I found an empty room and took the time to file some preliminary reports and what billing info I had via the firm’s app on my phone. I wasn’t really thrilled about the idea of going out on tour with the DWF.
But after doing some figuring of how many billable hours this would run up, I didn’t see how I could turn it down. I also typed up an email to Jason, explaining the situation as I saw it. I included a note that I thought it unlikely they’d actually want to hire me in the way the principal—Grant—really wanted.
That done, I got back to my seat just in time to see Spitfire climbing a ladder that had been erected ringside. Meanwhile, the Night Witch was holding Derrick Rigg prone in the center of the ring in a leglock that would’ve dislocated his knee by now if it was being applied with malicious intent. He writhed and pounded the middle of the ring, appealing to the ref, who stood against the corner ropes in some kind of daze, totally unresponsive.
The crowd was in a frenzy, cheering, screaming, applauding, while Spitfire got to the top of the ladder and raised her arms to egg them on.
She spread her arms, bent her knees, and dove from the top of the ladder.
I found myself holding my breath.
She landed square atop Rigg with a tremendous, canvas rattling crash. Night Witch had rolled away and slipped out of the ring. The ref came out of his daze just in time to slap his hand on the mat three times and give the victory to the high-flying Englishwoman.
If the ending was anything to go by, I had to admit I kind of wished I’d seen the entire match. There was some post-match mic work, Daphne coming back out to work up the crowd, but it looked like the actual wrestling was over. I decided to head back out to the front and wait for Gen and her dad.
The crowd straggled out bit by bit while I leaned against the wall, between the wide open doors. Eventually the trickle became a flood, I spotted Gen the instant she came into view, and I glided up behind them, tapping her on the shoulder. We hit up a Mexican place for dinner while her dad gushed about some of the performances—particularly Spitfire’s.
Thankfully neither of them asked about that little ‘tribute’ Grant had made. Perhaps they hadn’t seen it. Regardless I spent the whole meal dreading answering any questions about it. And avoiding the chips.
Your standard Mexican restaurant menu didn’t offer a lot of options that my typical diet would accommodate. I contemplated a selection of salads, eyed the enchiladas with lust in my heart, and settled on some fish tacos—after making sure the fish itself wasn’t breaded.
They weren’t bad, and I was happy to keep the conversation light. I was distracted—and not, as usual, by Gen. Or at least, not as much as usual. I was thinking about working, thinking about living on a bus and the road with a bunch of professional wrestlers and roadies for…how long? A couple of days? A week? A month?
I was pulled back to the reality of dinner by Gen asking me a question for a second time, then repeating my name. “Jack?”
“Ah, sorry,” I muttered. “Just losing myself in thinking about this job Grant wants to hire me for.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“Eh, I’m not sure I can say. I don’t even know if I’ve been hired yet. Something about threats.”
I explained the offer I thought I had, to go on the road with them starting the following Monday.
“Sounds like good money,” her dad said.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I think it would be, and I don’t know.”
Gen frowned for a moment, then steered the conversation back to the wrestling we’d watched. Bill seemed particularly impressed with Spitfire, lauding her leap from the ladder and speaking approvingly of how Rigg had sold the ending.
“Sold?”
He shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like that leg lock the Witch had him in was all that restrictive, right? But he made it look good.”
“What was going on with the ref?”
“That’s the Witch’s gimmick,” Gen answered. “Temporarily stuns the ref with some kind of puff of smoke and light. Flash paper up her sleeve, probably. Never the opponent, because that’d be too easy, right?”
My days of watching wrestling were long past, and I hadn’t really been that sophisticated a viewer. Seemed like I had a lot to learn.
Thankfully, I could be a quick study.
* * *
That night, back in Gen’s apartment—with a backpack full of clothes and a dopp kit I’d picked up back at the Belle—it seemed like time to Talk. I wasn’t thrilled about it. It had been so long since I’d had to Talk I wasn’t sure I still knew how to do it.
“So,” I began, as she leaned against me on the couch, some music playing softly from a streaming station on her TV.
“Yes?” She looked up at me from under her eyelashes and I almost forgot how to talk at all.
“I might be gone a while,” I said. “I don’t know how long…”
“Doesn’t seem like you can really pass on it.”
“Provided the company meets the firm’s rates and covers expenses…yeah, I think I have to do it.”
She sat up and put her back against one arm of her couch, looking at me directly. “And?”
“I just, uh. Where does that leave us?”
“Where are we starting from?”
“Right. That.” I swallowed hard and looked at her. She was a beautiful woman, and a damn sight smarter than I’d assumed when we’d met in an office, the first morning of a new case, just a couple of months ago.
What was she even doing, sitting on a couch with me? Looking at me?
“I met your dad tonight.”
“Yep,” she said. “He likes you. Of course, taking him to his first wrestling show in years didn’t hurt. He’s not thrilled about the motorcycle, though.” She smiled.
“So meeting your dad is kind of…a thing. Right? Isn’t it?”
“What’re you getting at, Jack?”
“Well, I guess…what’s the term or the word for…you know, whatever we’re…what am I?”
“Hrm.” Gen’s face got serious, her brow furrowed. “I think the conventional term is ‘boyfriend.’ Is that what you’re asking?”
“Uh, it was, yeah. What I was asking.”
She leaned forward. “And what do you think of the answer?”
“It’s a good one. Pretty much the one I was hoping to hear.”
“Good.” She leaned forward further, till she was no longer sitting so much as kneeling across from me on the couch. She planted her hands on my shoulders and pushed me back. It took me by surprise and I fell back.
She climbed on top of me. I stopped asking questions.