by Steve Shadow
34
We spent the next month walking in fear, always looking over our shoulders. We saw nothing and heard nothing. I collected what insurance I had coming from the fire. We used that money plus what I got from Luis to stay afloat. I sent Lady Evalin a check for what we owed her along with a promise to return and see her. Things had finally settled down and we got back to work.
Luis and Fabiola kept training. His mother discovered long lost cousins in the city. Chuey and I met with his money men. We planned and talked all night. Chuey contacted some wrestlers out of Los Angeles. Finally after a lot of wheeling and dealing on Chuey’s part we had another fight card all set.
The big Saturday night that we had been working towards had arrived. I parked in front of the arena. After locking the car I headed for the entrance. My welcoming committee met me at the front door.
“Well, well boys. Look who showed up. If it isn’t my old pal Jackson; how ya’ doin’ big shot?”
“Ah if it isn’t that walking symbol of Chicago’s finest. Sgt. Dulovski and his storm troopers are on the scene.”
He put his arm around my shoulders. “Jackie boy, we missed you. Where have you been?”
I was so eager for this night that I was even happy to see Dulovski’s rotten racist face. “Here and there Sarge. Are we still operating at the customary rates?”
“Only for you Jackie.” He pinched my cheek and let out a big laugh. His cohorts chuckled with him.
“Well you know what to do,” I said. “I’ll see you after the matches.”
Chuey’s team had done a great job with the publicity and we had a full house. The music blared, the lights flashed and the people were cheering and screaming. I went up to the balcony and stood looking out over the brightly glowing ring. Our announcer hushed the music and began his mile-a-minute introductions. A colorful array of male and female luchadores marched down the aisle. They were all dressed in pastel robes and colorful masks. A pause ensued; the music welled up as the stars of show were being introduced.
The MC screamed out her name. She was now calling herself the Mayan Mystery Goddess. To thunderous applause Fabiola came strutting towards the ring bathed in an orange spotlight. She wore red vinyl boots, a blood red bikini and a purple cape. Her eyes were covered by a red and black mask. Her long black lustrous hair flowed out behind her. The oil on her skin made her shine like a well-muscled killer angel. The crowd went crazy when she leapt into the ring, threw off her cape and started striking body building poses. The men cheered while their woman could only stare in jealousy.
Once again the music stopped and a hush fell over the crowd. Even though I knew what was coming next my hair still stood on end and my breath was trapped in my chest.
A bright white spotlight was now trained on the entrance to the ring. The music rose and the MC screamed the names of El Triturador y La Pulguita Salvaje. It was The Crusher and The Savage Little Flea. In honor of Danny Luis had taken his ring name. Luis, all in black with a black mask clomped down the aisle with Chuey on his shoulders. Chuey was all in green wearing no mask. All he had was his thousand watt smile. As they made their way to the ring Chuey unfurled a Mexican flag and started waving it. The noise was deafening. I heard myself cheering as loud as anyone. Tears streamed down my face. I was so proud of everyone including myself. The Roxy may have been gone
but we were back in business. I had found a family to be part of.
And as for Chicago, what can I say? If it was good enough for the savage little flea, well then it was good enough for me.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Steve Shadow is the pen name of Steven Schwartz. Originally from Chicago he is now deeply embedded in the desert southwest. You can find his five previous books on Amazon. Follow him at www.steveshadow.com
