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thoroughly enjoyed the attention his natural presence seemed to generate. It was like watching a tornado touch down in a library.
        A black waiter in a white jacket appeared at the booth to take their order. Once he'd gone, Charlie sat back a bit and lit a non-filtered cigarette. "You guys mind if I smoke?" Frank and Gus both lit up. "Beautiful. Okay, we've all got busy lives so let's get down to it. Here's the dirt on Charlie Rain: You're sitting there thinking I look sort of familiar, right? Well, am I right?"
        "A bit," Frank lied.
        "I played Chad on Apple Lane."
        "No shit? That was you?"
        Charlie smiled proudly. "The one and only, brother. It was probably a bit before your time, Frank, but they still show it in reruns on cable now and then. How about you, Augustus? You look older than I am. You must remember that show."
        "Sure," Gus said evenly. "I remember it sucked."
        Before Frank could think of something to say, Charlie slammed the palm of his hand onto the table and burst out laughing. "I like that, Gus! Don't take shit from anybody, right?"
        Gus allowed a hesitant smile. "That's right."
        Still laughing, Charlie noticed an elderly couple glaring at him from a nearby table. "Hey, Methuselah, can I help you with something?"
        The waiter returned with their drinks. "Anything else I can do for you, gentlemen?"
        Charlie shook the man's hand as an excuse to slip him a twenty-dollar bill. "All set, brother. Just do me a favor and check in with us now and then, okay?"
        "Of course, sir."
        "An old trick I learned," Charlie explained as the waiter moved away. "If you want good service tip ahead of time. Works like a charm."
        Frank sipped his drink. "I'll try to remember that."
        "As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted by the living dead at the next table, I've been in entertainment on one level or another my whole life. I've been on top and I've been at the bottom. One time at the Emmys, I sat right between Caroll O'Connor and Jack Lord. No shit. A few years later I came out of my third visit to rehab and wound up working at Burger King. See the way I figure it, it does me no good to bullshit you guys. I'd rather cut to the chase and lay it all out. Truth is, wrestling saved my ass. It was a way for me to stay involved in the entertainment business and still make a decent living. Over the last few years I've pulled my shit together and brought East Coast Professional Wrestling League from an idea into a nice little income. I'm no goof, okay? I got a wife and a house and a car and bills just like everybody else. But I've also got a plan that'll make the ECPWL a national promotion within five years."
        Frank looked up from his drink. "Why do you need us?"
        "I don't remember saying I did."
        "Then why are we here?"
        Charlie crushed his cigarette in the ashtray between them and immediately lit another. "Maybe we can help each other out, who knows? I talk to a lot of people, Frank, and almost all of them are lying sacks of shit, especially the ones in the wrestling business. But you ask anybody and they'll tell you Charlie Rain's different. I'm respected, liked - even trusted by some - in a business where all three are rare. I've made a mark - granted a small one - but still a mark. Problem is, I'm all alone out here, practically a one-man operation. It does me no good to jerk you guys around and waste your time or mine. The bottom line is, I need backup from people I can trust. I need someone who can put money in the pot and help me turn ECPWL into a legitimate power. Now, I don't know if you're talking to any other independent promoters, and I don't give a shit if you are, but what I can offer you that nobody else can is very simple. A chance to get in on the ground floor of a company that's small but already respected and growing; a fast track into the wrestling business,