Eve crossed over, heard the man wheezing even over Mavis and the thump, thump of feet racing nowhere on treads.
“Need a minute.”
Lill nodded. “Come on, Scott, just two more. Don’t you quit on me. All right!” she shouted when he collapsed in a heap. “Thirty-second breather, then I want you to do ten minutes on the tread. Level five, Scott. Don’t wimp out.”
“Okay.” He got shakily to his feet. “Okay, Lill.” And staggered toward the tread.
“I’ve got to keep an eye on him,” Lill says. “He’s really coming along.”
“Did he start out at a crawl?”
“Just about. It’s clients like Scott make this job worthwhile. He really tries, he really works. Do you have news about Trey?”
“I’ve got some follow-up questions. This trainer of the year thing, how competitive?”
“Very, or else what’s the point? I submit progress reports for all my trainers, showing the improvements of their clients. And each trainer submits three separate original programs they’ve put together. The trainer’s fitness and established routines are also factored in. It’s a process. Why?”
“Who was his main competition?”
“Hard to say for certain, but in the BB franchise, I’d go with Juice—Jacob Maddow. But then he’s one of mine, so I’m biased. And
there’s Selene, she’s right up there. She’s out of our Morningside Heights location. Outside BB, I’d lean toward Rock. He has his own gym—bare-bones place in Midtown—West Side. Rock Hard it’s called—and he is. But I have to say I figured Trey would grab the prize again this year. He’d worked up some fierce programs.”
“Did they all know each other?”
“Sure, you tend to. Rock and Juice hang together, have for years. I’d’ve lost Juice to Rock Hard, but most of Juice’s clients wouldn’t have gone with him. They like the perks here.”
“Any trouble between any of them and Ziegler?”
“Crap.” Sighing, she rubbed her orange hair. “Juice is a go-along guy, a family man. He sure wasn’t a fan of Trey’s, and maybe they had a few words now and again. But Juice isn’t one to start trouble. I don’t know Selene all that well, but I heard Trey hit on her. Didn’t matter to him she’s gay—she has tits, and that was enough for Trey to give it a shot. Rock hated his ever-fucking guts, but they didn’t run in the same circles.”
“Then why the hate?”
“Some time back—maybe close to a year—Trey banged Rock’s sister. They were both at some club, and she was pretty wasted. He took her home and banged her, then bragged about it. He knew she was Rock’s sister. Juice warned him to shut up, and finally I had to tell him to shut up, at least around here. I heard he and Rock squared off about it, and Trey backed down. But I don’t have the details. I didn’t want them. The truth is Trey was a personal pain in my ass. But professionally, he was an asset, and it’s my job to hold on to the assets around here.”
“Okay.”
“About Rock. I didn’t think of him yesterday because it was close to a year ago, and as far as I know those two never see each other except maybe at the AC conference or the competition we have in New York every spring. That’s it.”
“I still need to talk to him. To the three of them. Where would I find Juice?”
“See the guy over there bench-pressing about one-fifty? That’s Juice.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“He’s a nice guy. He’s got a wife, a kid, and another kid coming.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Eve moved over to the weight area, and the man currently bench-pressing more than she weighed.
“Jacob Maddow?”
“Juice, yeah.” He continued to press, sweat slicked on his pleasant face, on his very impressive biceps. But he gave her a quick smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD.” She showed him her badge. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“About Ziegler? I heard yesterday, when I came in.” He set the bar in the safety, slid out from under.