Page 5 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
Really, I have none. I don’t believe in regrets. I’m doing exactly what I should be doing. What I want to be doing, and what I promised my dad I would do. And I’m damn glad Vik hired me ten years ago and swore me to secrecy about his attempt to scale the Seven Summits to raise money for pediatric cancer research, then smashed his fundraising goals when he nearly died.
Almost-death was quite good to my first benefactor.
And for me as well, it turns out.
But somewhere around five thousand feet, a different image fills my vision. Crystal-blue eyes, a wicked smile, a constellation of freckles.
I haven’t thought of her since . . . well, since one of my last prep jumps.
What the hell?
Maybe it’s because I graded a meal up there, and that was our thing. Not because I have regrets, not because she’s been shoving her way to the front of my mind. Not because I wish I had done things differently. Regrets are for other guys. I’ve lived a life without regret, and I plan to keep doing so.
If I’d stayed with her, I wouldn’t be here, setting a world record for the highest altitude dinner party.
At twenty-five hundred feet, I engage the parachute. It opens, mercifully, and then . . .
I float.
Ah, this is the icing, the cherry on top, as I drift down, down, down, drinking in the mountains, the water, and the lush landscape below me.
I land safely, my knees bearing the impact as my feet hit the ground. As they do, I salute my father, who’s somewhere up above. Moments later, my companion in all my adventures across the globe makes landfall too. I shake Trevor’s hand, and we smile for the waiting cameras.
Even though high-altitude fine dining isn’t the usual type of survivalist strategy we feature on Man Against the Elements, it’ll be great fare for one of our many specials. Those are softer shows where we execute stunts or raise money for charity using our show’s reach to spread the word.
When the photos are done, I find the woman who runs the fallen soldier charity we raised money for with the dinner and the jump.
“Thanks so much for your work setting this up,” I tell her. “I hope it did its job. And I don’t mean advertising the glamour of sky-high dinner parties.”
“You never know,” she laughs. “The hot-air balloon business in Queenstown might have a run-up in bookings. But seriously, this is going to raise awareness tremendously.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
Trevor and I head toward the car. We have a busy day of debriefs tomorrow as we plan for the next and final episode of this season, where the crew will drop me near a raging river and I’ll have to ford the rapids and then scale down a waterfall.
Before I reach the vehicle, my assistant races over.
Cammi is as perky as ever, her bright, cheery voice calling, “Great work today. Guinness has all the details, so you should be breaking Bear’s record by more than two thousand feet.”
“Bear Grylls?” I ask casually, as if I don’t know exactly whose record we just destroyed.
“Yeah, ever heard of him?” she teases.
“Hmm.” I scratch my jaw. “Not sure. It vaguely rings a bell.”
“Don’t worry. Your name will be more famous than his soon.”
“Soon?” Trevor asks, cutting in. “I’d say already.”
“And for that, I’ll keep you on payroll.”
He rolls his eyes, dragging a hand through his light hair. “You’re lucky I stay with you.”
“I am. Every man needs a sidekick.”
He flips me the bird, and we both laugh as Cammi reroutes the conversation. “I also wanted to let you know that you just had a phone call from someone named Daniel Highsmith. He said he has a project to discuss with you.”
“No idea who he is.”
Cammi clears her throat. “He thought you might say that, which is why he mentioned pretty early on that your mother said he should call.”
I jerk my gaze back to Cammi. “My mother?”
“Apparently she recommended you for something.”
“For a project?”
Trevor nudges me. “How very unusual of Mama Armstrong to get involved.”
“Yeah, what a shock.” This is the woman who will email the show’s producers with episode suggestions like, What if we showed Hunter having to survive a day at a spa? What if we showed him trying to survive teaching kindergarten? How about he tries to last for a full day of Black Friday shopping? That’s some kind of challenge.
Cammi laughs. “He said he has an opportunity he thinks you’ll be keen on. Do you want me to set up a time to speak with him?”
“Does the opportunity involve my mother trying to get me to lead a story time at the local library?”
“My vote is yes,” Trevor says dryly.
“Probably,” Cammi says with a shrug, shooting a smile at both of us.
