Page 43 of Christmas with my Three Best Friends

“I’m glad to hear that, Roxanne. I hope it works out for you,” I say, then point to another part of the room. “Excuse me, I need to do my warm-up routine.”

“Of course,” she says. “Don’t worry, I’ll get Marius warmed up for you, too.” She follows it up with playful laughter, but I didn’t miss the venom-tipped daggers.

I hope Marius didn’t, either. Smiling still, I move away from them and focus on my breathing as I begin my stretching exercises. Opening my hips and ankles first, I work on mobility and knee strength to prepare for my leg day training.

In the meantime, I catch snippets of Roxanne and Marius’s conversation. It sounds casual and innocuous enough. I shouldn’t worry. Other customers briefly intervene to ask him questions about different exercises and some of the machines, and he is as affable as always, answering and giving them any support they may need.

At one point, I see him go over to one of the bench presses to spot a guy with a massive set of weights on the barbell. Roxanne stands by the leg press, completely ignoring her own routine as she watches him with a broad smile on her face. By the time I’m done with my stretches, my muscles feel stiffer than when I started.

“Ready?” Marius asks as I join him by the leg press.

Roxanne is done with the machine and still lingering beside him. She gives me a half-smile that irritates me. “You’re a bit red-faced. Don’t tell me a mere stretching routine is too much for you…”

“Nah, I’m cool,” I reply bluntly.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m gonna go do some Romanian deadlifts,” she says, clearly content with the impact of her tiny jabs. I wonder if Marius is aware of what she’s doing—or trying to do.

He gives her a slight nod, then moves his focus entirely on me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Ready,” I say. But I have a hard time looking into his eyes without all this anger bubbling beneath the surface. I’m at my place of business and I need to keep a cool head about me. “We’re doing leg stuff, right?” I try to sound upbeat about it.

“We’ll start on the leg press first,” he says.

I settle in as he takes the weights off. “Warm up,” I reply, used to the routine.

“That’s right, fifteen to twenty reps to get the muscles going.”

I start pushing with deep breaths in between, constantly stealing glances at him. He’s counting my reps, but I can tell he’s uneasy, occasionally looking around the gym. Roxanne is doing her deadlifts, her toned ass moving backward as she goes down, and I know at least three guys are literally ogling her from the side.

“How’s your day coming along?” Marius asks me. “We haven’t talked much since yesterday.”

“Honestly, it could be better,” I say. “There’s a lot of stuff piling up, and I’m really looking forward to launching those programs. I’d give anything to see an uptick in gym pass sales.”

“I know what you mean. I feel the same way. We’re doing better on the supplements, though. The guys are really amping up their protein and creatine intake now that we’re looking ahead at spring.”

“Spring break is still months away,” I chuckle.

Marius laughs lightly. “Yeah, but they want to look good for their photo ops. They’re already bickering over the solar…”

The conversation unravels in neutral subjects pertaining to the gym and our clients, and we talk about the more mundane aspects of life for a short while. The topic gradually shifts back to the gym and Richard’s plans. That’s a mistake, because the tension is quick to rise between us. We’re both on edge about the future of West Key, and we both know Richard may have stated one thing but might still do something else entirely.

“He’s not a bad man,” Marius tries to defend him.

“I never said he was. I never would,” I reply, tempted to remind him of where the four of us stand on a personal level. “I do know, however, that unlike most entrepreneurs in Seattle, Richard is often able to walk away from a venture before said venture reaches its full potential.”

“We knew that when we went into business with him. But I have faith in him.”

I give him a sour look. “You make it sound like I’m the only one who’s doubting him.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yet it sounds like you do,” I shoot back, inwardly regretting the sharp tone of my voice.

As if smelling blood, Roxanne wanders over to us. “How’s the workout going?” she asks, all smiles and perky boobs in a thin, pale blue tank top.

“Great,” I grunt in between reps as I push 260lbs on the leg press.

She stares at the weight disks, likely doing the mental math, then smiles at Marius. “Can you help me out with the barbell? I need to add a few more pounds to it, but I’m not sure I can get the disks to stay on during a lift.”

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