Maybe he should go back to teaching and let Ducky and Donny handle BikeBro. It would give them more cash to funnel into their business. He had a good list of clients at the gym. The two jobs might help save their small company…
“Calm your ass down and get on the bike,” Dallas said aloud, forcing his head back into the moment. “Focus. You’re not losing anything. It’s fucking Secret. This is the break we needed.”
“What?” Donny asked by way of a bark. Dallas looked over to see his brother’s image in the prototype mirror now affixed to his bedroom wall, one of the now four full length mirrors ready to manufacture if they did in fact find an investor.
Shit. He’d forgotten about how Ducky’s latest upgrade had them automatically connected to one another anytime the mirror was powered on. “Ignore me.” Dallas pushed his uncertainty away.
Donny was the focused and driven one, determined in everything he did. Ducky was always a tad bit weird and misunderstood. Dallas had his feet firmly planted on the ground. He understood the importance of a balanced life while fading into the background, going unnoticed as much as possible.
He craved peace, which somehow landed him in the middle of many arguments between the people he loved as he tried to calm everyone down. He’d learned long ago to never let his true feelings be known, because they didn’t really matter. He doubted anyone in his life understood the anxiety he lived under every single day.
“Focus, Dallas.” Donny’s unyielding tone pierced the silence. “You must be your best tonight. No room for failure. Head in the game. This is everything.” His brother’s intended pep-talk fell flat with the aggression lacing his tone.
“He knows that.” Ducky’s image appeared in the mirror, splitting the screen, one image on top of the other. His youngest brother looked concerned.
Ducky’s image left the screen, causing Donny to toss his hands in the air. “Why did you leave your computer? What the hell’s going on with you two? We have five minutes before Skye goes live.”
“Ignore him, Dallas,” Ducky said from down the hall. Seconds later, Ducky appeared in his bedroom doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked worried. “You’re on a new profile. Your personal information isn’t connected, and you’re locked to private. I tested it myself. No one can see you have the same background as your training videos, and I added an avatar. The new emojis are ready to launch after the session is over. We’re good. I promise.”
“Thanks, Ducky. You’ve done a really good job on everything,” Dallas said, taking another deep breath, looking over at his twin mattress pushed against the wall so the room looked more like an exercise room than a bedroom. Dallas worked to emotionally slip back behind his long-established walls to keep himself hidden. He went back to the bike and mounted the seat. “I’m good. I promise. Go get ready.”
“Okay.” Ducky nodded one time before leaving him. His brother only had about ten steps to take to be back in front of his computer.
Skye’s image split the mirror. She slowly pedaled her bike, looking perfect in their extremely limited work-out merchandise. Adding Skye to their team had turned out to be a hugely successful decision. She had a natural ability to draw people to her. She was pretty with a fun personality and an encouraging way about her. Under her tutelage, and with enough hard work, anyone’s physical fitness challenges could be conquered. Men and women alike were drawn to her sweet way of getting the best out of people.
“Three minutes,” she said with a giant grin. “We’re gonna do great tonight.”
“Keep it comfortable, but clutch,” Donny instructed.
“Of course. Ducky explained the new leaderboard. I’m just waiting to begin.” Skye’s bright smile spread, and she clapped her hands together in anticipation.
Since their four mirrors were designed as trainer mirrors, Skye had access to the information of every biker who signed on. She could see their profile names and statistical information. With tonight’s upgrades to the social site, the participants should now be able to show themselves to the rest of the class if they chose to.
They had so many plans.
Please let this work out.
“Just be yourself and you got this,” Dallas encouraged, his true worries completely hidden from the others now.
The timer alarm buzzed at the one-minute mark.
“Remember, my goal’s to be the leader in the class. Push everyone to try and beat me until about the two-minute mark, then I’ll back off. Let the others win,” Dallas explained as if Skye didn’t already know the plan.
“Your profile name says Biker101. I’ll call attention to you.” Skye stretched, extending her body, pushing her arms in the air before she lowered into position.
“Perfect. Donny, you’re Chaos89,” Ducky added. “He’s gonna stick to the moderate level cyclists.”
“Forty-five seconds. Ducky, you ready?” Skye asked.
“Yup.” The simple confident word made Dallas smile.
“Then let’s go.” Skye pedaled with a little more strength. She had ten seconds before her image went live to all the cyclists. “We got this. And I want a raise.”
“You’ll be director of programs,” Donny said.
“Hey, that’s my position,” Dallas called out at the perfect diversion to get his head in the game.
“Then come get me,” Skye teased, giving him a wink.
She went live. The leaderboard showed almost five hundred bikers queued and ready to begin. He watched the participant numbers increase by the second.
Dallas tuned everything else out and got in the zone, following Skye’s directions.
=♥=
“Omigod, why’re you doing this, Greer?” Kailey whined via the Zoom call she initiated ten or so minutes before the cycling class began. Greer paid her no attention as he ignored both the sweat pooling on his brow, dripping to his handlebars, and the acute burn seizing every muscle in his body.
When Greer added this interactive exercise box to his daily exercise regime, he had very little faith in the workout it would provide. Man, he’d been wrong.
They were thirty-five minutes into their forty-five-minute hard-core workout session with five minutes left to go before the cooldown phase. Greer’s muscles were on fire and hurt like he had never experienced in his life. Buckets of body sweat soaked his clothing and dripped to the tile floor below. The very essence of his competitive soul had exploded to new heights and refused to allow him to take second place in this competition.
“He’s got that look, babe,” Beau’s deep voice muttered.
Kailey and Beau, both lightweights by Greer’s estimation, had already thrown in the towel. Beau lasted a good twenty-five minutes before ducking out. Wimps.
Greer continued to ignore them both and did what he did best, pushed himself harder.
Four minutes to go.
He closed his eyes and panted, trying to fill his oxygen-deprived lungs as every muscle began its own form of mutiny.
“He’s got something to prove,” Beau explained.
“This isn’t about showing-up for Skye,” Kailey reflected, of course way off the mark.
“No. No person causes that look. He’s jonesing for the win,” Beau psychoanalyzed. If Greer’s eyes weren’t stinging from the deluge of sweat that dripped down his forehead, he might attempt to roll his eyes at his best friend and remind Beau that he was a surgeon, not a psychiatrist.