The late-afternoon light cut through the high windows of the West Hollywood gym, catching the usual haze of chalk and sweat. In a quiet corner between the kettlebells and a half-abandoned Smith machine, three gym-goers sat close together, voices in whisper.

Gym-goer 1: Riley

Riley leaned back against the machine, grey vest dark with sweat he hadn’t earned, red shorts and clean running shoes on show. At thirty-five he came more for the company - and the brunch and cocktails afterwards - than the weights. He took another pull from his energy drink and watched the younger man across the floor.

Gym-goer 2: Alf

Beside Riley, Alf sat straighter, still feeling the burn from the exact number of push-ups and kettlebell swings he’d promised himself. Forty, recently divorced, he used the gym as a distraction. His eyes kept drifting the same way as Riley’s.

Gym-goer 3: Bulk

Bulk took up most of the bench. Solid, thick-armed, bald, early fifties at a guess, once a photographer downtown before it closed shop. He always said little, and now he simply watched.

Fifteen feet away, Jack Champion worked through his set like the gym belonged to him. Twenty-two, orange vest, short black Adidas shorts, white socks and trainers. He lifted a pair of heavy weights towards each pec, barely picking up a sweat. He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t need to.

Riley’s voice was quiet.

“He thinks he’s so hot.”

Alfie couldn’t look away, “Look at him. He is hot.”

Riley gave a short, humourless laugh, “Youngest one here, putting us old dogs to shame.”

Bulk shifted on the bench, “You know what would be really fun? We should do what they did on TV. Tie him up and just tickle the shit out of him.”

Riley grinned, “Make him cry like a baby.”

Alfie’s mouth twitched, “Piss his pants?”

“Make sure we tie him up good,” Bulk said, “If he’s anything like he is in those Avatar films, he’ll be fiesty …”

Jack finished the set, set the weights down, and rolled his shoulders. Sweat ran down the centre of his chest as he reached for his water.

He had no idea the three older men were watching him …

… The way hunters watch something that has wandered into the wrong part of the woods.