by Paul O'Brien
Ricky nodded. “Yeah. We'll get everyone in.”
“I don't want us to do anything until he's paid for the building and advertised his matches. Then we pay his Boys to jump over to us and run on the same night.”
“What's this?” Lenny asked.
“We're going to Florida.” Danno answered. “What do you think of that?”
Lenny wanted to take his time and let his response sound measured and assured. “Great,” he said.
“Maybe you can take that family of yours to Magic Kingdom while we're down there,” Danno said.
“Love to.” Lenny weighed up his worth in opinion and cut back in before the floor was gone. “Proctor won't be too happy about that though, will he?”
“You think?” Ricky said.
“Fuck him,” Danno said with a look of disgust at the mere mention of his name. “You know what they call this in our business, Luscious? A fucking receipt.”
Lenny was starting to feel good about creeping into the inner circle. “And what about the business meeting today? What was that?”
Danno turned to Lenny with a very serious look on his face. “What was it?” Ricky shook his head at the thought of his boss letting the cat out of the bag. “Something big.”
January 9th 1970. New York.
Nothing was more secure than James Henry Long in his mother's arms. Nothing. She watched him non-stop, held him all the time. Nothing was more secure.
“Do I look decked out? ‘Cause I don't want to look like I made too much of an effort.” Lenny said to his wife after his mirror rendered an inconclusive vote.
“You look like a man, Lenny.”
“I like a man?”
“Look like a man, I said.”
Lenny paused and thought about his wife's comment. “I don't know what to think about that statement, darling.”
“Handsome.”
Lenny walked over to his newborn son and kissed him on his tiny wrinkled forehead. “I keep thinking of little...” Lenny stood quickly and tried to flush out his thoughts. This was a happy day. A celebration of his new son.
“Me too,” Bree said with tears in her eyes.
“Dad?” Luke called from his room. “Can I kick the dog?”
“Why?”
“'Cause he's an asshole.”
Lenny again turned for his wife's opinion. “What did he say?”
“He said the dog's an asshole.”
Lenny paused again. “And is he?”
Bree nodded.
“Can I?” His five-year-old son asked again.
“No. Put him out in the yard or something.”
“I can't.”
“Why not?”
“'Cause I...'“ Luke tried to think of some good reason as to why he couldn't put his dog out.
“'Cause you're too lazy.”
“He's not too lazy,” Bree answered for her son.
“He's not lazy?” Lenny replied. “I saw him this morning eat his cereal raw because the fridge was at the other side of the kitchen.”
“Can you describe cereal as raw?” Bree asked.
“You know what I mean. Un-milked.”
“He doesn't like the fridge.”
“Why not?”
“'Cause a slice of bacon fell on him a couple of days ago.”
Lenny paused for a third time and tried to drink in the rhythm of his family.
“Bacon?”
“Yeah. He thought it was a snake.”
“He thought bacon was a snake? It's not even round.”
Luke appeared in his parent’s doorway. “Can you put him out, Dad? I just want to play a game and he's licking me in my ear.”
“He's being nice.”
“He's being an...”
“That's enough, son.” Lenny scooped up his little boy and walked over to his bedroom. Brownie, the one-eyed family dog, was sitting on the bed and wagging his tail.
“He looks like a good dog to me.”
Luke leaned into his father's ear and whispered, “He's missing an eye and he looks like he has a hairy eye and he has no eye.”
“Where did your mother find him?”
“Outside the store ‘cause no one loved him and he's ugly cause he has one eye with hair growing in it.”
Bree walked to Lenny and her son and hugged them both with the baby in her arms. “It's nice to have a day off.”
Lenny thought so too.
After some careful logistics, Lenny managed to fill the family car with all that belonged to him. There was snot and bottles and bags and toys and wipes and strollers and diapers and milk and extra layers and sunscreen in January. There were lots of white clothes and the smell of freshly washed hair. And that baby smell. The nice one.
“Hey, Luscious,” Ricky called from his car on the street. “Danno wants to know where to go.”
Lenny turned around and immediately became panicked by his wife's potential reaction to their visitor.
“Oh,” Lenny whispered as he walked at speed to Ricky's car. “It's nothing he needs to trouble himself with. It's fine.”
“He told us all to be there. So where's 'there?'“
Lenny looked back to see Bree trying to figure out what the holdup was.
“No, really... tell the boss that everything is...”
“Lenny? Where is it?”
Bree noticed the parking lot of the church was unusually busy with gaudy muscle cars and packs of motorcycles. She was a little suspicious, although a quick glance at her husband's poker face gave her nothing further to go on.
She had been giving God the cold shoulder since last year. And even though she felt she was dead right in this argument, she wanted to hedge her bets.
Lenny, usually the gentleman, opened the large heavy wooden door and slipped into the church, leaving his wife and children struggling to follow him in time before the door banged closed. They didn't make it.
Lenny looked around. They were all there.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Lenny?” Bree said from the other side of the door. “What are you doing?”
Her questioning alerted the congregation to their arrival. Lenny despondently opened the door. “I'm sorry.”
Bree walked in and saw the picture before her. “Holy fuck,” was all she could say.
One of the waiting attendees whistled at their arrival, which sparked a massive ovation and a crying baby.
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't have any choice. I'm sorry.”
The Long family walked down the aisle toward a perplexed looking priest, through a forest of applause and backslaps.
Lenny felt great that he meant so much to them. Bree didn't, and neither did her terrified children.
January 9th 1970. New York.
“Honey, this is Danno. My boss.”
Danno put out his arms for Bree to fill.
“Hello,” she countered with a handshake. “Nice to finally meet you.”
The awkwardness echoed off the massively high ceiling at the back of the church. Danno pulled back the blue blanket with his finger and looked at the baby's face. “We wouldn't have missed it for the world.”
“Okay, thanks for coming,” Bree said as she moved her family to the door.
“Wait a minute. Where are you going, Luscious?”
Lenny stopped. “Nowhere, sir. Just for something small to eat.”
Danno reached into his pocket and pulled out a hunched over bundle of notes. “There will be nothing small about today.” He peeled off the top five or six hundred dollar bills and planted them in Lenny's pocket. “Go and get a cake and we'll meet you in Casper's.”
Bree retrieved the money and politely handed it back. “You're very kind, but we were just going to keep it simple on account of the noise and...”
Danno nodded. “Of course.”
“I could get something small,” Lenny meekly chimed in. “It would only be for a couple of hours, wouldn't it?”
“Absolutely. Nice to meet you,” Danno said to
Bree.
“We'll be straight there, sir.”
Danno bumped his bulbous head off Bree's breast en-route to kissing the baby.
“Lovely child.” Danno turned and walked away with a whistle.
Lenny could feel the heat reflecting from his wife's rage on the tip of his nose. “What could I say?”
“How much time do you people have to be together? Huh? And what's with the orders on your day off? Get the fucking cake? And he head butted me in the boobie...”
Lenny slipped out a nervous laugh.
“What?”
“Boobie. It just sounds funny.”
“Do I look like I'm laughing?”
“Bree,” Lenny said, stopping his wife's rant. “How many drivers do you think get this kind of attention from their boss?”
Bree grabbed Luke by the arm and walked down the long aisle toward the door.
Outside, Ricky sat in the driver’s seat, waiting for Danno, who opened the door and got in.
“What are we really doing here, boss?”
Danno looked at Ricky with a wry smile. “Nothing.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
March 25th 1970. New York.
Melvin turned his car into Danno's drive. The large estate in front of him was busy with storage trucks and workmen who were lifting furniture into the house. He slowly approached and stopped, slipping his car into park.
Danno Garland's house was big and square and full of windows. It sat on five acres and had a driveway that grew wider as you approached the front of the house. It was a farmhouse with barns and un-city-like structures at the back with nosey horses at the sides.
Melvin checked his driver's mirror before opening his door and taking in the scene in front of him.
It seemed like wrestling paid a hell of lot more than medicine.
Danno came charging from his new front door. “What do you want?” he said like he was talking to a sworn enemy.
Maybe he was.
Melvin stood still at his car. “I've been trying to reach you for several days, Mr. Garland.”
“So you come to my house?” Danno walked straight into Melvin's face. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Melvin stepped back until he became pressed into his own car. “You should hear this, Danno.”
“Danno?” called Mrs. Garland from a window on the second floor. “Is everything okay down there?”
Danno stepped back and assured his wife with a smile that everything was fine.
“I didn't think coming to your home on a workday would cause you such distress. I have truly tried every other form of contact that I know to reach you.”
“What is it?”
Melvin drew Danno's attention to all the movers that had stopped working. “Would you like to talk someplace else?”
“No.” Danno turned to the stopped workmen. “Is there something I can do for you people?”
Work quickly resumed and Danno focused back on Melvin. “Well?”
“There's a Senator by the name of Hilary J. Tenenbaum from New York. Are you aware of him?”
“Why?”
“'Cause he's about to hold hearings. He wants to table a bill to ban professional wrestling in this state.”
Danno gave Melvin a silent, disinterested look.
“Did you hear me, Mr. Garland?”
“Let me tell you something, Mr. Pritchard; you people have no problem taking your cut from my business. You can pretend to be horrified by us in the papers and in government, all you like. I have yet to receive a returned check in all the years I have been kicking up to your people. So with that in mind, come down off that fucking high horse you're on, get back in your car and don't ever bother me again.”
Melvin nodded and turned back to his car. “This guy is serious.”
December 24th 1971. New York.
Danno, Lenny and Ricky stood at the end of Danno’s driveway. His house and gardens were garnished with balloons, streamers and Christmas decorations. A wrestling ring was set up in front of his house.
“What time did they say, Lenny?”
“Four, boss.”
Danno noticed the great indifference in Ricky's face. “We are going to win this war in the papers.”
Ricky silently walked away.
A car pulled past the gates and entered the bottom of the driveway. “You ready, Lenny?”
“Yes, sir.”
Danno took up his position on the other side of the driveway. “Remember, don't shake their hands or anything ‘cause you don't know what's on them.”
Lenny nodded.
Oscar Dewsbury pulled up beside his boss. The car had three young boys in the back.
“What the fuck?” Danno said.
Oscar Dewsbury moved his large body from the driver's seat and began to explain before his boss lost his temper. “Now, the hospital wouldn't gimme none,” he said in his Southern accent.
“Did you tell them what it was for?" Danno asked.
“I sure did. They said they didn't much care.”
“So who the fuck owns these?” Danno asked.
Oscar turned around and smiled and waved at the anxious-looking children in the back. “Well, they came from the orphanage. Father Vincini gave them to me for a couple of hours.”
“Are any of them sick?”
Oscar shook his head. “Not that he was aware of. Although the smallest one has a slight stutter.”
Danno threw his eyes and fury up to the heavens. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with three normal orphans?”
“I'm sorry boss, but I didn't want to come back empty-handed.”
Danno and Lenny sat on the top step of Danno's home.
“Did any of the other bosses send presents or donations for the kids?” Danno asked.
Lenny shook his head, “They probably forgot or something.”
They both watched the orphans running around having fun. The 'Wrestle for Really Sick Children' banner above their heads flapped in the wind.
“What time are the press getting here?”
Lenny looked at his watch. “In about twenty minutes, boss.”
Danno took a deep breath in through his nose and let it flap his lips on the way out. “This place was supposed to be packed with polio and head bandages. Hundreds of them.”
Danno turned to see Ricky watching them from the side of the garden and shaking his head at him in disgust. “How are you with scissors?” Danno asked Lenny.
Danno sat one of the orphans down on his closed toilet lid. Lenny was kneeling beside him with a pair of scissors and a razor, while Oscar was blocking up the doorway.
Danno pointed to Oscar. “You see this man?” he asked the terrified child. “You see his bald head? That's groovy, or whatever you say.”
The child didn't move.
Danno mimed scissors with his fingers from Lenny. “He said yes.”
“No he didn't,” Lenny replied.
Danno grabbed the scissors from Lenny and cut a chunk from the child's hair.
“I don't like him,” the child whispered about Oscar.
“Huh?” Danno replied, pretending not to hear.
“I like my hair.”
Danno continued to cut. “You like beer?”
“My hair,” the child said more forcefully.
Danno stopped. “I'm sorry. I thought you said you wanted it like this. I was just trying to help you.”
The little boy slid himself from the toilet and walked to the mirror. He was stunned by his appearance.
“We'll have to fix it now, son.” Danno said, acting remorseful.
Lenny whispered into his ear, “It's terrible what you're doing to that kid.”
“Who's he going to tell?” Danno asked.
The completely bald orphan sat on Danno's knee and clinched onto the hundred-dollar bill in his pocket. A middle-aged, brunette woman sat across from them and scribbled down her notes.
“How often do you come here?” the reporter asked in a sympathetic voice.
<
br /> “He finds it tiring to talk most times,” Danno interjected.
“I see.”
“So...” Danno stopped.
“Pamela,” the reporter smiled back.
“Pamela, of course. You can see that professional wrestling is a big advocate for really sick children like Junior here.”
“His name is Junior?”
“It is to me, because he feels like family right here in my home.”
Danno took out his handkerchief and wiped 'Junior's' forehead with it. “This is what I would rather be doing than having to answer nonsense questions from a Senator who is struggling to make something of himself for the next election.”
“Mr. Tenenbaum says that he and the American people have the right to know if your company is deceiving them out of their hard earned cash, Mr. Garland.”
“Pamela, you're in my home. I have nothing to hide.” Danno leaned forward and bucked 'Junior' from his lap to clasp the writing hand of the reporter. “Let me show you something.”
Danno and Pamela walked down the large hallway. “I just wanted to take you away from there, because we're trying to keep Junior's spirits up and I know he's hard to look at.”
“We were doing fine.”
“I know.”
Danno passed Pamela into the waiting charge of Lenny at the front door. “I hope to see you before you leave.”
“But I...”
“This is Lenny and he'll show you to your car.”
Lenny quickly escorted the confused woman out of the house. Danno turned to see Ricky standing at the end of his hall with another man.
Ricky introduced the large visitor as Danno approached, “Boss, this is Mickey Jack Crisp and he says he's been hired in the past by Proctor.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
November 13th 1970. Florida.
Most of the heel dressing room was preparing in an unusually quiet way. Usually, when you get all the 'bad' guys together, you can't see the walls for smoke and the floor for cans, fast-food wrappers and playing cards.
This event was different. It got off on the wrong foot.
One of wrestling's cardinal sins was entering a dressing room and not shaking all the hands that were in it.
