5. POW! – Sihn
CHAPTER 5
POW!
SIHN
My phone pings from the cup holder as I drive toward POW!. At first, I wonder if I have forgotten to turn off my Dine on Demand shift, but I know I didn’t. I never forget that. It’s likely my boss, and owner of Professional Outrageous Wrestling!, the Colonel. His real name is Gabe, but no one—not even his daughter—calls him Gabe. He took me under his wing fifteen years ago when I was heading down a path of destruction and showed me the ropes. The company has gone through many performers since then, but Colonel and I have remained.
My car screen blinks with the name, Sickness Sadie, and I know I’m not going to respond. I won’t even open it. I learned the hard way to not give them read receipts unless you’re going to follow up. Girls can be relentless in their pursuit of a man.
Sadie gave me the flu and that was the last time I let my testosterone-filled sex drive get me sick. A subpar orgasm isn’t worth losing a fight. I lost my fight the night after hooking up with her because I couldn’t perform any of my normal moves since she weakened not only my immune system but my muscles too. I was supposed to win. People had money riding on me.
There was a time when I didn’t save any girl’s number in my phone. I was under the assumption that it kept them more at arm’s length, but it also became confusing when I’d message back ones I didn’t mean to, so now I save them under names related to how I feel about them.
When I reach the parking lot for Professional Outrageous Wrestling! I kill the engine of my car.
Before heading in, I delete her message without opening it. I don’t delete her contact in case she messages again.
I scroll through my contact list:
Bicycle Chick, Blood Brothers, Coffey Cafe, Colonel, Dine on Demand, Dirty Red, Dorky Darla, El Perro Loco, Harvey, Marathon Girl, MILF, MILF 3, MILF 4, Nikki Work, Nikki Kentucky, Nikki One County Over, Pilates Woman, POW!, Pretty Blonde, RUIN, Sassy Se?orita, Sickness Sadie, Stoner Gal, Tricky Nikki, Twink, Verdi, Willy Lee, and Willy Ray.
Seeing Verdi’s name reminds me that she and Mar might come tonight, and for the first time in years, I’m nervous. Verdi comes to shows every once in a while, bringing a date for a not-your-typical-first-date, date. Verdi isn’t why I’m nervous. Mar’s indifference to me makes me want her even more.
I shake off the nauseating feeling in my gut.
The foyer of POW! splits the office and training area from the showroom. In the middle of the foyer is the receptionist’s desk. Seated in the chair is Nikki, the Colonel’s daughter. She’s the size of a child and unless she wants to try her hand at little people wrestling, being the receptionist is about all she is qualified for. She doesn’t show up most days, so she’s technically not qualified for that position either.
Her station gives her a view of everything and everyone coming and going. The place doesn’t have any security cameras. There are cameras, but they are only in the showroom and only so that the Colonel can film and watch back our fights. He likes to show us what we can do better at next time or see which part of the performance the crowd liked more.
Nikki looks up before I have time to duck and run into the training room. She waves her obscenely long nails in my direction as she says, “Hey there, Sihn.” Her toothy grin has some sort of stain on the ones I can see. Likely her fluorescent lipstick, tar from smoking, or lack of good dental hygiene. Whatever the cause, it is a big turn-off. She’s told me she’s attracted to me before, but I let her down by saying she’s the boss’s daughter, and everyone knows you shouldn’t date the boss’s daughter. Her comeback was that shouldn’t didn’t mean couldn’t . To me they are one and the same. Even if she was drop-dead-gorgeous, she’s a no-go in my book. I might let my dick do a lot of talking, but I have morals.
I smile and nod before disappearing from her view.
I’m not sure who set up the layout of this place, but you have to go through the weight room to get to the training room and through the training room to get to the Colonel’s office.
Willy Lee and Willy Ray are in the weight room gearing up for their tag team match tonight against the Blood Brothers. Colonel gave them their show name, The Deer Hunters, because they are as redneck in the ring as they are out of it. “Y’all ready for tonight?”
Willy Lee says, “We’re gonna fuck…”
Willy Ray finishes his sentence by saying, “’em up!”
They’re already dressed in sleeveless camo shirts. They seldom wear anything other than camo. They lift their dumbbells in the air and clank them together in a weird high-five.
Willy Lee hisses, “Fuck, Ray. You got my pinky, man.” Lee sucks on his pinky while Ray stands there dumbfounded. They sure aren’t the brightest wrestlers here, but they always bring a crowd.
I shake my head as I make my way to the door in the back that leads to the training room. They aren’t meant to win tonight, but they never listen.
On the other side of the door, I find Twink getting dressed in his leotard and tutu. Twink is openly gay and has a I-don’t-give-a-fuck-if-you-don’t-like-flamboyant-I’ll-be-more-just-to-spite-you attitude. “The show ain’t for several hours, bud. Why are you getting dressed now?”
“This is my new set! My old one got ripped last week, and I can’t be seen in a holey leotard. The fans would all be turned on getting a good look at my asshole.” He giggles like a schoolgirl.
I cough-choke on my saliva. “Too much info, Twink. Too much.”
“You’re the one who asked, hot stuff. You know, I mess around with straight men too. If you ever want to experiment.”
“Not gonna happen, Twink, but if I ever change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”
“We should wrestle sometime. The Twink verses The Sihnner would bring in a crowd.”
“You think?”
He flicks his wrist. “For sure!”
I’m always about bringing in more money to keep this place going, but I don’t think an in-house show will really do that. We both have a fan base we attract, but they are a similar crowd. We need to find someone to bring in outsiders which is what I intend to tell Colonel when I see him.
When I reach the Colonel’s office, I get nervous; I’ve never asked him to get me a fight. I’ve wanted to but have never worked up the courage to ask. He always seems to have my best interest in mind, but he’s aging and will be out of the game soon, and then where will I be? His daughter can’t run this place. She can barely show up as it is, and he has no son, so there’s no one to continue running the place like he does. I’ve played around with the idea, but I don’t have any money to back me and that doesn’t even include the lack of leadership skills it would take to keep the place going.
The Colonel was a sergeant major in the Marine Corps before retiring and beginning his wrestling career. Standing a mere five-foot-five he isn’t what one would consider intimidating, but his lack of height has not stopped him from achieving his dreams. He keeps his hair in a military regulation cut even though he’s no longer required to. He doesn’t stand or move when I open the door. “Elwood, I was wondering if you’d be in early tonight.”
“Uh, yeah, I came to talk to you, actually.”
His hands hold today’s newspaper. He licks a fingertip and flips a page before he responds, “I’ll give you three minutes to pitch whatever hair-brained idea you have and then I must get back to today’s crossword.”
I breathe in at the same time my spit decides to move around in my mouth and begin choking. He doesn’t respond. When I’ve composed myself, I blurt out, “How did you…I didn’t know you did crosswords?”
“The best way to keep yourself alive is to keep your brain alive.”
“I just never took you for the crossword type.”
“I usually end up googling most of the answers, but I do try to answer as many questions on my own as I can.”
I’m blanking on how to convert this conversation to getting me a fight.
My chat with the Colonel didn’t go as planned. He kept asking me what the answers to his crossword questions were and then said we’d talk about it another time since it was getting closer to showtime.
I’m supposed to be watching the feed with the Colonel as The Deer Hunters take on The Blood Brothers, but I’ve been searching the crowd for any sign of Verdi or Mar.
I’m making it a bigger deal than it needs to be. I need to chill out. It’s fine.
I’m up against my buddy El Perro Loco tonight. He’s funny and always puts on a great show for the crowd knowing he never wins. I think the crowd just likes his short stature and I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude. It also doesn’t hurt that he gets to wear a cool mask.
I’m stuck in a pair of tight black briefs while he gets yellow shorts with flames on them. The mask is yellow with flames that go back toward his ears. His signature is making noises like a dog chasing a firetruck. Really gets the crowd going every time, even though it’s the signal that the fight is almost over.
I’m standing back behind the curtain waiting for the ring announcer to announce my name when I spot her. Mar is smack dab in the middle of the crowd. She sticks out. I think I’d always be able to spot her in a room now. Her curly hair is down tonight. Verdi is holding her hand, and they are both looking at the ring.
My match-mate circles the ring as the crowd claps and stomps their feet cheering his name, “El Perro Loco!”
Someone nudges my shoulder from behind, and I turn to see Twink. “Earth to Sihn, they’re calling you to the ring now.” Twink laughs to himself. “Should I have said Hell to Sihn?”
Gotta give them what they paid for. We both need to last about twenty minutes without acquiring any major injuries. Thankfully, I am great at improv, and El Perro Loco is great at being himself so this match should be one of the more seamless ones I’ve done recently.