Charlie Rain sat at the ringside table beaming like a proud parent.
Gus leaned over so he could make eye contact with Vincent. "What do you think of him?"
"Haven't even met him yet."
"What do you think so far?"
Vincent grinned.
Later, after two more matches had concluded, the announcer told the crowd there would be a fifteen-minute intermission. Charlie shot to his feet and approached his new business partners with the same energy he'd displayed in Providence. "Frank, you made it."
"How are you, Charlie?" Frank smiled. "Great show."
"Top shelf," Gus said. "Top shelf, Charlie."
Charlie smiled at Vincent and offered his hand. "I don't think we've met."
"We haven't."
"Charlie," Frank said quickly, "this is my partner, Vincent Santangelo. Vincent, Charlie Rain."
"Jesus, Frank, you got more partners than a law firm."
"No," Vincent corrected him. "Only one."
He glanced at Gus then looked at Frank with uncertainty. "A man likes to know who he's crawling into the sack with, you know what I mean?"
"Vincent's my partner," Frank explained. "Gus is our sales manager. You'll be working closely with all three of us."
"Sorry I couldn't make the Providence meeting," Vincent said. "I had a previous engagement, you know how it goes."
Charlie offered a broad smile. "Hey, we're all here now, right? OK. Terrific. Can you guys stick around for a while?"
"Sure."
"Good, because there's a few people I want you to meet. I'd take you in the locker room but the boys get a little edgy about people they don't know wandering around back there."
"We're going to be paying their salaries," Vincent said. "I suggest they get over it."
Charlie's face turned bright red, and he forced a nervous laugh. "It's nothing personal, it's just the way it is. Like I told Frank, it'll take time to work you guys into the performance end of things."
"Just so long as it doesn't take too long."
"Sure… I'll, ah, I'll be right back."
As he disappeared into the locker room, Vincent looked at Frank and winked. "Relax, I know how to handle this guy."
"Just be cool."
Charlie returned moments later with a black man dressed in stone washed jeans and a sleeveless sweatshirt. "Boys, I want you to meet Luther 'Dark Train' Jefferson, professional wrestling legend and ECPWL Heavyweight World Champion."
As they made their introductions Frank marveled at the shape Jefferson had managed to keep himself in. This was a man he'd seen wrestle when he was a child, which meant the "Dark Train" had to be at least fifty-something. He was a shade over six feet with a physique of pure muscle most men half his age would've killed for. His head was shaved and his face featured both a goatee and the brutal remnants of the countless battles he'd endured over the years. His forehead was littered with scar tissue, his nose flat and crooked, and one of his ears cauliflowered, but despite his rugged appearance, Jefferson carried himself in a relaxed, amicable manner.
"Luther is our chief talent booker," Charlie explained in a quiet voice, glancing around to make certain no one else could hear. "I book the headliners and the specialties – you know, stars, broads, midgets – and Luther handles the rest of the card. He trains most of the under-card talent himself. Luther defends his title as part of every ECPWL shot, and he works exclusively for us."
"You know," Gus said suddenly, "I saw you wrestle in the Boston Garden dozens of times back when I was in high school."
"Shit, you're making me feel old."
Gus laughed. "Oh yeah, I saw you wrestle all the greats."
"Yeah, I tangled with all of them at one point or another."
"Hey, did you ever fight – "
Vincent shot Frank a look that should have maimed if not killed. "We won't keep you," Frank said, interrupting Gus's question. "I'm sure you're busy."
"Yeah, I got to get back to the boys. Nice meeting you, fellas. Look forward to working with you." As Jefferson returned to the locker room, Charlie glared at Gus as if he'd temporarily lost his mind.
Oblivious, Gus shrugged. "What's the matter with you?"
Rather than answering the question, Charlie focused on Frank and Vincent. "Luther also runs our room."
"What does that entail?" Frank asked.
"If all the matches aren't already arranged when the card is sold, Luther does the match-making. He also decides who gets put over."
"Put over?"
"To be put over means to win. Except for the main event, where either I make the call or let the headliners work it out themselves, Luther decides who wins, who loses, and how it plays out."
Vincent looked directly at Gus. "You mean it isn't real?"
Charlie laughed. "I hate to dump all this on you in just one night, but the Easter Bunny's a lying cocksucker from way back, too."
Before the intermission was over, Charlie introduced them to Bobby Kelley, the editor of a national wrestling magazine, and Delta Diamond, the ECPWL Women's Champion. While Kelley interviewed Frank for a story on the expansion of the ECPWL, Vincent did his best to keep Gus away from everyone else.
On the ride back to Massachusetts, from the backseat of the GMC Jimmy, Vincent leaned between the bucket seats and said, "Gus, you think you could do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"The next time you meet one of the wrestlers, keep your fucking mouth shut."
Gus lit a cigarette, glanced nervously in the rearview mirror. "I was trying to be friendly."
"Did you hear what I said?"
Gus looked to Frank for help, but he had apparently fallen asleep in the passenger seat. "Yeah," he said softly. "I heard what you said."
"We're supposed to be professionals. If we come off like star-struck fans nobody'll take us seriously." Vincent was so close to him Gus could feel his breath on the back of his neck. "Don't embarrass me like that again, you understand?"
"Okay, Vin. No problem."
Vincent sat back. "Remember when all the cunt wrestlers were just a bunch of big ugly bull-dykes?"
"Yeah, that's changed, huh?"
"You see the ass on Delta Diamond?"
Hopeful that the confrontational portion of the conversation was over, Gus cracked a smile. "See it? I'd eat a bucket of the bitch's shit just to sniff her asshole."
Behind him, in the darkness, Vincent laughed.
Frank loosened his tie, grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and moved quietly through the dark kitchen. He stopped in the open doorway to their bedroom and rubbed the bottle against his forehead. It was hot and stuffy in the apartment and the cool glass felt good against his flushed skin. He waited a few moments before twisting off the cap then nearly finished the entire contents in a single attempt.
"What are you doing?" Sandy's voice asked through the darkness. Frank switched on a small lamp on the corner of her dresser. His wife was laying on her side in a T-shirt and a pair of light cotton panties. The only window in the room was open, all the sheets had been kicked down to the foot of the bed and a small oscillating fan on the night table circulated the air but did little to cool it.
"Hi." Frank sat next to her on the edge of the bed. She smelled vaguely of talcum powder and coconut. "I just got home a few minutes ago. Thought I'd have a beer and watch you sleep a while. I do that sometimes."
Sandy propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him. Her hair fell back away from her face and tumbled across her shoulders. "That's creepy, Frank."
"Creepy? What the hell's creepy about it?"
"It just is."
He put a hand on her shin, slowly slid it up between her thighs. They kissed softly on the lips, and Frank noticed her nipples pressed against the sheer fabric of the T-shirt. "You smell good, baby."
Sandy removed his hand from between her legs, returned it to his own lap. "Don't even think about it."