Post by HALE BLACK SATIN on Aug 8, 2015 20:18:00 GMT -6
[December, 2014]
[Westlake High School]
[San Diego, California]
Ernie Banks sat in the rear of the Westlake High School Auditorium, where a rather shady looking wrestling ring sat in the middle. The floors weren’t covered with padding and the turnbuckle covered were dingy and only a few days from literally coming apart at the seams. Needless to say this was some second-rate operation, but yet what do you expect for five dollars at the door?
There were only roughly a hundred or so people already in attendance, occupying the front seats with ease. Who knew that this kind of crowd would enjoy a bit of wrestling? Ernie shrugged his shoulders as he chewed on an unlit cheap cigar, thumbing through pages of an old composition book, which held various scouted talent from across the state of California. He had already seen several matches already and it ranged from amateur to mediocre, but yet his brow perked up at the sight of this young man who looked like he could play linebacker in the pros but still...in a sea of shit, he was a sight for sore eyes. Ernie glanced around and picked up a program that was discarded on the floor. He opened it up and saw the kids face.
“Naiser King, huh?”
He was fresh, he was young.
Upon first glance, the kid had potential, hell he was marketable as fuck too.
The major question is, did the kid have talent?
[An hour later.]
I sat in the football locker room alone with a towel over my head, sweat still running down my nose. I ate the loss I was supposed to take but at the same time I gave the people the show they wanted. It was weird how I came into this at first, just looking to make some extra cash, now it turning into something that I was falling into more and more. Weird how shit like that always works out, doesn’t it?
I reached down unlacing my black leather boots, letting the wore tongue hang out like a pair of worn Timberland boots as I dropped the towel from my neck to pull off the white Under Armor T-shirt, saturated with my sweat. Actually it was more like peeling it off as it fell to the ground with a wet plop. I reached over into the black Nike duffel bag that held an extra change of clothes and pulled out a smaller bag as I stuffed the wet shirt in for a future date at the laundromat. The door to the locker room opened as Rico Livingston walked in. Rico was a man of short stature but held a presence about him that demanded respect. Of course it didn’t hurt that he was the fight promoter.
“You’re the last one here again, huh? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Once again, Naiser I must say you’re getting quite the knack for this. You’re really started to come into your own out there, the crowd loves it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re slowly starting to get a following around here. Keep this up and I’m sure someone is going to take noticed, which is good for you, but bad for me, I just might lose my main draw.”
Rico laughed out loud as he handed over a small white envelope to me.
“It’s not much from the gate but it’s enough to get a little something to eat, right? I’ll see you next week, champ.”
I waited for Rico to leave before I counted my take for the day. A hundred and twenty-five bucks wasn’t bad at all. It was enough for gas and groceries and maybe something a little extra but for a few hours work, it wasn’t bad at all. I quickly finished changing into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, before slipping on a University of Arizona pullover and throwing my duffel bag over my shoulder as I head for the door. As I stepped outside, I almost forgot how f*cking cold it was outside as my breath was instantly chilled as it poured from my nose. I jingled my keys to my Nissan Frontier that sat alone in the rear of the parking lot. It was my first car since I graduated High School over five years ago. And with 100 thousand plus miles, the fact that it still ran was nothing more but a miracle.
“You’re Naiser King, right?”
I turned around only a few feet away from my car. My first thought was some wayward fan just wanting to stick around for an autograph. I’ve signed a few before the shock of it, still was lost on me. Here I was some security guard who moonlighted as a wrestler to make a few extra bucks and these people wanted my autograph...it was unbelievable.
“Yeah? Who’s asking?”
I saw this guy in a large brown leather jacket walk up to me with a lit cigar in a mouth, puffing away like a locomotive. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “I’m Ernie Banks, I’m a talent scout associated with a few upstart promotions. Ever heard of Revolution Wrestling based out in San Diego? You put on quite the show out there. How long you’ve been wrestling? A few years?”
I could only smile and shake my head slowly. “No sir, ten months.” Ernie arched a brow as he took a drag from his cigar. “Ten Months.”, he said as if he didn’t believe me. I shook my head with that same smile. “Yeah, just ten months.”
There was a bit of silence between us as I wondered what this guy was trying to get at.
“Well, Naiser, you hungry?”
At mention of being hungry, I realized that I haven’t eaten since that morning after the house fire from the previous shift. My stomach answered the question for me, rumbling loudly as if it was sucking up against my spine.
“I’ll take that as a yes, let me get you some grub and talk a little bit, shall we?”
[Westlake High School]
[San Diego, California]
Ernie Banks sat in the rear of the Westlake High School Auditorium, where a rather shady looking wrestling ring sat in the middle. The floors weren’t covered with padding and the turnbuckle covered were dingy and only a few days from literally coming apart at the seams. Needless to say this was some second-rate operation, but yet what do you expect for five dollars at the door?
There were only roughly a hundred or so people already in attendance, occupying the front seats with ease. Who knew that this kind of crowd would enjoy a bit of wrestling? Ernie shrugged his shoulders as he chewed on an unlit cheap cigar, thumbing through pages of an old composition book, which held various scouted talent from across the state of California. He had already seen several matches already and it ranged from amateur to mediocre, but yet his brow perked up at the sight of this young man who looked like he could play linebacker in the pros but still...in a sea of shit, he was a sight for sore eyes. Ernie glanced around and picked up a program that was discarded on the floor. He opened it up and saw the kids face.
“Naiser King, huh?”
He was fresh, he was young.
Upon first glance, the kid had potential, hell he was marketable as fuck too.
The major question is, did the kid have talent?
[An hour later.]
I sat in the football locker room alone with a towel over my head, sweat still running down my nose. I ate the loss I was supposed to take but at the same time I gave the people the show they wanted. It was weird how I came into this at first, just looking to make some extra cash, now it turning into something that I was falling into more and more. Weird how shit like that always works out, doesn’t it?
I reached down unlacing my black leather boots, letting the wore tongue hang out like a pair of worn Timberland boots as I dropped the towel from my neck to pull off the white Under Armor T-shirt, saturated with my sweat. Actually it was more like peeling it off as it fell to the ground with a wet plop. I reached over into the black Nike duffel bag that held an extra change of clothes and pulled out a smaller bag as I stuffed the wet shirt in for a future date at the laundromat. The door to the locker room opened as Rico Livingston walked in. Rico was a man of short stature but held a presence about him that demanded respect. Of course it didn’t hurt that he was the fight promoter.
“You’re the last one here again, huh? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Once again, Naiser I must say you’re getting quite the knack for this. You’re really started to come into your own out there, the crowd loves it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re slowly starting to get a following around here. Keep this up and I’m sure someone is going to take noticed, which is good for you, but bad for me, I just might lose my main draw.”
Rico laughed out loud as he handed over a small white envelope to me.
“It’s not much from the gate but it’s enough to get a little something to eat, right? I’ll see you next week, champ.”
I waited for Rico to leave before I counted my take for the day. A hundred and twenty-five bucks wasn’t bad at all. It was enough for gas and groceries and maybe something a little extra but for a few hours work, it wasn’t bad at all. I quickly finished changing into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, before slipping on a University of Arizona pullover and throwing my duffel bag over my shoulder as I head for the door. As I stepped outside, I almost forgot how f*cking cold it was outside as my breath was instantly chilled as it poured from my nose. I jingled my keys to my Nissan Frontier that sat alone in the rear of the parking lot. It was my first car since I graduated High School over five years ago. And with 100 thousand plus miles, the fact that it still ran was nothing more but a miracle.
“You’re Naiser King, right?”
I turned around only a few feet away from my car. My first thought was some wayward fan just wanting to stick around for an autograph. I’ve signed a few before the shock of it, still was lost on me. Here I was some security guard who moonlighted as a wrestler to make a few extra bucks and these people wanted my autograph...it was unbelievable.
“Yeah? Who’s asking?”
I saw this guy in a large brown leather jacket walk up to me with a lit cigar in a mouth, puffing away like a locomotive. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “I’m Ernie Banks, I’m a talent scout associated with a few upstart promotions. Ever heard of Revolution Wrestling based out in San Diego? You put on quite the show out there. How long you’ve been wrestling? A few years?”
I could only smile and shake my head slowly. “No sir, ten months.” Ernie arched a brow as he took a drag from his cigar. “Ten Months.”, he said as if he didn’t believe me. I shook my head with that same smile. “Yeah, just ten months.”
There was a bit of silence between us as I wondered what this guy was trying to get at.
“Well, Naiser, you hungry?”
At mention of being hungry, I realized that I haven’t eaten since that morning after the house fire from the previous shift. My stomach answered the question for me, rumbling loudly as if it was sucking up against my spine.
“I’ll take that as a yes, let me get you some grub and talk a little bit, shall we?”
