by Paul O'Brien
“It’s our business. We had a deal.” Shane slid the plate away in disgust and lit up another cigarette.
“We wouldn’t have to sell at all if you weren’t fucking his wife,” Curt mumbled.
Shane heard that one. “You’re selling up because you’re a terrible promoter. You had a gift in me down here. I was a fucking star and you’re dithering… ”
“Dithering?”
“Yeah, fucking dithering.”
“Is that even a word?”
“Yes it’s a word. What do you mean is it a word? Did you hear it come out of my ass? No? It’s a fucking word then. ‘Cause it came out of my mouth.”
“Okay.”
“Dither is a word.”
“Okay, I said.”
Shane reset his thoughts and tried again. “You’ve been too soft for the last two years. Waiting on Danno’s good graces. You should have pulled on him harder.”
Curt banged his fork handle off the table. “I could have had a golden ring with money falling out of the ceiling down here and Danno wasn’t going to do business with me. It had nothing to do with my skills. I asked you. I asked you when we were putting this deal together if there was anything I should know.”
“Yeah? And?”
“And? And? You were fucking the man’s wife.”
Shane felt a little trapped by that reality. “How was I supposed to know he knew? Did you want me to ask him? Did you want me to check with him to see if he knew that I was boning his sweetheart before I signed with you?”
Curt slid his plate away. “I can’t wait to get out of this fucking business. I’ve lost my house, my company, my wife, my kids. And then I have you putting a gun to my fucking head to pay you on a contract that we shook on years ago. I couldn’t make the match. You know that. You saw what Danno was like. Fucking intent on making sure that match didn’t happen. Why are you … ”
Shane leaned in good and close. He had a battered and terrified wife waiting for him and a kid in shock, refusing to speak. He had some very serious men looking to track him down. He just wasn’t in the mood to chit-chat or patter backwards and forwards about who’s further up shit creek.
“I gave you time,” Shane said very deliberately. “I took money from people to feed my family on your good word … ”
“You took money to fuck, gamble and fly around like Mr. Millionaire. My family home was sold so you could shove it up your nose,” Curt said.
Shane continued at a deliberate pace. “On your word. On your word I got that money loaned to me. It doesn’t fucking matter what I did with it.” He slid back his chair and stood up. “Make this right tomorrow. I haven’t got anymore time left to dodge these people. Because I promise that if you try to fuck me over with the payoff, I will make sure that whatever happens to my family happens ten times back to yours.”
Shane pulled his collar up.
“That’s right, leave me to handle one last bill, you prick,” Curt said as he watched Shane leave.
The day of the murder.
Texas.
He had been everywhere and dined with everyone. He had ridden in the best transportation the world had to offer. He wore the finest clothes money could buy. He became successful in his life without being able to read or write to a large degree. There was nothing decadent on earth that he hadn’t fucked, ate, smoked, snorted or bought.
But this day, Shane Montrose woke in the back of a broken-down secondhand hatchback on the side of an unknown Texas road.
He opened the door and fell out onto the dusty ground. The sun focused down right on the top of his head which made him sick and dizzy. He stood with his dick in his hand and willed it to work. Just a little. Just a trickle. Anything. Where one part of his body refused to discard fluid, another, his mouth, was way more helpful. He had nothing of substance in his stomach so a swirl of acidic water projected from his lips and darkened the dust around his feet.
He didn’t even bother to try and avoid it. He just stood there with his dick in his hand puking stomach water all over himself.
His shoes, his suit ruined. His pockets empty. His family were terrified and he felt he was just a couple of hours away from ending up on the other side of that dust under his feet.
His stomach quickly and violently heaved and pulled him the opposite direction. He struggled to open his belt in time and squat. No paper either.
“Fuck,” he said with absolutely no conviction.
He was too beat. Too tired. Too hung over. Too jittery.
Curt walked into the hotel bar. He knew today was the day that he makes the deal to get the fuck out of the wrestling business. The time was right. On top of the shit that naturally comes with being a boss, Curt also knew that Danno had been paying his local TV station double what Curt had just to keep Curt’s wrestling show off the air.
Danno was essentially, and effectively, killing Curt’s Texas territory from New York – and without starting another war.
Without TV Curt couldn’t reach the homes to promote his stars to get people excited enough to buy tickets.
No TV equals no business.
But Curt knew Danno wasn’t having it all his own way either. He listened with delight when Tanner Blackwell told him over the phone how Danno had just fucked up the biggest match of all time in Shea Stadium.
Such misery should have brought a great smile to Curt’s face. But he thought that if Danno had just listened to him and his proposal for a main event everything would have been alright. They both would have been rich. Instead, now they were scheduled to meet in Texas so Danno could pay him bottom dollar for his wrestling company that hadn’t functioned properly in years.
Either way, Curt was just happy to be able to get enough money to pay his debts and break out of it with a couple of grand for himself.
All he had to do was get the money before Shane Montrose found him.
Shane was past the point of giving a fuck about anything. He had traveled just a couple of miles down the road and was standing in a musty phone box just outside a tiny town he didn’t recognize.
His vomit was drying into his clothes, he was sucking on a raw bottle of vodka and had a white ring around his left nostril.
“Hello?” Shane said belligerently to the answering voice.
“Who’s this?” Grobie asked from the other end of the line.
Shane was expecting Curt. “Sorry, Mrs. Magee. It’s Shane Montrose. I was looking for your son.”
“What’s this Mrs. Magee shit? You know me more intimately than that?”
As if Shane wasn’t feeling sick enough.
“Have you seen him … Grobie?”
“He should be there by now,” she replied, slightly confused. “He left here about fifteen minutes ago.”
Shane knew she was getting her wires crossed somewhere and instinctively went with it. “He left already?”
“Yeah, unless he stopped somewhere for gas or something,” she replied.
“Okay,” Shane said unable to think of a way to reply properly.
He was about to hang up and try to digest what he’d just heard when Grobie chimed back in again.
“Are you two coming back here to celebrate after? I can roast you a chicken or something?”
Shane was trying to figure out what was going on.
“You could come by yourself anytime. You know that, right?” she asked.
“What? Yeah. Of course.”
Shane’s broken brain pieced together the scant information. A meeting happening now, fifteen minutes from Grobie’s house. He needed more.
“Maybe we could bring back a bottle from here?” he asked, totally unsure of her potential answer.
“That would be perfect,” she said.
Shane hung up and ran back to his shitty car. Whatever was going down, it was happening right now and he wasn’t even sure how far from the meeting point he was.
Annie made her way down to the hotel bar, carrying the rucksack full of money. This was what she wanted, a
piece of business to handle to help her husband get through this.
The bar was quiet and mostly empty. She looked out for a man her husband had described as “a really brown fucker with a white mustache and shaky hands.”
Annie scrutinized the room and ordered a drink. Curt sat by the window and kept a nervous eye out for Shane Montrose. The last thing he needed was him showing up and embarrassing, or derailing, the deal.
“Curt?” asked a lady’s voice.
“Yes?” Curt answered, a little confused.
Annie Garland offered a handshake and Curt obliged while standing up.
“Hello. I’m Annie Garland. I think we met briefly in New York at a party,” she said as she sat down at the table.
Curt thought that maybe Annie was in town with Danno and was just saying hello on her way through. “Oh yes, Mrs. Garland. Your anniversary party. I’m sorry; I wasn’t expecting to see you down here. I was in a world of my own. Has your husband been delayed?”
“He’s not coming,” Annie answered.
“Excuse me?”
“As you may know, my husband is otherwise engaged tonight. Although he is anxious to complete the deal before the main event begins later.”
Curt couldn’t believe that Danno would disrespect him again. He stood up. “I’m sorry, darling, but this is a slap in the face to me and a waste of my fucking time.”
“Sit down, Mr. Magee, or the deal will be pulled immediately,” Annie said, while opening the rucksack. She noticed an envelope on top that said ‘Sorry’ in someone’s handwriting.
“Excuse me?” Curt said.
“I said there will be no second go-around here today or any other, Mr. Magee. My husband’s offer expires the second you leave this bar.”
Curt struggled to contain his contempt for the power this woman seemed to have over him. “What’s going on here? I thought we had a deal? I have a line of people who are looking for payments from me, Mrs. Garland. Going out of business is not a cheap pursuit.”
Curt couldn’t resist looking out the window for the number one person in the line.
“We want to do a deal,” Annie said.
He knew he hadn’t got the time to grandstand. What else could he do only sit back into the seat like a lobster being eased into a pot.
“And he gave you full permission to make the decisions to get this deal done?” Curt asked.
Annie was intrigued by the envelope and opened it under the table. Inside there were two ladies rings. One looked to be an engagement ring and the other a wedding ring.
“I don’t want to prolong this humiliation any further, Mrs. Garland. Your husband promised me a cash deal here today.” Curt’s nerves were beginning to show on his face. It looked to Annie like both of his hands were shaking now.
Annie quickly pocketed the rings and read the note that accompanied them:
I’m sorry boss. I don’t have all the money. I will pay you back. I promise. I’m sorry. Lenny.
“Is there a problem?” Curt asked, starting to get nervous and a little paranoid as to what Annie was silently reading under the table.
Annie knew now she didn’t have the money to make the deal. At a bar in Texas, both Annie and Curt were starting to feel the pressure of this deal.
Shane crisscrossed all the bars and restaurants within fifteen minutes from Grobie’s house. He knew the ones Curt liked to drink in, but there was no sign of him. He waited for the red lights to turn green. Another opportunity to burn through some coke.
He tried to focus on what he knew. Curt wasn’t going to bring Danno to a shitty bar. He was going to try and impress him. Make Danno think that he was a big-shot owner.
He knew, there and then, where Curt was.
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 led Annie to believe that this deal wasn’t dead. He looked sweaty and twitchy and constantly scanned the room.
“My apologies, 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.”
The original deal was for ninety thousand. Curt tried his luck in demanding an extra thirty grand. Annie tried to assert her dominance by cutting him by twenty.
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.”
Shane pulled his dying car into a spot at the edge of the parking lot. He surveyed the area and spotted Curt’s car parked around the side of the hotel, away from prying eyes.
He was positive he was being cut out of a deal again. A deal that could save his life; that could save his family’s lives.
He was too old not to collect on every penny that his broken down body could make him and deals like the one he signed with Curt Magee would never come around for him again.
Shane Montrose wanted what was his.
He left his car and stooped and staggered underneath the windows of the hotel bar. He wanted to scout the ‘get together’ and see what was happening.
He cowered behind a parked truck and took stock of the patrons in the hotel bar through the window. Inside he could see Curt’s back, but couldn’t see much past him. Shane’s position was all wrong.
He moved again to try and get a better angle but he was drawn to the slap of the bar door closing. He saw Curt leaving in a hurry. Shane ducked down and watched him marching towards his car but Curt veered over to the parking lot payphone instead. Shane was about to get up and challenge Curt but the sight of Annie Garland beyond the glass hotel door stopped him dead in his tracks.
Annie?
Shane stooped back down again, almost unable to take in what he was seeing. He never in a million years thought that Annie would be in a deal that would fuck him over. But nothing surprised him in the wrestling business.
She walked outside and went quickly up the steps to her room on the second floor. To Shane it looked like she was trying to avoid being seen. To Annie she just wanted to get back to her room quickly and safely. The end of her meeting didn’t go well. Curt knocked the glasses off the table and left in a rage. She wasn’t going to take any chances.
At the payphone Curt watched Annie take to her room.
“Hello, you have reached the New York Booking Agency, the home of the word’s greatest wrestling attractions. We are unable to come to the phone right now so please leave a message. Thank you.”
Beep.
Curt slammed the phone off the glass before dialing again. Another answering machine. This time with no message. It was Danno’s house machine.
Beep.
Curt didn’t even know where to start. “Danno,” he blurted out. “You fucking fat piece of shit. Sending your fucking wife down was an insult. You know that, Danno? She’s a fucking whore. Who do you think you are trying to stiff me at the last minute? You bring down the money we agreed. That was the deal. Not some light fucking number you made up. The deal. You made a deal.”
Danno’s offer, Danno’s wife and Danno squeezing him out of the business made Curt feel small-time. On his own. Isolated is a bad place to be in the wrestling business.
“And if you think I’m going to take this lying down … well, fuck you.”
Curt slammed the phone down.
Shane watched Curt, from the other end of the parking lot, get into his car and drive of
f at speed. Shane had no idea what to think. He couldn’t figure out what the angle was.
Who was fucking who?
Seeing Annie Garland walk from the lobby and take the outside stairs to her room made him think it was him who was taking it in the ass. From the fucking promoters and their backstabbing and throat slitting. And from the woman who told him she loved him.
“She was in on it all along,” he could only mumble to himself. “That fucking bitch was in it all along.”
Half a mile down the road and Curt Magee could hardly control his anger. He was shaking with adrenaline and his mind was wild with scenes of Danno, and maybe even the other bosses, laughing at him. He couldn’t go home empty-handed. He wouldn’t go home empty handed.
Curt slammed on the brakes and turned his car around.
He was going to teach Danno a lesson.
Five days after the murder.
Texas.
Curt was restless. For days he was waking up constantly with the feeling that he could go back to the way it was. Make all this better. He could do things differently. He hated being on the run. He just wanted out of this fucking business for good.
He rolled from his right hip onto his left hip and punched his pillow into comfort. But an immediate chill ran along his spine as he sensed someone else in the room with him. His eyes shot open and he could see a hooded Shane Montrose kneeling at the head of his bed.
“What the fuck are you … ” Curt tried to ask before Shane grabbed Curt’s mouth and drove a kitchen knife into his neck repeatedly.
But Curt still gargled and struggled.
Shane, now panicked and shocked, began to just hack at Curt’s neck as the blood flowed and gushed from several different areas, spraying up into Shane’s face. He leaned over and pressed his elbow into Curt’s face as he stabbed his stomach area and furiously punched him in the face.
Curt stopped suddenly and it was deathly quiet.
Except for footsteps behind him.
