John looked out his bedroom window at the slate-gray clouds as he buttoned his shirt. He was supposed to be at work down at the Golden Monkey in twenty minutes. Well, that wasn’t going to happen, and at the moment, he really didn’t care because his chances of ever getting back to Everest were in the toilet, waiting to be flushed. He glanced down at the torn, crumpled newspaper scattered around his feet. In bold black letters the headline announced Andersen had elevated (none other than kiss-a*s wonder boy) Phil Grantham to head their Everest team. His team! The team he built. He gritted his teeth, tucked his shirt in, and stomped out of the room.
heWhat he wanted was to call his director of operations, Ken Wentworth, and ask him why the hell he had to learn about this from the paper. Didn
