If Tucker heard him, he doesn’t show it with the big, cheesy grin he gives us. He looks over to his far left where another employee is talking to the person with the camera and gives them a thumbs up. “Shall we get started? It seems everyone is set.”
This time Zane grumbles something that I don’t quite catch.
And he continues through the safety lesson, the quick class in proper technique, and the explanation of each of the obstacles that definitely look challenging.
We ascend a set of steps to a platform of sorts built around a tree trunk. We’re now a good thirty feet off the ground, if not more. As much as heights don’t bug me, I get a little overwhelmed when I look down and notice how small the crew looks standing below angling their cameras up at us. “Shit that’s far,” I mutter, more than thankful they decided not to wire us with microphones and instead dub sound in later.
“This is called The Mirror,” Tucker says, looking at Zane and then me. “The purpose is for you to learn to trust each other.”
“Fucking perfect,” Zane grumbles and I ignore him. I get that he’s pissed at Robert—hell, even I was surprised by this new marketing tactic, but when you step back and look at the whole, it’s smart.
Plus we’ve been so busy travelling all over the country—most places I doubt I’ll ever visit again—so it will be nice for me to make some kind of memories other than how pretty the hotel or country club lobbies are.
“These two ropes here,” Tucker says, pointing to a set of ropes that are about three feet apart. There is another set of ropes parallel and about seven feet directly above them, so if you drew an imaginary line, it could make a rectangle. The ropes span from the tree we’re currently in across open air to another tree and platform a good fifty feet away. “We’ll hook you in on the top rope so you have a safety line to catch you when you fall—”
“When?” Zane snorts like an arrogant asshole.
“The two of you will stand on opposing ropes and face each other,” Tucker continues without even flinching. “You’ll use each other for balance to help one another get across the distance.”
“What do you mean we’ll use each other for balance?” Zane asks.
“That’s for you to figure out.”
“Seriously? That’s all you’re going to give me?” Zane again, and I’m irritated at how he’s treating Tucker for simply doing his job.
If this is how the privileged act—taking out your frustrations with one person on another—then count me out. I’d rather be poor and have kindness.
Seemingly unaffected, Tucker just keeps smiling, whistling a cheerful tune as he clips the carabineer from our harness to the safety line above us.
“Sorry about him,” I murmur when Tucker steps in to secure mine.
“It’s always the tough guys who have a problem with this,” he says under his breath and then steps back with a nod. “This is where I bow out. I’m heading down the ladder so you can figure this out for yourselves. I’ll see you at the bottom.”
“Fucking ridiculous,” Zane grumbles for what feels like the tenth time in as many minutes. I’m typically pretty tolerant, but right now, he’s irritating me.
“You ready?” I ask with a chill to my voice.
“Thrilled.” He steps toward the edge of the platform, his face a mask of fury I don’t quite understand.
“If we face each other, maybe we can press our hands together or clasp wrists or something so that we use our weight to balance ourselves off each other.”
“Great.”
I step one foot on the lower rope and use my hand on the rope above me to steady myself while I wait for him to do the same. He just stares at me with a look of complete abhorrence on his face that I can’t fathom.
“Put your hand out,” I say and extend my free hand, but he just glares at me and grits his teeth. “What’s your problem? You’re being a complete asshole and frankly I’m not too thrilled to be stuck up here with you either. So suck it up. Did you forget there are cameras down there documenting your every move? Maybe you should keep that in mind the next time you decide to be rude to Tucker.”
“What is it with you defending every man that comes our way except for me?”
“Defending every man? Common courtesy is more like it. Put your damn hand up, Zane because I want off this just as badly as you do.”
His sigh is strangled and there’s something about the sudden tensing of his entire body when he puts his full weight on the rope that makes it all click for me.
He’s not being an arrogant, prick. Not in the least.
He’s petrified and masking it with a major attitude.
I do believe that Zane Phillips is scared of heights.
“Give me your hand,” I say without breaking stride. “If we have one hand supporting each other, then it will make the next step that much easier.”
He closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds and says something to himself under his breath before reaching out and clasping his hand around my wrist and vice versa.
“Zane?”
“I’m fine. I’m okay,” he says, but his death grip on me says otherwise. His face is a light shade of gray and a line of sweat trails down his cheek from beneath his helmet.
“Zane?” I ask again, begging him to look at me.