Page 5 of Advanced Chemistry

“One more, man. You can give me one more. Don’t quit on me.”

I flexed my arms, controlling the weight as it sunk closer to my chest. I heaved and grunted loud enough for the entire gym to hear. My pecs were spent, so I had to ask my triceps to pitch in. Sure, I could give up, let Sebastian rack the weight for me. But that wasn’t my style.

An actual roar flew out of me as my muscles strained, using the last drops of force to push the weight back into the air.

“There it is.”

My arms collapsed as Sebastian racked the barbell. I sat up, my chest and arms on fire. I felt strong and alive and fucking ready to seize today.

“Uh, dude. That was a PR,” he said.

“Was it?” I wiped my arm across my sweaty forehead.

“Yeah, you just did 200 for twelve reps. Last time, you could only do five reps before quitting.”

“I didn’t quit. I gave out. Big difference.” I swiped the towel from the floor because my arm wasn’t cutting it.

Sebastian was the number keeper of our partnership and friendship. He was the brains, and I was the pretty face—although Seb had a nice mug, too, especially when his eyes squinted with a super wide grin. It made him look Muppet-like, but in a cute way.

Sebastian scribbled our stats in his notebook, making sure we were doing progressive overload. Now that we weren’t on the wrestling team anymore, we didn’t have to obsess over making weight.

Sebastian was a tank of a man, short but compact and filled with big muscles. His olive complexion and dirty blond hair gave him a surfer boy look, but he was as far from a laid-back, hang ten bro as a person could find. Sebastian was always on, always thinking and calculating. I wasn’t born with that skill, but flying by the seat of one’s pants had its perks.

“Good workout,” I said. We pounded fists. “Now–”

“We hit the phones.”

“You know it.” I stood up, chest puffed the fuck out. I felt like the Lord of the Weightroom. I would never be one of those guys who was jacked, but I was toned. If anyone challenged me to a fight, they’d be sorry. Not like I was the type of guy who got into fights. I preferred to make friends, not enemies.

“Anton, are you sure we should be hitting the phones on a Saturday?”

“Did you read that article I sent you, Seb? Business owners and executives check their phones and email on weekends. They’re as hungry as we are. They don’t want to miss anything.” The article interviewed top salespeople who all admitted to calling C-suite prospects on the weekend as a way to cut through the clutter. Prospects are inundated with sales calls throughout the week. The sales guys said that most people were receptive to receiving weekend calls, but I completely understood how it could backfire on us.

“Listen, we’ll try it this one time, and if we get chewed out by a prospect for the Saturday phone call, we won’t do it again. But it’s worth a shot. Everything is always worth doing at least once. What do we always say?”

“Let other people tell you no.” Sebastian sighed. He knew I was right.

I wasn’t the smartest guy out there. Far from it. My high school report card was one big woof. But like many other non-booksmart guys, I had gone into sales, where grit mattered more than brains.

I chugged down my water bottle, then led us to the treadmill for our cool down walks.

“I just hope we don’t call a top prospect and burn that relationship because he’s at his daughter’s dance recital.”

“Seb, if the man is answering a work phone call during his daughter’s recital, then we are not the asshole in the situation. Look, if people are answering the phone, that means they’re open for business. It’s all about big moves.”

I peeked over at Sebastian’s treadmill screen. His speed was set at 3.5 miles per hour. I bumped mine up to 3.7.

“You’re great at looking at both sides and being cautious. That’s why I love being friends and business partners with you. We balance each other out perfectly. But a dash of my crazy ideas hasn’t hurt us yet.”

“Begrudgingly true,” he said, his lips creasing into a knowing smile. “Don’t paint yourself as some Steve Jobs genius and start wearing turtlenecks and shit. I’ve helped land sixty percent of our biggest clients.” Sebastian upped his speed to 3.9.

“I love that you know it’s sixty percent.” And I bumped mine up to 4.0. “I remember the first time I met you freshman year of high school, when we had to wrestle each other during our first practice. I said to myself, ‘This guy knows what’s what.’”

“Did you say that before or after I pinned your ass to the ground?”

“During. Also, for the record, I let you have that victory since you were the new kid in town. Like the free space on the bingo card.”

“Sure, Anton. Whatever you say.”

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