Funny Money

13 Judo Queen

Richard Roundtree,” Valentine said aloud, remembering the name of the actor who’d played Shaft as he drove away. A good-looking guy and a sharp dresser, at least in the movies. Davis looked a lot like him, although he wasn’t nearly as sharp.

The roads had iced up, and he drove cautiously to the Body Slam School of Professional Wrestling, the daylight doing a slow fade in his mirror.

He parked in front of the building and got out. A knot of middle-aged bikers stood around the storefront window. From inside he could hear bodies slamming the canvas, the concussive sound making the glass vibrate. The burly boys in leather shook their heads.

“I’d like to do her,” a ponytailed biker said.

“Do her?” another mocked. “Hell, she’d do you.”

Valentine shouldered his way to the front. The wrestler getting all the attention was a knockout in a black leotard, her braided hair hanging halfway down her sweaty back. She was beautiful in an overwhelming sort of way. Big all over, and proud of it. The ponytailed biker tapped Valentine’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said.

Valentine glanced at him. “Hey yourself.”

“You’re blocking the view, old man.”

“Is that Judo Queen?”

“Sure is.”

Through the window, Valentine saw a muscular guy in sweats climb through the ropes. Judo Queen charged across the ring and took him down with a perfectly executed dropkick. The ponytailed biker tapped Valentine’s shoulder again.

“Like what you see, old man?”

“She’s something else,” Valentine admitted.

The bikers erupted, making barnyard sounds. They were pushing fifty, big-gutted, their lives running out of road. Valentine opened the front door and went in.

The school’s interior was sweaty hot. Up in the ring, Judo Queen had her opponent in a hammerlock, a classic submission hold. Wrestling and judo had a lot in common, with cleverness playing as great a role as technique. Laying his overcoat over a metal folding chair, he took a seat.

For the next twenty minutes, he watched Judo Queen practice the gimmicky moves of her trade. He could see why Yun had taken a liking to her. Hard worker, no nonsense, eye-of-the-tiger intensity. Mixed in was a nasty attitude — it was there every time she took her opponent down — and right away he could imagine her hurting someone.

At the session’s end, her opponent clapped his hands and said “Go!” Judo Queen ran across the ring, hit the ropes, then sprinted back and rebounded off the other side like a human slingshot. It gave new meaning to conditioning, and after five minutes she staggered to a corner and fell into the ropes.

“See you Monday,” her opponent said.

“Right,” she gasped.

Her opponent climbed through the ropes. Rising, Valentine went to the ring apron. Judo Queen lifted her head.

“Would you believe I pay that guy two hundred bucks a week to go through this?”

“It’s sure paying off.”

“Thanks. Those mutts with you?”

Valentine glanced over his shoulder. The bikers were still there, their collective breath fogging the glass.

“No,” he said.

Judo Queen grimaced and stood erect. “I’ve got a knot in the middle of my back. Know anything about massage?”

“A little.”

“Please. It’s killing me.”

He climbed into the ring and got behind her. With his thumbs, he worked the troubled muscle up and down. Normally, he didn’t go around touching strange women, but he had an audience and she’d asked. Seize the moment, seize the day.

“Thanks,” she said. Turning, she stuck out her hand. “Kat Berman.”

“Tony Valentine.”

Her handshake was firm. The Mercedes was visible from the ring, and Valentine had a sneaking suspicion she’d seen him arrive and decided he was someone important.

“So, what can I do for you, Tony?”

“I need to speak to you.”

Kat smiled. “Let me guess. WCW. No, WWF.”

He had to think. Those were the wrestling federations. Kat thought he was a promoter, here to make her dreams come true.

“AARP,” he confessed.

She giggled like a little kid. She didn’t seem so nasty anymore, so he let the bomb drop.

“I’m a friend of Yun’s.”

Her face turned to stone. “Did he send you?”

“His wife.”

“I’ve got no argument with the Yuns,” she said, jabbing his arm to make her point. “I offered to pay him for those lessons. Did Lin Lin tell you that?”

“That’s not the issue.”

Another jab. “I’ve got a kid to support. A little girl.”

“Did you have to wear the crane on your uniform?”

“I couldn’t afford another one, Mr. Mercedes Benz. When I’m famous, he’ll be flattered I’ve got that stupid bird on my tit.”

“I doubt it.”

Her hand came up to slap his face. Valentine intercepted it, squeezing her wrist and holding it firmly. Outside, the bikers were jumping up and down. One waved a Budweiser can.

“I’ve taken a thousand body slams and a dozen fat lips to get where I am,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Nobody is going to stop me from succeeding. Understand?”

And with that, Kat pulled her arm free, grabbed his wrist, and turned sideways, getting her weight centered to throw him. She was standing in a corner, which meant she planned to hurl him over the ropes, and into a row of folding chairs.

That got Valentine mad. Didn’t she see the gray hair? For all she knew, he was wearing a pacemaker. Grabbing her braid with his free hand, he yanked it hard.

Kat yelped and stood up straight, a beginner’s mistake. With his right leg, he swept her feet out from under her. She hit the canvas hard.

She lay on her side, stunned. A drop of blood appeared beneath her left nostril. She covered her face with her hands.

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

Valentine turned around. Glancing at the bikers, he saw a guy who had not been there before. Tall, thin, with a widow’s peak and a murderous gleam in his eyes. Was this the abusive boyfriend Lin Lin had warned him about?

The boyfriend pointed at him. Then drew his forefinger across his throat.

“Go away!” Kat screamed.

Valentine went away.

Outside, the bikers were sharing a twelve-pack. The boyfriend was gone. At the end of the block, a black Mustang pulled away from the curb with a squeal of tires.

“You know that guy?”

The bikers’ faces were solemn, the fun gone.

“You’re a real jerk,” the ponytail said.

“Why’d you have to hurt her,” another biker said.

Valentine heard the threat in their voices. Was it the beer, or the fact that they outnumbered him? He removed his hands from his pockets.

“I didn’t see any of you rushing in to defend her. But that would have taken guts, and courage. Something you poor slobs drank away years ago.” He waited for one of them to start something. There were no takers, so he finished his discourse. “I’ve spent most of my life dealing with losers like you, so let me give you some advice. Get a haircut, get a job, and get a life. Oh, and one more thing. Get out of my way.”

They obliged him. Driving away, he glanced in his mirror. The ponytailed biker was holding his beer can as if to throw it. He hit the brakes hard.

The biker lowered his arm, then sauntered away. The others followed like a pack of sheep. Valentine punched the accelerator and watched them disappear in his mirror.