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Tiller snickered.
“I will say, though, that two lube companies offered you a sponsorship after that.” I studied my nails fake casually. “And that adult film company wouldn’t stop harassing you until ‘your lawyer’ wrote to them. So make of that what you will, Claymore.”
Everyone collapsed into laughter again. In the middle of it all, Parker shot me a wink and mouthed the words “You’re my favorite.”
I placed a hand on my chest and closed my eyes. Please let me hold this feeling as long as I live.
The sound of laughter continued around me as Tiller continued the story, embellishing it the way he liked to do for maximum crowd entertainment. I opened my eyes and watched Parker’s smile, easy and open as always, as he added to the story here and there.
This was one of the things I loved about Parker Ellis. He thrived on making people happy. He was friendly and funny, kind and welcoming, and he attracted people to him like he was a tennis ball coated in peanut butter and tossed into a golden retriever parade.
When the laughter died down, Rocco said, “Let me tell you what we need help with today.”
I offered to give everyone privacy, but Rocco urged me to stay. When he began telling us about the content he created for the fitness app, Parker and I were riveted, though Parker tried not to show it. Even Mikey and Tiller, who’d clearly heard all this before, seemed impressed.
“How did you get into this?” Parker asked.
Rocco sat back and took a sip of his coffee. “My brothers and I own an outfitter shop in a small town in Alaska. We run all kinds of tours. Fishing, hiking, glacier sightseeing, hunting, and cross-country skiing, depending on the season and the clients. We grew up there, and we all know the area well enough to make our own way. Beautiful out-of-the-way spots are kind of our bread and butter. The problem is, the winter is long and dark. Tourists dry up, and money gets tight.”
Parker nodded. “You should come down here where it’s sunny year-round.” He shot a sideways look at me and clarified, “I mean, not here-here. Not Aster Valley. Obviously. But Colorado.”
Rocco’s smile made it obvious he was attached to his home state. “Nah. But it makes you have to get creative. I was trying to stay fit with the app, using it for some weight lifting and simple circuits, but I kept wishing some of the classes were outdoors just so I could at least get some fresh air. I started coming up with ways someone could do it, and I finally decided to make a class of my own just to get it out of my head.”
I’d heard of SocialAdrenaline. Most everyone had by now. It was like Peloton, YouTube, and TikTok had birthed a social media–based fitness app. Several of the most popular content creators were making a killing on it, not only from the app itself, but from the sponsorships and influencer income that came along with the social media following itself.
Parker was obviously as fascinated as I was. We listened while Rocco explained how the class had gone viral because of the unique settings in Alaska. What had seemed like his same old “crappy view” of the snow-covered dock and ice-coated lake was really a fantasy destination for many people stuck inside working out in a home gym.
So he created more and more classes under the pseudonym Rock Valentine. When the seasons changed, he added cardio classes on trails, cross-country skiing runs, obstacle courses through the woods. He recorded nature walks where he captured footage of wild animals and even frigid swims across sections of the lake at home.
“My brothers don’t know about any of this,” he admitted with a shrug. “I’ve been doing it for a year and a half now. They’re going to kick my ass when I tell them.”
“Where do they think the money’s coming from?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Or do they not know?”
“I’ve been paying stuff off without them knowing, but they’re going to find out soon. It’s hard to travel to Colorado to work with an actual Super Bowl MVP and not tell your brothers about it.”
Parker let out a laugh. “No shit. Tiller probably loaded you up with merch, too. He’s always trying to pawn that cheap shit off on people.”
Tiller flicked Parker on the head. “Cheap shit, my ass. That merch costs me blood, sweat, and tears.”
Parker leaned over the table to stage-whisper to Rocco. “The tears are from being away from his hot fiancé.”
Tiller nodded. “True story.” He glanced down at a notification on his phone. “Okay, the ski patrol has closed off Sky Shadow and Serpentine Cross for you for the next three hours. One is a nice wide blue run, and the other is a black diamond with moguls. If you decide you want something different, just text me.” He turned to me. “You going to join them?”
