CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“How did things go today?” asked Helen.
“Good. Two new trainers. Big bastards and angry. I love it when they come in angry,” he smirked. “Three new trainees. A bit strange but they got trust fund money.” They both laughed, rubbing their fingers together.
“We made quota today. The new injectable is seriously fucking good,” she grinned.
“I can tell,” he laughed. “You need to shave again.”
“That’s not funny,” she smirked rubbing her jaw. “Fine. I’ll shave. It absorbs into the skin if you’re not careful with it. We need to watch out for that with our staff filling the vials. Did you hear from the Russians?”
“No. Not yet but I’ve left multiple messages. They’ll want to see how our team does next week. Once we show them what we can do, the flood gates will open and we’ll be rich.”
“Thank, fuck,” she muttered. “Dealing with these rich kids is annoying as fuck.”
“What about the new staff in the warehouse?” he asked.
“So far, so good. We’ve got that kid Carter’s mother, working for us now. Offered to pay her double what she was making in retail and she was happy to leave her job. She’s a hard worker too.”
“If she knows about the product she might freak out,” said Butch.
“She won’t know. I’ve got her working in packaging. She doesn’t even see the product. I’ve told you, Butch. Trust me.”
“I do trust you. You’re the only person I trust,” he said grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. “What’s for dinner?”
“Fish. Grilled white fish. You should have seen the butcher’s face when I asked for twenty-five pounds of boneless skinless chicken breasts and fifty-pounds of lean white fish. He kept asking if we were having a party.”
“Did you make it a repeat order?” he asked.
“Butch. I’ve got this. I know what to do. Yes, it’s on a repeat order and the guy at the farmer’s market was happy to take my order for fresh vegetables.”
“Okay. Sorry, I just want this to work out for us. This place could be a gold mine for us.”
“I’m well aware,” she smiled. “How about a run before dinner?”
“Sure. Let me change my shoes,” he said. With more than twenty pairs of running and workout shoes, he was careful to rotate his shoes often in order to save his feet.
Running was his least favorite thing to do. Helen was the runner of the two of them. Although with his help, she’d become a beast in the gym. No one could compete with her in powerlifting or cross-fit competitions.
Of course, she owed her success to him and his formulations. Win at all cost that’s what their father had taught them. Vladim Woerter was a gold medal winning Olympian in weightlifting.
Well, he was until his medal was stripped after a drug test showed he used anabolic steroids.
Shamed and unable to find work, he took everything he knew and poured into the lives of his kids.
He died when Butch and Helen were young adults.
They swore they’d find a way to make their father’s way work for themselves and others.
The interest from other coaches, competitors, and governments was what kept them going.
“Ready?” he asked his sister as he got to the front door.
“Five miles,” she smiled. “I’ll lead.”