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“No, I’m going to change after I get back to my cabin. You?”
“I’ve already changed.”
“Pity, you looked adorable in my sweater last night.”
I give him a side-eye. “Does the teasing ever stop with you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
I roll my eyes and look away.
MGM surprises me again by jumping up from his chair. “Glad to see the air between us has cleared,” he says and heads down the steps. “I’ll be seeing you at the panel, then.”
I watch him leave with a bemused expression on my face, fighting—and failing—to suppress a smile.
* * *
An hour later I’m a lot less relaxed as I enter the appointed suite for the debate. Instead of a typical meeting space, I walk into a room that looks like an English nobleman’s private studio.
A little mountain-chic décor was expected given the whole vibe of the resort. But this room, with its wood-paneled walls, lustrous rugs, and iron-and-glass chandelier, is taking it to the next level.
Lush leather chairs are scattered around the small stage at the back of the room. Over there, three armchairs upholstered in the same dark-brown leather dominate the scene. The only other piece of furniture on the dais is a stylish wooden coffee table holding a tray with three glasses and a bottle of Pellegrino.
A few guests are already seated in the audience. I avoid meeting their gazes and stroll to the stage to take my seat in one of the armchairs.
MGM arrives next, the sight of him provoking the usual flutter in my treacherous heart. He takes the seat opposite me, winking.
William Westwood III, aka Billy, enters once the room is full to the brim. “Good morning, everyone.” The crowd claps, most just ecstatic to find themselves in the same room with a modern-day King Midas who has learned how not to starve while still turning everything he touches into gold. “Every year at the Billy we try to tackle all kinds of business topics from a new angle, giving you a fresh perspective. And today, I’m delighted to take a deeper look at the fitness industry with Blake Avery and Gabriel Mercer.”
He gestures to us, eliciting a few more claps from the audience, and then sits in the middle chair ready to mediate.
“Gabriel, Blake, two mammoths in the business who hit success from diametrical opposite business approaches. Gabriel, you attacked the real estate market aggressively from the start. A hard brick-and-mortar approach that quickly made your gyms America’s favorite in every state, while keeping the man at the wheel shrouded in a cloud of mystery.” Billy concludes his introduction of MGM and turns to me. “Blake, you built your online presence first, making yourself the center and heart of your brand. You now have an army of followers who are extremely loyal to you and would support whatever new endeavor you decide to embark on as the enthusiasm for your first physical location shows.” He addresses his next question to the crowd. “Who has the best business approach?”
Gabriel and I discuss the merits of our respective strategies and the debate progresses on a more or less level field. For the better part of an hour, I make a point, Gabriel makes a reasonable counterpoint, I hit him back with another argument, and so on.
But when the back-and-forth lands on the advantages of heavy weight training versus natural body-weight training, Gabriel throws me the perfect assist to finally unveil the ace hidden up my sleeve.
“The only way to achieve actual strength is to use weights,” Gabriel concludes. “Blake, you couldn’t lift a 200-pound weight.”
“Maybe I couldn’t, but the real question is, even if you can lift it, how long can you keep it up?”
The crowd snickers at the question, and even MGM raises his eyebrows and smirks at the double-entendre. Poor baby, he doesn’t know what’s about to hit him. Before Westwood can ask his next question, I say, “Billy, I could spend all morning debating how heavy lifting is only good for short-term strength and bulging biceps, and that to achieve real endurance it is better to train with only the weight of your body…”
“But?”
“But what if I had a way to settle the dispute once and for all?”
“What do you mean?”
I stand up, lifting my arms. “I request a trial by combat!”
29
GABRIEL
I watch, shocked, as Blake stands up and makes the most ridiculous request I’ve ever heard. I turn to Billy next, expecting him to dismiss the idea as quickly as I have, but he’s staring at Blake in a sort of rapturous awe. I check the audience and find the crowd equally euphoric. They’re like sharks hungry for blood.
Before I can express my chagrin, Billy asks, “What do you suggest, Blake?”
