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I rub the back of my neck and slowly pace around the ring. This is a pacing conversation if there ever was one.
“Look, sir, you have this all wrong. What Chey and I –”
Joseph whips around, stomps in my direction, and looms over me like a death specter.
“What do you mean, Chey and you? There is no Chey and you. Don’t you dare pretend to give a shit about being reverential to me or to my daughter. If you’re about to sing some song and dance about caring for our family and loving my daughter…”
“My feelings for Chey, sir. Believe me when I say there is no game. Our relationship –”
“Relationship? That’s what you call it? Having sex with her? Manipulating Chey’s feelings? Exploiting her respect for you as a wrestler in a ruse to augment her career? That’s one for the con job books, that is. Of all the wrestlers in Briarwood, I would have thought you’d be the last to use and abuse another. Add shock to my disgust.”
“I don’t know how you found out about us or who gave you the impression I am using her. But it’s not nefarious on anyone’s part. I can assure you. Ignore the gossip out there. Talk to Chey. She’ll back me up on this.”
I stare straight into the old man’s eyes while gathering my thoughts. The last thing I want to do is hurt Joseph or Chey. They are the two people left in Briarwood I know I can trust. My thoughts center on the tattler, whoever he or she is. I’d like to take that weasel out back.
Revengeful thoughts won’t help me now. I need to settle Joseph’s worries and assure him this is all a misunderstanding. I clear my throat and try again.
“Whatever you’ve heard, you’ve got it wrong. I’m not using Chey or anyone else. The two of us have been working together. That’s true. And we have become close. Also, true. But the personal relationship came way after the professional one and was never premeditated. I mean, we got along, really got along. Chey and I have the same outlook on the business and on life. We clicked.”
“So, you’re not denying the sexual part?” Joseph stands over me with inches to spare and no personal space left. Not a good sign.
I throttle back my growing anger. This is no time for an orc-type over-reaction. The man is hurt. I realize that. I have to treat Joseph and his hurt with kid gloves. I still want to strangle whoever blabbed about Chey and me.
Joseph leans down, grabs me by my shirt, and forces me up. I barely get to my feet and the old wrestler throws punches! At me. A wrestler half his age and twice his size. It’s like watching a gnat go after a wasp.
I throw up my hands. “Whoa. I want nothing to do with whatever this is.”
Joseph keeps throwing right crosses and gut punches. His face reddens with rage.
I dance around the ring, trying to duck and weave. The last thing I want to do is throw back. Joseph’s fists land, and I’m impressed with his strength. The old wrestler is still inside Joseph, and I’m reminded that he was truly a force in his day.
“C’mon, big shot. Don’t just stand there. Fight!” Joseph yells.
The people in the gym stop what they’re doing and watch. Now we have an audience, too. This moment has gone from bad to worse.
I let him rough me up a bit. I take a few hits. It’ll make the old man feel good and maybe, in some way, I deserve the hits.
“Punch me, goddammit! Or are you a chicken?”
I inhale, hold my breath, and punch him one time. A light one to the right shoulder. The old man goes down. Seeing Joseph lying there, prostrate, shame washes over me and I feel like a heel.
Joseph lies there, out of breath. I stand motionless in the ring, shocked about what has transpired. Joseph’s punches sting my skin but more so hurt my soul.
From this moment on, I know I can say goodbye to ever working for Fool’s Gold.
Joseph scrambles to his feet, stares coldly at me, and leaves the ring.
Camie comes up. “Would you mind signing this, sir? I’m such a big fan. From way back.” Joseph forces a smile and calmly autographs her water bottle.
“Thank you, Mr. O’Malley! Thank you! You’re my hero.”
The girl gushes over the old wrestler like he’s still in his twenties. Everyone in the gym holds back snickers or slaps hands over their smiling lips. Trust Camie to neutralize a disaster. I look down on the pitiful sight, thinking I should thank her.
When all I want to do is replay these minutes and have none of this happen at all.
I watch Joseph hit the front door and stomp out into the night.
If it took roughing me up to avenge his daughter and restore family dignity, then so be it.
