that show.'
'Sure,' Gus said evenly. 'I remember it sucked.'
Before Frank could think of something to say, Charlie slammed the palm of his hand onto the table and burst out laughing. 'I like that, Gus! Don't take shit from anybody, right?'
Gus allowed a hesitant smile. 'That's right.'
Still laughing, Charlie noticed an elderly couple glaring at him from a nearby table. 'Hey, Methuselah, can I help you with something?'
The waiter returned with their drinks. 'Anything else I can do for you, gentlemen?'
Charlie shook the man's hand as an excuse to slip him a twenty-dollar bill. 'All set, brother. Just do me a favor and check in with us now and then, okay?'
'Of course, sir.'
'An old trick I learned,' Charlie explained as the waiter moved away. 'If you want good service tip ahead of time. Works like a charm.'
Frank sipped his drink. 'I'll try to remember that.'
'As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted by the living dead at the next table, I've been in entertainment on one level or another my whole life. I've been on top and I've been at the bottom. One time at the Emmys, I sat right between Caroll O'Connor and Jack Lord. No shit. A few years later I came out of my third visit to rehab and wound up working at Burger King. See the way I figure it, it does me no good to bullshit you guys. I'd rather cut to the chase and lay it all out. Truth is, wrestling saved my ass. It was a way for me to stay involved in the entertainment business and still make a decent living. Over the last few years I've pulled my shit together and brought East Coast Professional Wrestling League from an idea into a nice little income. I'm no goof, okay? I got a wife and a house and a car and bills just like everybody else. But I've also got a plan that'll make the ECPWL a national promotion within five years.'
Frank looked up from his drink. 'Why do you need us?'
'I don't remember saying I did.'
'Then why are we here?'
Charlie crushed his cigarette in the ashtray between them and immediately lit another. 'Maybe we can help each other out, who knows? I talk to a lot of people, Frank, and almost all of them are lying sacks of shit, especially the ones in the wrestling business. But you ask anybody and they'll tell you Charlie Rain's different. I'm respected, liked – even trusted by some – in a business where all three are rare. I've made a mark – granted a small one – but still a mark. Problem is, I'm all alone out here, practically a one-man operation. It does me no good to jerk you guys around and waste your time or mine. The bottom line is, I need backup from people I can trust. I need someone who can put money in the pot and help me turn ECPWL into a legitimate power. Now, I don't know if you're talking to any other independent promoters, and I don't give a shit if you are, but what I can offer you that nobody else can is very simple. A chance to get in on the ground floor of a company that's small but already respected and growing; a fast track into the wrestling business, and an opportunity to become full-fledged partners should things go according to plan.'
'Sounds tempting,' Frank said.
Charlie stood up. 'I gotta go bang a piss. While I'm gone, you guys figure out what you can offer me.'
'What do you think?' Frank asked when Charlie was out of earshot.
Gus watched Charlie cross the bar. 'He's like a fucking car accident. You don't wanna look but you can't help it.'
'The bastard's doing exactly the opposite of what Paulie said he'd do. It's a finesse job.'
'No shit.' Gus removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. 'He knows Paulie told you he'd be full of shit, so he's trying to disarm us by parading out the honesty routine.'
Moments later, Charlie returned. 'Tell me something. What demented motherfucker thought up the urinal?'
'Just don't eat the mints,' Gus cracked.
'I like this guy,' Charlie said to Frank. 'I need another drink, anybody seen the waiter?'
'He's out spending your tip.'
Frank cleared his throat, pushed his chair away from the table a bit, and crossed his legs. 'Back to business.'
'You're up,' Charlie smiled.
'We're in the booking business,' Frank began. 'We work nightclubs, mostly small to medium acts. It's a decent and steady business, but to tell you the truth, it's reached its limit in terms of growth. We need a big act; something we can tap into that has the potential to grow as big and as quickly as we can. Wrestling is hot right now and seems to be an obvious choice because over the next few years it's only going to get hotter.'
'There's a lot of money to be made,' Charlie agreed.
'Charlie, listen, I don't claim to be a big-shot with all the answers, but I can tell you a couple things I do know. A good deal of business is image, and there is and always will be strength in numbers. One man, however talented and experienced, does not a company make.'
'True enough.'
'I can offer you booking services for the ECPWL. I can also offer a cash investment that will better secure both of our positions in the business while also eliminating some of your own expense. We can discuss terms and actual figures once I have a better understanding of your company profit structure. You primarily sell shows to high schools, colleges, and a handful of state fairs. I can put people in place who can handle all your booking and sales needs, but I can also offer… support.'
Charlie smiled. 'You mean the well-muscled kind?'
'I do.'
'If we grow that becomes essential,' he admitted. 'Right now I'm small enough so I don't step on anybody's toes, but once I expand that'll change. Without sufficient support, as you put it, we'll hit a wall.'
Frank finished his drink with a single gulp. 'That's what I can do for you, Charlie.'
'Sounds good so far.'
'Of course, there are conditions.'
'I'm all ears.'
Frank sat forward, let his forearms rest on the table. 'If I'm to restructure my company and make an investment in yours, I have to have some guarantees to protect my interests. One, I need an exclusive booking deal. My people and only my people sell the ECPWL. Two – '
'Hold on.' Charlie lit another cigarette. 'How can you expect me to give you an exclusive when I have no idea if you can even sell my product?'
'I'm willing to accept a three-month trial.'
Charlie saw the waiter, signaled him and ordered another round of drinks. 'What happens if during the three months you sell nothing?'
'Who does your booking now?'
'I do.'
'And how many shows do you normally sell in a three-month period?' Frank asked.
'Two shots if I'm lucky. It depends on the time of year.'
Frank nodded confidently. 'If we don't deliver at least two shots in a three month span of time, I will personally pay you what you would've pulled down.'
The drinks arrived and Charlie quickly drank nearly half of his. 'You're a serious man, Frank.'
'At times.'
'I'm impressed. Go on.'
'You said in your offer to us that we could look forward to becoming partners at some future point.'
'That's right.'
Frank shook his head. 'That's wrong. Again, if I'm to put everything on the line, I expect you to do the same. I have no desire to be your employee, Charlie. If all I wanted to do was straight bookings, I'd have gone to one of the big boys. If we do business together it's all or nothing. We're partners from the word go.'
'Are you nuts?' he asked, nearly choking. 'You expect me to just turn over a portion of my company – a company I've busted my balls to build – just because you're willing to handle my bookings?'
