“We need to set some clear quiet hours for your workout rig,” I said.

Trent didn’t put down the greasy rag.

He rocked from toe to toe, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

“I train whenever I feel like training, old man,” Trent said.

“My dad bought this whole estate.”

“That wooden post is on my property,” I said.

“Keep your boots off the cedar.”

Trent reached over to the top plate on the squat rack and picked up a heavy black leather jump rope.