Page 80 of The Anaconda Downstairs

The first two ads were a blur, one for some kind of pillow and the other for another car company. But then a sleek, high-energy commercial filled the screen. My stomach dropped as I realized what I was watching. It was for FabFlex, a fitness company I'd seen on all the socials, who were well known for getting influencers to pimp their stuff out. But as the ad progressed, my unease grew into horror. Because right there, front and center, was Odin.

Fucking Odin was in a bowl commercial.

The commercial was blatantly fatphobic, featuring before-and-after shots that made my skin crawl. But it was the tagline at the end that felt like a slap in the face. “Real body positivity is about being your best self, not accepting mediocrity.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jules sputtered, her face flushed with anger.

I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled up social media. My heart sank as I scrolled through theresponses. While there was plenty of outrage, there was also a disturbing amount of support for FabFlex's message.

“Don't,” Kelsey said gently, placing her hand over my phone. “Don't torture yourself with that right now. Our ads haven't even aired yet.”

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. She was right, of course, but it was hard to shake off the feeling of dread that had settled in my chest.

Suddenly, a burst of raucous laughter erupted from the neighboring suite. The sound carried clearly through the open windows, followed by some crude comments about “fatties” that made my blood boil.

“Holy crap. Are the FabFlex people in the next suite over?” Marie asked, her voice tight with anger.

Mr. Kingman's face darkened as he nodded. “Apparently so.”

The game resumed, but the excited atmosphere in our suite had dimmed. I tried to focus on the plays, on Everett's powerful runs, Chris's strategic moves, Declan's crushing tackles, and Hayes's beautiful catches, but my mind kept drifting back to that awful commercial and the jeering voices next door.

When the next commercial break hit, I held my breath. This time, it had to be ours. And it was. The KnightWear ad lit up the suite screen, filled with Everett's face, his eyes sincere and vulnerable in a way I'd rarely seen them in public.

He began to speak, sharing his story about his mother and his own struggles with body image. As the commercial progressed, other voices told parts of their stories too. People of all shapes, sizes, and backgrounds sharing their journeys to self-acceptance. All while wearing the new line of size inclusive bed and loungewear from the company, cutely called their KnightNight line.

Tears pricked my eyes as pride swelled in my chest. This was what we'd been working towards, what we believed in. Assoon as the commercial ended and the game started back up, I checked the socials again. KnightWear had posted some pics on InstaSnap from the photoshoots for the commercial, and so far, the comments totally passed the vibe check.

Phew. This was good. This was great. It was everything we hoped for.

But the moment was shattered by more derisive laughter and cruel comments from next door.

“What a bunch of losers,” a male voice sneered loudly. They definitely knew we could hear them. “Kingman's gone soft. Notice how he's only run the ball today. Bet he can't even catch anymore with all that feelings crap weighing him down.”

“Ha, not to mention his so-called girlfriend.” An all too familiar voice floated over. I steeled myself for the comment. It didn't matter. Nothing they said could get to me. Not anymore. “She's probably broken his back trying to ride her Mustang.”

Mr. Kingman was sitting right next to me, and I literally saw the muscles in his jaw clench. His eyes flashed with a fury that quite honestly scared me a little bit. Without a word, he stood up and strode towards the door.

“Dad?” Jules called after him, worry clear in her voice.

But Zaddy Kingman didn't respond. He walked out of our suite, and we all held our breath as we heard him knock on the door next door.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The minutes stretched like hours as we waited for Bridger to return. The game had resumed, but none of us were really watching it anymore. Our eyes kept darting between the door and the suddenly silent neighboring suite.

Finally, the door opened, and Bridger walked back in. His face was calm, but there was a glint in his eye that spoke volumes.

“Dad?” Jules asked hesitantly. “What happened?”

Bridger simply shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, nothing much. Just met our neighbors and had a little chat with them. Told them they were being too loud and needed to calm down.”

Jules leaned in close to me and whispered, “He probably threatened something worse than death.” Oh yeah, it was tons of fun to imagine the formidable Bridger Kingman putting those jerks in their place.

As we settled back into watching the game, I noticed the complete silence from next door. They even shut their windows. Whatever Mr. Kingman had said, it had certainly been effective.

The halftime show was spectacular. It was a female artist that had been mega popular about twenty years ago and was having a bit of resurgence due to a popular FlixNChill television show and some virality on social. Adorably, Mr. Kingman knew the words to all of her songs and sang along.

Could he be any... Zaddy-er? Adorable.

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