There was a swaggering menace about him; I felt this unfamiliar swelling in my chest and realised, to my surprise, that it was anger. ‘This lovely lady is my wife, Liam,’ I said, as evenly as I could.
He laughed, out loud. ‘She never is! Your wife?’ As he turned back to Jan I stepped past him and stood by her side. ‘My God, you poor darlin’. How lucky it is for you that Liam’s come along to show you what you’ve been missing. Why don’t you ditch Mr Skinny here for the weekend? Why take an inch when you can have a whole foot?’ He leered suggestively at her and scratched his crotch, like a Spanish crooner.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done it while his hand was busy, but I couldn’t stop myself.
In extreme circumstances, I once kicked a bloke in the balls, but in all my life I had never actually thumped anyone, until that moment. I didn’t really know how to do it, but it seemed to come quite naturally. I bunched my right fist into a tight ball and threw it as hard and as fast as I could with all my weight behind it, at the centre of the Irishman’s smug, grinning face. It was first time lucky: my punch caught him square on the nose, sending him reeling backwards.
As he straightened up, looking at me with complete astonishment, the blood came spurting out, flowing freely over his chin, staining his white, frilled shirt. It was at that point that I began to question the wisdom of choosing the GWA Transcontinental Champion as the target for my first-ever right-hander.
Matthews’ face twisted into a snarl. Jan tried to pull me away, but he launched himself at me. I, of course, was all punched out. I have no idea what would have happened if a huge black hand hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, catching the Irishman by the throat and lifting him clear off his feet.
His face turned bright red in an instant, as his hands grasped Daze’s wrist, and his feet kicked in mid-air. I looked round and up at the giant; the expression of sheer fury on his face scared me far more than Liam ever could have.
‘This lady is my guest.’ He ground out the words as the Transcontinental Champ’s face began to turn blue. ‘I don’t know what you said to make Oz slug you, but I can guess. You ever say anything like it again, or you give Oz trouble over this, then however good you might be, you are fired from this organisation. Understood?’
Somehow Matthews managed to nod. Everett dropped him, like something nasty he’d been obliged to hold against his better instincts. ‘That’s good. Don’t forget it now — I meant every word. Go get yourself cleaned up.’
The bloody, purple Irishman shot me a glance full of hatred, turned on his heel, and headed for the door.
‘I’m sorry about that SoB, Jan,’ said Everett, his anger giving way to embarrassment.
Diane had come to her husband’s side. Surprisingly she looked shaken by the sudden violence. ‘Most of the people in this industry are gentlemen,’ she said, in a soft accent which I thought might have been Southern States or even Californian. ‘That one certainly is not.’
‘That’s all right,’ Jan grinned. ‘He’s lucky I didn’t hit him, instead of Oz.’ She slipped her arm around my waist. ‘He doesn’t always do that, you know. Only when he’s hungry.’
The big man laughed. ‘We better go eat then!’ He stood back, ushering Jan towards the buffet table through the gathering, which was gradually recovering its assembled voice. ‘I reckon he got the message, Oz,’ Everett whispered, as we followed her, and as Diane appeared at his side. ‘But just in case, don’t turn your back on the bastard tomorrow.’
That was something I had decided already for myself.
Chapter 8
The working day began at twelve noon. Before that Jan and I had time for a wander round the centre of Newcastle in the watery sunshine of a mild winter day. We found that the commercial heart of the city was smaller than Glasgow, or even Edinburgh, but it had a nice feel to it, regardless.
The Eldon Square shopping centre housed some pretty impressive stores, but the place was made for me when I found a branch of Slater Menswear, master tailor by appointment to the glitterati of Glasgow. I took it as a sign from someone, and bought a new red bow tie for my first ever television appearance. Somehow, it seemed to steady the nerves which were gathering in my stomach.
The taxi which was to take Jan to the Metro Centre dropped me at the Arena dead on twelve noon. I could see at once that the roadies had been hard at work. The GWA logo seemed to shout at the city from its position on the wall above the main entrance, flanked by huge likenesses of Darius and Liam.
With the bag containing my dinner jacket and trousers slung over my shoulder, I stepped into the hall, after showing my staff pass to the security men, who were on guard already. Inside, all the temporary seating had been put in place, much of it set out on floor space which on other occasions was used by the city’s basketball and ice hockey teams.
Since I had left the place, four lighting towers had been built, one in each corner of the arena. I looked around and saw television cameras at three fixed points and a fourth, a remote, fixed on a long boom. Above the wrestlers’ entrance to the Arena, curtained off at the top of the ramp, the roadies had erected a huge TV screen, from which a still image of The Behemoth snarled down at the empty hall.
‘Not bad, huh?’ It was a gentle voice, one I hadn’t heard before. ‘Sometimes he even scares me.’
In civvies, without the battle-dress and the white leather scrum cap, even Jerry Gradi’s voice seemed to be different. He was wearing a blue suit, beautifully cut from a sort of shiny material, which I guessed had not come off the peg at Ralph Slater’s, and patent leather shoes. He was clean shaven and his ginger hair was neatly groomed, so neatly that he could have been taken for a television presenter — okay, a huge television presenter.
‘I didn’t think you were on this week,’ I said, genuinely surprised to see him.
He grinned at me. ‘I’m not. I got a hamstring tweak, so all I’m doin’ is yelling from the sidelines on video.’
‘But Everett said you were on kids’ TV this morning.’
‘So I was, but my slot was done by nine-thirty. I was gonna stay in London for the day, but I changed my mind. They drove me to the airport and I caught a flight. Looks like you and I beat the rest of the guys here.
‘You all set for your first night?’ he asked.
‘Just about.’ I paused. ‘What happens this afternoon? Everett said there would be a run-through.’
‘That’s right,’ Jerry nodded. ‘A dress rehearsal, so that we can get the TV angles right.The guys and gals will go through the whole show, minus the high impact moves.’
‘Why do you miss those out?’
‘We never take a chance on someone gettin’ hurt just before the show. Even if it is unlikely. Our guys are careful.’
He looked at me. ‘This may sound odd to you, but career-wise the worst thing a wrestler can do is to hurt another wrestler. Word gets around, and he becomes a bad risk. I known guys could only get work in Japan, because they were too dangerous.’
‘Is there anyone in GWA you don’t like working with?’
The big man considered my question at some length. ‘Rockette split my head open once with that guitar prop of his. It’s made to give on impact, but he caught me with the edge of the damn thing. I had woids with him after, and he’s been careful since.’ I grinned at the thought of what those ‘woids’ might have been.
‘There’s the Irish guy, I suppose. Everything he does is on the limit. Daze and I would can him, only he’s the best goddamn flier either of us have ever seen.’
I must have looked puzzled again, for he explained. ‘In this sport, your body dictates your style. The big guys, like me and the British Bulldog, and Hogan and Big Andre, some of us might have one or two off-the-ground moves, but mostly we go for power — piledrivers, bodyslams, that sort of thing. The smaller, lighter guys like Matthews, and Snuka, and Savage, they go for more acrobatic stuff. Matthews can fly two thirds of the way across the ring off that top rope.