Journeyman

Chapter 1

Barely awake, Marc casually passed by his co-workers in the hall. “Another day at the office”, he thought as he opened the door to his lavish dressing room. The room was hardly lavish, but at least he had room to transform into a superhero in private. Superman he was not. In less than twenty minutes, however, he would be playing one on TV.

The dressing room in which Marc transformed into The Magnificent Marc was actually a walk-in closet inside the rehearsal room of the local television studio. The studio produced local news, a morning children’s program, an afternoon talk show, and a weekly cooking show for Brighton, Georgia’s independent station, WMEM. On Saturday mornings, it was the home of wrestling.

In a matter of minutes, Marc had changed from his Levi’s into his wrestling gear. His gear consisted of maroon tights, elbow and knee pads, and boots. He considered his getup stylish for a wrestler, but often wondered why wrestling tights couldn’t be more like boxing shorts, or anything more athletic looking. Instead of Muhammad Ali dancing around the ring, he often felt like Peter Pan in his Underoos. It didn’t help that it was the middle of winter and the heat in the old studio didn’t work. He’d thought about switching to longer tights, but his short, maroon tights with the small lightning bolt across the back had become his trademark. Fans wouldn’t recognize him in anything else.

 He thought about not wrestling today. He could just do an interview in his street clothes to promote his upcoming match against Predator, but the fans didn’t want to see plain, old Marc Fleming. They wanted to see The Magnificent Marc. He would go out there, wrestle some new kid for about five minutes, shake his fanny, and then tell the studio and television audience what he was going to do to Predator. It’s what the fans want. More than that, it’s what the promoter, Nick Hensley, expected.

“Marco,” greeted fellow wrestler, Stu Harding. “How’s it hanging?”

Marc had teamed with Stu on occasion. He didn’t really consider him a friend, but then again he didn’t consider any of the other wresters as a friend either. He’d rather be left alone to do his own thing. That wasn’t the way the wrestling business worked, though. When Johnny Handsome’s men were beating you down 3 on 1, you needed an ally. Here lately though, it seemed like he had been stuck in meaningless partnerships on the top of the cards.

 “It’s not right now. It’s freezing in here,” Marc replied sarcastically.

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Stu asked.

“No one. I guess I’m just not fully awake yet. It was 4 a.m. when I got home from the show in Gainesville last night. Then I had to listen to Alexis yell at me for an hour for getting home so late. Did I mention that I’m freezing my ass off?”

“Yeah. You’d think that the station could afford to fix the heat. Cheap bastards. You’d think it’s enough that we provide free labor for their highest rated show. Oh well, maybe the FCC fine will teach them a lesson,” said Stu.

“FCC fine? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Live TV, baby. It’s gonna be hard to censor my frozen, hard nipples,” Stu joked.

“Jackass,” sneered Marc.

Free labor. Marc had never really gave it much thought, but it was true. Tickets to the wrestling program were free. Hensley rationalized that the Saturday morning program was essentially an advertisement for their upcoming shows. "Gotta get them in the houses," the promoter would explain. That all sounded reasonable, but free admission meant that there was no gate percentage to pay the wrestlers with.  Marc had shed a lot of blood in the studio ring for free.

"Whatever kind of funk you're in, I hope you get it straightened out by Wednesday night," said Stu.

Marc's upcoming match with Predator was Wednesday night at the Brighton City Arena. It wasn't going to be an ordinary match either. It would be a Loser Leaves Town match. Marc wasn't too worried about Predator. He didn't belong in the same ring with Marc. Predator was 6'4'' (compared to 5'10 Marc) and 320 pounds of solid muscle, but he had the brains of a chimpanzee. He was just another thug of Johnny Handsome's. Without Handsome's interference, he would have never won the Central States Championship from Marc.

Johnny Handsome was Predator's manager. Like every other manager and agent in the sports' industry, he had no actual talent of his own. At 150 pounds when he was soaking wet with long, thinning, greasy hair, he was hardly handsome.  He was a parasite. Like a nasty tick, he latched on to whomever he could, while draining them of their resources. The best interests of his client were not what he had in mind; he was only concerned with how much money they could make him. Handsome had brought what seemed like hundreds of thugs into the territory over the years. Marc had helped run many of them from the region. As soon as one was gone, Handsome brought another one into the territory. Occasionally, Handsome brought in a legitimate wrestler that had been around the business traveling from territory to territory, but most of Handsome's clients were just thugs he found somewhere brought in to make the lives of Marc and the other fan favorites miserable.

"Predator's a bum," snapped Marc.

"The bum has beaten you twice," Stu reminded him.

"He would have never beat me if it wasn't for that damn Johnny Handsome," Marc complained.

"Handsome's a pain in the ass alright. He won't be any less of a pain in the ass Wednesday night. You need someone in your corner to keep him at bay. I'll gladly second you. I'd love to get my hands on that son of a bitch," offered Stu.

Marc considered the offer for a moment. It would be nice to have someone there to make sure Handsome doesn't interfere. Marc's inner demons would never allow Stu to be his cornerman. He was a loner. Stu was an ok guy, but Marc didn't trust him any more than he trusted anyone else. He'd seen Handsome get in some of the guys' ears before. If Handsome were to pay Stu off, Stu would turn on Marc, and Marc would be gone from the territory.

Stu had been in the territory for a few months working his way up the cards. He had been in the business for a few years spending time in California and the mid-west. He'd held a few titles, but  nothing major. He came to the Brighton area looking to make a name for himself, and the fans seemed to love him. Stu was hungry. However, he wasn't going to make a name for himself at Marc's expense.

"You don't have a manager's license," Marc pointed out. "Hensley will never let you do it without a license,"

"You're probably right," replied Stu. "Just try not to preoccupy yourself with Handsome."

"I'll figure something out," Marc promised.

"Do you think Murphy will pull it off this time?" Stu asked.

"Pull what off?" Marc questioned him.

"Your head must really be in the clouds. He's wrestling Nick Warren for the World Heavyweight Championship Wednesday night."

"Again?" Marc questioned. "How many title shots has he had in the past year?" How the hell does Hensley afford to get Warren to keep coming back here?"

"He's probably counting on a full house," Stu answered. "A loser leaves town match and a World Heavyweight Title match ought to do it. It's gonna be one hell of a night."

"Yeah, one hell of a night," Marc repeated.