Club Midnight was a very, very popular spot in Indianapolis. Boston had found the perfect intersection of “perfect location”, “perfect promotion” and “luck”. Three powerful forces, especially in the entertainment industry.
Upon the meeting of the famed duo in question with the nightclub’s ticket-takers with the Whirly Birdz, Terrence and Wendy, the two were brought through the club’s main floor, and upstairs to the manager’s office. It wasn’t the fodder of video games and films with a massive room and mirrored glass on the back. But it wasn’t a shabby, paper-pile-filled closet, either.
It was large, but full of equipment, storage closets, and had a large window on the back wall. Part of A, part of B. Two comfortable-looking chairs sat across a large oak desk from the chair with the manager ensconced inside. The manager in question was unquestionably Boston Bancroft, dressed in a black, but collared shirt, a tie loosely draped around his shoulders, left undone. Upon the entrance of the others, Boston sat up and smiled brightly to his guests.
“Ah. Decided to take me up on my free entrance to the club? Welcome,” he said, his voice somewhat... quieter than the Boston that Twister and Wendy were used to. Boston seemed... less exciteable. Less powerful. Less... attention-whore-y. Then again, he had a shirt on and wasn’t holding a World Title belt.
Terrence had actually dressed up for the occasion, foregoing the usual t-shirt and jeans, and had elected for a blue/black patterened buttoned shirt (although he left the collar and the next button down undone), and a black pair of slacks. He stared at Boston, careful to keep his expression neutral. Despite having words with him throughout most of the Summer Games buildup, this was the first time Terrence and Bancroft had ever met face to face, and he was definitely unsure of what to make of the man.
Even more unsure seemed Wendy, who tugged nervously at the straps of her dark green knee-legnth dress. Unlike Terrence, the small redhead HAD ran into Boston before, and she hadn’t exactly found the experience to enjoyable. Even so, she struggled to smile politely, although her emerald eyes clearly showed the animosity she held for Bancroft, as well as the nervousness she clearly felt for being in such a situation.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Wendy replied, unable to completely keep the stiffness from her voice.
“Well, I couldn’t very well leave the first impression you two had of myself as the only one, could I?” Boston seemed... almost relaxed. In direct opposition to how Boston found himself on television, constantly “up”, constantly trying to catch the attention, the winner of Summer Games ‘09 and ‘10 looked comfortable.
“Please, sit. I was eager to meet some other wrestlers from Indianapolis. I try to make it a point to know the other people in the game in my hometown. Ever been to an IPW show?” The company was the recent “name” in Indy’s wrestling scene, doing the majority of the shows promoted in either the high school, armory or VFW halls. They plastered posters all over town, but a person so constantly on the road like the Birdz could easily miss something so small-scale.
The husband-wife tag team sat down, Wendy smoothing her dress and crossing her legs as she did. Although Wendy still seemed uncomfortably rigid, Terrence relaxed somewhat, shaking his head at the nightclub’s owner.
“No,” Terrence said, shrugging. “Wendy and I really didn’t pay much attention to the wrestling scene while we were retired, and we’ve just been too busy to really take in anything locally. I heard your kid did a number on their champion, though,” he finished, chuckling as he said so.
Boston shrugged, as he leaned back in his seat. “The promoter is a good guy. They’re a bunch of good kids over there, trying to put on an enjoyable product. Can’t fault ‘em for their heart. If DEFIANCE didn’t have so many nutjobs in it who take this stuff way, way too seriously, I’d say the same about that place.” Boston pulled open a drawer, taking out a black, leatherbound menu. He slid it across the desk, smile broadening a bit.
“Would you care for anything to eat, or drink? The wine list is in the back. It’ll be on the house, of course,” Boston finished, a jolly tone to his voice. “I hope you two understand my intentions for inviting you here. I just want you to know that what I said, what I did at Summer Games, was simply business. If you took offense to anything I said, I flat-out apologise. You do what’s necessary to get people to tune in, right?”
Terrence picked up the menu, opening it, saying nothing, but looking slightly confused. Wendy’s cheeks had flushed slightly, and a small fire had leapt into her eyes at the remarks. “It wasn’t what you said that was so offensive,” she said, quietly enough so that even Boston had to lean slightly forward to hear her. “It was what you did.”
Boston lifted an eyebrow, smile dimming just a tad. “It wasn’t you who took a slapjack to the back of the head. All I ever did to you was throw a few punches, and trade a few holds. I wasn’t DEFIANCE like Dane, and I’m not the Devil, like Victor Mandrake seems to think.” Boston’s hands came up, clasping on the desk.
“All I did was wrestle. Like I always do. Like I’m paid to do.” Boston reached over, turning a picture-frame ‘pon his desk around. His gorgeous Irish redhead of a wife, and his curly-haired little muppet of a son beamed from the frame. “To be honest, I wanted the extra, quite large payday to be able to pay for some extra dental work for Jeremy. He had a tooth coming in in a bad way, and Dane came knocking at just the right time.”
The big black man gave a shrug. “I had already told him, Cito, and nearly every other major promoter, PTC, NWA and all the rest that I was willing to do a show or three for ‘em if they helped with the mangled contracts from the disastrous move from the SSB to WWA: West. Never work with a fellow as messy as Bloodgood.” Boston shook his head, eyes rolling in remembrance of the hassle they put him through.
Terrence, noticing the tension between Bancroft and his wife had busied himself with the menu, although keeping a wary eye out in the unlikely event things suddenly got out of hand. Wendy was silent, but reached out, and picked up the picture frame.
“You have a beautiful family.” She said, then paused for just a second. “We’re sorry to hear about Justin.”
Boston sighed softly, shaking his head. “There’s a difference between an attack like what I did to Jiles and what Long did to Justin. I didn’t attack anywhere he can’t get fixed, I pulled a good half of those shots, and if he’s smart, he’ll take the lesson about not stepping on someone’s toes when they’re trying to up their stock, and he won’t butt into stuff that doesn’t concern him.”
Boston crossed his arms and gritted his teeth, fists closing and popping his knuckles. “But Long... What he did was barbaric. Poor kid is still comatose. I don’t know if he’ll ever come out of it.”
“Too many people got hurt last show,” Terrence finally said, closing his menu, and passing it to Wendy. “Hurley, Brooks, Dane. I even heard Langston had to go to the hospital.”
Boston nodded sadly, a grim look on his face. “Too many people who make this personal. At the end of the day, which of us didn’t get into the ring for a little physical competition and a paycheck? Greer and his crew just took away a man’s livelihood. And Mandrake? The man’s a damn clinical case.”
Wendy snorted at the mere thought of anyone telling her just how out of control Victor Mandrake was, considering all the man had done to her. Terrence looked over at Boston, a grim smile upon his face. “If I have my way, Greer and the Hydra won’t be a problem after the sixteenth.”
“Not all of Hydra. I still have to defend my title belt against Andrews no matter what you do. Then again, I’ve wanted to have a tussle with the man. He’s a good competitor, even if he’s haunted by his demons.” Boston waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s not talk about our matches. Just like a couple of wrestlers to meet and brag who will lose to who at what supercard, right?”
Boston spread a hand towards the two. “Anything look good on there? Our sliders have gotten rave reviews, our Jell-O shots sell like hotcakes, and the wine cellar is top-notch. Just to list a few things.” The moustachio’d man smiled.amicably. “I’m not trying to bribe you or anything. It would be nice, though, to be able to introduce Karen to someone else who understands our life.”
“You said she’s Irish,” Wendy said, smiling wryly. “That’s points in my book. And a water will do just fine, thank you.”
“I’ll have a Budweiser,” Terrence declared, drawing an astonished glare from his wife. He shot her a small grin. “Hey, when in Rome, right?”
Boston tapped a button on his intercom. “Alice? Can you bring up a carafe of ice water, two bottles of Budweiser...” Boston glanced up to the two. “You sure I can’t interest you in any wine? I was going to try some of a new vintage out of California. Very light, sweet, and fruity.”
Wendy paused, her initial instinct to repeat that water was fine, but for some reason, she felt awfully tempted by the generous offer. Finally, Terrence leaned over, and whispered in her ear, although loud enough so Boston could just barely hear the words.
“Wendy, a glass of wine is not going to turn you into your parents.”
Wendy shot her husband a dark glare, and finally sighed, nodding. “I suppose a glass wouldn’t hurt.”
Terrence nodded as well. “Cancel the Bud, I’ll give it a shot.”
“Make that the ‘01 wine we got in earlier tonight, Alice.” Boston let go of the intercom, and straightened, grinning once more. “I’m glad that you two don’t take this wrestling business as crazy seriously as folks like Drago and Box. I mean... It’s just a job, right?”
Terrence nodded, but Wendy shook her head. “I take it very seriously,” she said quietly. “If I didn’t, every single match could result in me getting seriously hurt... or worse.” She smiled slightly. “I just know when to let bygones be bygones.”
Terrence nodded, and at that moment, a young woman walked in, holding a bottle of wine in her hand, and three glasses, she set everything on Bancrofts desk, and Boston nodded, dismissing her. Pulling a corkscrew out of his desk, Boston quickly opened the bottle, and poured the liquor into the three glasses. Taking one for himself, Boston slid the other two to the edge of his desk, and both Terrence and Wendy took one.
Terrence immediately took a drink, nodding his approval at the taste, but Wendy merely stared at the glass in her hand, finally, she raised it to her lips, taking a small sip of the wine.
“Its good!” she finally said, taking another sip.
Boston smiled. “To Defiance,” he finally said, raising his glass.
“To Defiance,” Terrence said, raising his glass at Boston. Wendy remained silent, but she amiably raised her glass as well.
Boston merely smiled.
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