Segment
The Room Fills
A slew of different styles of chairs, stools, and benches, no two the same, are being moved about and situated in a rusted-out warehouse, centered amongst them all, a crude boxing ring. Ratty turnbuckles, torn canvas, a broken middle rope. Nothing pristine in this building. Nothing even remotely clean. The antithesis of what you might expect from something brand new, but everyone knows what they are getting themselves into. This has never been advertised as anything remotely glamorous.
A large balding man in dark blue overalls, one strap loose due to a missing button, is dragging each chair to wherever he sees fit. The scrape of the chair legs reverberating off the steel siding of the warehouse. Kicking open rusted shut steel chairs and counting the rows in which he’s set them in, losing track along the way.
Suddenly, the creak of the warehouse door opening and slamming shut.
Marcus SheppardDan.
The large man turns at the sound of his name.
Big Dog DanOh, hey Marcus. Almost done here.
Marcus SheppardLooks great man, but I wouldn’t put too much effort here. Probably more of a standing room only type situation.
Dan, holding the final chair of the 40 or so he’s meticulously laid out, drops his shoulders in exasperation.
Big Dog DanWell damn, it would’ve been nice to know that.
Marcus chuckles a bit and attempts to ease the blow.
Marcus SheppardAh man, it’s perfect. I’m sure people will appreciate it. A good first impression never hurts. How’s the ring?
Big Dog DanWell, it’s upright.
Marcus SheppardThat it is. Anybody show up yet?
Big Dog DanYeah, had four guys show up about 30 minutes ago.
Marcus SheppardThirty minutes ago? The event said the Calling starts at 11pm. It’s 10:15.
Big Dog DanSame thing I told them brother. Just excited I guess.
Marcus SheppardI can see that. We got any empty rooms anywhere without shit all over the place? God damn it’s a wreck in here.
Marcus notices as he walks around.
Marcus SheppardI can tell you swept some sort of walking path to the ring at least. Appreciate that.
Big Dog DanYeah, through those double doors are a few rooms. Bathroom back there too. Brought a bucket of water in case someone has to take a dump. Rigged up a couple of lights. Generator is holding up well. Should be good for the entire night.
Marcus SheppardYou’ve really got it taken care of. Thanks Big Dog.
Marcus slaps an envelope on Dan’s chest with appreciation as he walks by him. Dan’s grasp tightens around it and can feel the bills inside.
Marcus SheppardWhen DK gets in, have him get with me. He shouldn’t be too far behind. Let him know I’m in the back. People will probably start showing up soon. I saw Derrick and Rat pull up behind me.
Big Dog DanOf course, boss.
Marcus SheppardI’m not your boss, Dan.
Big Dog DanYou put the money in my hand, you’re the boss.
Marcus SheppardDorian’s money.
Big Dog DanJust showing respect.
Marcus walks through the double doors. Dan begins dragging debris and trash towards the wall with his push broom to clear out more space.
“HOLD ON, HOLD ON Y’ALL GAH DAMN.”
A deep booming voice rumbles off the siding again.
A much…less intimidating voice follows it.
“GET YA MONEY READY!”
Polar opposite human beings walk through the front door, ushering back a group of people arriving for the night. Derrick Sterling, a 6 foot 7, 300 pound behemoth of a man and the scrawniest, skeeviest little white man with blonde dreads arrive in tandem. Name’s Raymond A. Thompson. Everyone who knows him affectionately calls him Rat.
Derrick SterlingY’all hang tight right here and let me get things squared away before we let everyone in.
The group clamoring to enter groans, but agrees.
Derrick SterlingDid you expect this for the first night? There’s already like 15 cars out here and I don’t think anyone has come alone yet.
Raymond A. Thompson (furthermore known as Rat)All I can see is money to be made big fella. MONEY. TO. BE. MADE!
Derrick SterlingHow do you even know people are gonna want to bet on this shit?
Rat stares at him in disbelief.
RatI’ve seen you arrest people for betting on the dumbest shit. Dice games, fucking cockfights...You think motherfuckers ain’t gonna bet on who’s gonna knock who out? We’ve all been doing that since middle school.
Derrick SterlingFair enough. Just don’t get into any shit I’ve gotta get you out of like usual.
