'How should I approach Rain?' Frank asked.
Paulie scratched his crotch. 'Tell me what you know.'
'I graduated from school in Boston in 1981. I learned the broadcasting and promotions business, worked in radio for a couple of years – '
'Doing what?'
'Promotional sales. The money sucked and job security was even worse. I wanted to try and get in on the ground floor with one of the big event promotions or talent-booking firms in New York or Los Angeles, but I was newly married and my wife didn't want to move. Needless to say, that didn't leave me a hell of a lot of options.'
'Broads – always the fucking problem – and wives are the worst. Pain the nuts.'
Frank forced a bit of laughter. 'I had to find something steady that paid decent, so I took a retail sales job. I'm still there, only I'm assistant manager now.'
'What do you sell?'
'White goods.'
Paulie frowned. 'Sheets and pillows, shit like that?'
'No, no. Refrigerators, stoves, dishwashers. I work at Appliance Mart over in Fairhaven.'
Paulie seemed unimpressed, and Frank didn't blame him. He sat quietly smoking his cigar for a few minutes then asked, 'You do anything else?'
'I get in on a scam now and then for extra cash,' Frank admitted, 'but nothing serious.'
'Ever been pinched?'
'Not as an adult.'
'What'd they get you for as a minor?'
'Assault and battery. Twice.'
Paulie laughed. 'Got a temper, huh?'
'I'm mellowing.'
'Why you wanna get involved in wrestling, Frank? Why not music or boxing or something else?'
'I always loved wrestling, used to watch it all the time up until a few years ago.'
'Christ, don't ever say that to nobody else. Makes you sound like a mark.'
'Sorry, I – '
'Don't be sorry, just watch what you say is what I'm trying to tell you.'
'Between you and me, Paulie, I don't want to spend the rest of my life selling stoves to housewives, you know what I'm saying? Maybe if I can make a few moves and get in with the right people I can turn things around.'
Paulie considered what Frank had said before responding. 'Does your old man know about this?'
'Does it matter?'
'I guess not.' He sighed. 'It's just that I always liked your father, Frank, and I wouldn't wanna do anything to make him think less of me.'
Frank wasn't sure that was possible.
'With all due respect, Paulie, I'm a grown man.'
'Which makes me one dried up old fuck,' he said with a laugh. 'Okay, kid, we'll leave him out of it.'
'Good. Now, when I meet with Rain, should I be honest with him?'
'Hell no.' Paulie sipped his coffee. 'You got to understand something. Except for a handful of guys, everybody in the business acts like they're more than they really are. The problem is, nobody ever knows for sure who's telling the truth and who isn't, so you don't trust nobody and you go about your business assuming everybody you deal with is full of shit. It's just the way things are. You never shoot the works, understand? Keep Rain guessing. He'll do the same to you.'
'What did you tell him about me?'
'Only that you're a friend of a friend and a man that's to be treated with respect,' Paulie answered. 'All he knows is that you're a businessman of some sort, looking to get into the game. If you go telling him you sell refrigerators or some shit like that, he'll laugh right in your face and you'll never get another shot. He'll spread your name around like manure, and nobody in the business'll ever take you seriously.'
Frank shrugged. 'Then what the hell do I tell him?'
'Make something up. Tell him you book acts for local nightclubs. That way it sounds like you're in a similar line of work and you're not some accountant or something. Remember, no matter what you say or do, until you prove different, everyone you run into in this business is gonna think you're a mark anyway. It ain't no different than a con game at the carnival, Frank. Same principle, cabeesh?'
'Yeah,' Frank nodded. 'Cabeesh.'
Paulie struggled up off the couch, waddled to the TV and turned it off. 'Rain's inside, you're not. All he wants to hear is what you can do for him. If he's gonna last he's got to expand, and he can't do it alone or he would've by now. Sell him on your business skills, it's your best chance.'
'What else do I need to know?'
'More than I can tell you,' Paulie said. 'You'll pick it up as you go. All I ask is one favor, all right?'
Frank stood up. 'Of course.'
'You know my son, Raymond?'
'Sure.'
'He's fucking stunadz,' Paulie snapped. 'I love him, don't get me wrong, but he's fucking stunadz. I got him into the business, showed him the ropes, and what's he do? He goes in and rips people off – and not just marks – the boys, other promoters, everybody. He almost ruined my name.' Paulie moved closer, his once cheerful face turned dark. 'Jesus Christ couldn't tell you how ashamed I was – my own flesh and blood acting like such an asshole. Still, I forgave him. Raymond's my only child, what else could I do?'
Frank swallowed with some difficulty. 'Don't worry about – '
'I want you to understand something. I would never let anyone get away with making me look foolish again. Do what you got to do, just don't ever make me regret opening this door for you, Frank.' Paulie offered his hand. 'Just don't do it.'
Frank shook his hand. It was clammy to the touch and damp with perspiration. 'I'll never do anything to embarrass you, Paulie. You have my word.'
'C'mon,' he said, all smiles again. 'I want to show you something.'
They left the den and Frank followed his host through the kitchen into a small windowless room with wall- to-wall carpeting.
'This is where I come when I really want to relax,' Paulie said, switching on an overhead light. A small leather bar with matching stools filled the back wall, and a trophy case of silver and glass stood prominently to the left of the doorway, loaded with awards and four ornate championship belts. An official-size pool table filled the center of the room, and nearly every inch of wall space was covered with identically framed photographs of Paulie with several wrestling stars and television people during various stages of his career.
'This is incredible,' Frank mumbled, looking around.
Paulie went directly to the bar and removed two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. 'Have a drink with me.'
'A drink? It's fucking ten o'clock in the morning.'
'C'mon, c'mon, it's good for ya.'
Frank hesitated in front of the trophy case and studied the belts. 'I remember seeing that belt on TV years ago.'
'Danny Crawton wore that strap.' Paulie moved out from behind the bar with a drink in each hand. 'He was my first champion. Used to call him Golden Boy, remember?'
'When I was a kid.'
Paulie handed Frank his drink. 'Sonofabitch could work a room like nobody I ever saw. Him and Vampire Zoltan used to whip the marks into such a frenzy, it'd sound like the whole goddamn building was gonna come tumbling down.' Paulie grinned. 'Take a hard look around, Frank. Even though most of the cash I made over the years is gone, I got memories nobody can ever take from me. It ain't exactly your ordinary kinda life, but if you're good at it it's one hell of a ride.'
