Job Girl (Fight Card)

by Jack Tunney

  “So.” Gonzalez folded his hands against his bulk. “Does everyone know what they are doing tonight?”

  Everyone punctuated their mumbled yes and si with nods. Vicky grinned over at Dick and looked up at Mammoth just in time to see him roll his eyes at her. Mickey just kind of swallowed and wandered a step further away from El Acorazado.

  “Very well.” Gonzalez clapped his hands. “Tonight is the Tuesday show.” He gestured around the cavernous expanse of Arena Mexico. “But…” he picked out the Americans with a wide finger. “If things are going well. Maybe we see you here for Friday’s show too. Then…” He framed them all between his outstretched hands. “Wrestle on Aguila Gigante’s card.”

  Vicky waited until Gonzalez turned and headed up the aisle to do little hippity-hops and claps. Daniel smiled at her behind her back while she rested a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “The big card? Already? Heehee.”

  “We’ll see.” Dick patted her hand. “We’ll see, kiddo. Remember, there’s always an angle.”

  Vicky shrugged. “Still.”

  As Mammoth and Mickey’s opponents didn’t speak English, they were left with little to say to the Americans and headed back to the showers. Mammoth climbed out of the ring as Mickey wrung his hands behind Dick and Vicky. “Do you think he gets what we’re gonna do? I mean he seemed solid in there but…jeez, he’s big. I just hope he’s…y’know, savvy.”

  “Don’t worry, my friend.” Daniel laid a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “El Acorazado is a good opponent. He will…let me see…” His gaze wandered to the rafters for moment. “Ah. He will take care of you.” He looked at Dick. “Yes?”

  “Yes.” Dick grinned at Mickey. “Feel better?”

  “I guess.” Mickey rubbed the back of his head.

  “Trust me.” Daniel clapped Mickey’s shoulder this time. “I’ve been in the ring with El Acorazado myself.”

  “Oh, swell.” Vicky smiled at Daniel. “I didn’t know that. Did you win?”

  “It was a good match.” Daniel stepped in front of Mickey to face Vicky and put his index finger over his lips with a restrained smile. She nodded and giggled.

  Mammoth finished wiping his hair with a towel and threw it against Vicky’s chest. “You straight with your part tonight?”

  Daniel’s jaw set as he stared at Mammoth. Dick caught his eye and shook his head just a bit.

  “Yeah.” Vicky pulled the towel from her breasts with two fingers and flung it at Mammoth’s head. “I got it.”

  “Good.” He caught the towel in his rough paw and draped it over the back of his neck. “Figured even you could get this right.” He sauntered between Vicky and Daniel. “Maybe especially you, huh?”

  Mammoth gave Vicky’s rear end a hard slap and guffawed his way from the ring. “Chin up, Queenie, and don’t worry. I’m sure they got some little jumping chica hiding somewhere to beat you.” Dick trailed after him.

  Mickey sat in the third row with his head in his hands.

  Pain blossomed on Vicky’s rear, but she didn’t rub it. Daniel stared at Mammoth’s huge back. “I don’t like him.”

  Vicky eased her rear end onto the ring apron. “Nobody does.”

  “I don’t like the way he treats you.”

  Vicky leaned her head on the ring post and looked at him. “That’s the business, no?”

  He looked at her for the first time since the spank. “It can be.” He wilted a little. “It usually is, I suppose.” He kicked at nothing on the smooth, concrete floor. “Not the most honorable part of a very honorable sport.”

  Vicky cocked her head. “Huh.”

  Daniel tilted his head to match the angle of hers. “What?”

  “I dunno.” She crossed her ankles. “I guess I’ve never thought of what we do as…honorable.”

  “Really?” His hands found his hips. “How can you not see it that way? Lucha libre is worth little without honor. The honor of wrestling for the crowd. The honor of the fan’s love, of the children’s. That is why the masks are so important. They make us…more than men.”

  Her lower lip puckered. “But you don’t have yours anymore.”

  “No, that’s true.” He took a seat next to her on the apron as Mickey trudged up the aisle out of the arena. “But I still have my honor. I didn’t lose it that night.” He nudged her hand with a knuckle. “Even if it took time to realize it.”

  “Well, I’m glad.” She gave him a real smile. “Just try not to think ill of me when I help Mammoth crush this little guy tonight.”

  He laughed, a fist to his lips. “I won’t. Although, even rudos often have the respect of the fans, if they are great. Look at El Santo. He’s respected. Loved even.”

  “That’s true.” She curled her hand over the edge of the ring apron. “But Mammoth is certainly no Santo.” She stared at her shoes. “And I’m nowhere near even being Mammoth. I’ve never felt…honorable doing this.”

  He tried to catch her eye but couldn’t. “Why not?

  She glanced at him sidelong. “I’d think to get the respect of the fans, even as a rudo, you’d have to win matches. Santo certainly wins matches.”

  “Of course.” His brows knit.

  “And Mammoth wins matches. He’s the champ where we’re from.”

  “Yes…”

  She gave a little girl shrug. “I don’t win matches. And I’m a ruda.” She glanced around the empty expanse of Arena Mexico. “And we wrestle in places a tenth the size of this, usually filled with drunks and crooks.”

  “I see…”

  “So, where we come from I don’t really get any respect or love from anyone. Not the fans. Not the other wrestlers. No one, really.”

  Not since Ben.

  He shook his head. “Surely, you must have won at least once?”

  “Nope.” She stared at him. “Not one.” Her gaze returned to the floor.

  “That shouldn’t be.”

  “Well. I’m told it has a lot to do…” She pushed her air back away from her scar and turned it toward him. “With this.”

  He was instantly on his feet and a step away. “Dios mio.”

  She shrugged and nodded. “Right. See? Tough to respect or love that, I guess.”

  “Who did that to you?” He stared at the jagged zig-zags in the flesh between the corner of her mouth and her ear, drawing closer to it as he squinted, then looked right into her eyes with tension and fire in his. “Was it Mammoth?”

  She shook her head. “No.” She reached out, smiling, and took both his hands in hers. “But thanks for trying to honor me.”

  NINTH FALL

  Arena Mexico was alive with love, hatred and respect, and Tonda the Jungle Queen’s chest thumped and swelled with all of it.

  They cheered like kids would for Superman or John Wayne. When they booed, it was full-blooded and aggressive, but, somehow, not angry. As Mammoth tossed Boca De Incendio around inside the ring, Tonda prowled and strutted around the outside in her leopard print and slingbacks, screaming support for her wrestler, clawing at the ring apron and, once in a while, turning to the crowd to mock Mammoth’s opponent or the people in the seats themselves. “Look what he’s doing to your man,” she’d yell. Or, “This is our territory now. We’re taking over,” with no idea if any of them understood a word she said.

  But they booed, and some of them yelled back. Although she understood almost none of it, Tonda’s chest swelled and a warm ball formed in the pit of her stomach as she soaked it up.

  They were booing, they were yelling, not because they were used to hating her, not because she was an American interloper.

  Not because she was a woman.

  Arena Mexico booed Tonda the Jungle Queen because she was a ruda.

  And she was honored.

  Tonda turned her back on the fans in the front row, swiveled her hips at them and strutted toward the corner.

  In the ring, Mammoth had Boca De Incendio trapped in the corner. He battered the shorter man’s broad chest with a forearm smash, then another
, then another. After the third one, he looked to the crowd. “This guy ain’t nothing!”

  Boos crashed down on him from all over the arena, but especially that corner.

  Vicky, her hands on the apron in the opposite corner, looked down at the mat and smiled.

  “Yeah, watch what I do to ’im now.” Mammoth reared back for another clubbing forearm, but Boca De Incendio was long gone by the time it came and Mammoth smashed the turnbuckle instead. Mammoth staggered out of the corner, holding his forearm, and was met with a Boca De Incendio dropkick square in the chest. Mammoth flopped the mat, then scrambled up and got another dropkick. They repeated the spot three more times, each with a greater rate of return from the crowd.

  Tonda glanced around at the stands and held her ears, then pounded the mat with a fist. “C’mon, Mammoth! C’mon!”

  Mammoth staggered up from the last dropkick and stumbled backward into the corner. Before he could do anything else, Incendio leapt at him, put his boots on Mammoth’s thighs, wrapped his hands around the back of Mammoth’s head and pulled the big caveman out of the corner with a perfect monkey flip that left Mammoth flat on his back in the center of the ring.

  The crowd erupted with glee. Boca De Incendio kipped up to his feet and pumped his fist. He pulled the cheers to his chest with both arms. He pointed at Mammoth, who was still dazed on the mat — his big, furry boots wandering into the air occasionally. “Tiempo de ganar, mis amigos!”

  That’s my cue, Vicky thought, knowing her moment had come.

  He hadn’t said what it would be but, during the training-slash-rehearsal session earlier in the day, Incendio told Mammoth and Vicky, through Daniel, he would yell something to the crowd that ended in mis amigos to signal it was time for the finish.

  Mis amigos was a signal to the skinny, young referee too, who went to check on Mammoth the second Incendio bellowed it.

  His back was to Tonda.

  She hopped up on the apron, as quickly and as ladylike as her short shirt and slingbacks would allow, and snaked an arm out toward Incendio. “You.” She beckoned him with a finger. “Come here, you.”

  The masked luchador, brought up short by Tonda’s presence on the apron, cocked his head at her. Meanwhile, Mammoth sat up and pawed at the referee’s pants and shirt, trying to use the slight official to pull himself to his feet.

  “Liberarme. Liberarme.” The ref grabbed at Mammoth’s meaty hands, oblivious to what was going on behind him.

  Tonda drew Incendio closer to the ropes with another come-hither finger. The crowd screamed its concern for the entire situation as he got closer to her, but he returned her gesture with a stern one of his one. “Abajo.” He pointed first at Tonda, then the floor. “Usted, abajo.”

  “Oh, don’t be that way.” Tonda reached out with both hands and laid them on the masked man’s smooth, sweaty chest. “I want to show you something.”

  Incendio cocked his head at her again.

  The crowd screamed. Half warning Incendio away from Tonda, the others imploring the referee to get free of Mammoth and turn around.

  Tonda curled her hand around the back of Incendio’s head, the laces of his mask under her fingers.

  The crowd gasped.

  “I only wanted to show you…this.” Tonda whipped her hair away from her face and pulled Incendio’s face to within an inch of her scar.

  “Dios!” The masked man recoiled, throwing his arms up and staggering back toward the center of the ring.

  Tonda threw her head back with a loud cackle and slipped back to the floor.

  As she did, Mammoth jumped to his feet, moved the referee aside, and charged across the ring, blasting Boca De Incendio with a clothesline that flipped the luchador head-over-heels.

  Incendio ended up on his side in a crumpled heap on the mat. Mammoth flipped him onto his back and kneeled on his chest as the bewildered referee stumbled into position.

  Someone in the crowd, a woman or a child, screamed no.

  Tonda pumped her hand over her head in time with the count, showing one finger, then two, then three.

  The crowd didn’t stop booing until they disappeared into the dressing room. Tonda sneered at as many faces as she could as she followed Mammoth up the aisle.

  Then they got to the back, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

  ***

  “Wasn’t that great?”

  Vicky hopped up and down in the face of anyone she saw. “How great was that?”

  “Did you see?”

  “That was great, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh man, I’ve never had such a great time…Oh, are you okay?”

  Mickey.

  He was sitting in a folding chair off to one side of the room, still in his gear, holding a chunk of ice wrapped in a washcloth against the back of his head. His match, which turned out to be a six-man tag team affair, saw Mickey and two similarly sized luchadors manhandled and demolished by El Acorazado and two other masked wrestlers, a bit smaller than him, dressed in exactly the same gear. In the end, Acorazdo’s team piled Mickey’s team up in the center of the ring and pinned them all at once.

  Mickey’s eyes lolled up at Vicky. “They didn’t tell me what acorazado means. Do you know what it means?”

  Vicky’s lower lip puckered. She kept her hands balled at her waist. “No.”

  “Battleship.” Mickey shook his head, grimacing. “It means battleship.” He looked back up at Vicky again. “Other guys were his fleet.”

  “Aw, Mickey. I’m sorry.” She risked a hand on his shoulder, which was still red with mat burn. “I know squashes can be tough, but maybe they’re just making you pay dues. Maybe you’ll get him next time out, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Mickey winced and twisted his back around. “Maybe.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Vicky slapped Mickey on the shoulder and turned around as Mickey whimpered and grabbed the spot.

  Mammoth was standing there, staring down his nose at her. Vicky fidgeted with her fingernails, the toes of her shoes pointed in. She stared at his furry waistband. “Hey.”

  He blew hot air down on her through his nostrils, which in a cartoon would have been steam. “Nice timing. I thought the finish was good.”

  Her whole body froze and trembled all at once. She hid her hands behind her back and threw him a quick glance with one green eye. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  He strode for the showers. She turned to face the nearest wall and threw a three-punch combination of glee at nothing.

  “Tonda.”

  She turned to find Daniel, bare-chested in his wrestling tights and boots, which were shiny and red with gold lightning bolts affixed here and there, smiling at her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek before either of them knew what she was doing. He took a step back and her hands slid down his traps to his pecks. Everything was smooth, caramel-colored and rock hard. “Sorry.” She looked at him through her brow. “Sorry.”

  “No.” He waved the moment away. “It’s okay. I was just…” He looked around at nothing.

  “So…” She looked him up and down. “Got somewhere to be?”

  “Yes.” He motioned over his shoulder. “My match is the one after this.”

  She rocked back on her heels, hands clasped behind her back. “You gonna win?”

  “You will have to watch and see.” He folded his arms over that hard, caramel chest and nodded his head in the direction of the ring. “That was quite something. The fans hate and respect you and Mammoth quite a bit, I think.”

  “Thank you.” Her cheeks got all warm. “I hope so.”

  Baca De Incendio came through the curtain with an arm around the skinny referee, who was pretending to support him. As soon as the curtain closed behind them, the masked man pulled his arm from around the ref’s shoulders and they went their separate ways, though Incendio started rubbing the back of his head for real. He walked between Vicky and Daniel as though neither of them was there and lumbered toward the showers.

  “Jeez.” Vicky
watched him go. “Maybe Mammoth shouldn’t have been so stiff.” She shook her head. “He never knows when to quit.”

  “It’s all right.” Daniel took the step he’d retreated back. “It’s true, for the luchador there is…humiliation in losing to a gringo — an Americano — but he will be rewarded in the future.” They looked from the door to the showers back at each other. “A lesser title, perhaps. He will be fine.”

  “Good. I didn’t realize it was considered bad to lose to a…” She grinned at him. “Gringo.”

  “You can understand.” He sort of shrugged, but had a solemn look about him. “Lucha libre is very much about pride and honor for us. That is why most Americanos lose here.”

  “Well…” More heel rocking. “That’s where we’re headed with Mammoth and Aguila Gigante. I mean…” She motioned to the showers. “I feel bad for this guy, but he was just build-up, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  She grinned. I love this.

  She glanced over both his shoulders. “He’s not here tonight, is he?”

  Daniel checked over both his shoulders too. “Who?”

  She grinned up at him. “Gigante?”

  “Oh.” He shook his head. “He is rarely here. Or anywhere, except when it is time to wrestle.”

  Vicky’s lips twisted. “What does that mean?”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “First.” He urged her closer to the wall with a nod. “It means I’ve said too much.” He looked at her sidelong. “I think you have that effect on me.”

  She smirked. “Second?”

  “Second.” He got closer and quieter. “No one except Senor Gonzales and people like him ever see much of Aguila Gigante outside the ring.” He glanced over his shoulder at the colorful crowd milling about the backstage. “They keep him away from everyone.”

  Vicky shrugged. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He licked his lips. “But many of us suspect Aguila Gigante might be…”

  “You did well.” Senor Gonzalez was suddenly just there, occupying all available space. “You and your man. Very good. Good match.”

  Daniel straightened and stepped back away from Vicky. “I should go prepare for my match. Senor?” He gave a little bow to the big man, who answered with a little nod. Daniel disappeared between two other luchadors, one of whom had sparkly horns attached to his mask.