Blood Red Turns Dollar Green Volume 3

by Paul O'Brien

  Kid was totally fine with all of that; it was all that he needed to hear.

  Both of their drinks were left in front of them.

  “I’ll be right back to take your order,” said the smiling waitress.

  “Thank you,” Lenny and Kid said together.

  Lenny raised his glass. “To family.”

  Lenny’s toast made Kid sick to his stomach; it was like a switch on a saw blade.

  “Are we done?” Kid asked, without joining the toast.

  “What?”

  “I gotta go,” Kid said.

  “What? I’m trying here...”

  Kid put up his hand to stop his father. “I don’t need you to try. I don’t need you, period. This is a match that I’m going to be allowed to win. They’ll pay me, and I’ll bring that home. That’s it. You and I are only bound by a con—something that’s not real. And that’s very fucking fitting.”

  Kid got up from the table, and threw a fifty down.

  “Where are you going?” Lenny asked.

  “To get drunk.”

  He picked up his coat, and walked through the busy restaurant, as the other diners tried to figure out if he was the young man from the papers.

  Lenny looked at his watch, and wondered if his backup was in town, yet.

  New York.

  Five days after Lenny got out.

  1984.

  Mr. Asai looked like an Asian movie star. He wore a perfectly pressed black suit with a red handkerchief in his top pocket. His white shirt was supplemented by the white silk scarf that was draped over his neck.

  He was followed by Masa Kido, the English-speaking referee, who struggled to keep up with his boss. Masa was covered in dry blood.

  “Where is he?” Mr. Asai asked in Japanese.

  “He’s up on your right in a private room, sir,” Masa answered him, again in Japanese.

  “How did this happen?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Find me whoever did this,” Mr. Asai demanded.

  “We’ve got him,” Masa replied.

  They arrived at the room, and Mr. Asai waited for Masa to open the door, and escort him inside.

  It was a pretty simple affair with some monitors, a couple of tubes, and a semi-conscious Ricky Plick.

  “Is he able to speak, yet?” Mr. Asai asked.

  “Yes, sir. He asked me to order ice cream for him yesterday.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “For someone back home.”

  Mr. Asai walked closer, and looked intently at Ricky’s eyes. He wanted them to open, and, in Mr. Asai’s experience, he got everything that he wanted.

  “Does anyone know he’s here?”

  “No. We brought him in under covers, and through the service elevator.”

  “Keep it this way. Only you and I know, until we figure out what’s happening here.”

  Mr. Asai knew that this had been more than a random attack. Ricky had been just about to go back to the USA to insert himself into the septic web that covered New York. This was a business hit, and Mr. Asai wanted to make sure that he was on the right side of that business. He respected Ricky, and had enjoyed doing business with him since Ricky worked for Danno’s father decades before.

  Mr. Asai didn’t want the stigma of having a big name in the business die in his territory—especially without his permission.

  “Who dares come here to involve me?” Mr. Asai asked.

  Masa didn’t know who had done it, but he felt sorry for whoever it was.

  “Kimi ni kono koto wo shita yatsu ga watashi ni mo onaji koto wo shita. Aitsu ha hoka no otoko no ryouiki ni kotowari nashi ni ippo fumiire, sara ni hito wo koroshita. Sono koto wo aitsu ni zettai koukai sasete yaru,” Mr. Asai said, when he saw Ricky open his eyes.

  Mr. Asai nodded to Ricky, and left.

  “What did he say?” Ricky asked.

  Masa moved closer to Ricky’s bed. “Roughly, he said: ‘the person who did this to you did this to me, too. They will learn that you can’t step into another man’s territory and spill blood—not without asking, and not without permission.”

  Ricky couldn’t help but smile. “I need a phone—I need to call back home.”

  “Certainly. Who are you calling?”

  Ricky would usually be wary of answering such a question, but Masa had just saved him from dying. There was nothing for him to worry about.

  “Lenny Long. We need to keep that territory alive.”

  “Hello?” Jimmy said, as he answered the phone.

  “Hello,” Ricky said. He was still weak, and his voice sounded weird to Jimmy.

  Edgar stood up from watching the TV, and looked over to Jimmy. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Mom,” Jimmy lied.

  Edgar sat back down, and went back to his guilty pleasure: The Young and The Restless.

  “Jimmy, where’s your father?” Ricky asked.

  After everything that happened, Ricky knew that Lenny was too new to have picked sides. Ricky wanted to ring Babu, but he knew that Babu had made a deal with Joe Lapine. The only one who had power who seemed uncompromised was Lenny.

  “He’s not living here no more,” Jimmy said.

  “I want you to write this down for me, and take it to him. No one else can know, you hear me?”

  “Yes, Uncle Ricky. I saw a frog today.” Jimmy said.

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did he have a lady pig with him?”

  “What?”

  Ricky was terrible with children. “Nothing. Get a pen. Now, I don’t want you to ask any questions, just write exactly what I say, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jimmy said.

  “Tell your father I’m dead, and I want him to go with Ade.”

  “What?”

  “Just write it and give it to him. I’m going to give you a number, too,” Ricky said.

  “How are you dead?”

  Ricky drew a flaming breath. “Did you write it?”

  “That rhymes.”

  “What? What rhymes?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Jimmy said, after reading it again to himself. “I thought ‘dead’ and ‘Ade’ rhymed.”

  “Just take it to him, and leave my number here. You got that?”

  Jimmy nodded, even though Ricky couldn’t see it.

  There was booming bass, a disco ball, a soaring chorus, and a collective of people who were all feeling it as they danced and intertwined like a stew of denim jackets and shoulder pads. Synth pop and saxophone riffs could be heard, along with dance tracks and catchy ballads. They were in a brownstone church.

  The Limelight felt like the greatest club on Earth, and in amongst the euphoria and lace was world heavyweight wrestling champion, Kid Devine.

  He started out cool, and kept to himself in the corner. As the drinks rolled in and the night wore on, Kid wanted some recognition. Half of the world thought that he was the toughest man on the planet, and the other half thought he was a sneaky fuck who took people down from behind.

  Luke Long was neither of those things, but the last thing that he or his father needed was for that fact to be exposed, now.

  With each song, and each hour, he moved closer to the center of the floor. With each song, he was also becoming more recognizable.

  People around him began to wonder if he was the guy who had choked out Jinky Keeves the day before.

  Kid hardly noticed; He was now with a woman who refused to be ignored. She was beautiful and blonde, with a dancer’s body. She was someone who Kid had no hope of getting without his new-found fame.

  She was also the woman who Donta Veal liked to use to soften up his kills. She was the same woman who had drugged Mickey Jack Crisp before he was killed.

  Donta wasn’t listening to his boss; he was trying to end this his own way.

  “Where do you live?” Donta’s partner asked.

  “What?”

  The music was piercing.

  She nodded for the doorway, and now Kid knew wha
t she wanted. He smiled, and took her outstretched hand. They both walked to the exit, but the woman was stopped just before they made it outside.

  “Move it,” Ade said to her.

  “Excuse me?” the blonde replied.

  “Get the fuck out of here, before I have you separated into ten different trash bags!”

  Donta’s blonde woman knew enough to not draw attention to herself. She let go of Kid’s hand, and slipped out before anything else happened.

  “Ade?” he asked.

  Ade slapped Kid across his face, and ushered him into a corner.

  “I deserved that,” Kid replied.

  Ade slapped him again. “Give that one to your father, when you see him.”

  “Now, two free ones are all you get,” he said with a smile.

  “You think I’m flirting with you?” Ade asked. “You’ve got a lot to learn about this business.”

  She opened the exit door with her foot; he shook his head.

  “No, thanks.”

  Ade looked around. No one in the whole building cared about what they were doing in the corner, and the deafening music made sure that no one could hear, even if they wanted to.

  “Okay, so who’s idea was it?” she asked.

  Kid just shrugged. “I don’t come up with the plans. I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “I do—I know what you can say to me.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “That you’re going to bring the belt to me in Madison Square Garden tomorrow night.”

  Kid laughed at her suggestion. “And why would I do that?”

  “Because you know that your father hasn’t got what it takes to make it to the end of this without fucking it up. When he does fuck it up, that just means that you and your family will go back to square one.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about him. I just want to make money—get us out of the hole we’ve been in since I was a kid.”

  “Exactly. Do you feel secure in the knowledge that Lenny is running the play on this? What makes you so sure that you’re not in danger?”

  Kid took a big drink, and burped. “In my experience with this business, if I was in trouble, I’d never even know about it.”

  “So you think Lenny can take this huge deal all the way to the finish?”

  Kid looked her right in the eye, but he couldn’t answer her question.

  “Didn’t think so. Let’s go,” Ade said.

  “Why?”

  “You’re the goddamn champion of the world. Don’t you think that when some half-drunk gorilla in here hears that, he will be looking to smash your head in for a high-five from his pals?”

  “I can look after myself.”

  “No, that’s your gimmick. Your wrestling persona is very well able to handle himself, but, right now, you’re a drunk fool who’s too exposed, out here.”

  “What do you care?”

  Ade leaned into his ear. “One way or another, I’m going to make my money back off of you. Let’s go.”

  Kid thought about it for a second, but accepted her invitation.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  New York.

  Fifteen days after Lenny got out.

  1984.

  Babu looked around, and soaked in the memories. He had once been the reigning champion who had sold out that same building month after month. Now the torch had truly been passed. He knew this would be his last time standing in that ring.

  He just wished that he knew where Ricky was, so he could see it, too.

  “Tonight’s the night, Kid.” Babu said, as he stood in the ring at Madison Square Garden.

  Kid rolled under the bottom rope, and stood in the middle of the ring.

  “A champion doesn’t roll his way into the ring; a champion takes the steps, wipes his feet on the apron, and enters through the ropes—slowly. Make him wait tonight. Fuck him; you’re the real champion.” Kid understood. “Any shit in your bag today?” Babu asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “That’s progress. The more they see that it’s not having an effect on you, the sooner they’ll stop doing it.”

  Kid understood.

  “I just want to be one of the boys,” Kid said.

  “Well, the whole business will be looking at you tonight. Do well, and they’ll open their arms to you. They already begrudgingly like you for the way that you handled the press conference.”

  “Thank you.”

  “When the rest of the boys come back, you shake every one of their hands, and look them in the eyes. Even though you’re on top, I want to hear you in the dressing room asking about the house, your spot, and the pay-offs.”

  Kid understood some of that, but Babu was about to sit the rookie under the learning tree.

  “Asking about the house is asking how many tickets have been sold. Your spot on the card is where your match is, as in first, or last. The pay-offs are going to be what they are, but it’s nice for the champ to ask that for the boys who don’t have that political clout back there, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Babu knew that the boys in the dressing room resented the fact that Kid had become champion so soon, but Babu didn’t. He could see that he was a great listener from his time as an athlete, and was hungry to learn the business.

  “Now we don’t have much time, so I want to get you off on the right foot.”

  Babu circled Kid. “Now, lock up with me.”

  Kid snapped out his arms, and grabbed Babu’s giant shoulder on one side, and his elbow on the other.

  Babu broke away. “Are you trying to dance?”

  “No.”

  “When you lock up, you grab. Let me see the struggle on your face; dig your feet into the ground, snap those arms out, and get into it. Don’t let any daylight in—snug is good. Don’t be stiff, though. If your opponent thinks that you’re going too hard, he’ll give you a receipt, in kind.”

  Babu and Kid locked up again.

  “Much better,” Babu said. “Now, I want you to listen to the ref tonight. You’re the heel, so you’re supposed to lead the match. Leave that to Emmet, though: he’ll tell you what spot to do next. If he doesn’t call any spots that make you look good, then he’s trying to fuck you over.”

  Kid bounced up and down. His juices were flowing now, and he couldn’t wait to compete.

  “What’s your finish?” Babu asked.

  “I... I don’t have one. All I know is that I’m down to win.”

  “You need a finishing move that will pop the audience—something young and flashy, like you are. Actually, you already have one.”

  “The choke.”

  “Exactly. You’ve already got it. The audience has already seen you use it, and win with it, too. They know it’s devastating.”

  Babu noticed that Kid’s eyes were suddenly distracted by the exit. Babu turned to look, and saw his wife standing there. Her presence made his heart thump. In all these years, she’d never shown up at his work, before.

  Babu slowly made his way out of the ring, and limped over to his wife.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just...”

  “What is it?” Babu asked.

  “Just... it’s nothing, and I don’t even like saying it, but there’s this guy who came around to work last week. He’s kind of creepy. Well, he followed me home today, too...”

  Babu noticed blood on Ava’s leg.

  “What happened?”

  “I... can you bring me home? He...”

  “He what?”

  “It’s... nothing... I had to jump out of this guy’s way. He said that he wanted you to know he was around. Who is he?”

  Babu got the message loud and clear.

  “Let me smarten you up.”

  In wrestling, this phrase meant everything. A veteran saying those words was like a magician telling a rookie all of his tricks. It involved a lot of trust—a lot of faith that the person learning would take on the old traditions, the proper way of doing thin
gs.

  They would have to protect the secrets of the wrestling business.

  On this night, the rookie was a young, handsome wrestler named Kid Devine. The ‘magician’ was sitting about twenty rows back, covered by darkness in The World’s Most Famous Arena.

  “Can we let the people in? They’re starting to go crazy out there,” the front-of-house manager shouted.

  “No,” the man in the stands said, “A few more minutes.”

  Madison Square Garden was lit for wrestling, which simply meant that, except for the twenty by twenty red, white, and blue ring, everything was dark.

  Kid tried to look beyond the lights. “Why don’t you come in here and show me something, old man? It’s been a while.”

  The man in the stands struck a match for his cigarette, and Kid caught a glimpse of his pained, pale face.

  “You okay?” Kid asked.

  The man took a pull from his cigarette, and began, “There are four basic parts to a wrestling match: the Shine, the Heat, the Comeback, and the Finish. The Shine is where our hero starts off well, and wins a couple of small, early victories to get the crowd excited. They paid good money, so give them what they want.”

  He took another pull.

  “To start with.”

  Kid ducked to get out of the ring.

  “You can stay where you are,” the man in the stands said.

  Kid stayed in the ring, but he had no idea why he couldn’t go see his mentor.

  “The second part of the match is the Heat, and this is where it begins to go wrong for our hero. The heel sees an opportunity to win, and he takes it. It’s the part of the match that the audience decides whether the baby-faced hero is worth supporting.”

  “Seriously, man. What are you doing up there? I can’t see you,” Kid asked.

  “This part of the match is when bad things happen to good people.”

  The silhouette stood, and walked very slowly and feebly toward the ring. Kid still couldn’t see his face.