Riding Little Red in the Hood
May 25, 2016 12:39:32 GMT -6
"Mr. God" Benjamin Atreyu, Spencer Adams, and 3 more like this
Post by Mr. Wright on May 25, 2016 12:39:32 GMT -6
Riding Little Red in the Hood
A Taylor Wright Tale
I could feel the breeze go up the torn holes in my denim jeans. I had my jeans purposely ripped because ‘slightly worn’ is the in style right now. I also dig the way my knees look; a little callused from my work as a contractor putting in floors and shit. Just because you wear those knee pads don’t make it so your knees don’t get fucked up.
My black leather coat keeps me warm in the brisk spring air. When will it fucking get warm? The weather is fucking with my shoulder. I broke it when I was in high school playing football. We were playing the biggest physical team in the league and first series of the game I was playing corner back on defense, ran across the field and delivered a perfect form tackle on their star running back- number 13- I’ll never forget that number. The coach had us scout him and keep an eye on him. He came my way and I stopped him for 5. Then he went the other way, ran about 20 yards before I could find the perfect angle to catch up to him, took him the fuck out and caused a fumble in the process.
I was gonna make that mother fucker suck my dick after the game but then it happened. I was playing running back and the ball came to me. My tackle- Brett Knoll, a guy with aspirations to be a fucking truck driver… he had such a low outlook on himself that he STRIVED to be a truck driver. And there’s nothing wrong with being a truck driver, if that’s where you end up. But to WANT to do that and have THAT be your MAIN goal out of high school. Fuck, nicca, who you think you are, some sorta bitch or something.
Yes… yes he is a bitch. And he missed the fucking block and the linebacker came in, lifted me up and powerbombed me on my neck. I was out… probably got a concussion, but they didn’t diagnose shit like that then. I woke up and I was still holding that football in my broken arm. They couldn’t even get the ball outta my hands when they broke my arm! But that was the first of many trips to the emergency in my life.
And now here I am, looking fine and feeling fine except for this constant ache in my left shoulder from that time when I was in my prime of football. That dream went to the wayside and now I have a new job opportunity in Chicago. The UCI came a callin… well, I heard about it because you know, that shit’s not exactly on the up and up. I ain’t going there to become the next Hulk Hogan or nuttin, because that ain’t happening anymore. I’m going to kick some ass. I’m going because I wanna hurt someone and that seems the best way to do it.
Funny story, turns out that as long as everyone is on board and the fight is between two consenting adults, just like fucking, it’s legal. Of course there’s still bitches out there that cry rape when they were asking for it… I mean in the ring, of course. I would never treat a woman that way. They deserve to be loved and cherished and explored. They are a wild creature and they need taming.
Enter Mr. Wright.
So I’m walking down Wilcox Ave in Brooklyn NY past the graffiti docrated brick jwalls on the apartment buildings nearby. This ain’t the hipster part of Brooklyn, this is the hood and this is where I grew up. I keep a close eye out for cars slowing down either looking to score crack or a blowjob and I see her. Bright red hair on that ebony head o’ hers. Her body is lookin’ fine, couldn’t be more than 110 lbs soaking wet. She was wearing ‘fuck me’ boots up to just above her knees and a skirt that ended about 6 inches higher than that. Her mid drift was exposed and her pink shirt said ‘Tasty’ right over her B sized titties.
“Prove it” I called to her.
“Baby, you can’t afford me.” She said back. What a vixen! I pulled out a wad of cash and suddenly she came towards me with a bit more interest.
“Whatcha lookin’ for baby?” She said to me with lust in her voice. I put the wad back in my pocket.
“Well, a name first of all.”
“Red.”
“Nah, that can’t be true. No mother would name their daughter ‘Red.’ What’s your real name?”
“Why you wanna know, you a cop or sumthin?”
Ha, me a cop. As if. I’ve been in the precinct more times than I can count, but for DWIs and assault charges, not to take anybody in or anything like that.
“Ha.” I laughed. “Nah, bitty. I just wanna know a little bit about you. Like why you are out here walking the streets?”
“The money, doll. It’s all about dat money.” She scowled and she walked off. I walked after her.
“Listen, Red. Why don’t we just talk and walk.”
She slowed down and seemed to contemplate my proposal.
“If any Johns come by…”
“Then you can do what you want to do. But why don’t we get to know each other a bit. There’s got to be more to you than to just find dudes to hook up with. Don’t you get… well… don’t you get a bit…isn’t that uncomfortable.”
“Baby,” Red started, “My pimp don’t let us be dirty. I got a motel room that I stay in that he pays for and a club he lets me dance in on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I am clean as a whistle down there.”
“At least you have a room. I used to be homeless. I know what it’s like to struggle.”
“Sucks for you… my Daddy always got my back.”
“I never knew my dad.”
She seemed to be listening even more intently now. I knew she meant her pimp when she said ‘Daddy’ but I also figured a woman like this had daddy issues and maybe I could exploit that. I had her hooked, now I just had to reel her in.
I applied for a credit card and you know America, always trying to get you in debt.” I said.
“I heard that.”
“So I joined a gym and was able to shower at least. I started to get cleaned up and worked out a lot and eventually I got a dishwashing job in a restaurant. I finally got my own place and rented a room for like $400 bucks for the past year.”
“Congratulations, baby. From the bottom up. But if you don’t got much dough, where did you get that bulge in your pocket from then?”
“God gave me this bad boy…” She laughed as he pulled out his wad of cash and flashed it. She stopped laughing at the sight of the cash then I put it back in my pocket. “Charity case. I got a job in Chicago and my pastor gave me this to help me on my way.”
“You’re in tight with God, then?”
“Some would say. My mom raised me to go to church. I knew Father McGregor for many years growing up. He was a senior when I was a Freshman. I played Varsity football and he always took a liking to me. Now I see him every Sunday at St Paul’s on Lexington.”
“You go to St. Paul’s? I go there too.”
I knew that.
“Really?” I faked surprise…really well mind you.
I got to know Red a little bit more. She was quite an interesting lady actually, grew up in New Jersey and came here about 5 years ago, and she has been a prostitute for about 2 years. She’s not the bottom bitch, I’m sure, but she was doing well for herself. And when it got late enough we somehow walked to her place.
“Wanna come in?” She asked me as she rubbed my shoulder. It hurt but felt good at the same time. She knew about the injury because it was one of the many things we spoke about on our hour long walk.
“I don’t go inside with people whose names I don’t know.”
“Name’s Camryn Reddington.”
“So THAT’S why they call you Red… I thought it was because of your hair color. Ha.”
“Oh this ain’t natural…” as if she had to say it. “The curtains don’t match the drapes.”
“Oh really… what color are the drapes?” I hoped the curtain was referring to her hair on her head, I never really understood the metaphor. She came close to me and whispered in my ear…
“There are no drapes baby…”
She kissed me on the mouth and led me into her apartment.
.
.
.
We lay in bed naked after that night of lovemaking… who am I kidding. I fucked her for about 20 minutes. She rubbed her finger over the space between my pecks and kissed my sore shoulder. I winced but it didn’t really hurt. I tore the condom off and got up as she did. She headed to the bathroom as I put my clothes back on.
I went to grab my wallet and watch which was sitting on the top of her dresser. Her top drawer was open just a touch and when I opened my ears just a little bit I heard the toilet flushing and the water turning on assumingly her washing her hands. I opened the drawer a bit more and saw a wad of hundreds… must have been about 10G in that drawer. I shoved it in my pocket and started walking out the front door when she started out of the bathroom.
“Leaving so soon, Joey.”
Did you think I was going to give her my real name?
“I got places to do, people to be, things to go, gurl. I’ll hit you up soon, right?”
I left… then I ran. And it was a good fucking thing because it didn’t take 5 seconds for her to run to the door and scream out at me. If she had clothes on she probably would have run after me, but she wouldn’t have been able to keep up anyway. I’m a mother fucking wrestler goddam it.
“YOU BITCH! GIMME MY MONEY! BOBBY! BOBBY, THAT BITCH STOLE FROM ME… BOBBY!”
Bobby was her pimp I guessed and I guessed he was nearby… but I wouldn’t get the privilege of meeting him. I fucking booked it out of that neighborhood and made it to the subway.
I got in right as the doors closed and felt safe. It was 3 in the morning or something like that. I could have checked my watch but the piece of shit has been broke for some time now… the Folex just looks tight. It’s right 2 times a day and this ain’t one of those times. I looked around the empty subway car and when the close was clear I counted my money. I pulled out my wad of cash. A hundred dollar bill surrounding a pile of singles. Then I pulled out the wad of cash out my other pocket. There were 50 bills here. Making a grand total of fifty one hundred and twenty three bucks. That should be enough to get me to Chicago.
*****
Location: Chicago
I hate public transportation. I took a Greyhound Bus from Manhattan to Chicago. I realized about 24 hours in that all of us have been locked in this hell hole the same amount of time. The only thing we could eat were rest station sandwiches and the one fat guy decided that he would break the ONLY rule of riding public transportation: No Number 2s in the bus.
So it smelled like shit… literally, and we were all sweating and in desperate need of a shower. However, I had no plan of action once I finally got to Chicago. I don’t have a cell phone or a computer or anything so I knew I was going to have to wait till I got here to figure out a plan. I didn’t think people were going to take me seriously smelling like this so I decided to look for a Planet Fitness. I could pay 5 bucks to get in and shower up right quick.
All I had to do was find one of these. I wasn’t totally sure if there was one in Chicago, but it’s corporate so I hoped at least. I looked around, by the angle of the sun it was probably around noon, and my stomach grumbled confirming my suspicions. Chicago looked a lot like Brooklyn, and this bus station was a breeding ground for shady shenanigans. I walked up to a black guy talking to a group of what looked like High School kids discreetly shaking their hands as they walked off.
“Get outta here, narc.” The guy said to me immediately. I couldn’t blame him. My beard was unkempt, my clothes torn, my leather jacket far too heavy for this weather. <tone=sarcasm> I looked like a cop for sure. <\tone>I had two choices. I could apologize and be polite, explaining the predicament I find myself in or…
I grabbed him by the arm and reached into his pocket and pulled out his piece. The idiot couldn’t even keep his illegally concealed firearm in check. I popped out the clip and gave the gun back to him and let go of his arm.
“You know I could bust your ass right here right now for having this shit, and that’s not including the product you have in your pocket.” He instinctively put his hand over his left pocket confirming my suspicion.
“So what’s it to ya? What do you want?” He inquired politely.
“As a cop I could use a guy like you on the inside. A CI could help me get that promotion I’m looking for, but more importantly it could help you too.” I honestly had no clue where I was going with this or what I intended on achieving from this charade, but having this guy on my side could help me in a new town. If there’s one thing I learned living on the street is always to have an in with the drug dealers.
“What’s in it for me?” He asked. And I figured out my angle.
“Well first of all I won’t take you in on a 420 and a 617, but let’s sweeten up this deal a little bit too. You point me in the direction of some of your competition and I’ll make sure that they’re not your competition any more, ya dig? And then you get their customers and I get a cut of your profit.”
“Why would I give you a cut?”
“Because I’m a crooked cop with the Mayor of Chicago in my pocket. Trust me, having me on your side is a good thing… but having us as your enemy is a very… VERY bad thing… ya dig?” I stepped closer to him, I stood about 4 inches taller than him and was obviously much more imposing than he. He looked up at me and saw the intensity in my hazel eyes. He knew I wasn’t bluffing… even though I totally was.
“I dig.” He agreed and went to shake my hand. I refused it and walked away.
“I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”
I hadn’t thought my exit strategy or follow up plan too well but I’ve laid the ground work and knew I could work through it with my time here. And the stretch limo that pulled up next to me seemed to work in my favor. It stopped and the door opened and without thinking I stepped in. Mom always told me not to get in the car with strangers but I could take care of myself.
“You handled yourself well out there. Very impressive.”
I sat down and looked at the sole man sitting in the back wearing what looked like a thousand dollar suit. His face was covered in shadow, but I could make out the face and he was immediately recognizable.
“Aren’t you…” I started
“I am who you think I am, no need to say my name. But what’s more important is that I’m the man who referred you to UCI. I’m the man that made sure that Spencer Adams and John Gable knew who you were and allowed you to join their underground fight club known as ‘professional wrestling.’ They will be your bosses there but officially you will be answering to me and only to me.”
The man had an intimidating and confident voice. I don’t find myself outmatched very often, and deep down I didn’t feel too outmatched, but this guy seemed like the type of guy I didn’t want to piss off. I decided to play along.
“Yes sir.” I agreed blindly. “What do you need me to do.”
“I need you to ingratiate yourself into their community. I need you to understand how it works and most importantly WHY it works. You probably don’t know this but they are having a tournament to decide who their first World Champion will be. And this week they will crown their first TV Champion.”
“So you want me to win the world title.”
“No, I purposely entered you into the fed a week late so you wouldn’t qualify for either of those titles.”
I felt fury rush through me. Why would be do that? Who does he think he is taking that opportunity away from me?
“I could have won that tournament.” I exclaimed.
“Perhaps, but I didn’t want you to just yet. You’ll get your opportunities but what I need you to do is work your way up from the bottom. You’re going to jerk the curtains. You’re going to fight the lowest wrestlers on their roster and you’re going to prove that you’re worthy. You’re going to win the respect of the roster and the fans then you will win your championships. And it starts this week when you face off against a man named ‘Good ol’ Ramblin’ Jimmy.’ He is your first opponent, and in turn I expect him to be your first victory.”
“Word. I got this. Just get me some tape on this guy… and something to watch that tape on too.”
“There is no tape on this guy. No youtube, no past feds, nothing like that. This guy is a relative newcomer. He’s a lunatic, schizophrenic, and unpredictable. He wants to win though, that much I can tell you. And the people that know him seem to think that he can win. But you have that going for you as well. No one knows you, and you may have been fighting for your life on the streets but there’s no footage on you either.”
“Even slates.” I said and I meant it.
“Indeed. So you will train, and you will fight, and most importantly you will win. You will put everything you have on the line and in turn you will be rewarded greatly.”
“I thought this was an underground situation. How will they reward me greatly?” I asked.
“No, not them. ME. As long as you win I will supplement your income. As long as you win you won’t have to deal with the likes of that street rat you made a deal with earlier today. As long as you win I will be pleased and… I believe you said it best. Having me on your side is a good thing, but having me as your enemy is a very… VERY bad thing.”
He didn’t have to get up to impose his will. But it wasn’t his threat that motivated me, it was his incentive. Money was the almighty factor for a guy like me who grew up with none and has always struggled and hustled to get some. I was going to be successful and was going to make this man proud. In turn I would be able to live the life that I felt that I deserved to live.
“It’s a deal.” I said. “I’ll step into that ring with Jimmy and break him into as many pieces as he has personalities.”
“Now THAT’S what I like to hear.”
The limo stopped and the door opened. Apparently it opened by itself. Pretty friggin cool. I stepped out and watched as the limo drove off. Then I looked around. I had to find a Planet Fitness to get the smell of Greyhound bus off of me. I looked left, and I looked r…
“Mr. Wright, I presume.” A voice from behind me asked.
I turned around and saw a man wearing a suit standing behind me.
“Who are you?”
“I work for your boss. He purchased a room for you to stay in and has instructed me to show you to it. He doesn’t just go around buying living accommodations for everyone.”
There was a little bit of frustration in the man’s voice as he led me to the bottom floor of the apartment building and to room C. He gave me a key and walked off leaving me to my own devices. I put the key in the slot and shoved the stuck door open. A bed was off on the right and a kitchen off to the left. A bathroom was straight ahead and that was the entire tour. He walked towards the window above the bed and it stared directly into a brick wall.
But hell, a home is a home and he closed and locked the door behind him. He headed to the shower, turned on the water and eventually it got warm. Warm water, a bed, a kitchen with a refrigerator, stove and microwave. It was everything he needed. He stripped down, stepped into the shower and dreamt of his new life to come.
A Taylor Wright Tale
I could feel the breeze go up the torn holes in my denim jeans. I had my jeans purposely ripped because ‘slightly worn’ is the in style right now. I also dig the way my knees look; a little callused from my work as a contractor putting in floors and shit. Just because you wear those knee pads don’t make it so your knees don’t get fucked up.
My black leather coat keeps me warm in the brisk spring air. When will it fucking get warm? The weather is fucking with my shoulder. I broke it when I was in high school playing football. We were playing the biggest physical team in the league and first series of the game I was playing corner back on defense, ran across the field and delivered a perfect form tackle on their star running back- number 13- I’ll never forget that number. The coach had us scout him and keep an eye on him. He came my way and I stopped him for 5. Then he went the other way, ran about 20 yards before I could find the perfect angle to catch up to him, took him the fuck out and caused a fumble in the process.
I was gonna make that mother fucker suck my dick after the game but then it happened. I was playing running back and the ball came to me. My tackle- Brett Knoll, a guy with aspirations to be a fucking truck driver… he had such a low outlook on himself that he STRIVED to be a truck driver. And there’s nothing wrong with being a truck driver, if that’s where you end up. But to WANT to do that and have THAT be your MAIN goal out of high school. Fuck, nicca, who you think you are, some sorta bitch or something.
Yes… yes he is a bitch. And he missed the fucking block and the linebacker came in, lifted me up and powerbombed me on my neck. I was out… probably got a concussion, but they didn’t diagnose shit like that then. I woke up and I was still holding that football in my broken arm. They couldn’t even get the ball outta my hands when they broke my arm! But that was the first of many trips to the emergency in my life.
And now here I am, looking fine and feeling fine except for this constant ache in my left shoulder from that time when I was in my prime of football. That dream went to the wayside and now I have a new job opportunity in Chicago. The UCI came a callin… well, I heard about it because you know, that shit’s not exactly on the up and up. I ain’t going there to become the next Hulk Hogan or nuttin, because that ain’t happening anymore. I’m going to kick some ass. I’m going because I wanna hurt someone and that seems the best way to do it.
Funny story, turns out that as long as everyone is on board and the fight is between two consenting adults, just like fucking, it’s legal. Of course there’s still bitches out there that cry rape when they were asking for it… I mean in the ring, of course. I would never treat a woman that way. They deserve to be loved and cherished and explored. They are a wild creature and they need taming.
Enter Mr. Wright.
So I’m walking down Wilcox Ave in Brooklyn NY past the graffiti docrated brick jwalls on the apartment buildings nearby. This ain’t the hipster part of Brooklyn, this is the hood and this is where I grew up. I keep a close eye out for cars slowing down either looking to score crack or a blowjob and I see her. Bright red hair on that ebony head o’ hers. Her body is lookin’ fine, couldn’t be more than 110 lbs soaking wet. She was wearing ‘fuck me’ boots up to just above her knees and a skirt that ended about 6 inches higher than that. Her mid drift was exposed and her pink shirt said ‘Tasty’ right over her B sized titties.
“Prove it” I called to her.
“Baby, you can’t afford me.” She said back. What a vixen! I pulled out a wad of cash and suddenly she came towards me with a bit more interest.
“Whatcha lookin’ for baby?” She said to me with lust in her voice. I put the wad back in my pocket.
“Well, a name first of all.”
“Red.”
“Nah, that can’t be true. No mother would name their daughter ‘Red.’ What’s your real name?”
“Why you wanna know, you a cop or sumthin?”
Ha, me a cop. As if. I’ve been in the precinct more times than I can count, but for DWIs and assault charges, not to take anybody in or anything like that.
“Ha.” I laughed. “Nah, bitty. I just wanna know a little bit about you. Like why you are out here walking the streets?”
“The money, doll. It’s all about dat money.” She scowled and she walked off. I walked after her.
“Listen, Red. Why don’t we just talk and walk.”
She slowed down and seemed to contemplate my proposal.
“If any Johns come by…”
“Then you can do what you want to do. But why don’t we get to know each other a bit. There’s got to be more to you than to just find dudes to hook up with. Don’t you get… well… don’t you get a bit…isn’t that uncomfortable.”
“Baby,” Red started, “My pimp don’t let us be dirty. I got a motel room that I stay in that he pays for and a club he lets me dance in on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I am clean as a whistle down there.”
“At least you have a room. I used to be homeless. I know what it’s like to struggle.”
“Sucks for you… my Daddy always got my back.”
“I never knew my dad.”
She seemed to be listening even more intently now. I knew she meant her pimp when she said ‘Daddy’ but I also figured a woman like this had daddy issues and maybe I could exploit that. I had her hooked, now I just had to reel her in.
I applied for a credit card and you know America, always trying to get you in debt.” I said.
“I heard that.”
“So I joined a gym and was able to shower at least. I started to get cleaned up and worked out a lot and eventually I got a dishwashing job in a restaurant. I finally got my own place and rented a room for like $400 bucks for the past year.”
“Congratulations, baby. From the bottom up. But if you don’t got much dough, where did you get that bulge in your pocket from then?”
“God gave me this bad boy…” She laughed as he pulled out his wad of cash and flashed it. She stopped laughing at the sight of the cash then I put it back in my pocket. “Charity case. I got a job in Chicago and my pastor gave me this to help me on my way.”
“You’re in tight with God, then?”
“Some would say. My mom raised me to go to church. I knew Father McGregor for many years growing up. He was a senior when I was a Freshman. I played Varsity football and he always took a liking to me. Now I see him every Sunday at St Paul’s on Lexington.”
“You go to St. Paul’s? I go there too.”
I knew that.
“Really?” I faked surprise…really well mind you.
I got to know Red a little bit more. She was quite an interesting lady actually, grew up in New Jersey and came here about 5 years ago, and she has been a prostitute for about 2 years. She’s not the bottom bitch, I’m sure, but she was doing well for herself. And when it got late enough we somehow walked to her place.
“Wanna come in?” She asked me as she rubbed my shoulder. It hurt but felt good at the same time. She knew about the injury because it was one of the many things we spoke about on our hour long walk.
“I don’t go inside with people whose names I don’t know.”
“Name’s Camryn Reddington.”
“So THAT’S why they call you Red… I thought it was because of your hair color. Ha.”
“Oh this ain’t natural…” as if she had to say it. “The curtains don’t match the drapes.”
“Oh really… what color are the drapes?” I hoped the curtain was referring to her hair on her head, I never really understood the metaphor. She came close to me and whispered in my ear…
“There are no drapes baby…”
She kissed me on the mouth and led me into her apartment.
.
.
.
We lay in bed naked after that night of lovemaking… who am I kidding. I fucked her for about 20 minutes. She rubbed her finger over the space between my pecks and kissed my sore shoulder. I winced but it didn’t really hurt. I tore the condom off and got up as she did. She headed to the bathroom as I put my clothes back on.
I went to grab my wallet and watch which was sitting on the top of her dresser. Her top drawer was open just a touch and when I opened my ears just a little bit I heard the toilet flushing and the water turning on assumingly her washing her hands. I opened the drawer a bit more and saw a wad of hundreds… must have been about 10G in that drawer. I shoved it in my pocket and started walking out the front door when she started out of the bathroom.
“Leaving so soon, Joey.”
Did you think I was going to give her my real name?
“I got places to do, people to be, things to go, gurl. I’ll hit you up soon, right?”
I left… then I ran. And it was a good fucking thing because it didn’t take 5 seconds for her to run to the door and scream out at me. If she had clothes on she probably would have run after me, but she wouldn’t have been able to keep up anyway. I’m a mother fucking wrestler goddam it.
“YOU BITCH! GIMME MY MONEY! BOBBY! BOBBY, THAT BITCH STOLE FROM ME… BOBBY!”
Bobby was her pimp I guessed and I guessed he was nearby… but I wouldn’t get the privilege of meeting him. I fucking booked it out of that neighborhood and made it to the subway.
I got in right as the doors closed and felt safe. It was 3 in the morning or something like that. I could have checked my watch but the piece of shit has been broke for some time now… the Folex just looks tight. It’s right 2 times a day and this ain’t one of those times. I looked around the empty subway car and when the close was clear I counted my money. I pulled out my wad of cash. A hundred dollar bill surrounding a pile of singles. Then I pulled out the wad of cash out my other pocket. There were 50 bills here. Making a grand total of fifty one hundred and twenty three bucks. That should be enough to get me to Chicago.
*****
Location: Chicago
I hate public transportation. I took a Greyhound Bus from Manhattan to Chicago. I realized about 24 hours in that all of us have been locked in this hell hole the same amount of time. The only thing we could eat were rest station sandwiches and the one fat guy decided that he would break the ONLY rule of riding public transportation: No Number 2s in the bus.
So it smelled like shit… literally, and we were all sweating and in desperate need of a shower. However, I had no plan of action once I finally got to Chicago. I don’t have a cell phone or a computer or anything so I knew I was going to have to wait till I got here to figure out a plan. I didn’t think people were going to take me seriously smelling like this so I decided to look for a Planet Fitness. I could pay 5 bucks to get in and shower up right quick.
All I had to do was find one of these. I wasn’t totally sure if there was one in Chicago, but it’s corporate so I hoped at least. I looked around, by the angle of the sun it was probably around noon, and my stomach grumbled confirming my suspicions. Chicago looked a lot like Brooklyn, and this bus station was a breeding ground for shady shenanigans. I walked up to a black guy talking to a group of what looked like High School kids discreetly shaking their hands as they walked off.
“Get outta here, narc.” The guy said to me immediately. I couldn’t blame him. My beard was unkempt, my clothes torn, my leather jacket far too heavy for this weather. <tone=sarcasm> I looked like a cop for sure. <\tone>I had two choices. I could apologize and be polite, explaining the predicament I find myself in or…
I grabbed him by the arm and reached into his pocket and pulled out his piece. The idiot couldn’t even keep his illegally concealed firearm in check. I popped out the clip and gave the gun back to him and let go of his arm.
“You know I could bust your ass right here right now for having this shit, and that’s not including the product you have in your pocket.” He instinctively put his hand over his left pocket confirming my suspicion.
“So what’s it to ya? What do you want?” He inquired politely.
“As a cop I could use a guy like you on the inside. A CI could help me get that promotion I’m looking for, but more importantly it could help you too.” I honestly had no clue where I was going with this or what I intended on achieving from this charade, but having this guy on my side could help me in a new town. If there’s one thing I learned living on the street is always to have an in with the drug dealers.
“What’s in it for me?” He asked. And I figured out my angle.
“Well first of all I won’t take you in on a 420 and a 617, but let’s sweeten up this deal a little bit too. You point me in the direction of some of your competition and I’ll make sure that they’re not your competition any more, ya dig? And then you get their customers and I get a cut of your profit.”
“Why would I give you a cut?”
“Because I’m a crooked cop with the Mayor of Chicago in my pocket. Trust me, having me on your side is a good thing… but having us as your enemy is a very… VERY bad thing… ya dig?” I stepped closer to him, I stood about 4 inches taller than him and was obviously much more imposing than he. He looked up at me and saw the intensity in my hazel eyes. He knew I wasn’t bluffing… even though I totally was.
“I dig.” He agreed and went to shake my hand. I refused it and walked away.
“I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”
I hadn’t thought my exit strategy or follow up plan too well but I’ve laid the ground work and knew I could work through it with my time here. And the stretch limo that pulled up next to me seemed to work in my favor. It stopped and the door opened and without thinking I stepped in. Mom always told me not to get in the car with strangers but I could take care of myself.
“You handled yourself well out there. Very impressive.”
I sat down and looked at the sole man sitting in the back wearing what looked like a thousand dollar suit. His face was covered in shadow, but I could make out the face and he was immediately recognizable.
“Aren’t you…” I started
“I am who you think I am, no need to say my name. But what’s more important is that I’m the man who referred you to UCI. I’m the man that made sure that Spencer Adams and John Gable knew who you were and allowed you to join their underground fight club known as ‘professional wrestling.’ They will be your bosses there but officially you will be answering to me and only to me.”
The man had an intimidating and confident voice. I don’t find myself outmatched very often, and deep down I didn’t feel too outmatched, but this guy seemed like the type of guy I didn’t want to piss off. I decided to play along.
“Yes sir.” I agreed blindly. “What do you need me to do.”
“I need you to ingratiate yourself into their community. I need you to understand how it works and most importantly WHY it works. You probably don’t know this but they are having a tournament to decide who their first World Champion will be. And this week they will crown their first TV Champion.”
“So you want me to win the world title.”
“No, I purposely entered you into the fed a week late so you wouldn’t qualify for either of those titles.”
I felt fury rush through me. Why would be do that? Who does he think he is taking that opportunity away from me?
“I could have won that tournament.” I exclaimed.
“Perhaps, but I didn’t want you to just yet. You’ll get your opportunities but what I need you to do is work your way up from the bottom. You’re going to jerk the curtains. You’re going to fight the lowest wrestlers on their roster and you’re going to prove that you’re worthy. You’re going to win the respect of the roster and the fans then you will win your championships. And it starts this week when you face off against a man named ‘Good ol’ Ramblin’ Jimmy.’ He is your first opponent, and in turn I expect him to be your first victory.”
“Word. I got this. Just get me some tape on this guy… and something to watch that tape on too.”
“There is no tape on this guy. No youtube, no past feds, nothing like that. This guy is a relative newcomer. He’s a lunatic, schizophrenic, and unpredictable. He wants to win though, that much I can tell you. And the people that know him seem to think that he can win. But you have that going for you as well. No one knows you, and you may have been fighting for your life on the streets but there’s no footage on you either.”
“Even slates.” I said and I meant it.
“Indeed. So you will train, and you will fight, and most importantly you will win. You will put everything you have on the line and in turn you will be rewarded greatly.”
“I thought this was an underground situation. How will they reward me greatly?” I asked.
“No, not them. ME. As long as you win I will supplement your income. As long as you win you won’t have to deal with the likes of that street rat you made a deal with earlier today. As long as you win I will be pleased and… I believe you said it best. Having me on your side is a good thing, but having me as your enemy is a very… VERY bad thing.”
He didn’t have to get up to impose his will. But it wasn’t his threat that motivated me, it was his incentive. Money was the almighty factor for a guy like me who grew up with none and has always struggled and hustled to get some. I was going to be successful and was going to make this man proud. In turn I would be able to live the life that I felt that I deserved to live.
“It’s a deal.” I said. “I’ll step into that ring with Jimmy and break him into as many pieces as he has personalities.”
“Now THAT’S what I like to hear.”
The limo stopped and the door opened. Apparently it opened by itself. Pretty friggin cool. I stepped out and watched as the limo drove off. Then I looked around. I had to find a Planet Fitness to get the smell of Greyhound bus off of me. I looked left, and I looked r…
“Mr. Wright, I presume.” A voice from behind me asked.
I turned around and saw a man wearing a suit standing behind me.
“Who are you?”
“I work for your boss. He purchased a room for you to stay in and has instructed me to show you to it. He doesn’t just go around buying living accommodations for everyone.”
There was a little bit of frustration in the man’s voice as he led me to the bottom floor of the apartment building and to room C. He gave me a key and walked off leaving me to my own devices. I put the key in the slot and shoved the stuck door open. A bed was off on the right and a kitchen off to the left. A bathroom was straight ahead and that was the entire tour. He walked towards the window above the bed and it stared directly into a brick wall.
But hell, a home is a home and he closed and locked the door behind him. He headed to the shower, turned on the water and eventually it got warm. Warm water, a bed, a kitchen with a refrigerator, stove and microwave. It was everything he needed. He stripped down, stepped into the shower and dreamt of his new life to come.