'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.'
'What's the problem? You have a shitty day or something?'
'Would you like to hear about my day, Frank?' she asked, face void of expression. 'Would you like that?'
He put the beer down on the night table and fished a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. 'You obviously don't give a shit about my day, so sure, let's talk about yours.'
'Craig Pearson called earlier.'
'Oh, yeah?'
'Yeah.'
'Did he want me to call him back?'
Sandy maneuvered into a sitting position, pulled her knees in against her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. 'He wanted to let you know that your vacation pay will be included with your last check.'
Frank stood up and lit a cigarette. 'Anything else?'
'He said he was sorry things worked out the way they did.'
'I'll bet.'
'Did he fire you, Frank?'
'I quit.'
'You quit.'
Frank sighed, blew a stream of smoke at the floor. 'That's what I just said.'
'And when did you plan to tell me?'
'I wanted to – '
'Or weren't you going to tell me at all?'
'Sandy, for Christ's sake – '
'Were you planning to leave every morning and only pretend to go off to work? Or is it just that what you do with your life is no longer any of my goddamn business?'
'I've tried to discuss my plans with you.'
'Your plans?'
Frank stared at her. 'What do you want from me?'
'How about the truth?'
He pulled his tie free from his neck and hung it over the doorknob. 'This is an exciting time for me and you're ruining it. I'm on the brink of finally doing something with my life – our life – and all you can do is shoot it down and get all worked up over some stupid ass sales job.'
Sandy sat forward, let her feet touch the carpeted floor. 'I've got news for you. Stupid ass jobs like yours and mine keep groceries in the cupboards, Frank.'
'For me, staying there is like mailing in the rest of my life,' he said softly. 'Why can't you understand that?'
'Do you think working as a receptionist causes in me a constant state of orgasmic bliss?' she asked through forced, humorless laughter. 'Let me solve the mystery for you. It doesn't. I'd much rather be one of those rich women who shop and sip tropical drinks all day, but there's this little bitch of a thing called reality that comes along on a daily basis and screws everything up. There's no great conspiracy to ruin your life, Frank, it's just the way things are.'
'And exactly the way they'll always be if I don't move now.'
Sandy combed her hair behind her ears with her fingers and studied her husband's face. 'Sweetie, listen to me. You're a salesman. Period. Accept it, and take pride in it.'
'It's already set,' Frank said, squatting next to the bed. 'Vincent and I are going into the wrestling business.'
Sandy looked at him as if he'd just explained that he and Vincent had decided to become astronauts and were leaving for the moon at dawn. 'Lots of people have hobbies, Frank,' she said evenly. 'Most pursue them part- time.'
'We've rented a place right here in town over at that new office park on Vine Street. Everything will be in place and we'll be up and running within a week.'
'How the hell can you afford to rent an office? So help me God, if you've touched our savings account – '
'We got a loan.' Frank stood up, opened the first two buttons on his shirt. 'Don't worry about it.'
With a slack jaw, Sandy slid from the bed onto her feet. 'You got a bank loan without consulting me?'
'It's not that kind of loan.'
She moved closer, her small fists clenched at her sides. 'Don't even tell me you borrowed money from those cretins in Vincent's family.' Frank turned his back, removed his shirt and began rummaging through his dresser for a T-shirt. 'How much, Frank? How much did you borrow?'
'Enough to get things started and enough so that we'll have a few bucks ahead of us before the money starts coming in.'
Sandy found her cigarettes on the nightstand and quickly lit one, ignoring the lighter Frank offered. 'So let me make sure I understand this. You're going to become a professional wrestling promoter overnight – just like that – and the whole thing has been financed with money borrowed from gangsters.'
'They're not gangsters.'
Sandy slammed her lighter onto the dresser. 'Vincent's brother Michael? No, he's an interior decorator, isn't he? For God's sake, Frank, you know what guys like that do to people who can't pay them back.'
'You've seen too many movies. Michael owns some businesses, that's all. We couldn't get the amount of
