Something seems to shift in the rope, and I feel my body drop another few inches.The adrenaline surging through my veins throbs in my ears.
"If ye die, I'll kill ye myself!"Tam roars, his voice growing fainter as the wind picks up.
I can't help but laugh despite my precarious position.My brothers have always been protective, even when we were wee lads climbing the crags of Bidean nam Bian, the highest mountain in Argyll.Some things never change.
The director's voice crackles through someone's walkie-talkie below."Keep rolling!This is gold!"
Of course it is.Nothing sells Sensual Secret whisky like a man dangling from a medieval turret with the sprawling Highlands as his backdrop.I'd suggested this stunt myself, though admittedly, the part where the rope frays wasn't in the original plan.But that's the story of my life, always pushing things further than intended.
The rope does another sickening lurch.I grit my teeth as I drop another foot.
"A Dhia!"someone shouts from below.
"Oh God" is the appropriate statement for this moment.I twist my body, trying to get a better grip, but that only makes the rope spin.The ancient stones of Dùndubhan swirl around me in a dizzying dance, and I briefly catch sight of Beann Dealgach looming in the background, its snow-dusted peak indifferent to my plight.
"Safety team's two minutes out!"It's a female voice this time, probably our production manager, Carmen Fierro.She's a sexy lass with a Spanish accent to match her fiery temperament.
Two minutes might as well be two hours in my current predicament.The rope continues to unravel strand by strand beneath my weight.I fix my eyes on the jagged silhouette of the mountains, refusing to look down again.If these are my last moments, at least the view is stunning.
"Kirk, ye bloody eejit!"Tam's voice grows more desperate."Can ye reach the ledge to yer left?"
I swing my body, pendulum-like, toward the narrow stone outcropping he's spotted.It's barely wide enough for a bird to perch on, let alone a full-grown Scotsman, but it's all I've got.My fingertips graze the rough stone once, twice---
The rope snaps.
For one heart-stopping moment, I'm in free fall with the wind whistling past my ears.Then my hand connects with something solid, and I scramble for purchase.My muscles scream as I haul my body onto the ledge.The sound of gasps and shouts rises from below, but I'm too busy clinging to the sliver of medieval masonry to respond.
"I'm all right!"I shout, though my voice has grown hoarse.
My heart hammers so hard I swear the ancient stones beneath me vibrate with each beat.The ledge is narrower than it seemed from above, barely the width of my boots.I press my back against the cold stone wall, gasping for breath.The wind tugs at my kilt, reminding me that I'm putting on quite the show for the gathered crowd.
"Don't.Move.A.Muscle."Tam says, his voice imbued with that deadly calm quality it gets whenever he's truly terrified.
Last time I heard him sound that way was when I nearly set fire to his bakery trying to flambé some whisky-soaked scones.I stifle a laugh at the memory despite my predicament.I seem I have a talent for putting myself in mortal danger.
"The rescue team is coming up the north stairwell," Carmen shouts."Just stay put!"
My chuckle reverberates off the trees.Before my brother can stop me, I take a deep breath and blow it out---then I leap off the ledge.Screams ensue.For pity's sake, everyone is making more of this moment than I do.My feet smack down on the grass, cushioned by the soft, damp soil.
And I raise my arms to shout, "Kirk Balfour has done it again!Defying all the laws of nature!"
Maybe I am laying it on rather thick.The crowd cheers, though, which means I've done my job well.
But now I'm limping.Slightly.Nothing to worry about.
My brothers race up to me.
I grin."What a bloody amazing stunt, eh?"
Neil grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me, then drags me into a bear hug."Ye absolute madman!What in the world were ye thinking, yebod ceann?"
Maybe I am a dickhead, that's irrelevant right now.
"I was thinking this advert needs to go viral."I smirk, crossing my arms while trying not to wince as I put weight on my left ankle."Nothing sells whisky like a brush with death."
"Nothing sells whisky like staying alive to drink it, ye numpty," Tam growls, his hands clenched into fists."Ye promised me no more death-defying stunts after the incident with the caber at last year's Highland Games!"
I wave away his concern with a dismissive hand."That was different.The caber was improperly balanced."
