Wearing Purple

Chapter 16

I was beginning to feel like a seasoned pro as we did the Friday run-through. None of the wrestlers showed all of their routines, but even the limited moves which they practised were slick, powerful and impressive.

Whatever my nephew, wee Colin, might have felt about his idol, the Bee-moff, I had my own favourite, and she was Sally Crockett. It struck me, as I watched her rehearse her match with Linda Lashe, a French girl with significant attributes, that pound-for-pound the GWA’s top woman superstar was as fine an athlete as I had ever seen.

She had speed, she had daring and she had considerable physical strength; on top of all that, it seemed to me with my limited knowledge that she was a pretty good wrestler too. I said as much to Jerry as we stood at ringside, watching her work.

‘Yeah, ain’t she just,’ my giant pal murmured. His voice had an odd, dreamy sound, which made me look up at him. He was gazing at the ring with a look of pure adoration, as the GWA World Ladies’ Champion leapt from the top rope, caught her opponent’s head between her feet and flipped her across the ring.

‘Here,’ I said. ‘You fancy her, don’t you?’

He didn’t react at first, then he looked sideways at me. ‘She’s one of the most talented wrestlers I’ve ever seen,’ he answered, well on the defensive.

‘Of course she is, but you fancy her as well. Don’t tell me otherwise.’

The monster’s shoulders seemed to slump. ‘Okay, so I do. A gal like Sally isn’t going to look twice at an ugly lump like me. All I can do is pretend to beat people up. I ain’t no smoothie like that Liam guy.’

I looked at him incredulously. ‘Matthews! A smoothie? Liam’s as smooth as a porcupine. He thinks he’s God’s gift, but his chat up lines are marginally less sophisticated than “Me Tarzan, you Jane.” Smoothie! Christ, that’s rich.’

Then the truth hit me, and was out in the same instant. ‘You’re afraid of women, Jerry, aren’t you?’

He shook his head. ‘No. I’m afraid of the power they have.’

‘What’s that?’ I asked him.

‘The power to turn you down. The power to reject you.’

I was amazed by the hidden complexity of my new friend. ‘How many times have you been rejected by women?’ I asked him.

He shook his head again. ‘Not the point. Anyway, plenty of women come looking for me. You might be surprised but some chicks get the hots for The Behemoth.’

‘Yet when The Behemoth sees someone he really likes he’s afraid to do anything about it, in case she turns him down?’

‘That’s about it. It happened to me all through High School, and all through College. It’s an old American truth, Oz: the quarter-back gets his choice of the cheerleaders, the defensive line get the broads from the bleachers.’

‘Sod that for a game.’ I looked up at the ring, where the Ladies’ Champ had just rolled up Linda Lashe in a difficult move called a small package, for a very neat pin. ‘Hey Sally,’ I called to her, as she stepped through the rope and jumped down to the floor. She waved and headed towards us. As she approached, the big man laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed but, potential broken collar-bone or not, my mind was made up.

‘Hi Oz,’ said the Mancunian lass, cheerily. ‘What’s up?’

‘My big pal here, Mr Gradi, once he’s finished grinding my shoulder to dust, has something that he wants to say to you. It involves going for dinner to One Devonshire Place tomorrow night, after the show.’

She looked at me, and gasped, slightly. ‘What was your last stage role, Oz?’ she said in her soft English accent. ‘Cyrano de bloody Bergerac? Let the bloke speak for himself.’ Her gaze swept upwards. ‘You want to take me out, Jerry?’

Blushing bright red, the man mountain shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘That would be nice,’ he mumbled.

Sally nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, it would. A table at nine-thirty should give us plenty of time to get there.’ Turning to head for the dressing room, she stopped after a couple of paces, and looked over her shoulder. ‘I thought you were never going to ask,’ she said.

I watched her as she trotted away from us across the arena, until Jerry’s great paw settled on my shoulder once again, more gently this time. ‘Just as well for you she said yeah,’ he growled. ‘Every so often I get to beat up a ring announcer.’

He paused, frowning. ‘Where’s One Devonsheer thing?’ he asked. ‘What is it?’

‘Just off Great Western Road,’ I told him. ‘It has a claim to be the best restaurant in Glasgow. It has a quiet atmosphere: very discreet. Just right for the occasion.’

The great face fell. ‘If it’s that good, how will I get a table for tomorrow night at this notice?’

‘You’ve got one. I had one booked for Jan and me. Use my name and take it over.’

‘But won’t Jan kill yah?’

I thought about that one. ‘No,’ I told him, hoping I was speaking the truth. ‘Jan’s a sport. She’ll be okay when she realises it’s a sacrifice made in a noble cause. Besides, we’ll have plenty more Saturdays in One Devonshire. I’ll take her to the Ubiquitous Chip instead. She’ll like that just as much.’

I turned back to look at the ring. Suddenly it seemed smaller, a lot smaller than the twenty feet square which I knew that it was. I had never seen Daze in there before, ready for action in his wrestling gear. He seemed to fill it with his great black towering presence. I glanced across at Tommy Rutherford, aka Rockette, as he stood in the far corner, beyond the referee. I suppose I expected him to look scared, but he didn’t. Like a good pro, there was an expression of confident aggression on his face. He began the sparring by circling Daze, very fast for a man of his size, kicking out at his ankles, calves and the back of his knees.

‘You fight a guy much bigger than you,’ Jerry muttered, ‘you gotta try to take him down to the floor, to give yourself a chance.’ As he spoke, Rockette changed those tactics. He was a stocky guy, but he sprang from a standing position to deliver a two-footed drop kick to the centre of Daze’s chest. But as it landed, the big man simply puffed out his torso, and his opponent seemed to be propelled away from him, landing heavily on his back.

‘I gotta get into position now,’ said The Behemoth, moving round to the far side of the ring, and leaving me completely focused on Daze as he swung into action. I had never seen anything like it. I had been impressed by Sally Crockett, but the huge Everett was in a class by himself, even though he was simply sketching out his moves rather than slamming through them with full force. He was lightning fast, smooth, supple, and tremendously strong, building the pressure on Rockette so that even in the play-fight the Londoner, a big man in his own right, soon wore a look of genuine desperation.

And then The Princess made her entrance. ‘Why y’all, Daze,’ she called out as she sidled towards ringside, positioning herself in front of Jerry. ‘Is that the best you can do against a fat little man like him?’ He had been holding his opponent shoulder-high ready for a finishing move, but at her taunt, he simply let him fall to the ring floor.

In line with the script, he moved slowly across to the ropes as if he was hypnotised; and in his turn, Rockette mimed a scramble across the ring floor, the grabbing of an imaginary guitar, and its swing, to crash against the huge back. Everett shook his head and turned, almost in slow motion. A great arm shot out and seized the other man, then with no apparent effort he picked up the bulky wrestler, turned and threw him casually over the top rope.

It looked for all the world as if he had simply chucked two hundred and fifty pounds of Tommy Rutherford at his wife. And as Jerry stepped in front of Diane and caught him in mid-air, across his great chest, it looked for all the world as if he was handling nothing heavier than a basketball. He held him there for several seconds, although I noticed that Rockette’s arms were clamped on to his shoulder and back, to spread the weight, then slammed him down into the ringside mat.

‘That’s great,’ Everett called down from the ring. ‘Let’s do it again.’ I looked at the Rockette man as he said it, and had to smile. It was clear from his expression that he could live without another flight into the unknown.

Rehearse they did, though, three more times. Finally, the ringmaster was satisfied that the performance was foolproof, and that Jerry’s dodgy muscle would stand up to the flying wrestler’s bulk. ‘Okay,’ said Daze, as he stepped over the rope and jumped to the floor. ‘That’ll do it for tonight. Dress rehearsal tomorrow midday as usual. Let’s hope this one’s trouble-free.’

I moved round the ring to join them as they headed for the exit. ‘How’s Liam?’ I asked Diane.

‘Chastened,’ she said, with a smile. ‘He may think that he’s a chick magnet, but his mom thinks he’s a little boy. And for the next week at least, she’s in charge.’

I sneaked a glance at Everett, and saw a very faint smile flicker around the corners of his mouth. Just for a moment, I felt a strange cold tremor, as an obvious possibility finally forced itself into my impressionable brain.