway, hiding in the kitchen.

  “It's your Mom,” Bree informed Lenny. “Do your trick.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  November 25th 1969. New York.

  “Your body is still growing. I'm sure you know that. Trouble is – it looks to me, anyway, that your major organs are still growing too. This is going to lead to a race of sorts, where your organs will outgrow, in terms of speed, the skeletal structure that holds them.”

  Christopher Reagan sat opposite the best money that a world title could buy. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his day off from being the most hated wrestler in New York. “What does that mean, doc?”

  “I'm not sure. I've never seen this in person before, Christopher. However, all signs point to...”

  “I want to know what to expect.”

  “It's hard to say for sure,” the doctor said as he pored over his notes. He seemed like a man who hadn't studied for his test and was now just winging it.

  “Well, fucking guess,” Christopher said as he swung his huge hand down onto the doctor's desk; the force of which made the doctor very anxious.

  Christopher immediately took a breath. “Sorry. I just need to know what I'm dealing with.”