The Cruiserweight (3 page)

“Didn’t need any help from you,
asshole!”

Brett charged him. Smith blocked the move and
grabbed him by the throat. Mel Moore hit a forearm and body
drop.

Moore performed a series of skilled moves.
Smith blocked all of them and slammed Moore over the ropes. He and
Moore were both eliminated by Brett with Slice of Kerrigan, his
special finishing move that consisted of combining back flips with
face locks.

“So long, suckers!” he yelled with an evil
laugh.

Brett knocked down Pedro Gonzalez from behind
as Kai Fong came to the ring. Fong attempted to whip Brett into the
ropes, but he reversed it. Fong kicked him in the head for a near
fall. Brett came back with punches and forearms. Fong attempted to
whip him into the corner. Brett reversed with a sling shot. The
move resulted in a double knock-out and Brett got up at the count
of nine, defeating Fong.

“Sayonara, Kai Fong!”

Gonzalez hit a Run for the Border on Brett, but
the smaller man refused to back down.

“Not going to happen, Pedro, my
boy.”

Brett came back, delivering a perfect beat down
on Gonzalez before blocking him in the corner several times. Soon,
he had his opponent on the mat. “Don’t mess with me!”

He almost had the win before Gonzalez pulled a
‘cheating’ move by putting a foot on the ropes when the referee’s
back was turned. As a result, the referee hadn’t noticed. Pedro
pinned Brett for the victory.

Oh, great. If
I
suggested a heel move, it would have been shot down in the
creative meetings, but Gonzalez cheating can be written into the
script and no one blinks and eye?
Disgusted,
he headed toward the locker room. He just wanted to have a shower
and be alone for awhile.

He stared at Malloy‘s empty locker. “Sorry I
couldn’t do you proud, Donnie.”

For the first time in seven years, he was
considering handing in his resignation to the company. Maybe he
would ride it out for a few more months before making a final
decision. Jobbing to less talented
—
yet bigger
stars
—
was not the goal Brett had in mind when
he dreamed of becoming a wrestler.

CHAPTER 3

The entire show lasted a little over three
hours. Karen’s press pass allowed her backstage access, and she had
conducted several interviews with wrestlers. “I’d like to hang out
a little longer in case Brett shows up.”

The men were tired and ready to leave. “K, give
it up. Dude may have gone back to the hotel and packed it in for
the night,” Eddie said.

She didn’t intend to walk away empty-handed.
“I’d like to stay. There’s nothing but an empty house waiting for
me, so I’m no hurry to leave.”

Lou admired her determination and handed her
money for cab fare. “The boys and I will head home and you can get
a taxi when you’re finished. Sound like a deal?”

“Are you serious?”

“We all know how much getting a good story
means to you, Karen. Now go make us proud. Be careful.”

“Thanks, Lou. I’ll give you a call when I get
home so you’ll know I made it.”

“That’s our girl. Have fun.”

One year earlier, Karen wrote a feature that
made the front page of the sports journal where she was a wrestling
correspondent. The story also received the attention of a top
sports press association, who presented her with one of their
prestigious awards.

It hadn’t been a common wrestling story. She
traced Brett’s roots as a shy, skinny kid from Olympia, Washington.
He worked in a pizza parlor as a dishwasher to earn money for
wrestling school before moving to San Antonio, Texas, and trained
by wrestling legend Michael Sloane. He had a small movie role in
2001 and signed his first developmental wrestling deal a year
later. Four months before his twenty-fourth birthday in 2003, Brett
received his big break as a wrestler. He achieved something few in
the business did before him—he overcame incredible odds by becoming
successful in an industry once limited to much larger
men.

She planned to present him a copy, but meeting
Brett didn’t happen. A determined woman when it came to getting a
story, Karen made her way to the parking lot and hoped to catch a
glimpse of him.

*****

When Brett discovered he was alone in the
locker room, he grabbed a bag out of his locker. “Time for a
special smoke.”
Weed never killed anyone. I don’t know why
anyone makes a big stink over something almost harmless. I have yet
to hear of something called “weed rage.”

The joint relaxed him right away and he didn’t
hear Kamsaki, a Japanese cruiserweight who worked as a jobber and
announcer for the past twelve years, enter the room.

“Little man, what are you doing? You could have
some serious trouble on your hands if you get caught.”

“Saki, what’s your problem? Marijuana is used
to treat glaucoma and cancer. There’s guys in this company that
shoot speed, pop pills, and God knows what else. What's this going
to do besides relax and calm me? Nobody died from smoking a
joint.”

“There’s legal and better ways to deal with
those things.”

“I tried those and none worked, which is why I
resorted to weed."

“You need to be careful, especially with
management cracking down on the wellness issue. Now you should put
that out before someone else comes in here and catches you. They
won’t be as nice as I am.”

"Management can kiss my ass." Brett put out the
roach. He was starving and ready for the ubiquitous post-show
dinner and subsequent activity of encountering fans.

*****

Karen waited in the parking lot a few minutes
longer with some other fans who also watched several roster members
emerge. “Well, looks like Brett isn’t showing, and I’m not standing
in the cold any longer.”

She went to a hotel across from the arena and
found a small restaurant/lounge off near the main
entrance.

A waitress welcomed her, “What can I get
you?”

“A diet soda, please.” Focusing her eyes as
best she could in the dim room, Karen realized there were other
wrestlers present, doing everything from signing autographs from
other customers to entertaining women. She guessed that they picked
up the ladies somewhere else and brought them along. She wasn’t
naïve to what men in the wrestling industry did with female fans
while spending long periods of time on the road. It was probable
that the young women would end up in a room or two upstairs with
them before the night was over. “I remember doing the same thing
when I was eighteen.”

Taking in the room’s atmosphere, decorated with
retro sports memorabilia and a 1950’s-style jukebox, there was no
sign of Brett. Part of her didn’t expect a meeting to happen in the
lounge either. When it came to being in the same room, the closest
she had been to such an opportunity was from the press box watching
him wrestle.

She signaled the waitress for a second soda and
called to order a taxi. The cab company had a backlog, which meant
her earliest pick up time would be around one-thirty AM.

“Just my rotten luck. The way things are going,
maybe I should have ridden home with the guys.”

Karen put the phone back in her bag. She pulled
out a netbook, organized her notes, and started her feature on the
show. Half an hour later, she was about to leave and go to the
lobby when movement caught the corner of her eye.

She adjusted her glasses. “Holy hell. Is that
who I think it is?”

Brett had walked in with some of his friends.
They gathered at a table to her right and ordered drinks from the
waitress who served Karen.

Talk about a story just dropping
into my lap! Looks like I won’t have to ask Mr. Sullivan a favor
after all.

Brett caught her eye.
It’s that woman from
the club where I was in a fight!
He never forgot
faces.

Before she could speak, he smiled and asked if
she was at the show. She nodded. “I’m a wrestling reporter.
Congratulations on a job well done.”

“Did you like it that much?”

“Yes. The majority of writers and I gave
positive feedback on your performance."

“Most people show up to see the bigger
stars.”

“They’re all right, but I admit to finding the
Cruiserweight Division more fascinating.”

“While on the subject of confessions, I also
have one to make.”

“What?”

“Remember being at another club this past
summer when a fight broke out?”

“I recall something of that nature. Why do you
ask?”

“Because the dude that fell in front of you
afterward was me.”

Her eyes widened. “I thought so! It was dark in
the club. I couldn't get a better look to make sure. I'm sorry for
being rude and rushing to get away.”

“Don‘t worry about it,” he said with a laugh.
“If I was in your position, I'd taken off after some strange guy
landed at my feet too. But what were the odds you and I would cross
paths again?”

“Maybe meeting again tonight was an indication
we were supposed to.”

“As you can see, I survived before being
ejected from the club. So how long have you been into
wrestling?”

“I’ve followed it since I was sixteen, but
remember all your matches.”

“Let me guess, either the singing telegram
episode or the one where I was ‘streaking’.”

“In fact, the first I remember was your initial
Beat the Clock against Kris Arnell. Aside from when you lost by two
seconds, the match was some of your best work.”

“I didn’t think anyone remembered.” Brett was
amazed anyone bothered to watch his early matches. Above all, a
woman.

The two of them talked awhile longer. They
discussed wrestling and Brett’s career more in depth. Karen asked
for a picture of them together. He agreed without hesitation and
put an arm around her while one of the patrons at the next table
took the photo. A few more followed before Brett gave Karen a
personalized autograph.

At one AM, he and his group were ready to
leave. He stopped to shake her hand before going upstairs to his
hotel room. "Nice to meet you.”

Karen watched him leave before heading outside.
“Mr. Sullivan‘s going to love this piece.” She stepped into a
waiting cab and smiled all the way home.

I did it. I just interviewed
the
Brett Kerrigan
…

CHAPTER 4

The next morning, Brett tossed his bags in a
corner of his hotel room. He managed to luck out again, as it was
across the street from the venue where that night’s house show
would be held.

I wish my matches worked out as
well.

A woman who appeared to be in her late twenties
accompanied him. They met at the airport when she approached Brett
for a photo. He was attracted to her right away. Rachel was short
in height with near-black hair cut in a pixie style. She had smooth
skin, wide blue eyes, and a big, sexy butt. When he invited her to
come to the hotel
—
his nerve worked
up by both drinks he had consumed on the plane and a joint he’d
smoked behind the airport terminal
—
she accepted right away.

He had brought Rachel with the intention of
spending time together in a platonic fashion, but it was clear
chilling out in the room wasn’t what she had in mind. Brett was a
little put off
–
at first. Unlike the other
guys, he didn’t bring women to his room just to get laid. He forgot
to pack condoms, so sex was out of the question. Even though his
mind was a bit clouded, Brett figured he was off the
hook.

Rachel didn’t give up. She found another way to
have him. She stripped, leaving on her bra and panties, and yanked
down the jeans of a speechless and aroused Brett. He watched in
amazement while she almost swallowed his entire manhood.
Damn,
the chick has remarkable talent for giving head!

Electricity shot through his body, and he
enjoyed every minute of Rachel going down on him. He was one of few
men who preferred making love to a woman over mindless sex. On the
other hand, the chick on her knees made Brett glad he’d forgotten
condoms, unable to remember the last time a he’d received a
professional-quality blow job.

I don’t think the hooker I hired
three months ago was this good, and having my dick sucked today
isn’t going to cost three hundred bucks.

He pulled out of Rachel’s mouth and took her
over to the bed, drawing her down with him. She picked up where she
left off with strident, slurping sounds, taking more of him into
her mouth to the point Brett’s erection brushed the back of her
throat. Guttural groans emitted from his lips, becoming louder each
time her mouth slid up and down his shaft. He could have cared less
about what anyone in the room next door heard.