Superior - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Climbing Advice

Locking my heels around his torso, I pulled Jim’s arm to my chest and leaned back until he yelped in pain. After the week I’d had, it felt good to actually win at something. And nothing felt better than winning a sparring match against my best buddy.

“I give! I give!” he cried, slapping his free hand to the mat.

I released his arm, and my friend cradled his arm as he sat up. “Damn, John. You went at me hard! Everything okay?”

I sighed, flopping to the mat. “Just having some problems at the office. I guess I’ve got a little pent-up aggression to get rid of.”

“I’ll say,” said Jim with a pained smile. “That arm bar was wicked, man! Nice work!”

“Thanks,” I replied, feeling the hint of a smile crack the perma-scowl that my expression had crusted into after another brutal week of bruising workplace losses to the new girl.

Jim rose, slapping me on the back before offering me a hand up. “Come on, let’s head to the climbing wall to conquer that 11a we’ve been working on. We’ll hit the weights tomorrow. I think sending that new route will be a better way to lift your spirits.”

I shot him a grateful grin. Hitting the climbing wall sounded like a great plan.

We exited the fenced MMA training area and went to the locker room to grab our climbing gear, buckling our harnesses as we walked to the back corner of the gym where a rainbow of colorful holds were mounted to the gray, molded wall. Several ropes hung from pulleys mounted to the ceiling.

“I’ll take first belay,” said John, slipping the gate of the carabiner on the belay device over the front loop of his harness and spinning it shut.

I nodded my agreement, slipping on my climbing shoes and tying into the rope.

As we checked each other’s loops and knots, he pressed me for more information on my workplace nemesis. I told him. Reluctantly. Recounting my defeats wasn’t something I was looking forward to.

“It’s that new VP they just hired. She’s a frigging nightmare, Jim!” I began. “It’s like she’s got this inside track on everything we’re doing! She’s been ahead of me every step of the way since she arrived!”

“Wait—are you talking about that Jane girl over in marketing and originations? I haven’t met her yet, but I’ve heard she’s all kinds of hot.”

I sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, she’s good-looking. Her breasts are fucking amazing. But that only makes it worse!”

Jim shrugged, grinning. “At least you have some eye candy to dull the pain.”

“Har, har,” I replied with an emphatic frown. “It’s embarrassing to be shown up by somebody like that! Anybody ever outshine you over in Legal?”

“Of course not,” said Jim with a laugh. “I mean, it’s me we’re talking about!”

“That’s what I would have said before she came along too,” I muttered, turning to examine the red-marked route that wound up the overhanging portion of the wall.

As my eyes roamed over each hold marked with the red tape that read 5.11a, I mimed the moves I knew I would need to make while my feet were still on the ground.

“Ever wonder how she got the inside track?” asked Jim, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Oh, Johnny boy,” Jim smiled, clapping me on the back. “My naive little Johnny boy.”

He shook his head, as if amused by my ignorance. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somebody doesn’t want you to get that promotion? Somebody high up. Somebody that’s helping out little miss sexypants.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The only ones that could give her that kind of insight are Bill and Carl, and I have a great relationship with both of them! Why would they want to sabotage me like that?”

Jim shrugged. “Maybe it’s not so much about you as about getting into this girl’s pants. I mean, if she’s as hot as everyone says…”

The thought sent my mind spinning. Was that possible? Were Bill or Jim looking to get with the girl, feeding her information and documents to get her into bed? It would explain her impossible productivity?

A shiver rolled down my spine. It would also explain what she had been doing there all night! And it wasn’t working...

“But enough of that for right now,” said Jim, waving a hand dismissively before lowering it to pull the rope to his hip. “Climb on, man!”

I shot him an annoyed glare. The guy makes an insinuation like that and then just changes the subject! But that was Jim. He loved to use targeted words to keep others off balance, verbally jabbing before dancing away. It was part of what made him such a great lawyer.

I tried to put the thoughts Jim had inserted into my brain to the side and simply focus on the climb. He was right about one thing—I could really use a victory over this troublesome route as well.

I took a couple of deep breaths, then slipped my fingers over the holds, stepping onto the miniscule starting foothold, its shape little larger than the cap of a very small, very thin mushroom. I shifted my hips to the right, centering my weight so that I could raise my left foot to the next hold. I stepped up, reaching for the next handhold as I shifted my weight left onto my left toes, smearing on a holdless section of wall.

I progressed smoothly upward, navigating the small, slopey holds with relative ease until I arrived at the overhang near the top of the wall. Looking down, I gave Jim an ambitious wink, then turned my eyes upward to determine the best path over the remaining holds, hanging loosely from the last solid jug hold under the gray, hold-bare roof. I shook out each hand, relieving a bit of the burn from my pumped forearms and coating my fingers in chalk, before setting about the final challenge.

I worked my feet higher, until I crouched just below the roof, then extended an arm behind and upward, pressing hard against the wall with my feet. I found a tiny crimping hold and tucked my fingertips into it, curling my thumb over my fingers to add strength to my grip.

Pain flaring in my fingertips as I let them take the brunt of my weight, I repositioned my feet under the overhang until I could use them to twist my body and go for the next handhold. I pushed up, managing to grab it, but that hold was miniscule as well.

I could feel my chalky fingers begin to slip as sweat began to slick their straining tips. I knew I had to be quick about this to avoid taking a fall. I raised a foot, finding a ripple in the faux rock to help me push against to free one hand to search for a better handhold.

“Cheater!” yelled Jim from below, taking in the slack in the rope in case I took a whipper from here.

“Fuck you, Jim,” I called back, feeling my cheeks redden with heat. “The wall’s always on-route.”

“If you say so…” Jim laughed.

“I do!” I cried emphatically, just as I pulled down hard on my two handholds in a dyno leap for the next handhold. I jumped with my feet as well, using my toes to put off as much as I was able, barely catching the next hold with my throbbing fingers.

Quickly, I scrambled my feet up the overhang and stood up, pulling my hips into the backward-leaning section of wall to lessen the pressure on my burning forearms.

“You did it!” cheered Jim from below.

I shot my friend a quick grin before finishing off the climb, sighing with relief as I slapped the double carabiners at the top in an emphatic statement of victory.

He lowered me with a soft whir of nylon and we high-fived as my feet found the mat.

“Thanks for the belay, man,” I said, untying the rope from my harness to trade places with him.

“No worries, John. Now let me have a shot at this bad boy.”

By the seventh fall, Jim had had enough, and I lowered him to the ground. He was right. It did feel good to beat somebody at something. Two things, actually. The belay had given me time to think about what Jim had said, and the more I considered it, the more I was convinced he was right. Now, I simply had to figure out which one of the two men was helping Jane.

Once I did, I would figure out how to turn the situation to my advantage.

I always did.