“I just got back.”

“Where were you?”

“London,” Myron said. “How’s Grandma and Grandpa?”

Grandma and Grandpa were Ellen and Alan Bolitar, Myron’s parents. They were staying with Mickey for the next few days.

“They’re good.”

“When will your parents be back?”

Mickey shrugged and looked out the window. “It’s supposed to be a three-day retreat.”

“And then?”

“Then if it goes well, Mom can be an outpatient.”

Mickey’s tone told Myron to leave it alone. For once, Myron did.

The ride into the heart of Newark took half an hour. The Prudential Center arena is known as the Rock, a reference to the Rock of Gibraltar on Prudential’s logo. The New Jersey Devils hockey team played here, and that was about it for the pro teams. The Nets ended up moving to Brooklyn, abandoning their roots, but Myron had seen a lot of college basketball games here, and Springsteen twice.

Myron picked up the tickets at will call. They also got laminated backstage passes.

“Good seats?” Mickey asked.

“Ringside.”

“Sweet.”

“Your aunts take care of us. You know that.”

Tonight’s entertainment: professional wrestling.

In the old days, before the Internet made images of scantily clad women readily available, adolescent boys watched titillation in the guise of women’s professional wrestling on Sunday morning local television. The undercard for tonight’s main events featured a return to those days, to the days of FLOW, the Fabulous Ladies of Wrestling (originally they wanted to call themselves the Beautiful Ladies of Wrestling but the local networks had issues with the ensuing acronym), and some of the organization’s all-time favorites.

FLOW had gone out of business many years ago, but somebody, mainly Myron’s friend and former business partner, Esperanza Diaz, had resurrected the organization. Nostalgia was in, and Esperanza, known back in her FLOW days as “Little Pocahontas, the Indian Princess,” hoped to cash in on it. She didn’t hire hot young female wrestlers to dazzle the adolescents. That market was already satiated.

Welcome instead to the “cougar tour” of pro wrestling.

It was the “senior tour” of professional wrestling. And why not? Golf’s senior tour was a big draw. Tennis had one. Those autograph conventions with old actors from seventies TV shows were hotter than ever. Just take a quick gander at the schedule of rock performers at your favorite venues—the Rolling Stones, the Who, Steely Dan, U2, Springsteen—and you realized that either youth was out or maybe they just had no disposable income.

So why not capitalize?

Tonight’s Tag Team Championship in the Cougar Division featured the team of Little Pocahontas and Big Chief Mama.

Aka Esperanza Diaz and Big Cyndi.

When they entered the ring—Esperanza still teeth-meltingly rocking a skimpy leopard-print suede bikini with a hair lasso; Big Cyndi, all six six, three hundred pounds of her, squeezed into some kind of leather merry widow and a full feather headdress—the crowd erupted.

Mickey turned to his right to see the opponents coming out of the tunnel. “What the . . . ?”