by Paul O'Brien
If a wrestler with an agenda dropped another wrestler on his neck and retired him, all the offending wrestler had to say was that he slipped. What could the law do? Could a trapeze artist get arrested for dropping a colleague?
Proctor had Lenny marked for the 'trapeze' angle since Danno's anniversary party. He was almost glad when Gilbert fingered him for this whole situation. Proctor knew that Danno couldn't protect the man who nearly killed his son.
“When I'm out there, I have to be professional. I have to work a match with this old fuck. I can't break character and protect the referee,” Babu took no pleasure in saying to Lenny.
“I know.”
“He's going to try and work a little something between you and him into the match. Then he's going to hurt you as bad as he can.”
“I know.”
“So, I'm not your mother. Danno asked me to pull you from it, but you're old enough to take your medicine if that's what you want to do in here.”
“I want to work Proctor.”
Babu thought Lenny was insane. He also thought it was none of his business what another man chose to do with his body.
October 6th 1972. Texas.
Annie counted the remaining blocks of cash in a stall in the ladies room. Eighty four thousand. Saying she had eighty four thousand made her look like an amateur. A round, concise number conveyed the confidence that she was acting from. She composed herself and packed seventy back into the rucksack. The rest, she crammed into her purse.
Out in the bar, Curt was still waiting at the table. That alone lead Annie to believe that this deal wasn't dead. He looked sweaty and twitchy and constantly scanned the room.
“My apologizes, Curt. Had to...”
Curt was far past Annie's faux charm. “I want a hundred and twenty thousand now, Mrs. Garland. Your husband’s disrespect toward me has been shocking and upsetting, quite frankly. He and I have served together on the National Wrestling Council for...”
“I'm going to give you seventy thousand now, Curt. You get less for being an asshole.”
Curt laughed. “This is why I don't deal with the wives, Mrs. Garland. They are crazy one hundred percent of the time.”
“If you disrespect me one more time, I will pull the money from this deal altogether.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You've been without TV down here since December two years ago. If you want to know my feelings on this matter, I think my husband is being overly generous to you with regards to this matter. You have nothing to sell in my view. No TV equals no company in the wrestling business.”
“Bullshit.”
“Really? How was your attendance six months after the TV dispute began?”
Curt tried to think of a way of answering without having to tell the truth.
“You didn't have any, Mr. Magee. It only took one month without TV before your gates halved. Then three months in, you were back to running high school gyms and six months in, there was nothing. Your wrestlers all moved elsewhere.”
Curt was clearly getting angry. “Do you think I don't know how much of a hand Danno has played in my TV still being off down here?”
Annie wanted to defend her husband, “Yes, we have bought your old TV slot, Curt. We've also bought the TV in Florida and Ade Schiller sold us her company in San Francisco, so we've got her TV slot, too. Danno would now like to pay you for your company, but we both know he doesn't have to. Do we have a deal at seventy thousand?”
Curt shoved the table angrily back toward Annie, which knocked both their glasses onto the floor with a smash. “Who are you to be sitting in judgment of me? You fucking don't think I know what you've been doing behind his back? Do you think that somehow this fucking cesspool of a business is too good to talk about you, Mrs. Garland?”
Curt left the hotel bar. Annie waited for him to walk past the window before she exhaled. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself. She didn't expect him to be that intense or jittery. She couldn't get it done. She hadn't got the money to play it straight, but even if she had, she wasn't sure if he was all that keen on dealing with Danno's wife. And now she wondered if he was going straight back to Danno to let the cat out of the bag.
October 6th 1972. Florida.
Ted Berry swung the van as close to the Studio Two doors as he possibly could. Danno got out and quickly entered the building where an anxious Sean Peak stood, waiting for him in the hallway.
“Are you sure this is going to be okay, Danno?”
“Sean, nice to see you again. I look forward to working with you.” Danno peeled off his coat and, underneath, he was dressed like a man who was about to make his Florida TV debut.
“What's going to happen?” Sean asked.
“We're all going to make a lot more money than we are now, that's what's going to happen,” Danno replied.
Outside, Ted Berry unloaded Gilbert King, still dressed in his hospital gear, from the back of a van. He carelessly dropped him into a wheelchair and slammed him off every door and wall he could find on the way into the building.
“I want to tape this, Sean, and then you run it at ten o’clock like we agreed,” Danno said as Ted wheeled Gilbert into the studio.
“What the fuck?” Sean said to himself as he saw the scene unfolding in front of him.
“Cameraman ready?” Danno asked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
October 6th 1972. Florida.
Bree pulled into position outside of the arena. She watched the parking lot for signs of Lenny. She felt inadequate, in a way. Like she made her husband choose between the business and her, and she honestly didn't know if she was worth it.
“Is Daddy coming, Mom?” Luke asked from the back.
“Yeah, we're early, little man. Is your brother okay?”
“He's chewing his toy. Do you want me to slap him?” Luke asked.
“No.”
“Is Daddy in there?” Luke asked, craning his neck toward the arena.
“Yeah. Daddy works in there.” Bree turned off the engine and checked her watch at four minutes past nine.
She prayed that Lenny wouldn't let them all down again.
October 6th 1972. Florida.
It was heavy, but beautiful to look at. Babu had heard that it cost thirty thousand to make, but he knew not to believe anything anyone told you in the wrestling business. He knew for sure that he was going to miss that belt though, no matter how much it cost.
“The boss taped the piece and he's on his way down,” Ricky whispered to Babu and then walked on. Babu smiled broadly to himself.
“What time is it?” Lenny asked the waiting crowd at the curtain.
A member of the ring crew walked to the curtain. “Okay, guys, we're having trouble getting the cage in place. There's something wrong with one of the pins on the side. We're going to be a little while.”
Lenny pushed forward through the waiting crowd and grabbed the crew member. “There's a cage?”
“Yeah,” he said as he pulled his arm back.
“How long is it going to take?”
The ring crew worker just walked back into the scenes of chaos that were growing in from either side of the aisle.
Lenny stood and watched as the men busily erected and interlinked a steel cage around the ring. Once inside, Lenny, Proctor, and Babu would be locked in with no way out.
Oh, fuck.
“What time is it?” Lenny shouted with more urgency.
October 6th 1972. Florida.
The camera lay in place in front of Gilbert King's face. He was more scratched than stitched. His eye was beginning to yellow and his huge lips were starting to deflate a little. He was knee deep into a groveling admission as Danno and Sean looked on.
Danno checked his watch. It was nine thirty seven. “Any word from my wife, Sean?”
Danno looked around to find Sean in a panicked state. “No. I haven't heard anything.”
Danno walked Sean away from the recording behind them and whispered, “W
e're going to be done in a couple of minutes. When that happens, I'm going to leave Ted here with you to make sure this is played across your fine State in our new ten o’clock slot. We will also be sending this tape to our existing TV in New York, our new TV in San Francisco, and to your Station Manager friend in Texas who we're now in business with, also.”
Danno turned Sean around. Gilbert was crying and Ted Berry was standing off camera with an axe in his hand to make sure they got the full story.
“We're going to be the first wrestling company that's going to reach more than one territory at a time, Sean. That's going to make us very rich, indeed.”
October 6th 1972. Florida.
Lenny pushed through the flimsy curtains and the audience immediately booed him. He was blinded by the lights, but could hear glass bottles smashing close to him. He hurried closer to the ring as his heart kicked against the inside of his chest. This huge crowd hated him for real. He walked up the blue steel steps and entered the open door of the fifteen-foot high steel cage that surrounded the ring.
Lenny checked the watch on his wrist that he robbed from a bag in the locker room. Eleven minutes to ten. Proctor said he wanted the match to last twenty minutes, but Lenny knew he needed to be out of the ring long before then.
This was the one night of his life he couldn't be late or not show up. Bree was just about done with him and he knew she was right.
“And weighing in at nearly six hundred pounds, from South Africa... BAAAAAAAABuuuuuuuuuuu,” the exaggerating ring announcer screamed.
Babu ripped through the curtains and immediately started rearing up on the crowd. He dared them to come from the stands and get in his face. Tonight was a new night for Babu. The realness of the situation meant he could leave his African gimmick backstage and just be himself out there.
He was splashed with liquid from a cup and someone leaned in from the aisle and grabbed his hair as he passed. In retaliation, Babu just knocked out the first man he saw at ringside. The cops jumped the barrier and circled around the giant. They didn't seem sure if it was for Babu's protection or the audience's.
Babu grabbed the microphone from the ring announcer at ringside and threw him over the guard railing into the crowd. “It's part of the show,” he shouted at the cops. It wasn't.
“You people suck,” Babu enthusiastically shouted into the mic. “Your town is a dive and your wrestlers down here are all jabronis”
A shower of ringside seats began to crash all around him. Babu entered the safety of the encased ring and he and Lenny looked at each other. Lenny had clearly made his decision.
Proctor ran through the entrance and down the aisle to a big roar. He was older looking in his wrestling gear, but was still visibly tough as nails. He marched up the steps and mugged for the adoring crowd before he stepped through the open cage door and into the ring.
Proctor almost licked his lips in anticipation of getting to Lenny and then to the belt.
“Close the fucking door,” Proctor shouted at Lenny.
Nine minutes to ten.
Lenny rushed over and grabbed the cage door. Proctor stalked up behind him and Babu followed.
Proctor zoned in on Lenny's exposed heel and cocked his knee, ready to drop it, but Babu got there first and dropped Lenny like a brick with a punch of his own. One clean shot from the giant to Lenny's jaw and that was curtains for Luscious. The crowd was stunned into silence. Lenny dribbled down along the ropes and bounced his head off the canvas.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Proctor shouted at Babu.
Somewhere in Babu's head, him getting to Lenny was much better than Proctor getting there first.
“Get him out of here,” Babu shouted to the cops at ringside. The cage door was opened and Lenny's limp body was dragged out of the cage.
“No, no, leave him here,” Proctor said as he grabbed Lenny by the ankle. Babu caught Proctor and slammed him off the cage before he could do anything.
“Get the ambulance,” one cop shouted over his shoulder to no one specific as they dragged a limp-bodied Lenny from the ring. A fellow officer called it in.
Ricky jumped the railing and slid in through the open cage door with a ref’s jersey on him. He locked himself, Babu, and Proctor in the cage. Proctor suddenly began to realize that he was being played.
“Ready to go to work, men?” Ricky asked.
Babu smiled and nodded, Proctor wasn't as confident. Lenny got carried backstage with a huge smile on his face.
Who said Lenny Long couldn't take a bump?
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
October 6th 1972. Florida.
Bree walked a few steps away from her parked car. She was willing Lenny's silhouette to run toward her from the arena doors. She could hear the roar of the crowd and the rhythmic chants inside. She looked back in the rear window that was filled with bits and pieces rising from her trunk that she couldn't wait to unpack in her home-place.
Maybe things wouldn't be so hard for her in California. Maybe Lenny would settle down a little bit more.
Bree checked her watch and it was ten past ten. Luke's expectant face popped out of the side window. Bree could see an ambulance pull off from the building and drive straight to the entrance. She wondered for a second. It stopped a few feet from her briefly before pulling off along the road.
He knew what time to meet them. He knew where. This was his fucking idea. But, no Lenny. Bree walked to her car and turned on her engine.
“Where's Daddy?” Luke asked.
“Just strap yourself in, little man. We're going to go see Nanna and Granddad,” she said as she threw her purse on the floor by his feet.
“Is Daddy coming, too?”
Bree began reversing. “Not this time.” Bree pushed the stick into drive and took her car to the cross section where Lenny was standing, waiting.
Bree had to make sure a couple of times before she could believe it. She was still mad at him for not showing up, but was overcome with happiness that he was standing on the road waiting for them. Bree pulled in beside him. “Hey,” she said, trying to be a little cooler than she was.
“Hey, yourself,” Lenny answered.
“Daddy!” Luke shouted, waking the baby and making him bawl.
Lenny opened the back door and kissed his kids over and over. “Where are we going?”
“Are you coming, Daddy?”
Lenny jumped in the front and kissed his wife, “You better believe it.”
Bree pulled off with her few possessions, her family, and about eight thousand dollars that she managed to hide from her husband.
October 6th 1972. Florida.
Lenny and Danno passed each other on the road and didn't even know it. One was driving away from the business, and the other was driving to claim the business.
Ted Berry was pushing down hard on the pedal to get Danno to the arena before Proctor could sneak out the back door. Had they seen him, they would have known there was no rush.
Gilbert's tape had been aired across Florida and his confessions gave Danno a huge platform to make money. It would be replayed in spots across New York, Texas and San Francisco.
Out of all of this came one hell of a money angle for Danno.
In the dressing room, Proctor let the globs of blood tangled with saliva run from his mouth to the floor. He had a hard time closing his mouth without pain shooting through his ear. His head was also bleeding, and his eyes were swollen. He was sure that his right thumb was broken and his shoulder was dislocated.
Wrestling wasn't fake all the time. Not when you've done all that Proctor had done. In the end, the giant did business and gave him the belt. But he sure kicked his ass before he lay down.
Danno opened the door and entered on his own. Both men remained silent for a while and Proctor couldn't bring himself to look up.
“I want you to stay on board,” Danno said.
Proctor laughed until his raw chest turned his amusement into a fit of coughing. “You want me to work for you?
” he asked with another spit.
“Do you have any other choice?”
Danno knew that Proctor would have been told by now.
Proctor dropped the heavyweight belt to the floor. “Fuck you.”
“The only thing that's keeping you alive is that belt. The second I take it back, all the people who you've hurt come looking for you.”
Proctor slowly rose to his feet. “We were just supposed to make money, Danno. That was the plan.”
Somewhere in his head, Danno wanted to scrub it all out. Start again. He knew that Proctor's simple look back was, in some way, correct. It was all about the money. It still was. “You can go across the territories and defend that title with the giant chasing you, or you can drop the belt tomorrow and take your chances out there. It's up to you.”
The weight of Proctor's beating pushed him back down into his seat. “You know I'm not just going to take this, don't you, Danno?”
Danno opened the door. “You don't have any fucking say in the matter, Proctor.”
Danno closed the door and said to Ted Berry, who was waiting outside, “Don't let him out of your sight from now on.”
Ted entered Proctor's room.
Danno whistled down the hallway. All the Floridian wrestlers had already begun to inquire about being used for the new TV show in Studio Two. They all knew that Proctor was finished as an owner. No TV means no crowds, which means no wrestlers, which means no company to own.
Danno sunk a quarter and tried his wife's hotel room number again.
Her phone rang, unanswered, on the bedside table in her Texas hotel. Annie lay strangled and beaten on the floor of her room. Lenny's envelope with his wife's rings that said Sorry on it had fallen from her pocket and lay by her dead body.
All the money was gone, and the room was turned over.
Danno thought she must be on a flight or something. He shouted down to a crowd at the end of the hallway, “Get Lenny down to the airport to wait until my wife gets in.”
