Body Slammed! (10 page)

“Man, if I was gonna hang around with wrestlers, I'd hang out with cool guys, like Jason Cage or Kid Dynamo,” Goose went on. “I wouldn't waste my time with . . .
The Jobber
.”

“Yeah, well if those guys had offered me a free ticket to the UFC matches, I'd be going with them, but they didn't,” Jesse said.

Sometimes, listening to Goose run his mouth got on Jesse's nerves. He'd known him and Wendell since middle school, when he moved to San Antonio. At the time, Goose and Wendell were huge ACW marks. As soon as they discovered that his father was the Angel of Death, they clung to him like cats on a tree. They wanted to know the inside scoop on pro wrestling. The guys figured wrestling wasn't real, but they weren't sure how it worked. They wanted to know how wrestlers could get beaten up night after night and not be permanently maimed.

Jesse had continued to hang out with Goose and Wendell in high school because of football. Bucky joined their group because Wendell had befriended him. But Jesse found Bucky's high-pitched voice irritating. In fact, he was beginning to find all three guys irritating.

When he arrived home, Jesse emailed his mother to tell her about the Sidewinders' win, and about going to Romo's with TJ. Naturally, he left out the part about putting the wrestling mask on the Deaf Smith statue. Jesse also didn't tell her that he had gone to TJ's apartment. He didn't think she would mind. Still, he decided not to mention it. He didn't tell his grandparents or his father that he had been to TJ's apartment, either. As far as they were concerned, he and TJ had spent the entire evening at Romo's.

Jesse asked his mother if she was still seeing Homer Mondragón. She said she was but still insisted that they were just friends. She told Jesse that he would get to meet him in a few weeks, when he flew to Dallas for Thanksgiving.

Jesse's heart sank. He had planned to spend Thanksgiving with his mother, not with some dorky algebra teacher horning in on their time. Was his mother so desperate for companionship that she would date the first guy who asked her out? What was wrong with her?

There was no way Jesse would fly to Dallas now. Not with Homer Simpson in the picture. He told his mother he was sorry, but that he wouldn't be able to spend Thanksgiving with her. He said he had a huge science project due after the Thanksgiving break, and that he would have to spend all that week working on it. His mother wrote back to say she was disappointed she wouldn't get to see him, but she understood.

Jesse knew she would. She was a teacher.

While he was writing to his mother, he received an email from TJ, who sent the photo he had taken of Jesse and the Deaf Smith statue. Jesse laughed out loud when he saw it. TJ added a message that read: “I spoke to your warden. The man sounds like a toad. Does he look like one? See you tomorrow night. TJ”

Jesse printed TJ's photo and thumbtacked it to his bulletin board. His grandparents and father seldom went into his room, so he didn't have to worry that they might see it.

At six-thirty Saturday evening, TJ arrived at Jesse's house. Before leaving for the UFC matches, Jesse's grandmother told TJ not to keep Jesse out late the way he did the last time. “I can't sleep unless I know he's home.”

“You don't have to worry about Jesse, Mrs. Baron,” TJ said. “He's in good hands with me. I'll bring him home as soon as the matches are over.”

TJ didn't have many friends. The guys he'd grown up with—Danny Barrow, Pete Zagarenski, Eddie Moreno—had all gone off in different directions. The only friends he had in the ACW were Mark Baron, Carlos Montoya and Chris Choate. But Chris lived in Indianapolis, and Mark and Carlos were kind of old to be hanging out with. Jesse was much closer to his age. TJ would show him how to have a good time. He would do things with Jesse that he wished his pops had done with him.

TJ's father was Brett Masters, the chief felony prosecutor in the Potter County District Attorney's Office in Amarillo. His job was to put away the bad guys, to get them off the streets, to lock them up.

He didn't have a problem dealing with criminals—until his own son was arrested for shoplifting. When TJ was fifteen, he had been caught stealing a video game from the GameStop store at the Westgate Mall. TJ could have afforded to buy the game, but he decided to take it for the thrill, to see if he could get away with it. He never noticed the plain-clothes cop who was watching him. As a favor to his father, the police handed TJ over to him.

An embarrassed and irate Brett Masters blasted TJ, telling him that he had brought shame and disgrace to the family. “Do you want to end up in prison with the low lifes I have to put up with, Tristan? That's where you're headed if you don't watch it.”

Reflecting back on the incident, TJ thought,
No, pops, I'm not. I'm gonna be a main-eventer on ACW, you'll see. I'm gonna be famous. And I'm gonna make more money than you ever will.

TJ's father hated professional wrestling, which he called the lowest form of entertainment on television. He wouldn't let TJ watch it on their large-screen TV in the den because he didn't want that “trash” soiling the beauty of their precious family room. But that hadn't stop TJ from watching
Monday Night Mayhem
on the small TV in his bedroom. Or from watching mixed martial arts on Tuesday nights.

Thousands of excited fans filled the Alamodome. Jesse didn't see an empty seat in the arena. He had no idea MMA was so popular. But then, this was a pay-per-view event, and it was being televised nationwide.

They sat at ringside, five rows up from the octagon cage. TJ had gotten the tickets from Carlos Montoya, who had to give them up because, at the last minute, he had been booked to wrestle at a house show in Los Angeles.

TJ skimmed through the program of the night's line up. “Danny Mojica's fighting Vic ‘Venom' Chesky for the heavyweight title in the main event,” he told Jesse. “But the guy I really wanna see is Judson Tanner. Judson used to wrestle for Star-Spangled Wrestling when I worked there. He's a big mouth who thinks he can compete in MMA. He's been lucky so far. But tonight, he's going up against a real fighting machine, Paul ‘the Razor' Rankin. I can't wait to see Rankin destroy him.”

Since Jesse didn't follow mixed martial arts, he had no idea who TJ was talking about.

The first bout featured
a
light-heavyweight match between Joel Mercer and Bruno Powers. Mercer came out swinging, but Powers quickly took him down. He mounted Mercer and swung at him with wild punches. Mercer tried to roll out, but Powers stayed on top of him, connecting with solid fists to Mercer's face. A cut opened below Mercer's right eyebrow, and blood poured down his cheek. Powers kept up the attack until the referee stepped in and stopped the fight. The match was over in fifty-two seconds.

The crowd leaped to its feet, clapping and cheering. The referee raised Bruno Powers' hand in victory, while the ring doctor climbed inside the cage to check on Mercer, who was bleeding profusely.

In pro wrestling, despite what the audience thinks it sees, wrestlers work hard to protect each other from getting hurt. Unlike cage fighters, like Mercer and Powers, pro wrestlers know they are entertainers, and they understand that their role is to put on a show for the crowd, not to prove how tough they are.

The second bout pitted two middleweight fighters, Arlis McCoy and Steven Ortiz. Early in the first round, Ortiz, who had a background in Muay Thai boxing, landed a good body kick, followed by three quick jabs. He went for a spinning kick, but McCoy caught his leg and took him down. Ortiz rolled away and hopped to his feet. McCoy charged Ortiz, slammed him against the cage and grabbed him in a guillotine choke. Ortiz picked him up and dropped him on the mat, but McCoy didn't break the hold. He tightened the choke as Ortiz struggled in vain to break it. Finally, Ortiz tapped out in just over a minute.

These were the two fastest bouts Jesse had ever seen. In pro wrestling, even squash matches are given more time. But then again, Jesse thought, MMA fights aren't scripted.

“Judson's next,” TJ said. “I bet he doesn't even last as long in the cage as Mercer and Ortiz did.”

Minutes later, Judson Tanner, flanked by his trainers, walked down the aisle. TJ jumped out of his seat and stood along the protective railing as Judson Tanner neared him.

“Hey, Tanner!” TJ shouted. “How does it feel knowing that the Razor's gonna leave your face looking like a cheap pizza?”

Judson Tanner stopped and glared at TJ. “Strong words coming from a jobber. Maybe after I'm done with Rankin, I'll invite you to step inside the cage with me.”

“Ooh, I'm scared,” TJ said, wiggling his fingers. “Have you forgotten how I used to beat you week after week when we were in SSW?”

“You never beat me, you idiot,” Tanner said. “That's the way our matches were booked. This is real fighting, now, Masters. I'm not an actor, like you. Now sit down before I smash your face.”

TJ reached out and shoved Tanner. “Show me what you got, punk!”

Tanner lunged at TJ, but his trainers quickly pulled him back. Three security guards immediately rushed down the aisle and grabbed TJ.

TJ tried to push them off. “Get your hands off me, you rent-a-cops. I'm TJ Masters. I'm an ACW wrestler!”

Jesse didn't think TJ really wanted to fight Judson Tanner. He was just ribbing him. Unfortunately, the security guards didn't see it that way.

One of the guards clamped a headlock on TJ, and he and the others dragged him up the aisle, with TJ screaming something about a lawsuit. Jesse followed them, wondering what would to happen to TJ.

TJ was taken to a group of San Antonio police officers, who were standing in the corridor by the concession stands.

“This guy's causing trouble,” a security guard told the officers. “Get 'im outta here.”

Without hesitation, one of the officers pointed toward the exit doors and said, “Okay, pal. Let's go.”

TJ tried pleading his case, but the officer wasn't interested in listening to TJ's explanation. “Go home, or go to jail,” he said firmly.

TJ pressed down the wrinkles on his shirt and brushed his sleeves with his hands. “Come on, Jesse, let's blow this place. The night's still young. We'll find something better to do.” When they reached the exit door, TJ smiled and shrugged. “What can I say? If you always follow the rules, you'll miss all the fun.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

W
hen Jesse arrived home from church Sunday afternoon, he heard his father's deep voice resonating from the bathroom. The door was open so Jesse peeked inside.

“For it has been written, for it has been said: on the Day of Judgment, fire will rain upon you, and you shall . . . ”

“Dad?”

His father whipped his head around, startled. His hair was wet, and a Just For Men hair color box and applicator sat on the counter. At forty-five, Jesse's father's gray hair was coming in fast.

“Oh, hi, champ. I, uh, was just trying out some material I might use when I become Elijah Nightshade.”

Jesse sighed, realizing that his mother had been right. In his mind, he heard her say,
“Your father will continue to wrestle no matter what ridiculous gimmick the ACW pins on him.”

“So you're still planning to go through with the new gimmick?” Jesse asked, disappointed.

His father wiped his forehead with a towel, then wrapped the towel around his neck. “Yeah, I thought I'd give it a try. Anyway, if the Elijah Nightshade character doesn't work out, I'll consider other options.”

Jesse wondered if the “other options” included retirement. He didn't think so. “How did your match go last night?” he asked.

His father made a face. “I jobbed to Red Lassiter.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“At least I didn't have to job cleanly. I lost by disqualification.” Jesse's father studied his reflection in the mirror as he ran his fingers along the sides of his head. “That's the direction my storyline is taking. According to the script writers, I'm supposed to grow frustrated that I can't win a match, so I'll take my anger out on my opponents. I'll beat them up, ignoring the ref's five-count, until I get disqualified. I'll still have to job matches, just not by clean pins.”

Jesse thought Mr. Collins was being smart. If the Angel of Death lost matches only by disqualification, he would still be able to maintain his credibility as a monster heel. That way the fans would continue to be interested in him after he became Elijah Nightshade.

“Creative hasn't worked out all the details yet, but part one of my transformation will take place in a couple of weeks on the Monday night show,” Jesse's father said. “Then I'll make my first appearance as Elijah Nightshade at
Checkmate
, the next pay-per-view.”

He removed his clear-plastic gloves and tossed them in the trashcan. Then he and Jesse walked out of the bathroom and sat at the dining table while he let the color set.

“By the way, champ. Me and the boys saw what happened between TJ and Judson Tanner at the UFC matches last night.”