Chapter 4
Owen
My hopes that this would be a quick in-and-out job were dashed before I even got up the mountain.
Azi, the operator at the base, shot me a weary look before opening the doors.
“Benny Jr. called me. Pissed I had to come in but sucks worse for you, Soupy,” he said, slightly slurry and bleary-eyed. A red flag that he’d been called in from whatever festivities he’d been partaking in.
Soupy was another charming take on my nickname. Any sympathy I had for him being hauled into this shit show went out the window. And anyway, he wasn’t the one who had to be hauled up the side of a mountain in a growing storm in an oversized tin can held on by a string.
My face must have done something scary because he shrank back. I couldn’t help it. It was an ingrained defense mechanism. The twentysomething went to the panel, avoiding my gaze.
“Radio on?” I asked, looking down at him.
“Yeah. As soon as it’s cleared, I’ll bring you back down. Don’t take too long. I don’t like the look of this storm.”
Another red flag. I sighed out my flared nostrils.
“I-I told Benny I wasn’t sure this was a good call, but you know how he is.” Azi scratched at the back of his neck.
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 howling wind 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.
“Is somebody in here? I was sent by?—”
The room illuminated, and I had just enough time to register a crazed maniac lunging at me, hair sticking up wildly around their face, a heavy trench coat belted up to their neck, and, most notably, a gleaming weapon in their hand.
I stepped aside in plenty of time, flipped behind the attacker, and grabbed their wrists easily with one hand as the weapon clanged to the floor. In the same easy motion, I scooped the hapless criminal into a massive bear hug from behind, surprised to lift them a good foot off the ground effortlessly.
My hand cupped soft, round flesh where only a flat plane of chest was expected. The shock of the attacker being a woman caused my grip to slip and my steps to falter back.
“Let go of me, you big brute!” a woman shrieked. Hands, now released, flailed wildly, smacking me on various body parts. “I will cut you!”
Even though her smacks were about as effective as mosquitos on a windshield, they were annoying and at risk of poking me in the eye.
“Ouch.” There it was. “Would you—” I grunted, one injured eye shut, as I pinned her arms down to her side, this time careful not to accidentally brush a breast. “Stop squirming.”
“Get off me!”
“Stop attacking me, and I will,” I said. She was strong for a little thing. Her body wiggled and gyrated all around, making a good grip impossible.
“You attacked me.”
“You’re trespassing,” I gritted out.
“I have rights. I won’t let you manhandle me, you oaf!”
Something about her voice and size helped me put the pieces together. “Bee Perkins?” I asked in surprise.
She stilled. “Owen Campbell?” She wiggled to turn awkwardly in my arms and look at me. I swallowed as her big brown eyes moved over my face, squinting in confusion. “How are your folks?”
“They’re well, thank you. And how about yours?” I said, too stunned to do anything but speak on autopilot.
“On a cruise.”
“Wow. Where to?”
“Around Africa.” She jabbed an elbow. I grunted. “Can you loosen your grip? You’re giving me a wedgie.”
I loosened slightly but didn’t let her go.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Like everybody in this town, Bee and I had known each other most of our lives, especially as we were around the same age. I never knew what to feel about Bee. She was beautiful with gorgeous dark hair, often twisted up or braided in fancy styles. She had wide brown eyes and a sense of style that paired different loud patterns and were completely all her own.
I’d always been drawn to her in the way you’re drawn to watch a violent monsoon pass across the valley. She had been cute since school but closed off and shy. A few times, I almost worked up the nerve to go to the cat café, but ninety percent of me was intimidated by her and the quiet confidence she carried with her. She was smart, and I was an idiot who wouldn’t know the first thing to say to her.
The other nine percent feared her. Which was ironic since she, like most of this town, probably saw me as a violent bully.
The last one percent was because I was allergic to cats.
But she seemed edgy and unpredictable, just like those monsoons that swept through the sandy desert, quickly destructive and wild. She dressed like she was auditioning for a children’s show, but there was so much intense tenacity behind her eyes.
As evidenced by the way she launched herself at me, she didn’t seem afraid of much.
It took me a moment to realize I had been studying her face and wild hair without answering for a few beats too long.
“Benny Jr. sent me up to investigate a break-in.” I let her out of my arms, but she didn’t move all the way away.
“I knew it! A criminal! Where?” Her head whipped side to side.
“You, Bee. You are the criminal.”
“No, I’m not. I’m on a mission,” she said, her features going carefully blank as she lifted her chin.
“What happened to your head?” I asked. The “weapon” that fell was confirmed to be a pair of sharp silver scissors. “Are-are you cutting your hair?”
“I was until you interrupted me.” Her nostrils flared.
“What the hell are you doing up here? Benny Jr. is pissed.”
“I’m not doing anything.” She scooted back and tried to look innocent.
The effect was ruined by half her hair sticking out wildly around her and the trench coat, making her look like a bad guy in a movie. I was even more confused with every passing second. Why was Bee cutting her hair in a trench coat on the top of the mountain on New Year’s Eve? Why was she acting like this was a totally normal thing? Why did it seem like I was the one out of line when she was very clearly going through something? If I hadn’t been so anxious to get the hell out of there, I might have had more time for this.
“Right.” Whatever this crisis was, it certainly wasn’t my problem. “We gotta go. There’s a bad storm and?—”
“I’m not going.”
“You can’t stay.”
“Just call Benny Jr. and tell him I’m not going to steal his crappy dollar-store imports with a four hundred percent inflation price tag. I … just need to stay the night. He’ll be fine with it. Now get out of here.”
With that final thought, I allowed myself to be shoved out the door, leaving nothing but stunned silence in the aftermath.
I did what any grown man would do in this situation. I called my boss to tell on her.
“Did you find the bastard?” Benny answered right away, slurring into the phone. “Robber? Huh? Shit out of luck. I haven’t had money up there in years unless you count the penny press machine.” His voice was edged with a vehemence I didn’t like.
“No robber?—”
“Hooligans, then. Some of those high school shits trying to start trouble.”
“No. No, it’s, uh, Bee.”
“Who?”
“Bee Perkins.”
“I don’t know who that is. Sounds like a family-friendly chain of breakfast restaurants.”
How could he not know who Bee was? She was a staple of the community.
“She works at the cat café.”
“Sure. Right,” he said, but I wasn’t convinced he actually knew.
I remained shocked into silence.
“What the hell is she doing? What a little weirdo,” he said.
I strongly disliked how he spoke about Bee. He had a tone. I didn’t know Bee well, but at least she wasn’t a shady businessman who sent people up a deadly mountain on a holiday.
I ground my jaw before I shared the worst of the information. “She says she wants to stay the night. She said she isn’t going to mess with any of your stuff.”
“In that case, sure, tell her to put her feet up and make herself at home,” he said in a cloyingly saccharine tone. Then, before I could get a word in edgewise, he added in sharp sarcasm, “I don’t give a crap, Soupman. This isn’t Maybel’s B and B. Get her the hell out.”
“She isn’t doing any harm.” I thought of her scissors, oversized trench coat, and shifty gaze. I didn’t think she was doing well , but I didn’t think she had any intention of trouble, outside of attacking me. And I didn’t begrudge her for that. I was big and scary. At least she tried.
“Get her out. Why are we still talking about this? I’m paying you to bring her down the mountain.”
“She says she won’t go.”
Something crashed on his side of the line, followed by a series of whoops. “Then drag her out. She’s what, five GPs shorter than you and a hundred pounds wet?”
This was another reason I hated being a big guy. Everybody assumed you were comfortable throwing your weight around.
“Look, I won’t be sued for some shit if she gets hurt by staying there unchaperoned,” Benny Jr. said. “I don’t know what she’s trying to pull, but get her out by any means. Then I can press charges.”
“Against Bee Perkins?”
I imagined Bee in her colorful tights, patterned dresses, and sweaters, rolling around the cat café, giggling with a pile of kittens in her long brown hair that flowed down her back. Or at least it had. She didn’t scream criminal.
“I think she?—”
“You aren’t paid to think, Soupman. For fuck’s sake. You are paid to use those meat cleaver hands to get shit done.”
My throat grew tight. I wouldn’t scare her or hurt her. I didn’t care what he said. “I won’t —”
“If you end that sentence with anything other than ‘let you down,’ I swear to God. If you want to have any sort of job in this town, you better just do what you’re told.”
He ended the call.
I could get her out. If it was for her own safety, it was better for me to do it than the police. On the other side of the door, Bee hummed a tune. This was going to suck.