With that, he nodded at Guido who opened the dressing room door.
All four wrestlers were sharing the same room, and they looked up expectantly as we filed in. That’s right. I said we. I kind of tagged along at the end of the procession and no one seemed to object.
“Didn’t you clowns forget something out there?” Shai-ster said for his greeting. “Like who was supposed to win?”
The various team members exchanged glances. Then the smallest of the red team shrugged.
“Big deal. So we changed our minds.”
“Yeah,” his teammate chimed in. “We decided it would be bad for our image to lose . . . especially to these stumblebums.”
That brought the white team to its feet.
“Stumblebums?” one of them bellowed. “You caught us by surprise, that’s all. We was told to take it easy until the third-round.”
“If you took it any easier, you’d be asleep. We were supposed to be wrestling, not dancing.”
Shai-ster stepped between them.
“So you all admit you understood your original instructions?”
“Hey, get off our backs, okay? You’ll get your stinking money back, so what’s your beef, anyway?”
“Even if you gave us a full refund,” Shai-ster said softly, “there’s still a matter of the money we lost betting on you. I don’t suppose any of you are independently wealthy?”
“Oh, sure,” one of the reds laughed. “We’re just doin’ this for kicks.”
“I thought not. Guido. Nunzio. See what you can do about squaring accounts with these gentlemen. And take your time. I want them to feel it, you know?”
“I dunno, Shai-ster,” Guido scowled. “They’re awfully small. I don’t think we can make it last too long.”