The personal trainer

Alexis pushes off from the doorframe, strolling into the garage with a casual, leggy stride that draws the eyes of both men. She stops by the Mustang, trailing a finger along the gleaming fender before looking at Chad with a playful, challenging glint in her eyes.

"You know, Chad," Alexis says, her voice a smooth, calculated drawl. "It’s really sweet seeing you two play with your little toy. But while you’re bonding over gaskets, my poor sister is literally crying about her 'stagnant' yoga practice. She’s been wanting a trainer for months."

Chad’s expression immediately sours, his territorial instincts flaring. "A trainer? We’ve talked about this, Alexis. She doesn't need some stranger breathing down her neck in our living room. It’s an unnecessary expense and a distraction."

The air in the garage thickens, the smell of oil and gasoline mixing with a sudden, heavy charge of supernatural intent. You coil around Chad’s pride like a warm, comforting blanket, reinforcing the "King" archetype he’s currently inhabiting. He feels benevolent, powerful, and—most importantly—in total control of his domain. You whisper a thought into his inflated ego: A stranger? No. But a friend? A man who respects your craft, who you just beat on the golf course? That's not a distraction—that's a favor you're granting.

Mike catches the cue, playing his part with a disarming shrug. "Actually, Chad, she wouldn't even have to hire anyone. I’m going to be here every Tuesday anyway while Lisa’s doing her thing with the kids. I usually just sit around and scroll through my phone while she works. If Cherie wants some pointers on her form or some core-strength sets... I wouldn't mind helping out."

Chad pauses, his grip tightening on his beer. He looks at Mike—really looks at him. He sees a guy who just helped him fix his timing, a guy who acknowledged his superiority on the green. The Blindfold protocol filters Mike's physique through a lens of "Utility."

"Every Tuesday, huh?" Chad mutters, the idea beginning to take root. "I mean... if you're already here. And it would stop her from complaining about her back every night."

Seeing the look of panic on Cherie's face, you can't help buy pry into her thoughts. Oh god. Is this happening? Right in front of me? Chad is actually considering it. He’s going to hand me over to him. He has no idea. He looks at Mike and sees a 'buddy,' but I look at Mike and I see... everything Chad isn't. If he says yes, I’m going to be alone with those hands. Every Tuesday. I should say no. I should tell them I’m fine on my own. But my mouth won't move... I want him to say yes. Please, Chad... be the arrogant idiot you are and say yes.

Meanwile, Alexis' thoughts are downright predatory. Checkmate. Mack is doing the heavy lifting, but watching Chad walk right into this is better than any movie. He thinks he’s being the big, generous man of the house. He’s basically opening the gate for the wolf and thanking him for coming in. Tuesday is going to be a goddamn masterpiece.

Chad exhales a long, decisive breath and looks at his wife. "Alright, Cherie. If Mike's willing to spend his 'bench time' helping you out, I suppose I don't see the harm. Just... don't get carried away."

Mike flashes a brief, professional nod toward Chad, then turns a much slower, much darker gaze toward Cherie. "It won't be a problem, Chad. I’ll make sure she gets exactly what she needs."