Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(44)

When I came in, she was trying her best to maneuver the monkey bars that stretched in an S-shape along one side of the area, her hair pulled back and braided into a thick red tinged brown cable that stretched halfway down her back.

"Come on, you're getting close," Francois said, positioned close behind her. His hands were ready to give her a support platform for her feet if she needed it but wasn't touching her. I thought back to when he and I had done the same thing Jordan was doing now. Of course, we were much smaller. "Five more rungs."

Jordan gritted her teeth and made it without having to put her feet into Francois's hands, dropping down to the dirt in a puff of dust on her dismount. "I swear those rungs get further apart the longer you go down the ladder," she huffed as she rolled out her arms. "Don't try and tell me they aren't."

I clapped in appreciation, getting their attention, Jordan smiling and blushing at the same time. "You’re right, they do," I told her. "I measured it myself once. Not much, but just enough to make it tougher.”

"Really?" Francois said, surprised. "I never knew that."

"I wondered why Father kept having us start on the same end of the ladder, so one day I took the measuring tape from the kitchen and checked for myself. How’s everything going?"

Jordan grinned. “Great. I crossed the first beam today."

I smiled. The barn was crisscrossed by a series of beams, some of them originally meant for support of the structure, but Father had installed others as well, narrowing until there was one that was actually just a strong steel bar one inch wide. The first beam was actually four inches wide and was one of the original timbers used to construct the barn. Not much of a challenge in terms of balance, but doing it nearly twenty feet in the air made it a mental challenge for sure. "Good. I’ll have to come watch the next time."

"What about you?" Jordan asked. "I've seen what Francois can do, what about you?"

"Yes, come now, Felix, we can’t spend all day just taking walks and working on the computer," Francois taunted me. "Surely you can do a little bit."

I cocked an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest. While it was true that Francois was better than me at the gymnastic challenges the barn presented, I was no couch potato. "Do you really want to go there?"

"I do," he said. "Would you like to place a wager on it?"

I thought about it, then nodded. Why not? It wasn't like our wagers were ever for anything serious, usually a silly prank or someone doing something for the other. One of our father's rules was that we were never to put money between us, and we had never broken that rule. "All right. What's the challenge?"

"Serie 4," Francois replied. "What are the terms?"

"If I complete it, then Jordan has to play guitar for our mothers after dinner tonight," I said. "If I lose, I play violin solo."

Jordan started, then shook her head. “That's not fair. I’m not even involved! If you complete this . . . whatever it is, you still have to play with me."

"Two songs as a duet," I countered, enjoying that Jordan was getting into the idea of negotiation. "And you have to play two more songs solo. Come now, it’s poetic. Four songs for Serie 4."

"Deal," Jordan said. “Even though I don’t have a clue what a Serie 4 is.”

Serie 4 was one of the training challenges that our father had set up for us as we grew into adulthood. He’d set up a circuit that was to be completed in twelve minutes I quickly explained. "Give me a few minutes to warm up and get myself ready."

Francois gestured with his hand like go ahead, be my guest, all you are doing is delaying the inevitable. Jordan watched nervously as I took off my shoes and socks. I stripped off my shirt and stretched, doing a quick warm up. I had accepted a big challenge, and I knew it. Still, a bet was a bet, and I knew that Francois was trying to show me up. I squatted and did pushups, slowly flushing my muscles with the blood that was needed to keep them loose and ready for the challenge ahead. Heading over to the dipping rings, I reached up and grabbed them. I was allowed to jump up to the dip position but had to start on the ground.

"Your time starts . . . now," Francois said, and I started my dips. The biggest challenge of Serie 4, and the only reason I could complete it in time, was that instead of just using my upper body like Francois could, I used my legs from the beginning. The dips were ugly, but by kicking my legs in time with my arms, I could use the shift of weight to help. I got through them quickly and walked over to the center beam.

"You're going slow already? I’ll regret missing out on Jordan's playing," Francois taunted. "You’re already forty seconds in."

Instead of wasting my breath on him, I climbed the beam, which had been worn smooth after two decades of me and my brother scaling it, which was why I could climb it without shoes on. Reaching the top I took a breath to steady myself before taking the first beam at a light jog, then going down the rope and back to the rings. "Time?"

"Two minutes, thirty seconds," Jordan said. "You can do it."

I wasn't so confident in my abilities. Sure, it was less than a quarter of the amount of time for the challenge, but I still had three more iterations to go, and I knew my laps would slow as fatigue set in. Francois had been right, since the break-in at the JANM, I'd been lax in my personal fitness upkeep.