It was like cutting a path straight into Narnia, only way less depressing. Mac worked his way down the trail from the top of the mountain, through a suffocatingly dense tunnel of trees and boulders, gobs of fresh snow marking the way. Caution, trespassing; suggestions really…as long as I don’t get caught.
He loved it up here, his smile proof that dropping out of college mid-semester three years earlier to pursue his dream of becoming a full-time snow bum had in fact been the right decision. Anything for more days like this.
The sun peeking out after a storm, the feeling of his Never Summer snowboard breaking through each dollop and drift, the sound of his breath glancing off the pines and aspens as he flew by; each turn an expression of who he was. Art. Nature. Solitude in the moment, one that would stay loosely connected to him forever, tailing like a streamer in the wind, never to be caught, only to be unraveled in an ever-changing landscape of his past. Conditions that were only true to the moment, then gone forever.
He cut a final corner and the view suddenly opened to a twenty-foot cliff, a cascading rockslide that had washed every tree for the next hundred yards.
He slid to a stop and removed his feet from the bindings. With his board planted into the snow, he walked along the upper ridge of the slide. The valley below idle, the runs of Beaverridge on the left, the Whoville village of Vail in the middle, and the vaunted, nearly mythical runs of the world’s most exclusive ski resort ever imagined, Icon Mountain Resort, sprawling to his right.
Sheltered by a canopy of leaning pines was a perfectly shaped rock bench, and on it sat the hottest damn women he’d ever seen, his flirtatious snow bunny, Miss Erica Brown.
“You’re late,” she teased, scooting over to give him room.
There were a lot of things he adored about her, a whole list actually, but it was the accent that got him every single time. So very British, proper and delicate. But it was watching her lips as she spoke that was the real treat.
“Car trouble.” He winked. “And the brief ran a bit longer than usual. I’m sure you heard the big news by now?”
She gave a thoughtful nod. “He told us.” She waited, maybe wondering if he would elaborate.
“Can’t believe he’s actually hanging it up. Mid-season too. Crazy.” He removed his gloves, chewing at his thumbnail absentmindedly. “Oh well…I guess it was fun while it lasted.” He felt her bright green eyes pecking at him. “What?”
“Stop pretending like I don’t already know.” She slapped his shoulder. “Our meeting was before yours. He named you and Jawny as his potential successors.”
He shrugged. “Eh, he can have it.”
“Don’t you believe in fate?” She grabbed his hand. “This position hasn’t been open in twenty years and you won’t even make a try for it? Why be so dull?”
“No interest I guess…not really trying to deal with all the headaches. Plus, think about it, that would make Ellis my new boss. And no way I’m signing up for that. Imagine that dude breathing down your neck all the time…would be a nightmare. Now Jawny on the other hand runs on negative energy. He’s perfect for it.”
It was no small secret that Ellis Feldstein owned everything the light touched in Vail. He’d gotten his start with a puny inheritance; a few coal mines, the land above them and a floundering ski resort. After some rebranding, he got Beaverridge Resort turned around before aggressively going after commercial real estate, condominiums and hotels, which eventually gave him the fortune needed to build his true passion project; his very own private ski resort, which he micromanaged to the nth degree.
“He isn’t so bad,” she deflected with a bit of sarcasm. “I deal with him more than you.”
As much grief as Ellis pushed down the throats of the Beaver Brigade, the Icon staff had the luxury of housing the man’s work office, as well as his winter home, though resort-side-mansion might be a more accurate depiction.
Mac coughed.* “Not that bad…he just axed Craig after he’d given him half his life. The dude’s a raging lunatic. On the bright side, once Jawny gets promoted, I’ll be the first to go.”
“Fine, I’ll admit it,” she said. “He’s a self-serving pig, and the way he treats women should be a crime if it isn’t already. It’s reprehensible. But maybe you could make things better, at least for some of us in the instructor’s room.”
Mac didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. There was literally no chance he was going to sign up for the stress and workload associated with a promotion like ski captain, not even at the behest of a sweet little damsel in distress.
“Unbelievable.” She folded her arms. “Here you are on the cusp of promotion, not to mention the only instructor with an ounce of personality, and you’re going to lay down for Jawny-effin-Blake? It’s like the perfect opportunity for you to step up and surprise me and instead you just want to quit. What a crybaby. I honestly don’t know I can keep doing it with you.” Her eyes flashed, dark as the black hair she was brushing behind her ear. “You’re too damn casual, Mac.”
“Speaking of casual,” he said, thankful for a topic change, “it’s a good thing you already agreed to drinks tonight or I’d actually maybe have to consider what you’re saying.” He put an arm around her, giving her a playful squeeze.
She scrunched her face, probably considering their tentative plans for the evening. “You know…one day I might not be so damn available to you, then what are you going to do?” She scooted back to get a better look at him.
“I’d say fate seems to have a different idea.” He pulled her in again, lightly kissing the exposed skin just above her collar bone. “And just one time, can’t you make things easy for me?”
“Oh, it’s easy you like?” Her tone shifted back to the lighter side, letting him do as he pleased, if only for the illusion.
He worked his way up her neck, stopping at her lips. He lightly bit and pulled, waiting for her reaction.
Her breath stopped and the next thing he knew she’d already swung her leg over his lap, straddling on top of him, gently tangling her hand in his curly brown mop before jerking his head back.
See…easy is nice.
In a matter of seconds she had his coat unzipped, tugging at his pant pockets. The cold air rushed in, sending a surge of adrenaline down every inch of his body. It’s moments like this.
Then she stopped. “What the actual fuck, Mac?” She was holding a glass pipe the size of a lighter, her face a mixture of rage and disgust. “You told me you were done with this garbage.”
For lack of a better response, he grinned. So that’s where that’s been hiding.
She let out a huge sigh, backing off his lap before discarding the pipe into a nearby snow drift. And apparently the conversation was over too because she’d already started walking away.
“Still on for tonight though? Right?” He could taste the patheticness dripping off each word. Her curves still visible under her jacket and pants, grey with purple triangular camouflage, seemingly taunting him as untouchable, barely visible ground. Please come back.
“I’m not going to be late for my lesson with Brad.” She clipped into her ski bindings, her eyes avoiding his. “Especially not for this stupid shit!”
“Brad Williams?” Mac was hopeful. The comedian with dwarfism wasn’t exactly an A-lister, the type that frequented Icon Mountain, but maybe he could lighten her mood in a non-threating sort-of way. She’ll forget all about it and be over it by noon.
“Cooper,” she shouted, disappearing behind the bend, leaving Mac with a burning sense of regret to go along with his cold hands as he frantically dug through the snow in search of his carelessly discarded weed pipe.
Well, shit…that didn’t go the way I hoped.