CHAPTER 33
“Good evening Max, Joey,” said Goliath. “Come in.”
Like the house Joey had come from, this home was designed to give the maximum view of the beach. It too had a loft, a winding staircase, and a hallway to the left that led to a greater expanse of space. What separated this house from Max’s was the decoration. Whereas Max’s house was exquisitely kempt, with expensive furniture and art, this house was plain.
“It’s good to see you Joey,” said Goliath, shaking Joey’s hand.
Goliath’s hand felt clammy, like a ghost’s. This was the first time Joey had seen him since their match. Joey had no idea what to say to him.
“May we sit down Patrick,” said Max, “Joey had some questions of me that led us here.”
Goliath hesitated for a minute, then said, “Of course, of course.” In the GWA, Goliath would never let anyone call him Patrick. He must have been humbled by Max’s money.
Goliath sat in an upright wooden chair. Joey and Max sat to his right on a sofa. Max put the last page of Joey’s contract, carried over here from the other house, on a small coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Patrick, Joey and I were going over his contract, and a sticking point came up before he’d sign. Joey wanted to know about his program. I have a policy of never giving out any of that sort of information before the papers are signed, but considering the delicate nature of the program I want you two to perform, plus the enormous draw we’ve got if we do this right, I thought I’d make an exception.”
Goliath nodded his head. Joey’s mind shot back to the meeting in Lubbock, with Goliath and Duke, where Joey was told he was going to be the world champion. At that meeting, Joey’s future seemed bright as the sun. A few weeks later, everything had gone to hell and the GWA had folded.
“Joey,” said Max, turning to face him, “you and Patrick are going to wrestle in my main event. You’re going to do the job. You guys will get twenty minutes or more to put on the match of lifetime.
“Like I said, I don’t ever give out this sort of information before a contract’s signed, but we all know this is different. A few weeks ago, you two had a match that shook up the whole wrestling world. Joey, I know that after that match, your life in the GWA locker room was a living hell. I want you to feel comfortable that here, in my company, things are different. And I want you to feel comfortable with your opponent. This morning, Patrick and I had a long talk, and, well,” he turned to Goliath, “maybe you should tell Joey what we talked about.”
“Joey,” said Goliath, leaning forward, “I haven’t had the chance to tell you, or even to say to the media, that I have no hard feelings about what happened in our match. It’s just something that happens in wrestling sometimes. Normally, when I take a superkick, I lean with it to make sure it’s safe. In our match, I didn’t position myself well, and I wasn’t ready when the kick came. Anyway, I just want you to know that I feel perfectly safe with you in the ring and I have no hard feelings about what happened in our match.”
“Thank you,” said Joey. “I appreciate that.” And he did. He felt like he could let go of an anchor he’d been dragging since that night in Houston. He could feel his whole body expanding with the freedom that it wasn’t entirely his fault, that Max Zeffer, and apparently even Goliath, still thought he was not only a good wrestler, but a major draw at the biggest pay per view of all time. Joey realized that some day Goliath would tell the world what he had just told Joey, that it wasn’t all Joey’s fault. He also realized that wrestling a second match with Goliath, a great match, would go a long way toward erasing people’s memory of that failed superkick and the ensuing fiasco.
“Joey, do you know why I won the Monday Night Battle?” said Max.
Was this a trick question? Was Joey now supposed to kiss up to his new boss? Or was Joey the answer to this question? Did Max want Joey to tell him that his failed superkick won the Monday Night Battle for him?
“Well, there are lots of reasons, I guess, but I don’t know if I know the full story,” said Joey.
“The reason I won, Joey, is because I am a businessman. I seek out opportunity, and create it if it isn’t there. When I started Revolution Wrestling, there was no demand for a second national promotion. There was no niche for it. I created that niche. In doing so, I expanded the wrestling audience. It wasn’t just about guys in underwear settling their differences in the ring. Now it was about two competing products, and the real drama of competition between them. GWA and Revolution both benefited from that. Wrestling benefited from that. And when the time was right, I pulled the plug and let it all hang out. I made my product the very best one out there, so it could be the only one out there. Opportunity, Joey. I saw it and I grabbed it.
“There’s opportunity in your story. Joey Mayhem, the exciting upstart, earns a shot at Goliath, the champ, and blows it. A superkick goes sour, the champ goes down, the match is a non-finish, and the kid’s life becomes hell backstage. Joey, that’s fucking Shakespearian. It’s a killer story. We’re gonna tell it, and we’re gonna finish it. Are you with me so far?”
“I think so,” said Joey.
“Joey, on Monday night, Riot’s going to open with a video package of your now famous match with Goliath. It’s going to be in black and white. Your voice is going to narrate what we see, from your perspective You’re going to say things like, ‘I was so excited to be in my first title match, it was such a thrill, but everything went wrong,’ then boom! We show the superkick. We show Goliath laid out on the mat. We listen to Clive Silver say his piece about how sometimes things go wrong. Then you say something about how you were scared, about how you were horrified that it went so wrong.
“Then we’ll cut to footage of Goliath laid out in a hospital bed. He’ll start narrating about how he wondered if he’d ever get better. He wondered if he’d ever wrestle again. He was pissed off, but he felt bad for you.
“The music changes. We cut to footage from our press conference yesterday afternoon, where I announced the purchase of the GWA. Then your voice comes back on, and says, ‘I just want another chance to show the world what I can do.’ Then Goliath comes on and says, ‘I want to do that match again, and this time I want to finish it right.’ Then text flashes on the screen, ‘Goliath vs. Joey Mayhem, Apocalypse, May 15th.’ Joey, the audience is going to piss their pants. More importantly, they’re going to call their friends. By the time you and Patrick come out for your promo at the end of the show to give the final sell, we’re gonna have the highest rated show in cable TV history.”
Max reached forward and dropped a pen on top of the last page of the contract, then he slid both page and pen across the coffee table, putting them directly in front of Joey.
“Joey, this is potentially the biggest night in wrestling. I’ve violated my own policy of secrecy because I need to have you. Now you know, my estimate of 800,000 pay per view buys is conservative. We may well do over a million. Joey, I know life was shit for you in the GWA. I know that Duke didn’t handle you or your situation well. I promise you, things will be different here. I’m going to make you a megastar, and I’m going to make the locker room love you, because you’re going to help make us all rich. Sign this contract for me, Joey. Become a millionaire. Save your career in one night. Turn everything around. Joey, the disaster of your life in the GWA is our opportunity to make you a permanent star, and for all of us to make a shitload of money.”
Joey leaned forward to sign. There was no question, he was sold. Hearing Goliath’s forgiveness for the travesty of the Houston show was enough to convince him that life in Revolution would be far better than life in the GWA.
But there was something else. A new hangup. As Joey lifted the pen to sign, he couldn’t help but wonder, should he ask for more? Yes, he was going to make a bundle, but only because his story would bring millions of dollars to the company. Max needed him. Goliath needed him. He would be a fool not to as
k for more.
And there was something he wanted.
“Max,” he began, leaning up from the contract.
“What is it?” Max could hardly contain his anxiety that Joey hadn’t signed yet.
“I was wondering...” Could he ask for this? Goliath was sitting right here. Goliath had been more than gracious tonight. Goliath was willing to leave the past in the past, and here was Joey about to bring the past screeching into the present. Joey was about to ask if Jade would get a contract as well.
“What is it Joey?” said Max, speaking like a policeman to a terrorist, as if Joey had deadly potential in his hands.
Joey’s mind raced through the possibilities. He could ask, Max could say yes, Goliath could get mad. He could ask, Max could say no, Joey’s chance could be shot. He could ask, Max could say yes, Goliath could be fine.
“Nothing, never mind,” said Joey, then leaned forward, put the pen to the paper, and signed his name. There would be another time, a time when Goliath wasn’t here. Max was offering Joey a chance to undo his greatest mistake, and get rich in the process. It was a gift, and it would be rude to ask for more.
“Excellent,” said Max, clapping his hands together once and grinning like a kid in front of his birthday cake. “Gentlemen, tomorrow we get to work on the video package that’s going to go down in wrestling history. But today we celebrate. I have a bottle of ‘68 Dom Perignon next door. Let’s go open it.”