'You're clear until two, Boss' – she turned her head slightly and smiled. 'Where are you off to? Feeling anxious?' As she said that she wrinkled her nose.'Ha ha. No, I'm feeling restless and need to get out of here before my head implodes' Call me on my cell if you need me. Want anything while I'm out?''Yes, stop by Hollywood and bring me a hunk' Stuart smirked.'Anything else, Your Majesty?''Yes, I want him young. No older than 25! See you when you get back'The phone rang and Beatrice answered as Stuart turned away and headed out the door and into the elevator lobby. He had a unique relationship with his assistant. She kept him grounded and complimented his manic approach to work. His colleagues were surprised that such an outspoken woman, and a black woman at that, could remain at such a prim and proper place like a high-priced law firm. Stuart liked straight forwardness and Beatrice had plenty of that and more. He could see how she intimidated the other lawyers. The woman also oozed. In the middle was a shabby boxing ring. The covering on the ropes was frayed and the mat had bare patches. Ringside seats were folding chairs. Further back there were benches."It'll hold over 600," Marx said proudly. "We've packed in as many as 720 for really big events."Ralph's was an institution, the center of what was left of the town's social life. And it was affordable. For a typical wrestling night, ringside seats were $25, and most of the rest were $10. For big attractions, and the Midnight Midgets were definitely a big attraction, ringside cost up to $50. And if the crowd was big enough, Sam opened up what he called the "sky boxes." Kids could climb onto the rafters for $2 each. They got a great view and a chance to throw peanuts on the crowd below. Every now and then one fell. Three had died that way, and another would spend the rest of his life being pushed around in a wheelchair and pissing into a plastic bag. But no one would have dreamed of suing Ralph's, or Sam Marx.
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