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“Listen to me,” Jordan says when he joins me at the rack. “Two points. One: Ignoring whatever happened between you guys won’t work. I’m telling you. I saw you two together yesterday. There’s something real there. You need to talk to her about whatever is going on. And, two, what you guys have won’t just fizzle out. Real chemistry doesn’t work like that.”
I grab a fifty-pounder. Jordan does the same.
“Thanks for the pointers. I’ll figure it out.” I widen my legs, then swing it up.
Jordan knows the routine. He mimics my motion, and soon, we’re both immersed in the effort.
I talked about Gwen because I needed to vent. To express myself. I don’t know why I thought I’d get away with voicing my immature plan to ignore the kiss.
Maybe part of me knew my intelligent friend would nix that idea. Jordan is brainy. He knows about psychology, human behavior.
Of course, he’s right.
I do need to talk to Gwen about what’s going on between us.
That’s not going to be easy.
It’s easier to focus on the day’s workout than dwell on the confusing situation with my sweet assistant. So, for the next twenty minutes, that’s what I do. We finish rounds of kettlebell swings, plus presses, push-ups, lunges, and leg raises.
By the time we’re closing in on the final repetitions of our last set of side planks, I feel like a limp rag. Good workout.
“Hey,” Jordan says as he rolls up his mat. “Leo said something about you hiring a PI. What’s up with that?”
His question reminds me that Brian Campbell is due at my office at nine o’clock to give me a report on the investigation.
We walk toward the locker rooms.
“I talked to a lawyer about the last launch. Remember, the Home Trainer Heavyweight Bag?”
“Sure, a couple weeks back.”
“We did sixty percent fewer sales than we expected. Want to guess why?”
“You’re the one who loves guessing, not me.”
I push open the locker room doors. The motion sensor light snaps on, flooding the exposed brick walls with pale light.
It’s still so early. Jordan and I are the only ones here.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. Our numbers tanked because Fit For Life launched the same exact product the day before. Marketed it to the same target audience, on all the same channels. I’m talking down to the nitty-gritty details.”
“What the…”
“Yeah. I know. Shady.” I let a swear fly because that’s how fired up this gets me. “So, I talked to a lawyer, and she advised me to get a detective involved. She thinks Fit For Life did some illegal stuff to get info about my launch. She needs evidence, and that’s where the detective can help out.”
My blood pressure rises when I think about the fact that Fit For Life stole information from me.
I hate the fact that a rival company knew all the details of my launch plan. The owner of Fit For Life, Clarice Manning, has always struck me as immoral. She operates her business out of Riley, only an hour from my headquarters. Her whole deal is one big rip-off of mine.
That comes with the territory when it comes to success. There will be copycats. She’s mine. From the start, she’s been a pain, but she’s never gone this far. I’m sure she’s behind the theft, but I don’t know how she pulled it off.
“How did it happen?” Jordan asks, echoing my own thoughts. He checks his phone, then rifles in his bag for a towel.
“That’s what I hired the PI, Brian, for.”
“What’s his deal?”
“He’s an older guy… the only one I could get on short notice. I need to figure this out before the next launch. He used to work for the police, but now he’s on his own.”
