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I mean, one snapshot of a glare, and they’ll just deem them asshole celebrities.
Truth: I prefer the clients who want me to shove strangers away from them. Like Xander and Sulli. I love when I can be short and threatening and not give a damn if a heckler throws a tantrum at my feet. I’ve had to haul asses away from Xander so that he could just simply cross the fucking street.
And while Sulli’s not nearly as famous or draws as many crowds, I’ll do the same for her.
Even now.
I gear up to lightly brush them off.
But I don’t expect what comes out of the guy’s mouth.
28
AKARA KITSUWON
“Ryke Meadows isn’t welcome on this mountain, and neither is his daughter,” the scrawny Team Apex guy states like this is a casual opener to a conversation. I recognize him from Instagram. His name is Lincoln and the girl beside him is Jordyn.
While he stuffs his hands in his pockets, he leans back on his heels like he nonchalantly said, hey, how’s it going?
Jordyn nods in agreement with him.
Lovely.
We’ve encountered two pricks who think a mountain belongs to them. Growing up in an affluent neighborhood, these are some of my least favorite people to run into. For Banks, who grew up in a poor neighborhood, these are also some of his least favorite people to run into.
He glares at them like they’re human stink bugs.
There’s less heat in my eyes. One of us needs to deescalate.
Calmly, I say, “I take it you’re not a Ryke Meadows fan.”
Banks effortlessly sidesteps to block the bathroom door fully, but they’re not paying him enough attention to notice.
Lincoln snorts. “The guy is a sellout, dude. Have you seen his Ziff commercial? He’s out there chugging a knock-off Gatorade for cash, and he wants to be known as the best climber? Fuck that.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Jordyn chimes in. “Climbing should be pure. Not something to be profited on.”
“Knockoff Gatorade,” Banks grumbles under his breath. They don’t hear, and I try not to smile. Ziff is a Fizzle product, and he might as well have insulted the Calloway sisters. Sulli’s mom.
Also, Ziff is quality.
I bite back an inciting retort. “Sullivan isn’t Ryke,” I tell them, hating that I even say these words because I’d like to defend Ryke too. But this will calm them faster, and we don’t need enemies at our camp. “She’s here to climb just like you two.”
“Not like us,” Lincoln points to the bathroom. “She’s in there alone. Taking up the whole bathroom. There are three stalls.”
Jordyn nods strongly. “Spoiled princesses shouldn’t be climbing Rattlesnake Knuckle. Tell her to stick to indoor rock walls.”
They both leave like that’s the endnote.
Shit.
“What asswipes,” Banks says gruffly. “Ben and Winona would never.”
“What?” I make a face.
“Those climbers don’t own this mountain,” he tells me more angrily.
I almost smile. “Don’t tell them that,” I say like an order. “We can’t have them pissed at us. It’ll just distract her.”
Sulli is going to eventually free-solo once she feels comfortable climbing the route.
Banks just nods, then grimaces.
“What’s that look?”
“I hate how easy it is for me to take orders that I don’t like.”
“It’s why you’re good at what you do,” I remind him. “Someone has to be the yes-man.”
“More like yes sir man.”
I give him a pointed look. “Start calling me sir and see what happens.”
“You’d probably get a nice boner.”
With a smile, I quip, “I do love being in power.”
He smacks my chest lightly with the back of his hand, and then suddenly, the bathroom door opens that he’s leaning on. Banks steadies himself before falling through the opened doorway.
We both look at Sulli.
Dressed in a clean pair of workout leggings and sweatshirt, she squeezes out her wet hair. “Are you two talking about boners without me?” Her lips downturn like she’s been left out.
I tilt my head. “FOMEFT is really hitting you hard.” Fear of Missing Every Fucking Thing is Sulli’s version of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out).
“I’m usually the one cracking the boner jokes.”
“Beat you to it, mermaid,” Banks says.
Before we can crack more jokes, I let Sulli in on what the campers said. I’m not going to hide anything from her, and she needs to know who to trust.
Definitely not them.
When I finish, she doesn’t look too shocked. “Lots of climbing forums have whole threads about my dad. Most climbers dislike him for the same reasons. He’s a ‘sell out’ or fucking whatever. It’s not worth my energy. Can we just ignore them?”
“Already ignored,” I tell her. But that’s not completely true. It’s my job to keep threats on my radar. They’re in my line of sight from now on.
Over the years I’ve spent on Sulli’s detail, I’ve mentally added up the number of people that were blatant assholes. Not close to the number of shits that’d spew hate towards Jane Cobalt.
