Page 3 of Alpha Geek

Tripp had everything planned out for the big bash, which he was just as good at as he was indulging in his adrenaline-fueled escapades. He had to go into significant detail when it came to his exploits because the majority of them were dangerous, and he longed to see the light of every sunrise until he was old and gray.

He wanted to live an exhilarating life, but he really didn’t want to die early. His father had suffered the burden of raising a family with a nature that he, too, once saw as ambitious. But his tune changed completely once he became ill with cancer at the young age of sixty.

Tripp made sure the catering had all arrived and was ready to be prepped, along with the delivery of various kinds of liquor that the bartenders and servers he had hired would give out. The people coming to the big party were his friends and many business-venture-focused acquaintances as well. Not all of them understood his inclination toward exploration, but that didn’t bother Tripp either.

There was certainly something else, though, gnawing at the back of his mind like a rat trying to get into a cellar. Tripp was a mindful person, having spent time in Tibet with the famous monks and learning their various ways of meditation along with the ability to face up to his own destructive behavior and thoughts.

He was thinking about his father, of course, which he did each and every time he set out to take on the world and its magnificent provocations. His father deeply regretted the life that had him often in offices without windows, in the depths of night, working away with his touch-starved wife crying all alone in bed, all for the sake of a family that would lose him merely a few years after retirement.

“Don’t be like me.” His father’s frail hand gripped Tripp on his deathbed. “Business is all well and good, but don’t let that be your only love. You will miss so much beauty as it passes you by.”

Tripp had taken that to heart and set out to combine his two biggest passions into one single successful fusion: exploration and writing.

He was able to live and thrive as a travel writer, with four books having already been published in his lifetime and another deal on the way after the Everest climb. He was still living off the means of his father’s hard work, but he wouldn’t rely on that alone.

Servers, bartenders, chefs, and general house cleaning workers arrived around six, just before guests were set to arrive. Tripp stood at the main entryway to his modern abode, to which he had drawn the blueprints for himself. His home had an opulent aesthetic, with rooms facing out toward the front lawn and the rest of the home was luxurious in its eclectic mix of vintage tapestries and minimalist design.

He wasn’t irked by the thoughts about his father, nor was he feeling trepidation about the climb itself. He stood with his hands in his pockets. His black hair was wavy because of the length he’d allowed it to grow to. He was thinking about the person who was originally supposed to accompany him on the climb … John.

John was a good friend with whom Tripp had grown up, and he understood him better than anyone. They had discussed the trip, in intimate detail, for nearly a year before deciding to take a go at it. The final push that encouraged them to take the dive was discussing it with Tripp’s publisher. But last week, eight days before they were set to fly out to Nepal to begin the three-month trek, John was in a terrible car accident.

John had told him that his break line had been cut, and, within a frenzied moment of panic, it caused him to swerve into a telephone pole that had shattered his knees, removing him instantaneously from the Everest itinerary.

Initially, Tripp thought his friend was being delusional, possibly suffering from post-concussion paranoia. But a few days before the party, John had received an anonymous warning in his email from an untraceable source, telling him not to attend the party or “suffer the consequences.”

John had spoken to him on the phone earlier, and it had given Tripp a creepy feeling like a massive spider on the horizon.

“Don’t risk it, John,” he had told him. “You need to heal up too. Try not to take this too seriously, though.”

“I don’t think you’re taking it seriously enough,” John replied, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “Something is telling me that they don’t want anyone up there with you. You should reconsider going at all.”

But Tripp was stubborn and adamant, which John knew as well. Secretly, he didn’t think John’s accident had anything to do with him personally. He thought that perhaps his friend was into something that wasn’t on the up-and-up and was dealing with unsavory people. But to be on the safe side, which he usually was, he had contacted Nick’s shifter security agency, which was, frankly, the only one available on such short notice.

He wanted to meet the person Nick was going to assign him to so he could figure out how keen they were on climbing.

Tripp wore his best and most eccentric suit for the night, which was something he was known for. It was a three-piece, bubble-gum pink getup that was sure to get a few laughs and double-takes. It wasn’t that he craved attention, nor that he needed it; he was just a person who wanted to enjoy life, no matter what.

So the fact that anxiety was moving through him like a snake annoyed Tripp beyond belief. After all of these years of cliff diving, swimming with sharks, and climbing five out of the six highest summits, he wasn’t used to it. Hardly anything made him nervous anymore out of sheer desensitization.

He only wanted to make time for the things that made him tingle in the most titillating ways.

Guests began arriving around seven, and the mansion soon became a fishbowl of light, thrumming dance music, and an infinite flow of food and drink. Tripp made sure to keep the extra bedrooms locked up in case anyone wanted to try getting frisky in them or risk them damaging his expensive property. He stayed in the main dining area, which had been transformed into a grand ballroom and dance floor for the occasion at hand.

Tripp tried to let the thoughts about John and whoever was after him slip away and fall into the arms of alcohol, luxury, food, and friends, but they kept coming back like an irritating scab you can't stop picking.

He was slightly buzzed when he spotted Nick in the crowd, a face he’d become familiar with around the water cooler of rich young faces. But it was the person who accompanied him that took Tripp out of the moment, ripping him from the earth and tossing him into the furthest realm of his imagination.

The woman standing next to Nick turned just as Tripp waved him over. She was Nick’s height, with plump lips covered in an identical shade to match her coral-red heels. Her blonde hair flipped in the air, settling on her shoulder in a beach-wavy style as she regarded him. The look revealed the most dazzling emerald gems he’d ever laid his eyes on.

Tripp forgot the negroni he was holding in his hand as the woman floated closer, beckoning him. Music became muffled as he regarded her voluptuous figure in a delightful wine-colored pencil skirt that left nothing to the imagination and a tasteful charcoal-gray blouse that exposed a teasing sliver of cleavage. She smiled at him as they came closer, which made the corners of her eyes wrinkle, along with imprints of dimples along her soft cheeks.

Tripp had never been so struck by a woman in his entire life. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink to summon back the saliva that had somehow vanished inside his mouth.

“Nick!” he exclaimed, holding out a hand to distract himself. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

He wasn’t sure if he was screaming or not, but it didn’t matter. Tripp’s mind was going a mile a minute as Nick introduced the woman who was going to be his accompaniment and protector during the Everest climb.

“This is Amelia, your security detail,” Nick bellowed over the music.

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