CHAPTER 39
Joey found Jade sitting alone in “Viewing Room 2.”
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Scared. I’ve had to pee three times since we got here. How about you?”
He sat next to her. The “room” was an open space off one of the hallways, where someone had arranged 9 folding chairs in three rows of three, facing a twenty-five-inch television on a rolling cart. The TV was showing the cop show that aired before Riot. In the open space of concrete and brick, the sound from the television was so lost as to be inaudible.
“I’m scared too,” said Joey. “I just met with Max, Goliath, Duke, Gene Harold, and Larry Jenkins.”
“Goodness. That’s quite an assortment.”
“I know, it was...crazy. They gave me the details of the booking for my match.”
“And...”
Joey looked around to ensure no one was within hearing distance.
“I can’t really tell you. I was so petrified that I couldn’t pay attention.”
Jade turned away to look at the television.
“That’s understandable,” she said. “I certainly can’t keep my head clear.”
She looked like she had more to say, but two women came into the room. They were both young and striking.
“Hi, I’m Virginia, I’m married to John Taylor,” said one.
“And I’m April, I’m with Miguel Cervantes,” said the other.
Joey nodded a hello as the two wrestler’s wives sat down next to Jade.
“It’s a privilege to meet you Jade,” said Virginia.
“Thank you,” she said. She smiled graciously and shook hands with each woman. Joey couldn’t bear to think about how many introductions like this she’d make tonight, only to have to face these people in shame at the end of the show after her boyfriend went ballistic in the main event.
“Do you mind if I turn the volume up? It’s almost time,” said April.
“Oh no, go right ahead,” said Jade.
As April went to adjust the television, more people came in. Mid-carders with Revolution, bookers, agents, more wrestler’s wives and girlfriends. By the time the show started, every chair was taken and the walls were lined with people.
Although they were less than 100 yards from the live action, the broadcast shown in Viewing Room 2 (and the rest of the world) was routed from the production van in the parking garage to a satellite network in space, then down to a New York studio, where a network censor watched live, hoping to catch and bleep out any dirty words before sending the show to the world’s televisions. The entire process created a seven-second delay between the live action and the television broadcast. For the people in Viewing Room 2, this meant the music, fireworks, and crowd noise humming through the arena walls predicted what they would soon see on television. The effect was disorienting, even to long-timers like Jade.
As soon as the opening pyrotechnics finished, an 80s-style guitar riff lit through the arena, and seven seconds after the crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and boos, Max Zeffer appeared on the television of Viewing Room 2. As Max walked to the ring, the camera picked out relevant home-made signs held up by the fans. One said, “Max, you’ve conquered the world, now what?” Another said, “Mein Heil Max Zeffer!.”
Once in the middle of the ring, Max lifted the microphone to his lips and began the interview.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I, Max Zeffer, proudly present to you tonight, the greatest success story in wrestling history. The ultimate rise to power and glory, the greatest tale of triumph our industry has ever seen. The most influential, important, incredible, stupendous figure in the business. Me!”
The crowd gladly played along and booed. Max opened his arms, as if eagerly accepting their disdain.
“And tonight, I, Max Zeffer, present to you the greatest show on earth! And don’t think that anyone but I could have brought it to you.
“It was I who changed the way our business was run. It was I who created a show that was edgy, modern, and new, that you wanted to see, that you needed to see every week. It was I who--”
Max was interrupted by a distinctive snap of brass instruments, leading into overblown pop music straight from a sixties spy movie. The crowd recognized the tune immediately, and cheered as Duke Correlli stepped into the arena. Duke waved his hands at the fans as they chanted, “Duke! Duke!” The scene was unusual for Joey to watch. In the GWA, Duke’s character was despised as a heel. Just two weeks ago he stepped in front of a crowd in Denver and was greeted with loathing. But to fans of Revolution Wrestling, Duke was a fresh face who signified the birth of a new era. They couldn’t help but cheer for him.
“Don’t get too cocky, Max,” said Duke, still standing at the top of the entrance ramp, far from the ring. The crowd loved it. For them, seeing Duke Correlli and Max Zeffer in the same arena was just too good to be true.
“Oh look,” said Max. “It’s my newest employee, Duke Correlli. For those of you who don’t know him, this is the man who took me on and lost.”
“For those of you who don’t know me,” Duke said, full of pride, “I’m the man who invented the style of television this man stole!”
“I only made it better, Duke. And by the way, I don’t appreciate my employees talking to me like that. One word from me, and you’re out on the street.”
“You can’t fire me, Max. You need me.”
“I don’t need you. You’re history. I hired you for fans who were nostalgic, but as soon as you’re a problem, which you already are, I’ll fire your ass!”
The crowd booed at Max, eager to accept the villainous role he took on. Duke waited for the crowd to calm before taking his turn to speak again.
“Max, that’s fine. Fire me if you want to. It’s not like working for you is my dream come true. But just know that if you fire me, I take all of these people with me.”
A host of wrestlers came out to join Duke. Deep Six, Raptor, Kevin Daniels, Skip Franklin, and Christopher Doom. The group had a common thread, they were all good guys, babyfaces, in the old GWA. In fact, with the exception of one wrestler, every major babyface from Duke’s old promotion was now onstage. The one wrestler missing was Joey.
Joey and Jade exchanged glances. If he needed any more proof of where he was to be after tonight, it was right in front of him. It was all true. Everything Steve had said was undeniably true.
In calling a group of wrestlers to stand onstage with him while he argued with the boss, Duke was employing one of the most common storytelling devices in professional wrestling. Duke was creating a stable. This group of wrestlers would serve as the pawns in the burgeoning storyline of Duke vs. Max.
It made perfect sense. In the new promotion, where years of storytelling in two separate worlds needed to come together right away, every character could be quickly defined by his allegiance to either Duke or Max. Fans could choose sides; tag teams could be formed; rivalries could be put in place immediately. Every character would be given something to do.
But Joey wasn’t out there. After tonight, after his planned loss to Goliath, there would be nothing for his character to do, and he would disappear from the wrestling universe.
The unequivocal truth of the matter welled inside Joey, and if ever there was a doubt about what he planned to do, it was gone. The powers that be wanted him to leave professional wrestling after tonight. He was going to take the old GWA World Title with him.
Duke spoke more about these five men who had gathered about him. He said they had pledged their loyalty to him, and if Max fired Duke, he would lose all these men. The crowd cheered. Max grimaced, as if Duke had pulled some impressive power play.
Duke went on to make a call to all the wrestlers in the locker room to join his faction. He said something unintelligible about quality of work and life and self-respect. He and Max quibbled for another few minutes, and the show went to commercial.
“Why weren’t you out there?” J
oanne said to Joey with a smile. Poor woman, she had no idea. But if she noticed Joey’s absence from that segment was conspicuous, the viewers must have as well. Joey smiled back and said, “They have other plans for me.”
The rest of the first hour was seamless. Four matches, each one a solid performance, each beautifully produced. Revolution ran a much tighter ship than the GWA. Performers were right on cue, backstage segments fit into the mix perfectly, and the backstage area was quiet and civil.
“I’m going to go get ready,” Joey said to Jade.
“Would you like me to stay here?” said Jade.
“Yes, that would be great,” said Joey. As great as anything could be tonight. There was no great place for Jade. When Joey’s match started, she was going to be in a terribly awkward place. First the observers in Viewing Room 2 would ask her what was going on. Later, the top brass from Revolution would come find her for interrogating.
Joey had asked her to stay behind. She had refused. “You can’t be alone tonight,” she had said to him. “Someone needs to stand between you and the mob. Someone needs to have a car waiting for you. Someone needs to be there if you’re taken away in an ambulance.”
Joey stood up and left Viewing Room 2. No one said a word. They just watched him leave. That became the theme for the rest of the night. No one said a word to him as they passed him in the hall, where he was stretching his hamstrings and calves. No one stopped him to say hello or ask about his match as he paced up and down the hallway. Even Goliath walked past him without acknowledgement.
‘So be it,’ thought Joey. ‘The silence will leave me focused.’
But it didn’t. His mind was everywhere. He thought of submission holds he had learned in wrestling school. He thought of a 3rd grade schoolyard fight with the class bully. He thought of Goliath in a bar in Sydney. He imagined himself in that bar, fist-fighting a horde of drunk Australians. He thought about his superkick to Oscar Esquivel’s chin in the Southeast Wrestling League. He imagined delivering that very kick to Goliath’s head.
“Joey, are you ready for your entrance?” said Phillip Gaines, the stage manager.
Joey looked at Phillip, somehow confused. Was he ready? No. Would he ever be ready?
“Yes. Let’s go do this.”