“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 on Monday and give a few tours and initial workouts. 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 costume run. Runners will be chased by people in costumes, like a zombie run, but vendors c
an dress up, too. We’ll make sure you have a good disguise. You’ll just be there to help me man an information table 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 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 snorted.
“But if we want this business to be successful, we have to jump on opportunities like this, get people excited and spreading the word,” he explained. “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, dumb-ass.”
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 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…
“Damn,” Rivers said. “It kills me a little that we can’t market you. Former Olympic-level gymnast will personally train you on feats of strength! A photo of this alone would sell a shit ton of memberships. Hell, I could probably fill up our rosters with all my single friends…gay or straight. We could oil you up and let them pay to ogle.”
That made Shaw choke on a laugh, and it broke his concentration. His muscles gave up the good fight, and he swung down out of the inversion. He dropped to his feet on the mat beneath with a muted thump, out of breath, his muscles burning from the effort. “Stop flirting, McGowan.”
Rivers scoffed and tossed his shirt back at him. “As if you’d be so lucky. You’re not my type.”
Shaw caught the T-shirt and tugged it back on with a grin, not insulted in the least. “Too straight, huh?”
“Straight?” Rivers crossed his arms and lifted a brow. “Oh, you actually still have an orientation? I thought yours was monk.”
Shaw’s mouth flattened. “The rings work. We won’t kill anyone.”
He tried to move past his friend, but Rivers put a hand on his arm, halting him. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m not trying to be an asshole.”