“Yeah, okay, Reverend McGowan.” Shaw eyed the other side of the high-ceilinged space that they’d converted into what would hopefully become Austin’s premier extreme gym—a place for people who wanted to train and test themselves on ultimate athletic challenges. The side he and Rivers were on had more traditional exercise equipment and weights, along with a full setup for gymnastics. Equipment to get people ready for the harder stuff. Those things were vital, but the other side was hopefully where the money would be made. There were crazy-hard obstacles that tested strength and balance to the extreme—a huge curved wall to run up, rock climbing apparatus with nearly impossible angles, rolling cylinders to run over, ropes to swing on, various riffs on monkey bars to test upper body strength, and two deep swimming pools and a few foam pits that would catch people if they fell off the obstacles.
He and Rivers had come up with the idea after drinking too much beer one night and watching too many episodes of Ninja Warrior Challenge when Rivers had come into town to visit him. Shaw had thought his best friend was joking. They’d had crazy conversations like that before when they’d been college roommates. Rivers was an inventor by nature and a big talker. But then a month later, Rivers had shown up on Shaw’s doorstep in Chicago with a stack of paperwork. Rivers had leased out the warehouse in Austin, quit his engineering job, and had developed a business plan—a plan that included Shaw moving back to the town he’d sworn he’d never return to and running the gym with him.
Shaw had refused. His life plan was to lie low and to never do anything that would have the press ever sniffing his way again. So what if he was miserable and unable to find decent work because of the reputation that followed him around like a plague? But when Rivers had laid out the plan—Shaw changing his legal name, the business being listed under Rivers even though they’d split the profits, and Shaw getting to handle the business’s finances while also being a trainer—Shaw hadn’t been able to walk away.
Besides the much-needed job, his friend had been offering him a taste of freedom he wasn’t sure he deserved but that sounded like a dream. A fresh start. A job that would let him be in an environment he loved. His best friend—hell, his only friend—living down the street instead of across the country. The only sticking point was that it was in Austin, just down the road from the place of his nightmares, where everything in his world had been ripped away and burned to ashes. Where he wasn’t just hated and feared in a general sense, but in very, very specific and personal sense.
He deserved that hate.
Shaw had come anyway, even when he knew it would be temporary. Everything in his life was. Putting down roots anywhere had always invoked trouble. He’d lost the right to roots. Secretly, Shaw had vowed to give time to this project for a year. He’d take some business classes to finish up the degree he’d had to abandon all those years ago and work as a trainer at the gym. He’d help Rivers get the business off the ground, build himself a little nest egg, buy a houseboat, and then leave Rivers to run the gym. He hadn’t told Rivers that he wasn’t planning on staying permanently, but he’d cross that bridge when necessary.
The close call in the coffee shop today had only confirmed the necessity of that plan. It’d probably been a false alarm this time, but it wouldn’t be every time. He just hoped that he could actually make it the full year. The clock was already ticking. Someone would eventually recognize him. Someone would call the press. The cycle would start over.
“We’re still on track to open next week?” Shaw asked, examining his friend’s work on the rings.
“Yep.” Rivers climbed down from the ladder and wiped his damp face with his T-shirt. “Well, open to the public at least. I signed us up for a charity event tomorrow morning.”
“A what?”
“You’re coming. Don’t try to get out of it. If we get a lot of interest, I may open for a sneak preview this week and give a few tours. I don’t want to lose good leads if we get them. The event looks very Austin quirky, so I have a feeling it will get some press, which we desperately need.”
“A charity event with press?” Shaw’s
stomach sank. “No way. You know I can’t be anywhere near a goddamned camera.”
Rivers made a dismissive sound. “You won’t be. I’ve already thought this through. It’s a Halloween run, costumes encouraged. We’ll make sure you have a good one. You’ll just be there to participate and give out flyers for the gym. As far as anyone knows, Lucas Shaw is just a trainer here. They have no reason to pay attention to you.”
Shaw let out a breath, the name Lucas still sounding weird in his ear. He’d chosen to keep the Shaw part of his real name, Shaw Miller, because if he or Rivers slipped up and used the name Shaw, there would be an easy explanation. But getting used to an entirely new first name was going to take a while.
“I hate the idea of any press being involved,” he groused.
“I know. But this is too good an opportunity to pass up,” Rivers said.
Shaw couldn’t deny that fact, and he did trust Rivers not to purposely expose him to anything that would blow his cover. He should be relieved that Rivers had handled things and created a great promotional opportunity, but the thought of charities and press still made him itchy. “Fine.”
“Excellent.” Rivers gripped his shoulder. “And don’t worry, man. I told you I was willing to be the face of this thing, and I meant it. I’m not going to expose you to any of that. Plus, I have such a pretty face.”
Shaw grunted.
“But if we want this business to be successful,” his friend explained, “we have to jump on opportunities like this, get people excited and spreading the word. There needs to be some sizzle and pop.”
Shaw gave him a droll look. “Sizzle and pop?”
“Yes. Don’t make fun of my very technical marketing terms.” Rivers nodded toward the equipment. “Now get up on these rings and tell me if they’re going to break and kill someone.”
Shaw smirked. “Nice. I’ve been demoted to guinea pig now?”
Rivers stepped back with an unrepentant grin. “Oink oink.”
Shaw pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it at Rivers’s face. “Guinea pigs don’t oink, dumbass.”
Rivers caught the T-shirt before it hit him and flipped it over his shoulder. He folded his arms and waited. “Show me what you’ve got, big man.”
Shaw shook his head and dug a rubber band out of his pocket to pull his hair back. He didn’t have any chalk for his hands or ring grips, and cargo shorts weren’t ideal for flexibility, but he was just testing the things out, not doing a routine. He did a few quick shoulder and back stretches to make sure he was loose enough before reaching up. Rivers had set the rings lower than Olympic height so Shaw was able to jump up and grab them without assistance.
The rings felt achingly familiar in his hands as he hung from them, the scattered thoughts of the morning settling into singular focus as he adjusted his grip and made sure the whole apparatus wasn’t going to fall apart on him. Once he felt confident the rings would support him, he lifted his weight, his arms working to keep the rings as still as possible, and raised himself up until his hips were even with the rings and his arms were taut. After a few seconds, he exhaled and spread his arms out to form a T with his body, an Iron Cross.
The strength and focus required to keep his body and the rings steady in that pose were like the rush of a drug, every part of him working toward the same goal. Shaw’s muscles quivered with the effort, and he lifted himself again, tilting forward and swinging his legs behind and upward to invert the cross. He glued his gaze to a spot on the floor and tried to hold the upside-down position for as many seconds as his body would allow him. One, two, three…