Parker tugged at the collar of his cleanly pressed dress shirt and even loosened up his tie a little bit. The snug fit between his clothing and his neck convinced him that he must be gaining some weight now that he was entering his 30s.

Thirty years old.

The once-young Canadian businessman-turned-wrestling promoter felt worn down from six seasons of Golden Pro Wrestling. But he suppressed his stress and pushed through the entrance door of The Gold Club, Memphis’ finest men’s entertainment establishment.

It was late at night, approximately one week after the Season 6 finale, Blood And Bling, had ended and the shockwaves of the event were still being felt through Memphis.

Behind the entrance door, were familiar faces of Blain and Chavez of the tag team Bounce Squad who provided club security and greeted him with a nod. The two men had served as GPW reporter Vicky Cogliano’s security both on the dance floor and at Golden Pro Wrestling events.

Parker considered to himself how reliable and professional these two men had been for his organization.

“Right this way, Mr. Meloche,” Blain instructed.

The now-thirty-year-old Canadian businessman followed Blain and Chavez through the smoke-filled room where hip-hop music played, and topless women danced on the various stages. Men hooped and hollered for the arousing talent.

“When does Vicky go on stage?” Parker asked casually.

“Vicky doesn’t dance anymore since she got her reporter gig with the Times,” Chavez answered.

Good for her, Parker thought to himself.

After making their way through the main room, Bounce Squad led Parker down a hallway and politely opened a door for him into a backroom. But before stepping into the room himself, he thought carefully.

“Actually, Blain and Chavez, why don’t you come with me? I might be needing you guys around a bit more, for my sake… I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

The two members of Bounce Squad looked at each other and then gave Parker identical nods.

Chavez entered the room first, which Parker then followed with Blain behind him. It was dark and a little difficult to see through all the smoke, but the scene was already set for him.

At a dimly lit table in the middle were three men, and several others stood off near the walls around on the room.

On one side of the table was Mr. Daichi Tanaka, the Yakuza crime boss who held control over Fuse Makoto.

The large man smoked on a cigarette at the table while two other stoic Japanese men in business suits stood behind him.

Parker had watched with concern over the past two seasons as his flagship young wrestling ace, Fuse Makoto, lost all agency over his career. There was nothing Parker could do about it, so he had done the best he could to make sure Golden Pro Wrestling rode the crest of the unstoppable Yakuza wave of influence.

Mr. Tanaka gave him a serious face and a slow nod of recognition.

Also at the table was the shirtless current Pure Gold Champion, Shotcaller, with his ‘homies,’ Da Bloodz, casually leaning against the wall behind him. There were hundreds of tiny scabs across Shotcaller’s chest and neck from the tacks that had impaled him during the recent First Blood Match against Golden Ben Miller.

Shotcaller looked over at Parker and provided a quick upward nod with the Pure Gold Championship belt over his shoulder.

Finally, the third man at the table was none other than the sinister Dr. Dennis Dean, leader of the Psych Ward and Parker’s first moral compromise as leader of Golden Pro Wrestling. The ethically challenged psychiatrist who leveraged his patients as cash cows gave Parker a polite nod.

Parker couldn’t help but notice how much more muscular the doctor had become over the past season since he had begun to take the widely banned bull steroid, Strenstrata. It was a medicine he had first started administering to his patients to make them more fearsome but had obviously been indulging in himself as of late.

Dr. Dean’s henchmen, the Orderlies, stood by like sentinels behind him where Orderly Caruso kept his Silver Championship belt securely in their arms.

With a nod from Mr. Tanaka, the two Japanese men standing behind him approached Parker and Bounce Squad and dutifully gave them a pat down across their bodies. Satisfied that Parker and Bounce Squad didn’t have anything of concern on their persons, they nodded to Mr. Tanaka and returned behind him.

“Please, Mr. Meloche, have a seat,” Mr. Tanaka offered, though Parker felt more implied impetus rather than it being a simple request.

“Thank you, Mr. Tanaka, I really appreciate this invite,” Parker diplomatically replied as he took the fourth and final seat at the table.

Parker, Mr. Tanaka, Shotcaller and Dr. Dean evaluated each other silently for a moment.

“Gentlemen, thank you all for coming here tonight,” Mr. Tanaka began. “In the interest in dispelling your American impatience…”

The Japanese crime boss stopped and gave Parker a polite smile.

“…and Canadian impatience… I would like to discuss our future business arrangement.”

“Wut you talking about, yo?” interjected Shotcaller, the Bloods gang leader from Los Angeles.

Mr. Tanaka turned his head to Shotcaller with a meaningful glare.

“What I’m talking about is putting aside our past differences. Don’t think that I don’t know what happened to my associate, Mr. Sato.”

Shotcaller kept his poker face at the mention of the Yakuza representee who shadowed GPW in Season 4 and even orchestrated a drive-by shooting on Shotcaller that left him in the hospital. In retribution, Shotcaller had murdered Mr. Sato after winning the Pure Gold Championship at Allegiance and buried him in a gravel yard.

“I fail to see what I can provide any of you,” stated Dr. Dean while leaning his forearms on the table. His pronounced muscles pressed through his white doctor’s coat. “I am simply a doctor trying to heal the mentally afflicted. I have no quarrel with or appeal to any of you.”

Mr. Tanaka took a pull from his cigarette and exhaled. The smoke lingered above their heads in a haze illuminated by the sole light on the ceiling.

“We all have something to offer, and we all have something to gain. Let me explain…” Mr. Tanaka replied.

Parker tensed up silently, unsure of what he was getting himself into.

“As you know, I lead an organization based out of my homeland, Japan. An organization that can make you all very rich if you cooperate and contribute to a shared enterprise. For instance, Shotcaller, your group sells narcotics… Yakuza can provide you with an endless high-quality supply and all you have to worry about is moving them. Your competitors will not be able to outcompete you based on narcotic efficacy. We will both share in the bounty.”

Shotcaller nodded and thought to himself while Mr. Tanaka turned his attention to Dr. Dean.

“Dr. Dean, you have access to a medication that the Japanese farmers have been trying to get their hands on for years… Strenstrata.”

The leader of the Psych Ward cocked in eyebrow in interest.

“And what of it? Why Strenstrata?”

“It is originally meant for livestock. For bulls. It enhances their physical structure for strength… with Strenstrata the Wagyu breed would further dominate and profit from the American beef market. I, of course, have significant interest in the Japanese agriculture industry. If you can provide a steady supply of this medicine, I will split all of the profits with you evenly.”

Dr. Dean thought very carefully for a moment before responding.

“Well, I could use some extra funds to enhance my facility’s security and expand the west wing for a few more patients. Government grants have become more difficult to acquire with my GPW involvement because of the damn woke AMA and FDA! If only we were in the 1950, 60s and 70! THOSE were the years to be a doctor on the edge of breakthrough!”

Everyone looked at Dr. Dean blankly until his rhetoric lost steam and he then let Mr. Tanaka continue.

“And, finally, Mr. Meloche,” continued Mr. Tanaka as he turned his attention to Parker. “You are the most important piece here… the cash proceeds from this group’s arrangement will be ‘dirty,’ as you might call it. We need a legitimate business to ‘wash’ it. That business will be Golden Pro Wrestling.”

Parker’s eyes went wide at the proposition, and his heart begin to pound in his chest because he didn’t consider himself a criminal.

A businessman? Yes. But this was beyond anything he was comfortable with.

“Mr. Tanaka… I appreciate the partnership you worked out between GPW and Nissan, but money laundering isn’t something I can facilitate. My own accountant is too thorough… he would catch it. He’s already uncovered less-than-legal operations once before.”

The Yakuza crime boss thought carefully to himself.

“In America, you have ‘at-will employment,’ no? Simply put… fire him. I will send a replacement.”

“…and if I don’t?” Parker cautiously replied. Shotcaller, Dr. Dean and Mr. Tanaka all stared at him as if Parker was mistaken to think he had a choice.

“If you don’t, you will never see Fuse Makoto again. One-by-one, I will lure your top talent to Japan where wrestling is just as popular. Your roster will be dismantled. Golden Pro Wrestling will crumble.”

A pang of panic pulsed through Parker’s body. Everything he had built would be gone.

“But cooperate with this group and everything you worked for will only be more successful. The career you envisioned for yourself will be attainable. And all you have to do?… let my organization manage Golden Pro Wrestling’s finances. It’s simple.”

An uneasy silence simmered in the hot, stuffy room as Parker processed the emotions of being trapped. Considering the circumstances, the Canadian businessman determined he simply had no choice.

“…okay,” Parker agreed to the Yakuza crime boss. “Send your accountant, and I’ll… figure out how to restructure GPW’s staff.”

Mr. Tanaka smiled and took another puff of his cigarette, Dr. Dean rubbed his hands together with a grin, and Shotcaller turned to Da Bloodz and gave cocky nod.

“Then this partnership is agreed upon,” Mr. Tanaka. “Shotcaller, Dr. Dean, Mr. Meloche, I return to Japan soon, but my organization will be in touch to finalize and implement the arrangement.”

Everyone stood up, and one-by-one they gave each other affirming handshakes, but with each embrace Parker processed the Rubicon he had just crossed.

There was no going back, he decided.