hy Derek had agreed to do the contest. And why Landon was heading to The Fix next, just to watch his friend's abject humiliation. Or rather, that was where he was heading after he'd burned off enough of his bad mood to be decent company.
He kept at it for another ten minutes, and by the time he stopped, his arms felt like spaghetti. "Not a bad workout," Matthew said. "Good thing I only invest in quality gym equipment. Pretty sure you would have come near to destroying another bag."
Matthew wasn't wrong, but there was humor in his voice.
"I was picturing a particular face," Landon admitted.
"Rough day at the office?"
"The roughest," Landon said. "Which says a lot considering I'm on vacation."
"Did it help?" Matt nodded toward the punching bag.
Landon tried out a smile, managed a slight grin. "Guess so. At least a little."
"Then I'm happy to have been of service. You heading to The Fix?"
Landon nodded. "As soon as I shower. You?"
"I shouldn't, but I am."
"Shouldn't?" Landon had been mopping his face with one of the chilled towels that Matthew kept in three small refrigerators around the gym. Now he peered at his friend. "Why not? I know you're not giving up whiskey. Selma would disown you."
Matthew and Landon had met in high school, where their favorite occupations were running track and teasing Selma, Matthew's quirky sister, who now ran a local distillery that was gaining national attention.
"Nah, nothing like that," Matthew said. "It's just that there's this woman who hangs out there sometimes. This lawyer, and she's, well, it doesn't matter..." He trailed off with a shrug, and Landon sighed. He considered diving into part two of his lecture about how Matthew needed to get over the fact that he'd dropped out of high school. He'd opened a successful chain of gyms, had a full-to-overflowing bank account, and was a genuinely nice guy. Any woman who couldn't see that was an idiot.
Not that Matthew lacked for female companionship. As a gym owner, it was part of his job to stay in shape, and Landon had noticed that Matthew rarely lacked a woman on his arm. Or, presumably, in his bed. That, apparently, wasn't enough to quiet the self-doubt. Which, Landon thought, was a damn shame, because Matthew actually wanted a relationship. Wanted to wake up next to a woman, and go to bed with her every night. A lover. A friend.
A wife.
And, dammit, Landon didn't have the heart to tell his friend that what he wanted was a goddamn fantasy. For better or for worse was bullshit except for those few lucky ones. He thought Derek and Amanda fit that bill. He hoped they did. But the odds were good that Matthew wouldn't get that lucky.
God knew, Landon himself had played the odds, only to have fate give him a swift, hard kick in the balls.
Determined not to bring Matthew down, Landon forced the thoughts of Vanessa from his mind. "Let me grab a shower and we can walk over together. You got someone watching the desk?"
Matthew shook his head. "I changed up the hours. Gold members only after seven-thirty. By then, the after-work crowd's cleared out, and everyone who's gold has a key fob to get in."
Landon nodded, then headed back to the locker room. The Lavaca Street location of Herrington's Gym was one of six in the Austin metropolitan area, and Matthew was talking to an attorney about franchising his business. Landon hoped it worked out; from what he'd seen, Matthew was making bank. Apparently there were a lot of people out there willing to pay good money to sweat, himself included.
Fifteen minutes later, though, that sweat had been showered away, and he was clean and dressed in jeans, boots, and a clean Austin Police Department T-shirt. The walk to The Fix was short--just a few blocks to the north on Congress, and then a few blocks to the east on Sixth--and they arrived with fifteen minutes to spare, to find there wasn't a seat left in the house.
They parted ways, Landon to go track down Brent, and Matthew to try to wrangle a free chair, though Landon was pretty sure his real plan was reconnaissance in the hopes of finding the lawyer he was so interested in. As for himself, Landon found Brent near the back, lecturing a skinny-ass kid who'd apparently tried to buy whiskey using a fake ID.
As soon as the kid scurried off toward the exit, Landon met Brent's eyes. His friend shook his head, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Kids," Brent said.
"Rough gig you got here," Landon said. "Sure you don't want to come back to the APD?"
"Don't be an asshole," Brent shot back. "You know damn well I miss it. You also know why I left."
"Sorry, you're right," Landon said, feeling chastised. "I'm just being an ass." After all, he did know why Brent walked away from the department almost six years ago, despite having just made lieutenant. Not only that, but Landon knew that Brent genuinely loved his job, and The Fix, and the people he worked with. "It's been a rough day."
"Come work with me," Brent suggested. "You just saw about how rough my world gets lately." He spread his hands. "But at least I know my little girl has a parent coming home every night."
Since any discussion of the inherent dangers of the job inevitably reminded Landon of why Vanessa left, he shifted the subject back on topic. "I saw you called. Checking to see if I was coming tonight?"
"Hell, yeah. Didn't you know it's my life's mission to keep tabs on you?"