Chapter 2

       Right after I accepted her invitation, she put her arm in mine and we walked off for coffee. We kept walking for a few blocks until we reached a small, locally hippie owned latte like coffee house. It wasn’t really my first choice, but she said it was a nice place so I was willing to go with it. At that moment, I was willing to go just about anywhere just for the chance to hang out with her. I watched her as she walked into the coffee house and followed, admiring her soft blonde hair, and her curvy thighs. There was no doubt about it, I was really attracted to this lady and I was excited to be there. As we walked in, I could tell she was a regular cause she strolled through there with ease and the staff called out to her by first name. She settled into a nice little booth and I stuff myself into the other side. It wasn’t exactly comfy for someone my size, but I was willing to make any exception at the moment. Since she was the regular, I asked her to order for me. She seemed very flattered and proceeded to order two Lattes made a special way that I can’t seem to remember now. I sat there quietly, almost afraid to make chit chat. I just watched as she took off her coat and settled in. She gave me a playful grin that turned my legs into putty and said “Are you cold or do you plan to leave soon?”

       I took the hint and proceeded to remove my jacket. The dress shirt I was wearing look very baggy on my shoulders and chest, the arms were very hard to hide. I worked out every day with the guys, which was the reason why some of us went to the bars with that bodybuilder cover story. Women are not too critical of them as they can be with the line of work we really do. To the young woman across from her, I was probably as big as the incredible hulk. Honestly, I was no where near the biggest in our business. There were a few studs that looked twice as big, and they were the ones who usually received the biggest flack for possibly abusing steroids. Yet I tried my best to downplay my physique because in my history sometimes it was enough to scare a lot of women away. For some reason, it’s very intimidating to the point where many prefer to hang out with a beer belly couch potato cause at least next to them, you look like a goddess. 

       “Well.” She said with a smirk, “I can tell you work out, and if you only could keep your footing… I think that crook would have had his hands full.”

       “I’ll be sure to work on the footing part for next time.” I said trying to be just as playful. “By the way, my name is Sam.”

       “Virginia.” The lady responded as she extended a hand. I took her hand and gave it a pleasant shake, “So what do you do for a living, Sam? I assume it has something to do with athletics.”

       “It does, but normally I don’t bring my profession in until date two or three.”

       “So you assume there’s going to be another two dates?”

       “I never said that. I just find that my profession can be a tad intimidating and is often subject to cruel stereotypes. Discussing it during a first date has often been bad luck.”

       “But we’re just having coffee. This isn’t a date…”

       The waiter arrived with our order, and quickly laid it on the table. He then tapped Virginia on the arm and gave her a playful wink. It seems she knows that staff here more than I had originally assumed. He playfully joked with her and then left.

       “This is great.” I said as I took my first sip of the Latte. I wasn’t lying. It was a nice change from the beer and shots I would have been downing at the bars right now if I had stuck with the guys, “But what about you... what do you do here in the city?”

       “Well I’m not afraid to say that I’m a nurse at the local general.” Virginia said with a proud smile. “I’ve been working there for almost four years now and it’s a very satisfying job.”

       “I’m sure it’s a lot of work.” I said while taking a bite out of the cookies the waiter had left at our table.

       “It is, but the pay is not bad either.”

       “Where did you study?”

       “State University. And you?”

       “My profession doesn’t require that much of an education. But I did get a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature while working off a football scholarship at Florida State.”

       “Wow, that’s a huge football program.”

       “I was actually scouted to draft high for the NFL, but things didn’t work out. When it was all said and done, I didn’t make the cut.”

       “What happened?”

       “I blew out my knee in my senior year. I had a good chance at the pros, but it didn’t work out. But I got a free college degree out of it. Most kids have to take out a mortgage to get one. So I don’t look back on my college days with regret.”
 
       “That’s a great attitude, but if you didn’t play football… what did you fall back on?” I could tell she was playfully trying to pry about my profession.

       “I’m not going to say.” I said with a grin, “But I will say this much. I pretty much followed in my father’s footsteps.”

       “Took over the family business?”

       “I wouldn’t say that. We’re more like employees rather than owners of the business.”

       “I see. You’re just not going to budge on this, are you?”

       “I like the way things are going right now, so it’s usually better not to toss it in because it tends to hog the conversation.”

       Virginia seemed to find this rather amusing, “You do realize the more you tease me with this, Sam, the more I’m going to pry until you finally let the cat out of the bag.”

       Thing were going really well, and I was doing a really good job at changing the subject and chit chatting about everything. We talked about politics, issues that concern everyone in the world and even useless pop culture crap like movies and TV shows. She was well informed woman, and I really dug talking to her about this stuff. Yet when we were talking, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Sitting at a table on the other side of the room were a few kids in their early twenties. They were pointing my way and talking amongst each other. Every few moments, they would look back at me. I knew that they knew, and one time when I looked back… one of them took the time to wave at us. Virginia noticed this and all I did was nod and simile. After that the kids pretty much chattered amongst themselves again, turning away from us.

       “Do you know them?” she asked.

       “Not a clue.” I said, “This is just a very friendly town.”

       “Sure.” Virginia said, trying to figure out what was going on.

       This is when things got sticky. Out of no where, the young man from the other table managed to muscle up enough nerve to walk over to our table. He seemed a tad nervous. He stood there for almost half a minute before Virginia asked him what he wanted.

       “I’m sorry.” The kid said in a shaky voice, and he held up a pad of paper and a pen in my direction, “But I was hoping to get an autograph, if it wasn’t too much trouble.”

 

*       *       *       *    

       I was sitting at a table, eating a plate full of fries and chicken Fingers when I had my first encounter with an autograph seeking fan. I was no older than twelve, and was having a nice dinner out with Mom and Dad at a big fancy restaurant. Dad was munching down a porterhouse steak, and even though he offered to let me have a bite, the fact that his steak was pink made me want to stick to my well fried chicken fingers. Mom was settled into a pate of fine pasta that had scallops and white pasta sauce. Everything was going well and we were all having a pleasant evening until someone walked up to our table with notepad in hand.

        “I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man said when speaking to my father, “but I’m a big fan and was hoping if I could have your autograph.”

        I looked over at my Mom, who was red with anger and upset that someone was interrupting our meal. She looked like she was ready to walk out of the building and never come back.

       Dad on the other hand, took it all in stride and smiled back, “Of course not.” He said with a grin, almost looking like a politician, “who would you like this made out to?”

       “My name is Bob.” He said with an excited smile. After my Dad finished signing out something to Bob, the young man couldn’t say thank him enough as he scurried away from out table and was gone.

       “Do you have to do that while we’re eating?” Mom suddenly spat out while trying to restrain herself. It’s clear she didn’t like anyone doing stuff like that when she was trying to eat with her family.

       “We talked about this before.” Dad said not willing to budge, “These are my fans. They buy the tickets, the shirts and all the other stuff that provides me with a handsome living. To not be nice to them would be like spitting in your bosses face. Millions of people like Bob are the reason why we have a roof over our head and the opportunity to dine in a nice place like this. And the next time Bob goes back to an event, he’ll buy two shirts next time and take all his friends with him. And I might be able to use those royalties to buy you that new table set you’ve been talking about lately. We shouldn’t be ashamed of that and should always make time for the people who make all this possible.”

*       *       *       *

       I looked back at Virginia, and she was a tad startled. Curiosity was now seriously getting the best of her. I turned back to the young man and took the pad from him, “Of course not. Who would you like this made out to?”

       “Derek.” The young man said. I did my best to not show Virginia what I was signing as I quickly scribbled down a nice note and signed it and passed it back to the young man. He beamed with pride. "Man, you are so awesome!" he held up his hand and I promptly responded and gave the young man a high five. He had a smile a mile wide and couldn't stop saying thank you as he darted back to where his friends were sitting.

       I looked back at Virginia with an innocent look. “What?” I said trying to play the whole thing down.

       “You just gave someone an autograph!” she said with a little shock still in her face. “You can’t do something like that and then keep what you do a secret!”

       I really wanted to hang out with her a little longer, and was genuinely scared that my profession would start up a debate that I often hated getting into.

       “All right, but you have to promise not to be too hard on me. As I said before what I do is often subject to hard criticism.”

       “Okay, I promise.” Virginia said as she was pretty much willing to say anything to get the secret out in the open. “I promise not to be judgmental about what you do. Just spill it!”

       “Okay.” I replied as I sat back and took a deep breathe, “I’m a wrestler.”

       "You mean like olympic style?"

       "More like professional."

       Virginia sat back herself and took a moment to think about it. She took a few sips of coffee while mulling over it. “A pro-wrestler?” she quickly repeated, hardly believing it herself. This kind of dumbfound look on her face is what I was afraid of. Usually when people hear what I do for a living, this get a real job lecture usually comes my way. It’s moments like this when I’m actually at a loss for words because I can’t tell if she’s surprised or just genuinely disgusted.

       “What company do you work for?” Virginia asked with somewhat curious tone. I felt a glimmer of hope with that question.

       “I’m in town with the ICWA. We have a huge event tomorrow night at the Coliseum.”

       “The ICWA?” she said, unaware of what that meant.

       “The Independent Championship Wrestling Association. I’ve been with them for about seven years now.”

       “Pro-Wrestling?” she said with a rather interested look on her face. I was so afraid that her interest in me was starting to slip away. That was until she asked her next question, “You said that you followed in your Dad’s footsteps, so he was a wrestler too?”

       “Actually, I’m a 3rd generation wrestler. My Granddad was pretty big in the business as well. So my family’s involvement in the business goes back almost forty years.” 

       “I didn’t think that the industry has been around that long.”

       “While companies come and go, the Industry itself has been around for a long time, ever since guys stepped into a ring in the fifties without any gloves on their hands.”
 
       “So today it’s a multi-million dollar business?”

       “Not million, try a multi-billion dollar industry.”

       “Is it really that popular?”

       “Tomorrow’s show is sold out. Twenty five thousand seats and the only way to get a seat right now would be to hit up the scalpers.”

       “Wow, that is amazing.”

       “Yes, but it’s no where near amazing as what you do.”

       Virginia seems to be taken back by the compliment, but I meant every word of it. She helps people when they are sick or hurt and helps them get back on their way. The medical profession is underpaid and underappreciated, something I am sure she’s well aware of. “Thanks.” She said as she slowly took another sip of her latte.

       Try as I might, it was hard to get away from what seemed to her to be the most interesting topic of them all. She was eager to know more about what I did and how we did it in the business.

       “Are you the good guy or the bad guy?”

       “The bad buy.” I said looking to see what her response was.

       “Yet they still ask for your autograph?”

       “Actually the industry came out of the closet when it came to the authenticity of our business. We admitted it was all make believe and that it’s an act, made for everyone’s entertainment. So I’m no different than an actor paid to play a part. They ask for my autograph because they like the way I portray that character.”

       “What about that Arab dude, the guy who made the news?”

       “Well, he’s not an Arab. Vinnie’s a full blooded Italian.”

       “Really?” she seemed quite stunned by that fact.

       “Yes, he’s an actor like everyone else. He’s paid to play a part. The villain he plays is no different than what you would see on an episode of 24 or in a Hollywood action film.”

       We sat there for a moment, and looked back at one another. I was pleased that the industry hadn’t scared her away but I could tell in her eyes that the jury was still out. She was still thinking what kind of a man jumped into the ring in his underwear in front of a huge crowd. That was something she would have to answer for herself, as everyone reacts to the business differently. There are some who think it’s the best thing since sliced bread, while others protest to the FCC every week to get our show yanked off the air.

      “Well, I should probably go.” She said as she stood to leave, “I have a long shift ahead of me at the hospital tomorrow.”

       “Of course.” I stood up as well and helped Virginia put her coat back on. She attempted to pay for coffee, but I wouldn’t hear of it, and paid for everything and even left a good tip with the waiter to make sure he took my money instead.

       As promised, I walked Virginia a few blocks until she reached her apartment building. She thanked me for the coffee and my crime fighting abilities before kissing me on the cheek and going into her building and up to her apartment. And like that, it was over. I stood there for a few moments trying to figure out what exactly had happened. I met a nice woman who for a change didn’t go screaming out of the coffee shop when she found out what I did for a living, and seemed pretty cool with it. I didn’t have much time to think about it as I suddenly felt a slight ache in my leg. It was time to go back to the hotel and ice down my new bruise. Pierre was going to have my a*s for this. But it was all worth it… and I think he’ll agree with me. Pierre was French, which meant he was romantic at heart, so I was confident  he'd get a kick out of this story.