Chapter 26
Ignoring the cab driver’s pointed sigh, I double-checked the address on my phone, searching for something specific. Sally must be fucking with me.
“Miss?” The cab driver looked at me over his shoulder then back at the meter. The red digits read twenty-five.
I fumbled in my purse, grabbed two twenties and told him to keep the change, then hopped out to escape the smell of whatever he’d eaten for breakfast.
Where the hell was I supposed to go? Sally hadn’t specified a meeting point in her email. Hudson Yards was an entire neighborhood covering almost twenty-eight acres. Amongst it stood a hotel, gardens, a public school, restaurants, apartments, and commercial space. An entire city within a city.
I’d expected an obvious sign of what I would be showing up for. Maybe a tour guide with a flag, or a tour bus. Sally had given no indication about what we would be doing apart from telling us to wear flat shoes.
The cab had dropped me off at West Thirty-Third Street—where I could see people already walking around The Vessel—a honeycomb structure of connected staircases rising sixteen stories. I’d always meant to climb it, but a number of suicides had led to its closure to visitors. Now I’d never climb to the top.
“You lost?” an unwelcome voice asked from behind me.
“No,” I scoffed, rounding on him. Damn if Jack Shane didn’t look even better in loose jeans and a yellow polo shirt than a tailored suit.
He shrugged and kept walking toward the skyscraper in front of us: number thirty. It housed shops, restaurants, and a hotel. Maybe David wanted to treat us to lunch and a spa day. Get real, Munroe.
I counted to ten before following Jack inside. He’d obviously received more detailed instructions than me because he walked with the purpose of someone who knew where to go.
The lobby was quiet for a Sunday morning. No option of me being able to blend in with the crowd as I stalked him. I kept my head in my phone and followed him into the elevator.
A chainsaw couldn’t cut through the tension in that small box as he hit the button for floor one hundred. I racked my brain trying to remember what was up there. A restaurant? The viewing platform? None of this made sense.
“Nervous?” he asked, hands deep in his pockets.
My mouth felt drier than the Sahara desert. “Why would I be nervous?”
His lip lifted. “Because you’ve got no idea what’s going on, and as a control freak, that must be killing you.”
“It’s because I’m a control freak that I’m successful,” I retorted, noting how white his teeth were under the fluorescent lights. Those must be veneers. Otherwise, life was unfair.
He scratched at his stubble. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”
With a ping, we hit the top floor and merged into a lobby filled with eight other people. From among them, an enthusiastic redhead waved a tablet and rushed toward us. “Names?”
“Scarlett Munroe,” I told her, making a point of stepping away from Jack like we didn’t know each other.
He noticed my slight and took a further step away. “Jack Shane.”
“Great, you’re the final two.” She smiled and walked to the front of the group.
Final two for what?
The redhead clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Right, guys, time to go get suited up.”
Suited up? For what?
Jack didn’t look perturbed either way. He followed the line of people, and I stepped in behind him. Redhead had failed to mention she’d be conducting breathalyzer tests before she let us step into the next room. Thank God I hadn’t slammed tequila the night before.
The next space turned out to be a large changing room with blue jumpsuits hanging from hooks that ran down the length of the walls. The redhead pointed to the farthest end. “Tall ones are in the back.”
I blinked hard. “You mean, I have to put a Smurf suit on?” I’d spent twenty minutes picking out the loose stone-washed jeans and vintage Rainbow Brite T-shirt that emphasized my rack.
“You can’t do the climb dressed in that.” She checked her tablet. “Guys, when you have your climb suits on, please go out the door to your left and Danny, your climb guide, will run through the safety briefing. For safety reasons, make sure to leave all belongings, including jewelry, in the lockers.”
The climb? Oh fuck. Now I knew why 30 Hudson Yards rang a bell.
The rest of the group jumped into their suits, babbling with excitement. Jack looked like a tall drink of water. I grabbed the nearest suit on the wall and stepped into it.
“Suits you,” Jack commented as he walked past me to the door.
“Dick,” I muttered under my breath.
“I don’t remember seeing you in the office,” a twenty-year-old John Mayer lookalike asked me as I fought to tug the zipper of the climb suit up to my neck.
The zipper caught a piece of skin and I groaned. “Office?”
“You work for David Steel, right? If you don’t, then you’re in the wrong group.” He watched with fascination as I fought with the tiny piece of metal.
I gave the zip one last tug, and it obeyed. “Yeah, I’m freelance.”
He looked puzzled. “Huh, they don’t usually bring freelancers to the team-building events.”
“Did you say team building?”
“Yeah. It’s a pain in the ass, but we get a good meal at the end.” He checked his own zipper. “See you out there.”
David Steel and his goddamn team-building bullshit. Putting me and Jack Shane at the top of a skyscraper would end in murder not bonding. He put me on blast in The New Yorker, for crying out loud. Yeah, and you put him on blast with David. Curse my rational brain.
I waited for everyone to file past, saying a silent prayer as I stepped outside into the wind twelve hundred feet above solid ground.
After an in-depth safety briefing at basecamp, we were fitted with harnesses and strapped into the course via The Rail—two cables attached to a trolley.
“Is there an option for a third cable?” I asked the climb guide.
He gave my harness a final tug and moved on without answering.
In a cruel twist of fate, I found myself second from the end, with Jack taking up the rear. The harness made my ass look twice as big, and I didn’t trust him not to shove me off when everyone’s backs were turned.
He must have spotted my trembling hands gripping the cables. “What’s the matter with you? Thought you loved skyscrapers.”
I took a steadying breath. “I love being in them. Not outside where I can fall to my death.”
He chuckled. “At least you’d have a nice view on the way down.”
“Not funny.”
“I’m trying to look on the bright side.”
Our guide at the front whistled. “We’re going to make a start. The first thirty-two steps will take you up to The Cliff. Following that, we’ll be heading up 161 steps to The Stair before we reach The Apex. It’s up there that you’ll have the chance to hang out over the platform. If you’re brave enough.”
The co-workers catcalled and egged each other on. I gripped my harness tighter and wished I’d gotten around to updating my will. I’d given Viv a verbal promise she could have my circular chrome bar cart if I died first.
The line moved, but my feet remained rooted to the spot.
Jack coughed. “You’re not gonna throw up, are you?”
Do not throw up. Or faint. “God, I hope not.”
He put a hand on my shoulder and turned me toward the stairs. “You can do this. Take it a step at a time.”
The weight of his hand reset my system, and the fear dissipated. “That’s what pirates say to people that are walking the plank.” I gasped at what felt like a tornado whipping around our heads. It turned out to be a pigeon.
“I’ve got a funny feeling David’s gonna know if you don’t do it,” he said. “Wouldn’t look good if you refused to take part in a team-building exercise. It would be great for me though,” he reminded me.
“I know what you’re doing.” I took a tentative step forward.
“What’s that?”
“Using reverse psychology to get me up there.”
“It’s working, isn’t it?” he teased.
The cables clanked together as I started the ascent. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
A step at a time, I repeated, counting to thirty-two. Then I paused to look up. New York glittered below us, hazy in the sun.
“Don’t look down,” Jack breathed into my ear.
I gripped my cables tighter. “Don’t be an asshole.”
He laughed. “Ready to move up?”
The group above us continued to climb. “Nah, I’m good here.”
He waited right at my back. “Never pegged you as a quitter.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I called over my shoulder. At this point, I didn’t care if David found out I didn’t make it to the top. Beating Jack Shane wasn’t worth dying for. I wanted the safety of the sidewalk and a shot of tequila.
“Time for some tough love.” He pushed at the bottom of my spine. “Move your ass, Munroe.”
“I preferred the reverse psychology.”
He gave me another light push forward. “Sometimes you need to let someone else be in charge. Go.”
My legs moved of their own accord, and the cables clanking on the rail that attached us to the building now felt reassuring instead of petrifying. Without realizing, I’d climbed the 161 stairs up a forty-five-degree incline.
The guide demonstrated to the first person in the group how to hang over the ledge, like a bird about to soar through the cloudless, blue sky.
Jack whistled. “Never mind The Crystal; this is a view.”
I gawked at the city that I’d determined to take over spread out below me. “Don’t think David would agree.”
Jack peeked over at me. “You gonna tell him I said that?”
I made the mistake of looking over at the two group members leaning out and waving down at the street below. “No.” The sight of people hanging over a ledge stirred something in my intestines.
Jack looked unflustered by it all. “Forgive me if I’m skeptical.”
Please, bowels, do not let me down. I ignored his barb and tried to breathe.
“Are you all right?” He edged a little closer to me.
“I’m fine,” I squeaked, trying to quench my rising horror as the first two finished and we moved closer to the front. John Mayer boy would be next.
“You don’t have to do this.” Jack tapped my shoulder. “I promise I won’t tell.”
I eyeballed him. “One: Yes I do. Two: You would.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Even though you deserve it after last night.”
The guide pulled the John Mayer lookalike in from the ledge after a couple of minutes and gestured for me to come forward. Oh, Jesus, I know I don’t believe in you, but please help me.
“You good?” The guide disconnected my cables then reattached them to the pole above.
I grabbed his free hand. “I’m not going to die, right?”
He remained stone-faced. “We wouldn’t be in business if we let folks die, ma’am.”
I look like a ma’am? Changed my mind, I wanna die.
The guide pulled me forward. I almost made it to the edge before I dropped to my knees. “I can’t do this.”
From somewhere over the wind, I heard Jack yell something to the guide followed by a sound of metal. A pair of hands looped under my arms and pulled me to my feet.
Jack gripped my hands, clammy and sweaty. “I’m gonna do it with you.”
The guide moved him into position, and Jack tugged me along with him.
“That might be worse,” I choked.
The guide hooked us both on and gave us a thumbs up.
“You wanna face out or in?” Jack asked.
“Either way, we’re hitting cement,” I wailed.
Jack shuffled me toward the edge. “In it is. Turn around and line your feet up.”
I did as he instructed, still gripping his hand.
He lined himself up next to me. “You ready?” He squeezed my fingers.
“I’m trying not to shit my pants,” I yelled.
He laughed. “Let go.”
“I can’t.”
He stared straight into my soul. “Yes, you can. Think of it as a trust exercise.”
“You mean a trust fall?” I corrected.
His nostrils flared. “Whatever you wanna call it. I’m gonna catch you.”
My eyes watered. “You promise?”
“You’re not going alone, Munroe. I’m right here. On three.” He took a deep breath and indicated for me to copy him.
I inhaled, my bubble of anxiety popping at his words. I’m not going alone.
“Three, two, one, go,” he commanded.
Holding my breath, I let go and leaned back, expecting to feel the whoosh of air as I hurtled like a dart toward the street below.
Instead, the harness and Jack’s hands anchored me.
“Still wanna shit your pants?” Jack’s dimple deepened as he looked down at our hands.
“Kinda,” I admitted, feeling brave enough to look up at the sky.
“Worth the climb?” he shouted over the wind.
I looked back at him. “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”