Page 44 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“It’s entertainment, same as football.”

“Football is a sport, this is a sideshow.”

“So, when little people wrestle for spectators, it’s a sideshow and when people my size play a game for spectators, it’s a sport?” I arch my eyebrow. I’m teasing her, sort of.

“I…that’s not what I said.” She grumbles, staring at the stage.

“It kind of is.” I grin, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“Sports don’t involve hitting people with chairs.”

“WWE does. Like Riley said, it’s live action theatre. This is just the…miniature version.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” Her wide grey eyes snap to mine before she turns in a huff and complains to the ground. “Miniature version, really? How are you not exploiting them right now?”

I take her chin in my fingertips and spin her gently to face me. “I’m not exploiting them because Iamthem. I’m an athlete, yeah, but I’m also entertainment, same as these guys.”

“But they’re being used as an attraction for people to make money.” Her eyes are almost shiny. It’s sweet that she’s genuinely concerned, but she’s missing the bigger picture.

“It’s no different than people coming to the stadium or watching a football game on TV. Every week the league, the team, even the players, make money by attracting people to watch the game. Players are both athletes and entertainment, and we get to make a living doing something we love. My guess is these guys would tell you the same thing.”

“Your size isn’t being made into a spectacle.” She presses her lips together.

“My size and my looks make me a commodity though, same as these guys.”

“You’re not a commodity,” she huffs, her ponytail swinging behind her head as she shakes it.

“We’re all commodities, Beautiful, even you.” I put my arm back behind her chair, giving her ponytail a gentle tug as I do.

“I am not. I’m not a product people make money off of.”

“You have a skill set people pay you for, and that in turn generates money for other things. In your case, those things are charities. In my case it’s the game of football and the products associated with it.”

“I guess,” she mumbles, turning back to the ring with a frown. “But I don’t like to think of people as commodities.”

“I don’t mean it as a bad thing. And maybe commodity applies more to me than you, since I don’t have much control over who benefits from my skill set. But capitalizing on the thing that sets you apart from others, especially if it enables you to make a living doing something you love, that’s a good thing. I suspect these guys used their size to carve out a niche for themselves to do what they love. We should support it instead of assuming they’re being marginalized.”

Samantha gasps and goes rigid, staring at me with wide eyes.

“Your boyfriend is smarter than he looks, huh?” I give her a quick kiss to snap her out of her stupor.

“It’s not that,” she whispers, shaking her pretty little head.

“Then what?” I give her hair another affectionate tug.

“What if my…skill set… gets in the way?” She holds her breath.

“Why would you think that?” I ask evenly, not sure where she’s going with this.

“Well,” she exhales, “I just assumed something was wrong with this event. That the men were being exploited. What if I spend so much trying to fix problems that I only see problems? What if I’m conditioning myself to always see the bad?”

“Sam.” I cup her face in my palm. “It’s in your nature to look out for people. That’s a good quality.”

“But I didn’t see anything positive about this until you pointed out it wasn’t inherently negative.”

“I didn’t see any negatives because I can relate to this in a way you can’t. There’s nothing wrong with that. And there might be other times when concern is justified and you’ll have to help me understand those, because I’m not very good at recognizing when something’s wrong. I’m not even good at recognizing whenI’mdoing something wrong.” I sigh heavily and shake my head, thinking about the mistakes I’ve made without realizing it. “I guess that means we balance each other out. Right?” I wrap my arm around her and pull her to me to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

We sit like that, Sam leaning into me, until the seats around us start to fill. A few minutes before the match starts, Riley makes his way to the seats, introducing us to some of his other guests. I can tell a few of them recognize me, but no one makes a big deal of it by asking for a picture or an autograph. Evidently being friends with another former player has taken away the novelty of meeting more of us, and their indifference to me is sorta nice since that was my big worry about being with Sam in public.

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