Quintin Jardine - Wearing Purple

I stared after him, pondering his threat, wondering whether to take it seriously.

‘Don’t you worry about that one, mate.’

The thick Glasgow accent came from behind me. I turned, to see a man standing beside the piled up speakers. He looked to be in his early to mid-thirties; he was fair-haired, wearing grimy jeans and a faded GWA tee-shirt, and his face was streaked with dust and sweat. He was tall, about six three, and brick-built. ‘Liam likes to chuck his weight around. Just ignore him.’

I nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll enjoy ignoring the bastard, in fact.’ I looked at the newcomer. ‘You a wrestler?’

‘Christ no. I’m one of the road crew. We’re the really tough boys around here. Ma name’s Gary O’Rourke, by the way.’

‘Oz Blackstone.’

‘How did you come to land this job, Oz?’

I took immediate refuge behind my previously rehearsed lie. ‘I’ve done a bit of acting. A friend of mine introduced me to Everett, and he decided to give me a shot at it.’

Gary nodded. ‘Aye, he’s a good bloke, is big Daze. So’s the other Yank, Jerry.’

‘What are the rest of the wrestlers like?’

‘Ach, apart from Liam who’s a nasty wee shite, the most of them are okay. Yon Darius, he looks fuckin’ terrifying in the ring, but he’s a pleasant big guy outside of it. Even the lassies are fine.’ He pointed across the arena, towards one of the women I had seen earlier: she was doing stretching exercises. ‘Sally, over there, Sally Crockett: she’s a real stunner. She comes from Manchester; the other women in the squad are Yanks.

‘As for the boss’s wife. .’ His voice tailed off.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ve met her.’

I paused and looked at him. ‘How tough are these guys, really?’

Gary grunted and ran his thick fingers through his hair. ‘Depends what you mean by tough. If you mean how are they in a real fight: some of them — the likes of Johnny King and Rockette there — wouldnae last two minutes in our local, but as for some of the others. . Jerry Gradi, now, he’s a fuckin’ monster. So’s Darius. He wears that loose ring costume, but you see him out of it. Man, he’s so hard, the only bit of his body that moves is his dick.’

‘What about Daze?’

The Glaswegian frowned. ‘The Boss is brilliant in the ring. It’s just so easy for him. He can even handle big Jerry like he was a wean. You look at him and you realise that he’s holdin’ so much back. As for how tough he is, the only thing I could say to that is that if he ever got mad at me, Ah’d send for the SAS. . and even then Ah wouldnae expect to get anythin’ better than a draw.

‘The really impressive thing about these guys though is what they can do wi’ their bodies. Look at that.’ He pointed to the ring. I turned, in time to see Darius pick up Liam Matthews, lift him to shoulder height and choke-slam him down flat on his back on to the padded canvas.

‘Liam weighs maybe a bit over fifteen stone. He and all the rest of them take that sort of hammering every week in life, but they just absorb it and come back for more. Now that’s tough.’

‘Is it a good crowd to work for?’ I asked him, casually.

‘Aye, it is. Big Daze tries to run this like a fitba’ team. He goes out of his way tae make sure everybody’s happy.’

‘And are they?’

‘As far as Ah can tell. It’s the best place Ah’ve ever worked, Ah’ll tell ye.’

‘Where did you work before?’

‘Buildin’ trade.’

‘What brought you here?’

Gary shrugged his impressive shoulders. ‘Ah just fancied a change. Thought it would be nice tae work inside. The travel was an attraction too.’

The roadie bent and picked up one of the big speakers. ‘Ah’d better get on wi’ it.’ He grinned. ‘So’d youse, unless you want the pride of Dublin after you!’

I took him at his word and spent the next hour rehearsing, while Gary and the other five roadies worked around me, setting up the big Bose speakers on stands and building a ramp which rose from floor level at ringside until it stood about four feet high at the doorway which led to the changing area. When I asked one of the roadies what it was for he told me that it was to allow the crowd to see each wrestler as he made his way to the ring.

Make that ‘her’. I had just surrendered my microphone to the sound man when the blonde whom I had seen exercising on the other side of the hall came wandering over in my direction. Gary had been right: she was a stunner, with legs that seemed to go on for ever.

‘Hello there,’ she said, with a smile. ‘You’re the new announcer, I hear. I’m Sally Crockett.’

I shook the hand which she offered. ‘I know; Gary told me.’

‘Ah.’ The smile widened. ‘He’s a good lad, is our Gazza.’

A year before, I’d have launched into a serious pitch. Marriage had changed me, though. I left out the pitch, and scratched my nose instead, showing her my wedding ring as I slipped out a clumsy compliment.

‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘I saw you getting the Liam treatment earlier on.’

‘It was nothing.’

‘I’m glad you think like that. He’s a bit of a bully, is our Liam. Thinks he’s God’s gift, too.’

Her accent was English, but without any regional twang that I could recognise. Her tone told me, though, that she didn’t share Matthews’ opinion of himself.

‘How did you get into this business?’ I asked her.

‘I just fancied it. I used to be an athlete. I did the Heptathlon, but I wasn’t up to Olympic standard — my hurdles were lousy — so I looked around for a change of sport, and found this. I love it.’

‘Don’t you ever get hurt?’

Her pretty face clouded over. ‘Only once. I was in a mixed tag-team match with Darius, against Matthews and Anita Rose, one of the American girls.’

‘What, did she clock you?’

She shook her head. ‘No, Liam did. A couple of days before he’d been pestering me for a date, so much so that I told him to eff off. There was a part in our match, where I was supposed to wind up in the ring with him, hit him with a drop kick and then take a body slam. The drop kick went okay, but he mistimed the slam and broke two of my ribs.’

‘Accident?’

‘No way,’ she said, bitterly. ‘He’s too good a wrestler for that. He claimed it was though, and Daze had to take his word for it.’

I was still pondering the character of my Irish pal, when Everett called out from the ring. ‘Okay, folks, that’s it; everybody back on the bus. Change at the hotel then meet up for dinner at eight.’

When I stepped back into our suite just after seven o’clock, Jan was sitting at a small table, working on a file of accounts which she had slipped into our case.

‘I see you’re enjoying Newcastle, then,’ I said.

‘Saves me having to do it tomorrow. So how did it go? Have you spotted the saboteur yet?’

‘I’ve spotted a room full of them. It could be anyone. . other than Everett. I met a nice lady wrestler, though,’ I added as an afterthought.

My wife smiled. ‘Ah, but is she as good as me?’

‘Couldn’t say. Try some holds on me and I might be able to tell you.’

‘Best of three falls?’

I closed the folder on the table. ‘Or a submission. .’

We wound up being five minutes late for dinner, but it didn’t seem to matter. When we found the reception room that had been set aside for us, the afternoon’s cast of characters was milling around, talking shop. There was a free bar set up against the wall. As we made our way towards it, I noticed that all the wrestlers seemed to be on soft drinks.

Happily, it wasn’t compulsory. I helped myself to a Holsten, and poured a glass of white wine for Jan. As I was handing it to her, Everett came wandering across. Although we stood a little distant from the rest, he still spoke quietly. ‘Any thoughts, Oz, now you’ve seen the operation?’