Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Sure he is. But I return her smile. “All right. Maybe I’ll give her a call.”
Aubrey’s nervous gaze darts around as if she’s about to impart some top-secret information. “I hope you won’t be mad, but I kind of gave her your workout schedule.”
“Why would I be mad about that? It’ll make things easier to talk to her here.”
She blows out a breath. “Good. She asked me for directions to where you guys fight ‘for real.’ She didn’t mention The Castle specifically, but I think that’s what she meant. I told her I had no idea what she was talking about.”
Aubrey might be a good girl engaged to a guy who hasn’t dirtied his knuckles in an underground fight since he was a teenager, but she’s not dumb. I trust her not to spill our secrets. “Thanks, Aubrey.”
Her lips quirk. “To be fair, if you told me a pot of gold was waiting for me at The Castle and handed me a map, I still probably couldn’t find my way out there again on my own, but…”
I snort with laughter. “You underestimate yourself.”
“You overestimate my sense of direction.” She laughs and backs away. “I’ll text you a pic of her card so you can reach out to her if you don’t run into her here.”
“Thanks.” Flattery and unease war inside me as I step onto the treadmill. I participated in those videos to help Sully show off his gym, so he could attract more clients. It never occurred to me that helping out a friend might lead to my own opportunities.
A reality show, though? My face contorts with disgust. I hate those shitty drama circuses. I’ve had enough drama in my real life without making it my chosen form of escapist entertainment.
They’d pay me to be on the show, right? Probably not enough to live down the humiliation of taking part in an idiotic cheese fest that would be available on some streaming service for the world to laugh at for the rest of eternity.
Then again, if it’s enough money I could use it to help Molly with her college tuition. Making sure her education’s financially secure would be worth any potential embarrassment I’d have to encounter.
The front door opens, letting in noise from the busy street. Overhead chimes tinkle a short warning. A short, chunky woman with bright pink, spiky hair, and pink sunglasses strides into the gym. Aubrey stops in her tracks and glances at me. Tilting her head toward the woman, she mouths, That’s her.
What should I do? Run over and introduce myself? Nah, fuck that. I stop the treadmill, hop off, and walk over to the long mirror against the back wall. I choose a dumbbell from the rack and face the mirror. Over my shoulder, I have a good view of the pink-haired lady talking to Aubrey. Both of them glance my way and I drop my gaze to my biceps, concentrating on my form as I slowly curl the weight up and down.
“Stonewall?” a scratchy voice rasps behind me.
I flick my gaze up and meet the determined eyes of the pink-haired woman who’s maybe a few years older than me. Her lips stretch into a tight smile that seems more like a challenge than a friendly introduction.
“That’s me,” I answer slowly.
She sticks her hand out. “Diane Yurko.” Her tone matches her confident demeanor. “Sidespeed Salmon Productions.”
Side what? I roll the unfamiliar name around in my head, then toss it off. I take her hand and shake it. “Griffin Royal, classic car restorer, motorcycle enthusiast, and occasional brawler.” Damn, this woman’s grip leaves no doubt about her determination.
She lifts her eyebrows—also pink—with interest. “Nice hobbies. Perfect.” Still holding onto my hand, she runs her gaze up and down my body—not in a sexually interested way. More like she’s assessing how much money a thoroughbred she’s planning to buy could earn her at the racetrack. “You’re even more perfect than I thought.”
I release her hand. “Uh, okay. For what?”
My heart thunders as I wait for her response. Shit, was Aubrey wrong? Is the woman casting a porno, not a reality show? Remy would be the better choice for that sort of entertainment. My fingers itch to whip out my phone and tap in a quick Google search.
She steps closer, her sneakers squeaking against the padded floor. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Griff.” Her smile’s sharp, calculating. The hair and glasses might make her seem young, but her cutthroat business attitude suggests she’s a lot older than I’d originally assumed. “I’ve watched all your videos on Strike Back’s channel, and I just had to meet you. You’d be perfect for this new project I’m casting. Your moves are very impressive.”
“Ah, thanks.” I shrug, downplaying the compliment. “Just tryin’ to help out a friend.” I gesture vaguely toward the front desk.