Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Suddenly, a young, totally jacked blond guy burst out of the office and yelled, “Holy crap, you’re Ever Daley!”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at us, which clearly embarrassed Tracy. When the blond reached us, he vigorously shook my hand and gushed, “It’s an honor, Mr. Daley, truly. I’m Steve, the assistant manager. My friends are never going to believe I met you! We’re all huge fans.”
I flashed him a smile. “Call me Ever, and they’ll believe it if we take a selfie together.”
Steve blurted, “Dude, are you serious? You don’t know what this means to me!”
Tracy took a step back when I pulled out my phone. I turned around so the boxing ring was in the background, and Steve put his arm around my shoulders. After I snapped a photo, I started to type a caption and asked, “What’s your Insta, so I can tag you?”
I could almost feel Tracy rolling his eyes as the guy told me, “It’s gym bro Steve-o one-one-seven.”
“Awesome. And what’s the name of this place?”
“It’s called Howard’s. You can tag us at boxer Pete H SF, all one word. My boss is going to be so stoked!”
As I posted the photo, I asked, “Pete Howard owns this place?”
Steve’s eyes went wide. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Sure. He gave the welterweight champion a real run for his money a few years back.”
“Dude, I’ve got to call Pete so he can get down here and meet you! This’ll make his entire year.”
“I’d love to meet him too, but there’s no hurry. I’ll be back, so Pete should come in whenever it’s convenient for him. Which reminds me, I’d like to buy a month-to-month membership.”
Tracy started to offer me his free guest pass, but Steve cut him off with, “No need, Mr. Daley. We’ll comp your membership.”
“I’m happy to pay.” The place looked like it needed every dime it could get.
Steve shook his head. “The free publicity from tagging us is more than enough.”
“In that case, I’ll do one more post featuring the gym. Do you mind if I go around and snap a few photos?”
“Go right ahead. I’ll give our regulars a heads up, so they know what’s going on.”
We went over to the part of the gym dedicated to weight training, where everyone was congregated. “Hey, all,” Steve called, “sorry to interrupt, but I want to introduce you to Ever Daley. A lot of you probably recognize him. He’s a top fitness influencer, and a personal trainer to the stars. This is the guy who whipped Jeff Judge into shape for that superhero franchise! He’s doing us a solid by promoting our gym on social media, and he’s going to be taking some photos.”
I added, “If you don’t want to be in the pictures, raise your hand and I’ll be sure not to include you.” Tracy’s hand shot up, but he was the only one who opted out.
Steve and I chatted for another minute, until a ringing land line sent him running for the office. I did a slow lap around the gym with my phone, snapping photos while watching Tracy out of the corner of my eye. He stashed his stuff in the locker room and began his workout routine, but he glanced at me now and then. He probably thought I was the most ridiculous person he’d ever met.
I didn’t know why that bothered me.
I also didn’t understand how he could look so sexy. He needed a shave, his dark hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a baggy, gray T-shirt and sweatpants that had seen better days. Even so, he was undeniably appealing.
Besides the fact that he was a handsome guy, maybe part of the appeal was that he seemed refreshingly genuine. It was pretty obvious that what you saw was what you got with Tracy, and that he had no interest in impressing anyone or trying to come across as anything other than exactly who he was.
Maybe my perception was warped after all those years living in Hollywood and working with actors and models. In fact, it definitely was. But from my perspective, a guy that down-to-earth was something special.
Why was I thinking about this now, though? I needed to finish up and begin my workout. I went to the far side of the gym, past the boxing ring, and took a photo of a wall full of promotional flyers for boxing events—layer upon layer, built up over the years. They were faded, torn, and curling with age, but I thought there was a certain kind of beauty to them.
No wonder Tracy worked out here. It came across the same way he did, as authentic and completely unpretentious.
He’d probably hate everything about the gym I was building. I wanted it to be pristine, beautiful, and luxurious—a place not just to get a great workout, but to see and be seen. Actually, scratch the word “probably.” He’d hate it for sure.