“Well, in the past, whenever I wanted to work out, I would just go for a run or play pickup basketball, or maybe join a soccer league if I was really feeling frisky.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve never done the whole . . . designer gym thing before.”

“Let me guess, is everybody really hot at your gym?”

“Oh, my God. It’s ridiculous. I swear people are oiling themselves up before they work out. Everyone has perfect hair. And everyone already looks like they’ve been coming to the gym for years. There are literally zero beginners like me. So, the one and only time I went since I signed up, I just stood there in my stupid T-shirt with my, you know, normal body, and I just felt like such a loser. I don’t even know how to use the machines.”

“Can you hire a trainer for a session or two? They’ll teach you how to use everything.”

“I think I just signed up at the wrong place. It’s not my scene. I just want to go somewhere that I can get a little stronger without being judged for my general incompetence. I need a confidence boost.”

“Ugh. Dammit.”

“What?”

“UGH!”

“JD? Everything all right?”

“Yes, everything is fine. I’m just about to do something really stupid because I like you and I want you to be happy.”

“I . . . okay?”

“First of all, did you sign a contract at the designer gym?”

“Just a one-month.”

“Great. Next month, when your contract is up, don’t renew. Instead, go to this place called Geddy’s. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall boxer’s gym.”

“Oh! I’ve seen that place. The whole front of the gym is just a garage door?”

“Yeah. You have to drag it up and down to get inside. It makes it cold as hell during the winter, but the guy who runs it puts on space heaters. It’s nothing fancy. Seriously nothing fancy. But they treat everybody with respect and they really don’t care about aesthetics there. It’s all about getting stronger within your own limits.”

“Wow! That’s so perfect! I . . . Thanks, JD.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why do you sound so disgruntled?”

“Because I’m ceding my territory to you.”

“Ah. Well . . . how about this. If I sign up there, I’ll let you know before I go. That way I won’t ambush you or accidentally run into you. Cool?”

“Oh. Yeah. Actually that works.”

“All right. So. Baking show and hopefully sweet, sweet oblivion?”

“You’re all scrubbed up and ready for bed?”

“I even washed behind my ears.”

“You really do live in a Dickens novel.”

“I’m old-school like that.”

“I think that’s just called old.”

“Well, considering I’m preparing myself to fall asleep in front of my favorite television program, I guess I won’t argue with that.”

“All we need are the reclining chairs and old, musty afghans over our legs.”