ring. The fans exploded into cheers as Diablo stood in apparent awe of his opponent's recovery, then turned to sneer and hurl verbal insults at a particularly enthusiastic young fan seated at ringside. While he was distracted, the Puma ran the length of the ring, leapt into the air and locked both legs around Diablo's neck, taking him down to the mat with a spectacular flying head-scissors. As the Puma rolled off of his fallen opponent and climbed to the top rope, the fans began to chant his name. Diablo, obviously groggy, struggled to his feet and staggered about in an attempt to locate the Puma. But it was too late. Arms stretched toward the heavens like an Olympic diver the Puma launched himself off the top rope and onto the chest of Diablo Gonzalez. They fell into a tangled heap in the center of the ring and the Puma hooked Diablo's leg. The referee administered a dramatic three-count and the bout was over. A loud bell sounded above the roar of the crowd and the Puma's arm was raised in victory. As he left the ring, a throng of mostly young people mobbed him. Glistening with sweat, his sculpted chest heaving with each breath, the Puma patiently took time to sign autographs and briefly converse with his elated fans.
At ringside, Gus looked at Frank and smiled. 'He's good.'
Frank nodded. 'I've seen them both on television.'
'How many people you figure Rain has jammed in here?' Vincent asked. 'Seven, eight hundred?'
'More like five or six,' Gus answered quickly.
'Ten bucks a ticket, you're talking about a six thousand dollar gate,' Vincent said.
'Rain's putting a couple thousand in his pocket tonight,' Frank told them. 'Easy.'
Vincent folded his arms. 'Not bad.'
The ring itself looked enormous in the small high school gymnasium. In the center of the basketball court it was an impressive structure with neon ropes, a bright mat, and several canvas banners that read ECPWL draped along its skirt. An adequate sound system powered the announcer's microphone and was used to play music during the wrestler entrances and between matches. It was located at a long table that had been pushed directly against one side of the ring, where the timekeeper, Charlie Rain, and other officials were seated.
Once the Puma had worked his way through the crowd and into the locker room, an announcer in black tuxedo with microphone in hand, climbed through the ropes into the ring and announced the next match.
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.'
