Page 11 of Full Contact

“Then maybe you’ll have something to bring home.”

He waited, still smiling. There was something appealing about a man who could discuss my cat this seriously.

Friday was free after my workout. I could give him a few minutes. I could probably give him more than a few, provided he wasn’t planning to put Peaches in a helicopter.

“Yes,” I said.

Chapter two

Mark

Iwas halfway up the climbing route that had spat me off the previous Tuesday when Dana started coaching from the mat.

Tuesday evenings I hit the rock-climbing gym with two of my closest friends, Dana and Felix.

“Left foot higher,” Dana said.

“I have a plan.”

“Your plan is the one that didn’t work last week.”

The hold under my right hand had a rough edge that pressed into the crease of my fingers. I tightened my grip, pushed through my right foot, and reached. My fingertips brushed the next hold. Then my foot slipped, and the auto-belay caught my weight.

Dana watched me descend, her gray-streaked ponytail tipped back. “Left foot higher.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“And yet.”

I shook out my forearms and looked up. From the floor, the foothold she’d picked was embarrassingly obvious.

The second time, I put my foot where she’d been pointing. My hips moved closer to the wall, the reach shortened, and I closed my hand around the hold with room to spare. Two moves later, I was at the top.

By the time my shoes touched the mat, she had her hand out for a fist bump. I supplied it.

“You could have listened the first time,” she said. “Think of the minutes you would have saved.”

“Then what would you do while I climb?”

“Watch you succeed. It’d be a nice change.”

I unclipped and stepped out of the way. The fan above the benches moved warm air across the back of my damp shirt. Someone dropped onto a mat at the bouldering wall, followed by a burst of laughter.

Felix walked over from that direction with chalk to his elbows and his phone in his hand. He was short and wiry, with dark curls flattened on one side. He held the screen toward me.

“Explain this.”

It was the wedding video. The clip had finally made its way to all of my friends.

“That’s a cat at a wedding,” I said.

“That’s you at a wedding with a cat. The internet thinks you’re hot.”

“The internet is mostly interested in the cat.”

“There’s a hashtag, Mark. It’s about you and your suit.”

Dana took the phone from him and watched the clip. “It’s a good suit. Hot? Well, maybe.”