Wearing Purple

Chapter 52

Getting to Ingliston from Glasgow was a damn sight easier than getting to Barcelona. Without breaking any speed limits (well, not too many; it’s difficult to tell with the different restrictions on the cross-Glasgow motorway), I made it to the pay-per-view event venue from my flat in just under an hour.

When I got there, the ring was in place. Darius Hencke and Johnny King were inside the ropes working through their title match, and Everett was supervising the installation of the special effects by Gary O’Rourke and his team. He spotted me as soon as I walked through the door and waved me across to join him.

As I reached him, I saw that there was another man with him, hidden completely from my sight by the giant’s bulk. ‘Oz,’ said Everett, ‘this is the gentleman I told you about, Alex Kruger, the special effects co-ordinator. Alex, Oz Blackstone, ring announcer; you’ll have seen him in action often enough.’

Kruger nodded and offered a handshake. ‘Pleased to meet you at last. You handle yourself well in there.’

‘Thanks,’ I answered, deciding that mutual adulation was in order. ‘Your special effects ain’t too shabby either.’

‘Ah, I just plan them,’ he said. ‘Gary and the road crew put them together.’ His English was very good; maybe too good for a German, I thought. Then I saw his small metal Belgian flag lapel badge. ‘My job is to trigger them in order, as I’m cued by the television director.’ He pointed to a scaffolding tower at the back of the arena. ‘I sit up there, at a little console, with my headphones on.’

‘That’s them all in place, boss,’ came a voice from behind me, one that I had heard before; Gary O’Rourke’s unmistakable Glaswegian tones. ‘Hello mate,’ he said, catching sight of me. ‘How’re you doing? Sorry to hear about. . you know.’

‘Thanks Gary.’ I was touched by the genuine sympathy in his voice, as I barely knew the man, but I had been with the GWA long enough to realise that by and large it really was the family that Everett had set out to create.

‘Everything’s ready to roll?’ the big man asked.

‘Aye, lights, lasers, whiz-bangs; the lot. Ready for the telly boys tae do their run-through.’

‘Okay. Hey Ted,’ Everett bellowed, in the direction of a raised booth behind Alex’s dais. ‘We’re ready to run the light show for you.’ In the distance, a man stood up, waved, showed a thumbs up sign, then held up his right hand, fingers splayed.

The giant turned towards the ring. He waited until Darius and Johnny had finished the move on which they were working then called up to them. ‘Five minutes guys, then we dim the lights for the FX run-through.’ The Black Angel of Death, breathing slightly heavily after being tossed, impossibly, acknowledged him with a nod and a wave. As he did so, Alex Kruger ran to his tower and climbed a ladder, up to his position.

There was a different effects sequence for the opening of the show, and for each major wrestler’s entrance. The overture was the most spectacular thing I’d seen in the GWA so far: a dazzling array of lights, whirling blue lasers, the yellow stars of the EU flashing in and out on the giant television screen and a series of wire-guided silver flares which seemed to drive right into the ground beside the wrestlers’ gateway.

As always, though, the most dramatic curtain raiser was reserved for Daze. The same light sequence that I had seen used in Barcelona was augmented by the superstar’s face flashed up on the screen and projected onto the arena roof, and onto the ring floor by powerful, crimson-tinted lights. It was crowned finally by the explosion of four geyser-bursts of sparkling red firework flame from canisters strapped to each ring-post.

‘Wow!’ said the big man, when it was all over. ‘You guys really excelled yourself this time. I never saw those corner flares go so high.’

Gary O’Rourke beamed with pleasure at the accolade. ‘D’ye like them then, boss? Ah told the factory to stick a bit mair powder in for this show.’

‘Then they got it just right,’ said Diane, appearing beside us as the road crew foreman spoke.

‘How do you like this, boys?’ she asked us. ‘It’s make-over time for The Princess.’ Gary, Everett and I turned simultaneously to look at her.

I heard Gary gulp, Everett gasp and me whisper, ‘Jeez!’ as she twirled before us.

She was dressed in a black leather costume. . or rather about one third of a black leather costume. If she had told Everett that it would be less provocative than the Barcelona outfit, she had been kidding. It reached from her neck to her ankles, yet it was just about the most naked piece of clothing I had ever seen. All of the sides and most of the back had been cut away, and the remainder was bound together with a few tight leather straps. Even the inside legs had been scooped out from an inch above her ankles to an inch below her. .

Altogether, it was the stuff to make old men weep and young men lock themselves in the toilet for some time.

‘There’s a black leather cap to go with it as well,’ she said. ‘Oh yes, and a whip. I’ve decided that the Black Angel needs a Satanic handmaiden.’ She dropped into character. ‘Ain’t that right, Daze?’ she purred.

‘We talk about this later,’ Everett growled.

‘No we don’t, honey,’ his wife drawled back at him. ‘I wrote my own contract with this organisation. It gives me creative control over my costumes. Me and no one else.’

‘Yeah, but I plan the shows, and if I say that you and that fucking peep-show are out then that’s the way it is.’ I had never heard Everett swear at anyone before, far less his wife. I wished dearly to be somewhere else, and I could see that Gary felt the same. Quietly we drifted into the background and left the Davis family drama to play itself out.

Diane had changed into a shirt and jeans by the time I left, but clearly the flames were still smouldering.

My temporary flatmate was in when I got back to Glasgow just before eleven. So were the boxes from a takeaway Chinese which I found in the kitchen.

‘If you’re going to live here even for a day, Dylan,’ I grumbled, ‘the watchword is tidy.’

‘Sorry Oz.’ He sounded genuinely apologetic. ‘I was going to clear them up, but Susie called.’

‘Does she want you to move back in?’ I asked hopefully.

‘As a matter of fact she does, but I reckon it’s best this way, till we get things sorted.’ My heart sank once more.

‘Any news on those copy documents?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. The boy was working late again this evening, so she couldn’t do anything. But the good news is that he always plays football on a Wednesday, so she’ll be able to do it tomorrow night for sure.’

‘Aye,’ I countered. ‘If we can both still see after tomorrow night. I tell you, boy, if those flares of Daze’s don’t blind you, then his wife’s cossie will!’