With Jaya securely in Jhing-Jhing’s arms—already being spoon-fed gummy bears like royalty—I changed into what I hoped looked like activewear. The problem was, everything I owned looked like it belonged to a sad potato trying to go hiking.
Still, I managed. I wore leggings. And a baggy hoodie. And sneakers that squeaked when I walked like I was hiding a duck in my shoe.
I strutted outside like I meant business. Inside I was screaming.
“Be strong,” I muttered under my breath, passing a group of joggers who looked like models doing a photoshoot. “They don’t know you used to bench press your own weight in Vegas. They don’t know you’re Leon-freaking-Kingsley. You’ve just been… rebooted.”
I arrived at FlexYouCore Gym, a modest little place near the bus stop. It smelled like sweat, rubber mat
