Night Work (12 page)

    Frank sat in one of the chairs on the patio. "Dad, look - "

    "Please," he insisted. "Here me out." Joseph sipped his wine cooler and then continued. "When I was twelve or thirteen - somewhere in there - my father caught me associating with some boys he felt were a bad influence. He sat me down, and in his own way explained that there was only one thing in this life no one could take away from you. What you've got up here." He pointed to his temple, watched for a reaction from Frank. "Knowledge, intellect. Unless you give them away, only time can steal them from you.

    "Even after all his years of hard work," he continued after a moment, "my father still couldn't afford to send me to college. I had to rely on scholarships and grants. I could have done a lot of things with my life, Frank, but I chose to teach. I chose to spend my life trying to instill in young people how important the pursuit of education can be. Maybe that makes me a mark as far as your friends are concerned, but I believe it makes me more of a man than any of those goons can ever hope to be. I'm certainly neither rich nor famous, but I am at peace with myself, son. I'm able to look myself in the eye without being ashamed of who or what I am."

    "Believe it or not, I'm familiar with the concept."

    "I didn't mean to imply - "

    "No, of course not."

    "You're impossible to talk to." Joseph returned to the grill and flipped the burgers. "If I didn't care, I'd say nothing. I wouldn't even bother to - "

    "Have a little faith in me, Dad. That's all I ask."

    Joseph turned and faced him. "I think that's all either of us are asking."

    The slider opened suddenly and Connie poked her head out. "Is it safe?" she asked in an ominous voice.

    Frank stood up as Joseph grunted something unintelligible. "We're through, Mom. Come on out."

    Connie and Sandy joined the men on the patio, and like a storm cloud passing overhead Joseph's demeanor reverted back to its usual neutral mode.

    Another conversation began, but Frank's thoughts could not have been further away.

    

    

    

    The hotel room was on the first floor and offered a view of a vast parking lot and a truck-stop diner beyond. Unaware or just careless, Vincent opened the heavy drapes halfway, catching himself in the warming, early morning light. The abundance of black hair that stretched from his chest down to his thighs all but obscured his very white, flaccid penis. Vincent scratched himself, momentarily startled to remember that he was not alone.

    "Morning," the woman said through a yawn.

    Vincent nodded at her but said nothing. He vaguely recalled picking her up at a bar after the show the night before. She'd been one of the locals hoping to meet the wrestlers and get a brief glimpse at their world from the inside. It never seemed to matter what town they were in, how long they planned to stay, or even how good the show was - groupies were a constant.

    "What time is it?" the woman asked, pushing a thick strand of teased blonde hair from her face. "Feels early. Is there any aspirin in the room? My head's gonna friggin' explode if I don't do something about this headache. I get 'em something awful when I drink like I did last night."

    "You must get them a lot."

    The woman's false eyelashes batted at him like sticky black wings. "Huh?"

    "Nothing."

    A sudden knocking on the door broke the silence. The woman gathered the sheets around her and quickly smoothed her hair. Vincent opened the door to reveal Frank holding his briefcase in one hand and a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee in the other.

    "Jesus, put some fucking clothes on, will ya?"

    Vincent puckered his lips and kissed the air between them. "Don't act like you don't like it."

    Frank put the coffee on a table near the foot of the bed and smiled at the woman. "Hiya doing?"

    "Hi."

    "We're going to need a little privacy, okay, honey?"

    Vincent nodded at the woman. "She was just leaving."

    "I was hoping to take a shower first."

    "What's the matter, no running water at home?" Vincent jerked his thumb toward the door. "Take off."

    The woman crawled out of bed, let the sheet fall to the floor, and began staggering about the room in search of her clothes. "I should've known you were an asshole."

    "You're right, you should've." Vincent told her. She soon located her things, gathered them into her arms, and stomped angrily into the bathroom.

    Frank looked at Vincent and rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine what you saw in her," he said, sipping his coffee. "Could it be the fact that her tits are roughly the size of my head?"

    Vincent pulled the lid off the other cup of coffee and emptied a bag of sugar into it. "They're fake."

    "They look it."

    "They feel it." He chuckled. "Like sucking on a broad in a raincoat."

    "I'll pass."

    "How about you? You snag that little redhead that was following you around last night?"

    Frank lit a cigarette. "Remember Sandy?"

    "It's so free and easy. I don't know how you can pass the shit up, Frank."

    "Simple. I'm a better man than you."

    Vincent took a swallow of coffee and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Nah, that can't be it."

    The bathroom door burst open and the woman moved quickly to the bed, pulled her purse from the headboard and slung it over her shoulder. "Thanks for an average night, fuck-head."

    Vincent waved at her. "My pleasure."

    "Fucking jerk." The woman smirked. "And you weren't that good, either."

    "Yeah, okay, and your pussy drips diamonds. Hit the road, mattress-back."

    She spun around and left, slamming the door behind her with surprising force. Vincent sighed and casually scratched himself. "I guess she thought I was gonna ask her to marry me."

    Frank set his briefcase down on the table and flipped it open. "Okay, we've got business to take care of."

    Vincent eyed him suspiciously. "You sleep in that fucking suit, don't you?"

    "Stop fooling around. We've got to be in upstate New York by noon."

    "Why so early?"

    "Ticket sales aren't going well and the sponsor's having a fucking cow. I'm going to ride up with Charlie. We're taking off in about five minutes so catch a ride with Benny, all right? Also, make sure Delvecchio gets his ass there on time. I want the ring delivered and set up by two o'clock."

    "The shot doesn't start until eight."

    "I don't care. I want that drugged-out motherfucker set and ready to go, understand? Did you see him last night? He's so fucked up on heroin he doesn't know where the hell he is half the time, Vin. Come on, we can't have that kind of shit going on in a high school."

    "I'll talk to him."

    "The guy's got the best ring in the business, and to this point he's been reliable. I don't give a shit what he does on his own time - you know that - but he's got to straighten his act out while he's working."

    Vincent nodded. "What else?"

    "Gus is going to meet us on the way back at the shot in Connecticut. He's having a little trouble with that deal in Youngstown, Ohio. Get on the horn and close it for him."

    Vincent wandered across the room, found his underwear and pulled them on. "That's his job, no?"

    "I'm afraid he's gonna blow it, Vin. Just call the guy and close the sonofabitch, all right? I don't even care what kind of money we pull on it. We're deep into Pennsylvania that week and it looks like the deal in Indiana's going to come through. Youngstown's a perfect stopover."

    "What kinda points we got on the Indiana shot?"

    Frank rifled through some paperwork. "Four grand."

    "So I've got some room?"

    "Plenty. I don't care if we make a thousand bucks, just close that date and tell Gus to find somebody who can comp some rooms, all right?"

    "I'll see what I can do."

    "And tell him to bring the leads and the routing date for next week with him to Connecticut." Frank tossed an envelope onto the table between them. "There's your cut from last night. I didn't want you to get rolled so I hung onto it."

    Vincent smiled. "What a guy."

    "There's one more thing," Frank said hesitantly. He took two one-hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and handed them to Vincent. "Before you leave, make sure you stop in and talk to the motel manager. He's waiting for you in his office."

    "Now what?"

    "The midgets trashed their room again. Smooth it over."

    He snatched the money from his hand. "Little fuckers."

    "Just our luck to have dwarves with drinking problems, huh?"

    "This shit's gotta stop, Frank. It's like throwing money out the window. Next time, I'm taking it outta payroll."

    "Tell them that. I'm outta here."

    Vincent gave him a quick nod and headed for the bathroom. "See ya upstate."

    

    

    Frank and Charlie had been at the venue, a regional high school, for about an hour when the others began to arrive. Charlie had spent the time preparing the payroll for the evening while Frank had done his best to convince the show sponsor, the school's athletic director, that the purchases made at the gate would most likely make up for what had been modest ticket sales.

    As Frank left the director's office, he ran directly into Benny Dunn, who had arrived only moments before and already had a list of problems that needed to be resolved. "Walk with me," Frank told him as he continued down the hallway toward the gymnasium. "Is it me or do all these places look exactly alike?"

    "I just checked out the locker room," Benny told him with a frown. "We've got visitors."

    A sharp pain shot through Frank's temple. "Jesus Christ, it never ends with these guys. What've we got this time?"

    "One uniform, one suit."

    "Did Vincent come up with you?"

    "Yeah, he's around here somewhere."

    "Find him."

    The two men entered the gymnasium through two large doors. Charlie Rain was sitting in the bleachers pounding on a small calculator, his briefcase open and balanced across his knees. From the rear entrance Luther Jefferson wandered in with two other wrestlers, all carrying large gym bags.

    "Charlie!" Frank called across the empty room, his voice echoing along the walls. "I need you to handle something."

    Charlie nodded, held up a finger, and continued to work his numbers, furiously jotting down figures on a legal pad.

    "What's up?" Luther smiled, strolling closer. "Nice room."

    "Yeah," Frank agreed. "Listen, I need you guys to stay out of the locker room for a few minutes, all right? I got some local business to take care of."

    Luther nodded knowingly. "No problem, brother."

    Frank turned back to Benny. "Tell our two friends I'll be with them in a minute. As soon as I clear them out you and your crew secure the locker room and gymnasium entrances and exits. But get Vincent first and tell him I need him here pronto. Also, what's the word on the state athletic commission boys?"

    "They should be here about five."

    "I don't want any surprises, Benny. Make sure I know the bastards are here the minute they hit the parking lot."

    "Always."

    "Also, has anyone seen Delvecchio?"

    "He was right behind us on the highway," Luther said. "He should be landing any minute."

    Charlie approached Frank and Benny slowly, his expression cautious. "What's going on?"

    Frank looked at Benny. "Anything else I need to know?"

    "Nothing that can't wait."

    "Okay, go." Frank turned his attention to Charlie. "Payroll all set?"

    "Of course."

    "Here's what I need you to do. Luther, come in on this." Frank sat on the edge of the first row of bleachers and opened his briefcase. "This guy needs to move seven hundred tickets to break even tonight. As of this moment he's only sold a little over five hundred."

    Charlie ran a hand through his hair. "Shit, he's gonna eat a couple grand. So much for a return date."

    "I told him he'd probably get a few hundred people at the gate, but we know that's bullshit. In a town this size he'll be doing something if he pulls an extra fifty or sixty."

    Luther shook his head. "It's a strong card, Frank. Didn't he promote it?"

    "Evidently not." After a quick search of his briefcase Frank found a business card and handed it to Charlie. "That guy's our local radio connection. We did a commercial trade with him and they've been giving tickets away all week."

    "I'll see if we can set up a phone link with Luther and…" Charlie turned to Luther. "Who are you working with tonight?"

    "The Lariat."

    "The Lariat, good. I'll get us on the air, you give them some heat, talk up the shot - you know what to do. Maybe it'll generate something. Hell, even if it doesn't, it'll look good."

    Frank managed a slight smile. "The athletic director's waiting for you in his office. Down the hall and hang a left. Make the call from there."

    "Let's do it."

    "One more thing, Luther," Frank said, pulling him close and lowering his voice. "You and I know this guy's going to lose money. I don't want him to be able to blame the show."

    Luther nodded. "I don't do bad shots, Frank."

    "I know, brother, I know, but I want a little something extra on this one."