Not much to be argued when the person signed your checks.
“I’m sure it’ll be quick,” I said, completely unsure.
I should have turned around and skipped the paycheck. But I wouldn’t, not even when my guts were screaming to turn tail, not when the money would go straight to Ivy.
I nodded and gritted my teeth before stepping into the tram. It dipped with my weight, and I fought to hide the sinking feeling in my gut. Nobody liked it when the tough guy got scared.
Inside, The Can was roughly the size of a small home bathroom. Six people could sit comfortably, maybe ten standing if things got personal. The Slope wasn’t a super popular skiing range with several more well-known ski cities so close to Slippery Slopes, but tourists were aplenty because of the long history and legends surrounding the town. Between them and the eccentric locals, business was always ensured.
There were two bench seats, one on either side, that were that hard plastic orange of the seventies. A buttery yellow light came from built-in lighting in the floors and ceiling, the plastic casings so scratched up after these years that the light was muted and soft, adding to that creepy liminal space feeling.
I stayed standing and gripped one of the three bars in the center.
“Here we go,” Azi said through the radio.
The tram lurched out of the bay, and as soon as it wasn’t protected by the enclosure at the base, a massive wind hit the side, swinging it roughly. My insides roiled, saliva collecting in my mouth as the back of my neck burned.
Azi gave a very unconvincing thumbs-up when I glanced back to the operator window. I faced away, the side of the mountain looming like a dark tsunami in the night. The howlingwind and fat flakes falling fast against the clear enclosure were too much to witness. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out. After the longest twenty minutes of my life, I felt the familiar crunch as it slid into the dock.
The doors opened, and I got off that thing as fast as I could. If I wasn’t aware that I had to continue the pretense of “big tough security guard,” I would have fallen to the ground and kissed the earth. I clawed off my hat, scarf, and gloves, stacking them near the door, and then took a deep, slow breath in.
I radioed down to Azi, noting that it looked like things hadn’t been closed up, and he confirmed that he had. Maybe it was just the ever-constant dread of not wanting to be there, but I had the eerie feeling of being watched. I turned in a slow circle, eyes darting around the shop, not finding anything out of the ordinary that I could tell.
Racks and shelves of useless trinkets and tee shirts were stamped with Slippery Slopes or The Slope, as well as shot glasses, handblown glass hot air balloons, key chains, and refrigerator magnets. Aside from the absurd history of Slippery Slopes, the red and green chile that put us on the map was incorporated into everything. Need green chile jelly? We’ve got you. Toothpaste and pistachios? Even that. The Red Or Green Fest of early September was one of the biggest events in the state after the International Balloon Fiesta down in Albuquerque.
I radioed that I would check out the place and tensed my shoulders. I didn’t have a weapon—aside from my size—I didn’t like them. It was too easy for someone to get hurt as it was. Violence was the tool of the thoughtless, and I may not be smart, but I wasn’t cruel.
From the out-of-date skiwear to the snack bar, there was no sign of a break-in or theft. Who needed an ancient pair of neon green snow pants anyway?
“I’m not seeing anybody,” I said to Azi.
“All right. Head on down before you get stuck up there. That would be a shitty way to ring in the new year.”
“No kidding—” There was movement in my periphery. A shadow shifted under the door of the women’s bathroom. I hadn’t even thought to look in there.
An instant rush of adrenaline prickled my scalp.
My hopes of being in and out quickly were dashed. Somebody was definitely up here.
I hated this job. Please don’t let it be anything weird. Weirder than normal Slippery Slopes.
“What is it?” Azi asked at my abrupt silence.
“Standby.” I turned off the radio so as not to warn the intruder.
I took five slow steps in the direction of the restroom, breathing deep and slow. My palms grew damp as the distance closed. I tried to move stealthily, but the old wooden floor creaked under me.
The light in the bathroom went dark.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. I’d be going in blind.
Would it be better to yell a warning or go in proverbial guns blazing?
Or maybe it was best to have the element of surprise on my side. I had an image of my fumbling into somebody, accidentally breaking one of their bones, or hurting them in any way, and felt my stomach turn. I couldn’t handle it.
Better not to surprise them.
I slowly pushed open the door. I held one hand up, palm out in protection, and the other reached for the light switch I hoped would be near the door.
