Chapter 4
T he moon floats like a dim accessory above the colored lantern lights welcoming us to Putter Patter’s Mini Golf Center, where the class reunion is being held in the back diner. The smell of nachos and alcohol wafts through the air as Agent Maser opens the door and motions for me to enter in front of him. He reaches down for my hand, then intertwines his rough fingers around mine, as we begin our fake charade and walk into a room full of winking lights and scattered putt-putt golf courses on each side of a carpeted entrance.
The diner mingles with the golf course at the back, making it easy to spot the class members already sipping on drinks and springing into paired-off socializing—raising the noise pollution in the room so that I can barely make out Agent Maser asking if I’m ready.
Our class president sent out the Facebook invite giving us strict instructions that 8:30 would be putt-putt golf time and we would need to gather in groups of six. I was planning to reunite with Diana and her husband, Caleb, which would make four, meaning we’d need to make friends or hijack another couple. If our class president was anything like her high school self, she’d be patrolling the putt-putt holes with a police baton.
I say hello to a few old acquaintances who immediately point out our contrast in clothing. Agent Maser has connections to a t-shirt print company, and with my permission, had a t-shirt made to accommodate our fake storyline. If you’re going to lie, why not go all in? If I was going to be a cupcake artist, I might as well be a tacky cupcake artist, who shows up to a class reunion along with her partner wearing their job titles on their chests.
The “Joe’s Scuba School” tee fit snug around Agent Maser’s chest. Anyone who met him tonight would likely never read his shirt; they’d be too distracted by his build. I, on the other hand, feel like a homemaker trying too hard, with the words “Cakes by Atta” in a bed of flowers branding my purple tee.
I tug on the bottom of my shirt so that it lays flat against my stomach. I should role-play more often. I find an inner delight knowing this look comes off schmaltzy and pretentious. My shirt is already accomplishing what others will spend time tonight boasting about to their peers.
I needed this.
Not taking this reunion too seriously is a good distraction. Messing around and having a little fun at my reunion will easily steer my thoughts in a different direction tonight, away from the disturbing video that wants to replay itself over and over in my head.
“Her cream cheese frosted caramel cupcakes made it to the second round of Bake It or Break It a few seasons ago. They’re in talks to have her on for a reunion season,” Agent Maser touts to the Spanish Club president who’s eating up every word of our fiction-based conversation with a genuine smile. I’ll be referring to Agent Maser as Kenny for the rest of the night for confidential reasons, of course.
“Kenny’s so supportive.” I nudge his side playfully. Anyone watching would think we’re rotting from the smell of shameless affection. “He helps out every afternoon after finishing up with his scuba classes.”
Somehow, Kenny exudes even more confidence wearing his Scuba instructor tee than he does wrapped in a tactical gun belt over his pantsuit. My eyes are drawn to where his gun would be and I slide through Thursday’s memory. A reoccurring flash of panic hits when I revisit one of the more disturbing video details and I quickly shut my eyes, trying to block out the short but heavy images. I take a sip of the drink Kenny brought over, hoping its taste will wash away my memories and cue new thoughts. Without such mind tricks, how was I going to make it through the upcoming workweek?
I look up to see Diana B. Brown, my best friend, charging toward me like an excited bull. Just the sight of her makes me want to catch her with a net, rein her in and never let her go. I bend in toward her as she wrangles me up in a hug, causing her big spiral curls to squish up against my neck. She steps on the thick bottom hem of my high-waisted flare jeans.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” I say, admiring her cinnamon-painted lips as we release. She catches the light from one of the overhead lanterns. It’s official. She is exclusively the most put-together mother of four around; her cable-knit, green sweater and dark blue jeans complement her perfect mocha skin, naturally void of discoloration. This time she’s highlighted her natural curls with a honey-blonde mix and I can’t help but admire her beauty.
“Love the tee,” she says, giving me a pair of knowing, sticker-esque googly-eyes and warmly squeezing my shoulders. The one person my work identity couldn’t be kept from was Diana. Her own brother and childhood best friend worked the same hours, required the same amount of secrecy, and spent too much time together to hide how most of our weekday moments revolved around each other.
“How in the world did you find a sitter?” I ask. Caleb stands right behind her surveying the layout of the room. She smiles her soft smile, the one that’s appeared more frequently in the last few years. The very same smile that appears when she mentions her brother around me, like he is a shoe that needs its match and I’m the missing shoe.
“Ben’s doing me a favor. The little monkeys are probably asking for piggyback trains as we speak,” Diana answers. Ben's excitement upon seeing his nephews topped even his excitement for eating his favorite Mama Robyn dish and he always licked that bowl clean. I'm sure he was loving every second of it.
I knew firsthand how easy they were to love, always running around the farm with plastic swords and pool noodles aiming to stab you if you were in their line of sight. Parks, the oldest, stood out from his brothers with hazel eyes, lingering like dusk on his dark skin. He is my little charmer, always throwing compliments my way in an adorable cowboy drawl, while the younger ones greet me by asking for pretzel sticks.
“Long time no see.” Caleb greets me with a firm handshake, then pulls me into a hug the way he always does when greeting me. I don’t get to see much of him, but I enjoy watching him chase the cows through the gate with his sleeves rolled up, exposing the whitest portion of his farmer's tan when I visit. Luckily, he’s opted for a long sleeve tonight, cowboy hat included.
“I see you brought a date,” Caleb says, offering his firm farmer’s grip to Kenny; the synergy between the two strongest men in the room could break glass. Caleb signals a nod of approval in my direction. He must like that my date could lift a bale of hay over his shoulder at his request—Caleb’s only requirement of my future partner.
“You scuba dive?” Diana asks Kenny sweetly, playing along with my career game. She smiles back at him with wide-eyed anticipation.
“I do. Just got back from an escapade at Richelieu Rock. I teach as well,” he says.
“That’s amazing. Caleb and I will have to try it out sometime. Or better yet, we could all go together, Atta! You two dive together much?” she asks, referring to Kenny and I.
“Oh, all the time.” I squeeze a wink in at the end of the sentence. She can’t hold back the fuel powering her unruly smile, knowing I’ve never been scuba diving in my life. She pulls me aside.
“Where’d you pick him up?”
“Work,” I whisper back, engulfed in her side hug.
“So he knows Ben too?”
“Yeah, we’re all in the same department. We hit it off earlier this week. I mentioned needing a fake job title, and he thought reunion role-playing sounded fun.”
“I’ll have to ask Ben what he thinks of you two together then.”
“Oh stop it,” I say, pinching her side with my free hand.
We carry on chatting, Kenny and Caleb discussing food, Diana and I catching up on our latest favorite HBO series. The conversation turns to my hypothetical baked masterpieces, thanks to Kenny’s imagination. Caleb looks at me in awe as if I’d discovered the moon and this is his first time hearing about it. Baking was not in my resume so I understand his confusion. Diana would have to clue him in on the joke after the party. Lunch lady brownies would be the only item made from these hands he’d ever eat.
Crash, Bang, Clink!
An angry song of shattering glass hits the floor behind us and Diana and I jump at the hit after dodging a whirring sound above. I look up to see a fascinating atmosphere shift in the room as a dark leather pigskin settles among thick glass shards and tiny toothpick umbrellas. Around ten party drinks are now missing from the drink table.
Tyler. Like a gut punch to the air, his presence boosts the energy in the room. Thick Sanuck flip flops and khaki cargo shorts float toward us.
A voice from behind us yells, “Tyler! Way to make an entrance, you scumbag!” We turn to find Evan assessing the damage. He laughs and begins cleaning up the mess on the floor created by his former high school best friend whose spiral throw he failed to catch. Tyler sprints toward Evan and helps him out by picking up the last toothpick umbrella from the floor. Together Tyler and Evan—an awkward pairing of beach-hobo-needs-a-shower and business-casual—stand like two toddlers in the aftermath of a colossal kitchen table water spill.
Diana and I pause our conversation, our attention captured by the sight of our favorite classmates, and my heart warms as I look over to see class president Kaitlyn almost spew her drink in her friend's face at the sight of Evan and Tyler standing in a puddle of water. The mess they created was likely ruining her die-cut letter banner, perfectly lined and organized by color with a mixed cocktail display kind of vibe.
Diana and I break free of our little cluster to approach Tyler and Evan, who'd become good friends with us our senior year. Before that, our encounters had been limited to being used as their volleyball targets in gym class.
Our friendship began with Evan saving Diana from Tyler, after Tyler tried to cut the back of her afro one day in class to see if she’d notice. She kept her hair natural and short even back then. We all beat on Tyler after that, until he apologized and invited us to join him and his family for a week in a boathouse on the lake. She decided to forgive him after we all forged a close friendship on the water that summer.
“Wow! Diana, you're a woman now. How've you been?” Tyler says to Diana, throwing a few shards of glass and the toothpick umbrella into the trash.
"Good, and you?" Diana holds back a laugh, trying not to give in to Tyler's stupid humor. Evan tosses the last few shards of glass from the floor into the trash right after him. We hadn’t seen much of these guys over the years, even online. Tyler was off of social media, and Evan kept his limited to LinkedIn.
“I guess you look alright too, Atta.”
Tyler nods. This time in my direction.
“Well, you look like you’ve spent some time with Jack Johnson or Bob Marley and sleep in a tent on the beach. When was the last time you cut your hair?” I say.
“ Mmm . Yes, that’s true. I may have slept on a beach a time or two and haven’t cut my hair since college,” he says cooly. “What’s this cupcake business about? You learned how to use an oven?”
It’s as if we never left. Same energy. Same amused smiles slapped on all of our faces.
“Yeah come on, Atta. What do you really do?” Evan slaps his hand on my shoulder. I panic for a split second. I suppose I’m not fooling the people I grew up with.
Kenny jumps in and introduces himself as my partner.
“She can’t make a cake if her life depended on it, but give her a muffin tray and cupcake liners and it works somehow.”
They all laugh at Kenny’s soft blow and make introductions eagerly as if forming bromances was the underlying goal here. No need to worry about our little lie. They were here to goof around and one-up each other with their words; my job was the least of their interests.
The six of us make it through five putt-putt holes before Tyler subjugates us to his “even better idea” plan for the night. With a unanimous vote, we all agree a Tyler and Evan adventure would be much more interesting than the rest of this reunion.
“Thank you for bringing us all back together,” I call out to the class president as we shuffle through the exit doors.
“See you ten years from now!” Tyler shouts right after; he holds the heavy door open for Evan and Caleb to walk through. Kaitlyn takes one long gulp from her glass, waving elegantly to the side without looking at us. She couldn’t be more relieved Tyler is taking us elsewhere.
We breathe the fresh night air. The outline of the mountains rests underneath the dark sky sprinkled in stars. House lights fill the ground and an empty shadow weaves between homes and the constellations.
In the parking lot, Caleb tosses Diana the three mini golf clubs he’d been concealing behind his back and Kenny pivots toward me, revealing all six golf balls from our incomplete game.
“We’re just following your good friend Tyler’s orders.” Kenny’s eyes dance along with his amused smile. He was proving to be quite playful. I kind of liked this off work side of him. He was even hitting it off with my friends.
At this rate, going on a real date with him—one that didn’t include lying about my career, baking skills, and relationship—didn’t sound so bad. I was beginning to think I might not even mind if this date turned into more than just a fun night of playing white elephant with our careers.
I feel a hand wrap its fingers around mine as the group runs to catch up with Tyler. Kenny’s touch gives me the shivers as he leads me to his car.
After a short drive and a quick hike up a trail, we all sit like ducks waiting for bread to be thrown atop South Table Mountain, a famous spot where all Golden teenagers dream of shooting fireworks and dynamite off the Golden Cliffs that overlook Coors Factory. We wait for Tyler and Evan to set up golf tees among rocks, dirt, and glow sticks. The glow from the city illuminates the edge of the Golden cliff where they plan to tee off into the dark forest opposite the city.
“Thank you President Kaitlyn for providing the fun tonight!” Tyler echoes into the canyon, proudly passing around stolen golf clubs and pulling out a few extra golf balls from the satchel he’d been carrying on his back the entire night. Little did we know he’d prepared this for us ahead of time. The bag holds more than just golf balls. I can’t be the only one curious about what else is packed in there.
“So Tyler, we’re all curious. What do you do for a living?” I ask. The rest of the group turns their heads, keen for his answer.
“This’ll be interesting.” Diana pokes me from behind.
“Professional Bird-Watching.” He swings his golf club, perfectly rotating his hips. We all laugh.
“Really? You’re not actually paid to watch birds are you?” Caleb states the very thing we’re all thinking.
“Something like that. It’s performance based,” he says. A giggle slips through my mouth.
“Are you sure you’re not actually just a hitchhiker traveling from beach to beach?” Evan quips. “I picked this guy up in Louisville at Highway 25 and the Westminster exit after stopping for gas. He had his thumb sticking out to the side of the road.”
Tyler interjects. “My buddy had an emergency, so I lent him my car this weekend and decided to opt for alternative transportation. It only took three cars and, by some miracle, Evan in the end.” Hardly surprising coming from Tyler. The group shares a collective smile, as if the class’s pet rabbit had just flipped the carrot with its nose before eating it. The way he decided to live his life was always extra.
My golf club meets the ball and sends it flying through the night sky.
“Good job, Atta. That could have landed on the other side of the highway,” Caleb says with a congratulatory voice.
“Didn’t all of yours land across the highway? Are you mocking me …wait … they’re not close to the highway are they?” I momentarily panic. Images of golf balls shattering car windows float through my mind.
“I’m not that reckless,” Tyler says. “We're launching them into the dark hill over there. No cars. No lights. I’m not sure which direction yours went though.”
“Oops,” I say.
“You’re chopping the ground a bit on your swing,” Kenny says, coming up behind me. He wraps his arms around me and his hands overlap mine so that we share the responsibility of the golf grip. I notice his smell for the first time. He smells good—fresh and masculine. It’s nice, and the warmth of his body around me sends goose-bumps down my arms.
He guides me through the swing and I mirror his movements. All I see is darkness in front and faded lights on each side until he whips me around and pulls me in close to his chest using the arm that powers the swing. Then he lowers his head to my forehead. Is he really going to make a move right here on the edge of this mountain with my classmates behind us? I freeze. Here? Now? In front of everyone? I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
He steals a kiss with a soft tug of my lips. It’s fast and unsuspecting, but it leaves a smile on my face.
I turn around to see the others oblivious and consumed in their own conversations—Tyler and Evan captivated by each other’s presence even more so than the rest of us.
“So you’re like a real life Ash Ketchum now. How many birds have you seen so far?” I hear Evan say to Tyler.
“What an honor. No one’s ever compared me to a Pokemon trainer before.” He smirks, visibly pleased with Evan’s reference. “I guess I’m still waiting for the birds to battle each other then. I went for a big year last year and ended up with 705.”
“Jeez. How many countries did that take?”
“That was just within the forty-eight contiguous states.”
The boys finish off the last of the golf balls with four synchronized swings. Diana and I applaud loudly.
“Come with me,” Kenny says, dragging me off to a rock on the decline of the mountain. I lean into him considering whether or not he was planning to continue what we started where we teed off. I wasn’t opposed to another kiss. Not only did he acknowledge Chris Farley as the king of comedy, but he fit in well with Caleb and Diana, and was even impressed by Tyler—the parrotfish of the group, a weird fish that poops out digested coral but ultimately creates a nice white sandy beach.
“Thanks for bringing me along tonight. Your friends are pretty great,” he says, wrapping his arm around me.
I reach my arm around him, welcoming his side hug. “They’ve always been up to no good. Thanks for suggesting the idea.”
“Of course.”
Our faces meet. He tilts his head in closer and I reach up in the heat of the moment, lightly brushing my hands against his curly hair—once again giving in to my curiosity. I pretend to pull a leaf or piece of dirt from his head.
“You’re incredibly beautiful. It’s very distracting,” he says, relaxing into the ice cream scoop shaped cavity of the rock. “It’s going to be that much harder working together on cases in the future.” The sweet pinch of embarrassment draws color to my cheeks. He lets out a soft laugh.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Work is distracting enough in itself,” I say, finding a seat next to him.
“How’ve you been since viewing that flash drive?” There’s concern in his tone.
I sit without responding for a minute. A minute too long. I’d been distracted most of the night and had successfully repressed the thought. Bringing it up now felt like taking pepper spray to the eyes.
“I know that must’ve been a lot for you. I worried about you the rest of the day.” He fills in my silence with his own reply. It doesn’t help. I really want to close the gates on this conversation.
“Yeah, I really don’t want to think about it,” I say with a shorter tone. Kenny and I had been hitting home runs with the conversation until now. He must’ve instantly felt my tension because he thinks for a moment without speaking and then opts to lean in for a kiss. Another distraction. I’ll take it. I smile when we break. Smart move, Kenny. Bravo.
The group heads down the trail of the mountain with all six cell phones on flashlight mode after we all decide to turn in for the night. Diana and Caleb offer to arrange a dinner for the locals and Kenny and I pair off at the back, slowing our pace behind the others so they’re out of earshot. They’re just feet away from the cars.
“I handed the assignment off to Biles. It won’t see the attention of any other departments,” Kenny says as the sound of dirt and gravel crunches beneath our feet. I switch arms to give my hand a break from holding up the phone light.
“From now on I’m requiring you to never speak of Marigold and what you saw on that USB to anyone ever again.” He nearly whispers the words and it takes me a minute to register what he said.
He shines his cellphone toward my face to gauge my reaction to his statement. Disbelief is all I feel, but I hold onto a poker face with a life-saving grip. Does he expect me to go along with this just because I let him snuggle up to me all evening?
“What?” I say. “What do you mean exactly?” Needless to say I’m shocked at the bait and switch he seems to be pulling after everything we did tonight.
“What I mean is that this is out of your control and will be dealt with within the proper means. The Bureau will not be looking into this further, so I’m going to need you to stay silent about this video and follow my lead. I won’t be able to help you if you don’t do as I say. Your job and life will be in jeopardy,” Kenny whispers through the cold, night air.
“Is that a threat?” I say.
“I don't want it to be. But it could be if you have any ulterior motive to go against what I’m asking.” He stabs an even sharper knife in me with his deceitful tone. It’s dark outside, but I don’t seem to recognize this expression. This is a different, darker side of Kenny.
“Are you protecting those people?” I ask. How could he be telling me this right now? Is he just going to ignore what we all witnessed? Why? Why would he do that?
His jaw tightens and his curly hair suddenly seems less surfer boy and more like the villain Donquixote Doflamingo from the anime One Piece . I grow concerned with the pairing of his current expression and the answer ahead.
“If you utter a word about it to anyone else, you’ll have to come home with me tonight. I like you, so it’d put me at ease that you know what’s good for you,” he says softly. The domineering tone isn’t to get me to join him for the night. It’s him telling me I’ll be forced into silence.
He needn’t say more—he’s involved in all this somehow. As we approach the bottom of the trail I feel my ankles shake, a physical manifestation of how I feel inside. Uneasy and terrified about what this kind of threat means for my future. My knees may be weak but my blood is boiling and I want so badly to fight him right here and now.
“Message received,” I say with a smile, keeping in mind that now is not the time to win a battle. “You can trust me not to say anything.”
In this zero-sum game, my non-cooperation will be the equivalent of a negative payoff, since I know full well anyone working with Marigold wouldn’t choose to cooperate—not when they were capable of such cruel behavior, and by hiding their crimes Kenny was likely just as dangerous. I know the strategy—cover it up and get rid of any outliers. The only way to establish a dominant strategy with a threat like this is to play their side until I have enough ground to play a dominant card.
“Good. We’ll talk more about this on Monday then,” he says, guiding me toward the car.
“Kenny do you mind if I head back with my best friend? We didn’t get to catch up as much as I’d like to tonight.” The air between us smells like treason and disgust and I spot Diana handing some golf balls to Evan as Caleb starts the engine of his Ford F-250.
“You bet, but I’ll need your phone first.”
“Huh?” I say. He calmly slides the phone out from my palm, and with a few swift twists and turns of his hands, implements a tracking device to the internal drive of my phone. It’s an exercise I’m trained in as well.
“If you take it out I’ll know, of course. Ben will be warned as well. Discussing this with him will get you both killed. I’m doing this to protect you.”
I nod my head. It’s dark enough he can’t see my eyes running their own escape plan. I guess you could say my first impression of Kenny was the most accurate one. Douchey and arrogant, knows he’s good-looking. “Stay far away from him” I’d warned myself during our first encounter. Turns out I really should’ve stayed far away from him.
I wave down Caleb before they have the chance to put the gear in reverse. My heart hammers as I enter the backseat of their truck. I pull the door shut and say, “I didn’t get to see you much tonight. Would you mind taking me to my apartment?”
“You think Kaitlyn will get fined for the stolen golf clubs?” I try to keep the conversation even and unsuspecting as we head into downtown Denver. It’s possible Kenny’s listening in on my conversation.
“Evan said he’ll take care of it. How’d your night go with Kenny? You haven’t mentioned him before, so he must be a new beau.”
“Seemed pretty matchy-matchy to be just a new beau, Di.” Caleb cuts me off from Diana’s question before I can answer. “You’ve been hiding him from us haven’t you, Atta?”
“No, we just hit it off earlier this week. He seemed to have the same sense of humor as me,” I add. Just not the same morals, nor human decency. He might as well be the most detestable human being I know for allowing that group of people to go on without an investigation.
As Caleb pulls into the front lobby parking of my apartment complex I write a note in my planner then tear out the page and hand it to Diana.
I need five minutes to grab something. Wait here. I’m coming home with you.
I exit the car door and run out with my tracked phone before they can question me.
On the ride back to Caleb and Diana’s farm, I fill them in with an explanation. I’ve left my phone at the apartment and switched clothes to shake off Kenny’s tracking devices so that our ride to Fort Collins is private. We coordinate a plan to get Ben to change his clothes and drop his phone at a distant relative’s place for the weekend in case he was bugged today. I leave out the gruesome video details but let them know Ben and I are being tracked and are now witnesses to information our own department is working hard to squash.
My head lays on the seat belt strap. Time is starting to feel like the last thirty seconds of an escape room. I’ve found the last piece of the puzzle and secured a key, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to unlock it in time. Ben is my key. But then again, maybe even he didn’t carry the right valleys and cuts for this lock.
I instruct Diana to have Ben meet me in their dojo after ridding himself of any tracking. We need time alone and away from all things digital and trackable to move anywhere but backwards.
He’d been with his nephews all evening. Had he been contacted and notified yet?
I sit up straight, adjusting myself so that I can easily slide the planner out of my camel-colored trench coat jacket pocket.
“Give him this note. Once he reads it he’ll know what to do. I just need two traceless days with him to figure out a plan,” I say to Diana, leaving another deckled tear trail in the gap of my planner. She agrees and enters the house, while Caleb nods his head in the driver's seat as if his own cows have escaped and he’s contemplating a rescue mission.
I take a look at the room around me. I’ve always been fond of the farm’s dojo. It doubles as a two-star guest house on occasion for family members. Most of the time it’s used for movie nights with Diana after her kids go to bed. Every now and then we pop our favorites into the VHS player and microwave popcorn.
Others might argue it’d been lost to the eighties, but I found it incredibly homey. A dozen folded quilts hang along the crooked iron bed frame and the belly of the lumpy couch. An old nineties beige phone with a coiled cord sits on the kitchen counter still connected to a dial-up landline.
Ben slides in through the solid oak door that's beat up from years of neglect with only chipped primer and peeled paint left to show. He’s wearing Caleb’s old steel gray sweatpants and white college tee that he fills out quite nicely. It’s been years since I’ve seen him in such relaxed clothing, like since high school—waking up from sleeping over with Diana to find Ben with his mom at the table eating breakfast in only baggy sweats and a hat to cover his unstyled coiling curls. Nowadays he’s always in slacks, occasionally showing up in jeans for game night.
I sit upright on the couch facing him, analyzing his fallen expression. His chocolate brown eyes lock onto mine with a concerned gaze.
“I left my truck at a friend’s house and tossed all my bugged stuff there,” he says with an intense thickness to his throat. “What’s your plan?”
“Come up with something. Kenny’s in on it. The department plans to hide everything. We’re basically targets now. Looks like you already sense the gravity of it all,” I say, folding my arms over my stomach. I might look relaxed but I’m anything but. Ben sits down at the other end of the couch, his eyes swivel to the door in thought. “We can stay here until Monday, but there’s somewhere I want to go first. We’ll need the old truck.”