CHAPTER TWO

January 10^th 1969. Oregon.

Lenny stood at the back door of the Continental and waited for Danno to leave the Governor Hotel. He noticed that the boss was quiet and surly now, the complete opposite to how he was on the way there.

Danno just wanted to check out and take himself and Missus Garland back to New York. Not that they didn't need a break. And Portland was nice to look at. The white peak of Mount Hood looked pink when the sun was setting – which was nice, you know.

Lenny opened the door and Danno entered the car.

You didn't get that view much where Danno came from. He was kind of happy about that; nothing good ever came from anyone who lived around a mountain. Most of them were retards, in fact. People do awful things to each other in the absence of a TV.

Gimme the junkies of New York any day.

Lenny slid into his seat and started the ignition.

“What's your name again, kid?” Danno asked his driver for the day.

“Lenny, sir. Lenny Long.”

Danno quickly disconnected from any further conversation and ran the day’s events over in his head.

As different as everything was in Portland, everything was still the same in the business. Well, except that look he got from Proctor King. It was hard to shake. Hard to read.

But it was different. And the hushed invitation that followed; that was different too.

“Where are we headed, boss?” Lenny asked from the front.

Proctor and Danno had never traded a single word outside the meetings before. That was about to change.

Lenny tried to catch Danno's distracted eye in the rear view mirror. “Boss?”

Danno tuned immediately back in and answered like he was listening the whole time. “Bancroft Street. There's a new restaurant opening there. Look for the signs.”

“Yes, sir.” Lenny reversed slowly.

“Wait,” Danno said. Lenny stopped the car.

Danno watched Missus Garland walk through the lobby without turning to wave him goodbye. She still had a respectable wobble under her silk dress. He made a deal with himself to try his damnedest to investigate further when he got back – title belt or no title belt.

For now, he had to figure out how to make his giant discovery a draw without the belt. “Okay. Drive on.”

Lenny headed out of the hotel driveway.

What could Danno call his monster rookie? Something exotic. Something wild. The wrestling world had Stompers and Crushers, Mongolians and Samoans. Beasts and Barbarians.

“It's pretty nice around here, huh boss?”

Danno nodded. Maybe he should have brought a gun with him and when Merv stood up, blew his Jew fucking head off.

Danno sometimes wished he was that sort of man. Life would be easier.

“Are you the ring guy who brings the sandwiches for the Boys?” Danno asked.

Lenny was half surprised and half embarrassed that the boss knew. “Well my wife makes them, and I...”

“Sell them,” Danno said, finishing Lenny's sentence.

“Well, yes, sir. I do.”

“What's your angle?”

Lenny settled into his seat and tilted the mirror in place. “Well, I take some of the wrestlers up to their next town after my shift is done on the ring crew.”

“Why, are we not working you hard enough?”

“Well, sir, I'm new here and I'm not...” Lenny cleared his throat, “... making much.” Lenny looked to Danno for some sympathy. He didn't get any, so he continued, “One night, I did it as a favor for Oscar Dewsbury. So my wife said I should charge them two cent a mile per wrestler. It gives me some extra money and it gives them the time to do whatever it is they want to do between towns.”

Danno smiled. Both men knew what 'whatever it is they want to do' meant.

“So I did that.” Lenny continued. “And now I have a waiting list, kinda, it's so popular. Then my wife made me some meatball sandwiches and punched some holes in the bag for them all to smell. She's a great sandwich maker.”

“How much do you get?”

“Two dollars a sandwich and a dollar a soda.”

“She's a smart lady.”

“We've got a kid and another on the way. We're saving for our own place, is what I'm trying to say.”

Lenny sensed that Danno wasn't as measured as he might be back home in New York. Maybe he could walk his way through some of the legendary secrecy of the wrestling business. “They don't say much of anything around me, though. The Boys. They kinda talk in their own language.”

Danno looked Lenny in the eye just long enough for Lenny to know it was too early to try and jump that fence. “The wrestling business reveals itself slowly. There's always something happening under the table that you can't see.”

Danno smiled to himself as he heard his own words leaving his mouth. He wondered if something was happening under the table that he couldn't see himself. Proctor King was as ropey as Merv, if not more so. The kind of guy that can wait ten years to slit your throat. The sort that would be comfortably agreeable until he forked you in the eyeball.

One thing Danno did know for sure was that he was getting sick of being stepped on and passed over.

January 10^th 1969. Oregon.

For an opening night, this Old Spaghetti Factory sure was quiet. Danno read the menu for the second time at a table that sat under a big stained glass window. He skimmed his gaze around the room and quickly counted the potential money at each table. It was a habit that he was sure all promoters couldn't switch off. He watched through the window as Lenny pulled the Continental into a parking spot and walked himself to a payphone.

Right on time, Proctor walked through the front door and pointed Danno out to the waitress.

“Fucking place, huh?” he said as he approached Danno's table.

“Have a seat, Proctor.”

“You in a hurry?” Proctor asked.

“I've got some things, but nothing too, you know...”

Proctor was still standing.

“Are you going to sit?" Danno asked.

Proctor took a long look around the restaurant. “No.”

“No?”

Proctor was even more sure the second time. “No.” He turned and signaled for Danno to follow. “I think we'll go outside.”

“Where are we going?”

“There's something I want to show you.”

Outside, Danno tapped on the phone booth glass. Lenny hurriedly talked into the phone, “I gotta go. Bye. Love you,” and hung up.

“I'm going somewhere with this guy,” Danno informed Lenny as he pointed Proctor out with a nod. “So, you know.”

Lenny didn't know. “Isn't that Proctor King?”

“Yeah.”

“He's on the front of the magazine this month.”

Lenny pulled a wrestling magazine from his back pocket and unrolled it to show Danno. He wasn't impressed.

“You're not a fucking mark, are you kid?”

“A what, sir?”

“A mark. A fan. Nothing, forget it.” Danno shook his head and moved off toward Proctor.

Both men walked through the nearly empty parking lot and ducked under the hanging branches in their way. Proctor led the way into a thick bush and slid down a small bank. Danno stopped.

“Where are you going?” Danno asked from the top of the bank.

“Somewhere quiet.” Proctor continued until his feet were covered in the water from the edge of the river. “You want to make money or not?” Proctor asked.

Danno looked around and saw Lenny waving at him. He slid slowly and awkwardly on his ass down the bank. Proctor reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. He broke the filter off and threw it into the brown water.

“Nice view huh, Danno?”

Danno tried to assess the situation and the geography without making it obvious he was doing so. He also watched the water’s edge so as not to get his feet wet.

“What did you want to see me about?” Danno asked.

“I want to do some business that will make us both rich,” Proctor replied as he inhaled. “Big money.”

“Haven't you got an office or a phone for this kind of stuff?”

“Not this kinda stuff.”

Proctor waited for Danno's response. It was like he was enjoying the power of watching Danno digest the broken information.

“Well?” Danno asked. “What are we talking about here?”

Proctor took one last look up the bank before gravitating towards Danno's ear. “I want to get you the belt.”

Danno leaned back to recapture his personal space.

“You were there today, Proctor. You saw the room go with Merv.”

“Fuck Merv and those monkeys who follow him. I can get you the belt by the end of the month. That'll give you time to put a program in place for that giant golden goose you found – you lucky bastard.”

A rush of hot and cold ran up and down Danno's back. He knew that Proctor was serious and could get it done. This both delighted and terrified him. After all these years, he could finally have the belt. But there was the other issue that was providing the coldness. “What are you planning on doing with Merv?” Danno asked, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

Proctor dodged the question, “Listen, I want that belt – we all do, but everyone knows you've got the guy for now. The other owners had already signed off on it, except fucking Merv clicked his fingers and frightened them back into line. When he's removed from the situation, you get the belt. And my reward for doing it is that you drop the belt to me next.”

Proctor tried to read Danno's face. “I pay you two hundred thousand dollars upfront and another two when your giant does the job to my son in a few years time.”

“A few years?”

“Yeah.”

“Why a few years?”

Proctor offered his potential partner a cigarette. Danno declined with a shake of his head.

Proctor answered, “I'm going to be honest with you. If I had all my pieces in place now I would just do this and get the belt for myself, but... my son just went inside,” Proctor said with some noticeable pride.

“Oh.”

“It's his first time and I want to give him something to look forward to when he gets back out. You're going to have all the time in the world to make your guy a fucking unbeatable monster. You send him the length and width of the whole fucking country, beating everyone in every territory. You get filthy fucking rich. And when my boy gets back to town, he'll do major business defeating the giant that no one else could beat.”

It sounded nice. Too nice, to Danno.

“It's a win-win.” Proctor flicked his exhausted cigarette butt into the river. “We got a deal?”

Danno felt he needed more time. It made total sense as Proctor laid it out, but he knew this was as close as his mortal self was ever going to get to shaking hands with the devil.

“Danno?” Proctor's pitch raised, surprised that he had to chase an answer.

Danno opened his mouth to not only agree, but to get himself in even further with Proctor. Money and fancy under-britches were powerful motivation.

“On one condition,” Danno said, the water now running over his feet.

“What's that?”

“I call the angle when the time comes.”

Proctor smiled and offered out a handshake. He knew that Danno was a simple storyteller. In the end, the giant would lay down for his boy. Proctor and Danno shook hands.

“What's your giant's gimmick?” Proctor asked as he raced back up the bank.

Danno tried, unsuccessfully, to follow Proctor. “I think I'm going to make him an African Savage.”

“He's white, Danno.”

“He's going to be from South Africa.” Danno stopped at the bottom of the bank and watched Proctor wave goodbye.

“You're going to leave me down here?”

“Do I look like someone that rescues fat Irishmen?”

Lenny jumped out of the car when he saw Proctor come over the bank. He dusted off his nerves and walked toward him.

“Mr. King, can I get your signature, sir?” Lenny pulled out the magazine from his back pocket.

“Fuckin' mark,” Proctor said as he marched straight past and to the phone booth. Lenny didn't expect anything less from Crazy King. He thought he might have been disappointed if he turned out to be a nice guy.

“Lenny, Lenny!” Shouted Danno from the riverbank. Lenny couldn't immediately place the voice or where it was coming from.

“Lenny!”

Lenny stuffed his magazine back into his pocket and ran toward Danno's voice.

Proctor punched in the last digit on the pay phone and made sure no one was listening. “We got him.”