Page 7 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
“Wow,” Eugene says. “That speech got awfully bromantic toward the end, don’t you think?”
“Whatever. You lucked out the day you met me, and you know it.”
Years ago, I was on set for some protein powder commercial—one of the few jobs I booked while trying to be an actor. Eugene was trying to make it as a filmmaker then, so he worked as a production assistant that day. I screwed up my lines during nearly every single take—not unusual for me—but when the director asked me to “improvise” and pretend I was training the other actors, I was in my glory. I showed them proper form for burpees, coached them through their double-unders, and basically led them through a killer class. After that day, I may not have been cast as an actor again, but Eugene hired me to be his weekly personal trainer and started recommending me to everyone he knew. Earlier this year, we decided to go into business together, and Bossfit Brooklyn was born.
Eugene’s expression turns thoughtful. “Remember when Elinor said that I’m the brains of the business and you’re the brawn?”
“Yeah,” I snort.
It’s been clear from day one that Elinor does not like me.
“Well, she was wrong. You, my friend, have plenty of both. Brains and brawn.” He rounds the sign-in desk and gives me a hug, slapping me on the back a few times for maximum masculinity.
“Who’s getting bromantic now?” I laugh and shove him away from me.
“Alright, ya jerk. Class starts in twenty,” he says. “Can you get all this Christmas crap off the floor, please?”
“That I can.”
Eugene heads across the gym to refill the water cooler while I hoist open the garage door. Three members are already standing outside in their workout gear.
“Friends! Hey!” I quickly scoop up the decorations. “Come on in and get stretched out. Tonight’s workout is a thirty-minute AMRAP—as many rounds as possible. You’ll need a med ball, a jump rope, and a plyo box.”
As our members get settled, I put the bulk of the decorations in a cardboard box left over from a recent shipment of beef jerky strips. I’ll decorate later. I can’t resist the tiny fluorescent green tinsel tree, though, and slap it in a place of honor on the sign-in desk.
“Excuse me,” a female voice says from behind me.
A small woman with short, almost-black hair stands there, smiling.
“Oh, hi!” I look at her dress suit, confused. “Are you here for a trial class?”
“No, um.” She looks left and right, then lowers her voice to a whisper. “Are you Eugene?”
I whip my head back and forth comically, mimicking her movements, then whisper back, “No. I’m Matt.”
“Sorry.” Her cheeks turn pink. “Is, um, is Eugene here? I was told he’s the owner of this gym.”
“Co-owner, yeah. Along with yours truly. Yo!” I shout toward the water cooler. “Gene! You've gotta visitor!”
“Oh, please don’t yell, please don’t—” She winces as Eugene approaches with a puzzled look on his face.
“Hi. I’m Eugene. How can I help you?”
The woman takes a deep breath. “I, um, well… I was hoping that maybe we could help each other.” She shifts from foot to foot. “My name is Keira. And I, um, I have some information I think you should know.”
Eugene’s brow furrows. “Sounds serious. What’s up?”
Keira plants her feet and looks Eugene straight in the eye. “I know I’m a stranger, and you have no reason to believe me, but your?—”
Eugene’s phone blares at full volume, interrupting the woman mid-sentence. It’s the personalized ringtone he has set for Elinor.
“Dude,” I groan. “You gotta put that thing on silent when we’re here.”
“You know how she gets when I don’t answer right away.” Eugene pulls the phone from his back pocket, says to Keira, “Apologies. I’ll be back in just a second,” then answers the call at full voice. “Hey, beautiful. What’s up?”
Keira watches him walk away. She lets out a heavy exhale, clearly agitated. “You know what? This was a mistake. I’m gonna go.”
“Hold on!” I call after her, her body halfway out the door. “He should be just a minute. Is there something I can help you with?”
