Page 7 of Everest

Opening my eyes, I shake my head. “Pity party is over, London.”

When I walk into the facility, I make my way to the director’s office.

The receptionist greets me with a kind smile. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Roger Briggs. He’s expecting me. My name is London Monroe.

“Yes, ma’am. He said to send you in when you arrive.” The receptionist gestures toward the open door to her left.”

Mr. Briggs looks up from his computer and stands as I walk into his office. I take his offered hand.

“Thanks for agreeing to speak with me, Ms. Monroe. How are you doing today?” He motions for me to take a seat.

“I’m doing okay. Thank you.”

As soon as Mr. Briggs takes a seat, he gets down to business. “I called you down today to discuss your mother’s outstanding balance for the month.”

“Yes. I just want to say how sorry I am for being late with the payment. I’m ready to settle that bill today.” I reach into my purse and pull out a white envelope stuffed with cash. “It won’t happen again.”

Mr. Briggs takes the envelope offered, and I’m relieved he does so without judgment. “It’s not a problem, Ms. Monroe.”

My shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you and your staff for being kind to my mother. Knowing she’s in such good hands helps me sleep a little better at night.”

“It’s our pleasure, Ms. Monroe.”

I stand, and Mr. Briggs follows suit. “How is she today? I spoke with her nurse this morning, and she said today was a good day.”

Mr. Briggs smiles. “Indeed, it is. I checked on your mother about an hour ago, and she was in good spirits. I’ll walk you down to see her. Today, we had some students from the hair academy visit. One of the young ladies gave your mom a wash and curl. And she’s looking forward to chair yoga later this afternoon.”

“That sounds wonderful.” I beam as Mr. Briggs leads me into the rec room, where I spot my mom sitting by a window, chatting with one of the other residents. The second her eyes land on me, her face lights up. Nothing in this world can bring out the little girl butterflies in me like when my mom looks at me like I’m her whole world. Growing up, I never had any doubt about how special I was to my mom because she not only showed me but also told me every day how much she loved me.

“Doodlebug.” She reaches for me, and I waste no time falling into her embrace.

“Hey, Momma.” I close my eyes and breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume.

“I didn’t know you were coming to see me today,” she says.

“Well, I finished with court and thought I'd come to see my favorite person.”

“Oh yeah.” Mom gets that sassy glint in her eye. “You kick some ass today?”

I throw my head back and laugh. “You know it, Momma.”

3

EVEREST

The first bit of morning light creeps through the thin-ass curtains, casting just enough glow to piss me off. I grunt, my body stiff as hell, every muscle reminding me of what I've put my body through over the past few days. My arms feel like lead, and my ribs ache like they’ve been used for batting practice, accompanied by bone-deep exhaustion different from what I’ve experienced before.

The thing is, I had no damn business being there. No real training, no experience. Not like everyone else. All I had was the need to prove to Riggs and myself that I could do the job. And I did. I feel like shit, but it was all worth it. I got to do something that mattered and send a few low-life motherfuckers to their graves in the process.

With a heavy breath, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, planting my feet on the cool wooden floor. I roll my shoulder, trying to release the tension, then push up to stand and drag my ass across the room toward the bathroom.

I keep the light off and reach behind the shower curtain, turning the shower knob. After a moment, steam fills the room, getting hot and thick. I yank off my boxers and step into the tub,allowing the scalding water to hit my skin, then brace my hands against the cold, hard tiles as the heat rolls over me. It digs deep into my muscles, soothing my shoulders and back. The water pounds down, loosening the tightness in my muscles. I shut my eyes, savoring the sensation, letting the exhaustion fade.

After the hot shower turns cold, I shut off the water and reach for a towel. Heat rolls off me in waves, clinging to my skin as I wipe the steam from the mirror. I look at my reflection and study my face. For a second, it’s not just me looking back, but my old man’s eyes, his square jaw, the set of his mouth when he’s working through something, and it’s all there, staring me down. I immediately think of home and my folks back in Minnesota.

I run a hand over my face, dragging it down my neck. Some men are built for peace, for a quiet life. Like my father. But not me. I need the adrenaline, the purpose, the fight. That’s why I had to leave Minnesota years ago.

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