Job Girl (Fight Card) Read online

  FIGHT CARD:

  JOB GIRL

  ANOTHER TWO-FISTED

  FIGHT CARD TALE

  JACK TUNNEY

  FIGHT CARD: JOB GIRL

  e-Book Edition – First Published July 2015

  Copyright © 2015 Jason Chirevas

  Cover: Carl Yonder

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, corporations, institutions and organizations mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission from the publisher.

  Fight Card, Fight Card Now, Fight Card MMA, Fight Card Romance, Fight Card Luchadores, Fight Card Sherlock Holmes, and the Fight Card logo © 2010 Paul Bishop and Mel Odom

  FIGHT CARD

  JOB GIRL

  FIRST FALL

  DECATUR, ILLINOIS, 1956

  “Wuhhhfff.”

  Vicky doubled over, clutching her leopard print-wrapped stomach. She rocked back on her bare heels and blew her cheeks out into a smooth baseball.

  The crowd, somewhere back there in the darkness and at least two kinds of smoke, loved it.

  Under the hot spot on the ring, Ellie Laredo stomped her white cowboy boots and whooped an animal call at the masses. “Time to finish her off, y’all? You think so?”

  The shouts and shaking fists said they did.

  Outside the ring, Mammoth Malloy, a huge man of generous mustache clad in indeterminate animal skins and furry boots, sort of clapped and sort of cheered. “Come on, Tonda. Get her.”

  Ellie squared-off with Vicky, who was still bent over and huffing, and kept her voice between them. “Try it, knee into the corner, come out for the finish.”

  Vicky staggered forward and, from somewhere near the Cape of Good Hope, swung her hand, nails first, in a wide arc at Ellie Laredo’s head. “Rrraarrr.”

  Ellie ducked the claws and Vicky spun around to put her back to the blonde cowgirl, who seized her by her auburn hair and yanked her head back.

  The jagged, sweaty scar from the corner of Vicky’s mouth to her ear was on display for the entire crowd to see and revile.

  Vicky snarled her protest and clutched at Ellie Laredo’s hands, pretending to try to claw her way free.

  Ellie released Vicky’s hair with a little shove, creating space between them, and then blasted Vicky between the shoulder blades with a one-booted dropkick.

  Vicky, prepared to run herself into the corner, was propelled there instead and lost her balance halfway. She stumbled and crashed chin-first into the second turnbuckle, snapping her head back.

  The crowd “ohhh’d” and cheered as Vicky’s chin slid from the turnbuckle to the dirty canvas.

  Mammoth Malloy shook his head, hands on his hips. “Hell.” He glanced up at Ellie Laredo and wagged his head, just once and just a little, at Vicky.

  The cowgirl acknowledged him with her eyes and pranced over to the corner, where Vicky lay in a heap. She wound her fingers into Vicky’s blood red hair and hauled her to her feet. “Come on, girl. Time for bed.”

  The cauliflower-eared referee, his striped shirt untucked, moved in. “Let’s get her out of the corner, Laredo. C’mon.”

  “On it, ref.” Ellie put her lips near Vicky’s ear. “Mare, splash and we’re home.”

  “OK…” Vicky wobbled and swayed.

  The cowgirl switched her grip from Vicky’s hair and wrapped one thin, strong arm under her throbbing chin. Ellie Laredo stepped forward out of the corner and whipped Vicky over her shoulder by the head.

  Her neck and back still rapt in pain, Vicky didn’t have the presence of mind to help the move along, but she did fall properly, tucking her chin to her chest and letting her arms, hands and feet take most of the impact on the mat. She relaxed and laid out supine, arms at her sides.

  With some sort of rodeo call or something – Vicky couldn’t tell – Ellie Laredo ran past her head, bounced off the ropes and leaped up above Vicky.

  As she did, Vicky slid her arms up so they lay stretched out over her head.

  The cowgirl came crashing down across Vicky’s midsection in what looked like full body-to-body contact, but was actually Ellie Laredo’s forearms and knees making contact with the mat, her navel barely kissing up against Vicky’s through their costumes.

  Nevertheless, Vicky jackknifed up from the mat, fingers and toes pointed at the severe spotlight. She let out an exhausted bellow of pain and flopped back to the mat spread-eagle.

  Ellie Laredo adjusted her position to lie across Vicky’s chest and shoulders. She entwined her legs around Vicky’s left arm and secured Vicky’s right to the mat with hands pressed to her forearm and wrist.

  Vicky remained limp, eyes closed, mouth hanging open, breathing deep from her belly.

  The referee dropped down as fast as two bad knees would allow. As he did, the blond cowgirl tightening her coil around Vicky’s left arm and pushed her right out away from her body, stretching Vicky’s joints and grinding her shoulder blades into the mat.

  “Ow! Ow! What the…?”

  The referee started the count.

  Vicky grimaced, groaned and squirmed until he reached three.

  The bell clanged and Ellie Laredo bounced up to soak in the crowd’s love and appreciation.

  Vicky pulled her arms close to her body and rolled into a fetal position on the mat.

  The tired, pre-cancerous drawl of the ring announcer filled the arena. “The time of the second fall, a mere three minutes and four seconds, the winner in two straight falls is Ellie Laredo over Tonda the Jungle Queen. Laredo, your winner.”

  The blond cowgirl left the ring and shook some hands on her way back to the locker room.

  Mammoth was nowhere to be found at ringside.

  Vicky pushed herself up to her hands and knees and crawled over to the corner to retrieve her leopard print slingbacks. She rolled under the bottom rope and staggered up the aisle with her shoes dangling from two curled fingers. She massaged the back of her neck with the other hand.

  Halfway to the back, some guy in a pressed suit leaned over the railing. “Nice try, slut. Lost again.”

  Vicky didn’t look at him.

  Ben had almost killed the last guy who called her that.

  Now it was part of her job.

  ***

  “Ouch. Jeez.” Vicky re-adjusted the ice bag to cover more of the back her neck and held her hair up with the other hand. Still in her animal print with her shoes on the concrete floor between her feet, she slouched on a bench in the little curtained-off corner of the locker room in which she and Ellie Laredo had dressed.

  Wayne, the rat-faced man-baby of a promoter, whipped through the curtain.

  “Nice match, Queenie. Nice match.”

  Vicky stared at him. “Thanks. I’m not naked in here or anything, by the way.”

  “Ha.” He shoved that away. “Nothing you ain’t used to if you was, hah?”

  “Yup.” Vicky deflated back into her slump and looked at her shoes.

  “Anyway, I got your payoff, but, uh…” Wayne held a tight little roll of green. “What happened during that finish there?”

  She looked up at him like he was five foot, six inches of manure. “What do you mean what happened?” She lifted the ice bag a little. “This happened. She kicked me in the back of the head.” Pain grabbed between her shoulder blades and she arched her back. “Owowow…”

  Wayne stared at Vicky’s breasts as she squirmed in pain. “Yeah, well, the finish wasn’t as clean as I’d like, so I
’m dockin’ you two bucks.”

  “What?” Vicky tried to stand up but shooting pain up her neck kept her on the bench. “It wasn’t my fault. She blew the move.”

  “I don’t care.” Wayne shook the little green roll at her. “I need clean finishes in my shows, and Laredo’s a young girl on the rise. I want to run with her again.” He unwound the roll and rifled bills. “So you lose two bucks tonight, Queenie.”

  Wayne shoved a mitt with a Lincoln and three Washingtons at her face. Vicky snatched the money from him and threw it into her open locker.

  “Hey.” The curtain whipped open again and Mammoth Malloy filled most of the remaining free space around Vicky’s locker. “There you are, Wayne. Looked like a good gate out there tonight.” He stuck out his hand.

  “It was.” Wayne smiled at the little green roll. “Here you go, Mammoth.”

  Wayne passed five Hamiltons to Mammoth within a foot of Vicky’s face.

  She shook her head. “Nice. That’s real nice.”

  “What?” Wayne looked at Vicky. Mammoth looked at his dough.

  Vicky dropped the ice bag to the bench and tried to twist away from the pain. “I get docked because Ellie Mae can’t throw a decent dropkick and I get nailed in the back of the head, which, according to everything you guys say, is not a safe place to get hit for real. Meanwhile…” She pointed at Mammoth. “He was supposed to carry me to the back after the match and he was gone before the second pin.”

  Mammoth looked at Vicky for the first time since he’d arrived. “You blew the finish.” He shrugged. “I don’t got to be associated with that.”

  “It was her fault!” Vicky clenched her fists in front of her chest, then lowered them to the bench next to her hips. She looked at Wayne. “And it wasn’t even the finish. We still did the finish.”

  “It was part of the finish.” Wayne leveled a finger at her. “Maybe next time you’ll sell the whole finish right.”

  Vicky shook her head, stared at the floor.

  “As for Mammoth here.” Wayne clapped the huge man’s shoulder. “His payoff is for his match. He goes to the ring with you as a favor to me.”

  “Right.” Mammoth nodded, wide chin out. “Out of the kindness of my heart.”

  “Fine.” Vicky wrapped her arms around her middle. “Whatever you guys say.”

  “That’s a girl.” Wayne tapped Mammoth on the chest with the little green roll. “Grab a bite?”

  “Naw.” Mammoth grinned. “Couple of dollies were giving me the eye after my match.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “They’re waitin’ for me at the back. Told ’em they can rub the strap to give me luck. Ha.”

  “Hey, nice.” Wayne glanced at Vicky. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  Wayne slipped through the curtain. Mammoth turned to follow.

  “You were supposed to carry me to the back.”

  He turned, eyebrow cocked. “How’s that?”

  Vicky pushed her hair to one side so it fell over her scar and looked up at him with one green eye. Her voice was small. “We work together. You were supposed to carry me.”

  “You work with me, honey.” He pushed a thumb into one his balloon pecs. “I don’t work with you, get that straight.” He turned toward the curtain. “The only thing carrying you was that hayseed through that crap finish.”

  Mammoth whipped through the curtain and out of sight. No sooner did the curtain settle when Vicky heard his voice, all bright and cheery, from the other side. “Oh, hey there, darlin.’ Good match tonight.”

  Ellie Laredo’s voice, just as bright, just as cheery, responded. “Thanks. Yours too.” The blonde cowgirl, still in her ring gear, slipped through the curtain and started when she saw Vicky. “Oh, hey. Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

  “Yeah, well…” Vicky put the ice bag back on her neck between her shoulders.

  “Oh, lord.” Laredo clasped her hands in front of her mouth. “Did I do that? The dropkick?”

  Vicky shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Shoot. I’m sure sorry, Tonda.” The cowgirl’s hands found her hips. “Looked like it sent you for a loop there.”

  “Yeah, that’s alright though.” Vicky glanced up at her opponent for the night. “The office docked me for it. Said it made the finish messy.”

  “What?” Ellie Laredo stood agape. “It was me that done it.” She put a hand on the curtain. “You want me to go say something?”

  “No.” Vicky waved the cowgirl’s hand back to her side. “That’ll only make it worse. Appreciate it, though.”

  “I just think that ain’t right.” Laredo shook her head, then sat on the bench opposite Vicky and set about peeling out of her cowgirl costume, boots first.

  Vicky dropped the ice bag to the bench and tried to stretch, but the pain kept it stunted, so she grabbed her slingbacks off the floor and pushed to her feet. She threw the shoes into her gym bag and pulled a pair of simple flats from the locker, dropped them on the floor and slipped into them. Vicky stood with her locker door in her hand for two deep breaths, then cleared her throat. “Hey, there’s something I did want to ask you.”

  Laredo’s voice was pure perk. “Mmmmm?”

  Vicky turned. “Why did you stretch me during the pin on the second fall?”

  “Oh.” The cowgirl, now just a naked blonde, sat herding her locks into a short ponytail. “That.”

  “Yeah, that.” Vicky leaned against the bank of lockers, arms crossed. “What was the idea there? I sold a knockout after the splash. Didn’t you get it?”

  “No, I did.” Laredo stretched a bit on her bench. Vicky tried not to notice the decade of difference between the cowgirl’s body and her own. Laredo shrugged. “Look, I know I hurt you a little bit during that pin, and I’m sorry, but I needed to make sure you stayed down.”

  “Why?” Vicky turned up a palm. “That was the finish.”

  “I know.” Laredo stood and crossed to her locker. “But I’ve been traveling around a while now and, well…” She pulled panties and a bra from the locker. “Sometimes you local girls grow egos at the last minute.”

  Vicky shook her head. “That isn’t me.”

  “I know that now.” Laredo adjusted her undergarments. “But I had two local girls who were supposed to do jobs for me put a shoulder up on my finish and go into business for themselves. “Two.” She held up the required fingers. “In just the last year.”

  Vicky shifted her weight. “Did Wayne tell you what we do here?” She put an index finger to her chest. “What I do here?”

  “Yeah. He did. I know.” Laredo slipped a pretty, but simple cotton dress over her head. “You job to any name girl he can bring in.” She adjusted the dress to best compliment her shape. “Someone should tell him he’s lucky. Most promoters don’t have a job girl in-house.” She shrugged. “Like I said, most of ’em want to make a name for themselves, or else they’re too old or fat to ever make it.” She shook her head. “Those are the ones you really have to look out for.”

  “Yeah, well.” Vicky rolled her eyes. “I mainly valet for Mammoth out there, but I get a bigger payoff to job and, well…” She shrugged. “People seem to like to see me get beat, so…more payoffs.”

  “Hey, nothing wrong with that.” Laredo smiled. “That’s what this business is about.” She slipped into a pair of pumps. “And don’t sell yourself short. You have a good look, you play the character great.” She gestured around the tiny, curtained-off locker room. “You don’t have to just do jobs here if you want more.”

  “I dunno.” Vicky pulled her hair away from her face, exposing her scar. “Not sure the rest of the world is ready for this.”

  “You kidding? That’s a great gimmick.” Laredo pulled a light sweater around her shoulders and her bag from her locker. “This is professional wrestling, Tonda. People love that stuff.”

  “Yeah.” Vicky thought about the knife and the sound it made when it tore her face. “I guess they do.”

  “Listen, I gotta go.
I got two sailors visiting home on leave from Chicago who say there’s no night life in this town and I want to prove them wrong.”

  “Heh.” Vicky almost smiled. “Long odds.”

  “We’ll see.” Laredo put a hand on the curtain. “Bottom line for me is I was told Tonda the Jungle Queen would make me look good tonight and you did. So, thanks…good match.” She pushed through the curtain.

  “You’re welcome.” Vicky pulled her bag from her locker and stared at the empty space inside. “My name is Victoria, by the way.” She turned and pressed her back to the lockers. “At least at one point it was.”

  THREE YEARS EARLIER

  MAMARONECK, NEW YORK, 1953

  “One. Just one, please.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “What?” Vicky blinked at the other woman.

  “I said…” The older, stringy ticket clerk rolled her eyes. “Where are you going, dear? Ticket to where?”

  “Oh.” Vicky waved a hand. “All the way. Grand Central.”

  “OK.” The clerk went to work.

  Vicky put the small of her back to the edge of the ticket counter, her hands curled around it.

  How could she leave him? Could she leave him? She had to leave. Didn’t she?

  “No.” Vicky spun on her wedge and waved at the clerk. “No. I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t buy it.”

  “What?” The women’s spidery hands pinched the ticket. “Not enough money or you don’t want it?”

  “I…” Vicky squeezed the counter with both hands. “I don’t…”

  “Whatever you’re running from…” The clerk caught Vicky’s rolling green eye with her cloudy gray one. “…I don’t think Grand Central is far enough.”

  “I’m not running.” Vicky grabbed at the ticket. “Just…just forget it. I’ll take it.”

  “OK.” The clerk allowed Vicky to snatch the ticket. “‘Ours is not to reason why…’”

  “Yeah. Great.” Vicky flipped a five to the counter, grabbed her suitcase and banged shoulder-to-shoulder with a guy in a gray suit who had the misfortune of being between her and the door.