Monkey Wrench by Liza Cody

Author:Liza Cody
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1994-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

I quite like Lewinsham Sports Centre. It’s modern and fairly clean. But it isn’t very dramatic. It ain’t got the atmosphere of some of the older places. It’s too well lit. And when you come out to fight you don’t get that feeling of exploding out of the dark into the light. Which is what I like. I like to come walloping out with a great crash. The crowd is usually booing already – they start as soon as they hear ‘Satisfaction’ – and I give ’em a moment or two to rev themselves up before I come out howling and revving ’em up even further. I like a nice angry crowd. I like ’em to hate the villain. Give me a good angry crowd and I’ll work it up into a lovely rage.

They build the ring in the middle of the basketball court and they fill the rest of the space with seating. What with that and the observation decks, there’s room for hundreds of people. But it ain’t like them old theatres. Theatres are built for drama. Sports halls are built for sport. Wrestling’s a sport, but it’s a drama too, and all in all I like a dramatic setting. It’s easier to make a crowd go nuclear in a dramatic setting.

But the nice thing about modern sports halls is you got proper changing rooms with pegs for your clothes, and showers and benches. You aren’t poked away in a draughty broom cupboard with no lavvy and no mirror.

But it don’t matter to me. If I’m going to be somebody I’m going to be somebody in places like Lewinsham. Anywhere. Everywhere. I don’t care if it’s got a lavvy or not, ’cos this is where the action is. This is where I can make my name.

Oh yeah, I was well up on my toes when I walked into the sports centre that night. I walked in and I saw Mr Deeds, all official, with his clipboard in the foyer.

‘Oy, Eva,’ he said, when he saw me. ‘I thought you wasn’t coming.’

‘Whatcher mean?’ I said. ‘I always come. When haven’t I?’

‘You weren’t training,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see you at the gym. I thought you dropped out.’

‘Me?’ I said.

‘Don’t fucking yell,’ he said. ‘Harsh said you was injured. You said you had tooth trouble. I thought you dropped out. So I stood Gypsy Jo down.’

‘You what?’

‘Don’t fucking shout,’ he said. ‘I stood her down.’

‘You stood Gypsy Jo down?’ I said. ‘You don’t tell me. You don’t ask me. It’s my freakin’ life. It’s what I live for. And you stand Gypsy Jo down?’

‘Shut up and listen …’

‘You listen,’ I said. But I didn’t know what to say. A big hole cracked open under my feet and I was falling down it. He was stood there with his clipboard, a bulgy blowfly sucking on a sick cow’s turd, telling me he was chopping me off at the knees. I could squash him flat, I could grind him into …

‘Eva!’ he shouted.

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