Chapter 7
CONFESSIONS OF A NOT-SO-BALDING MAN
Hammy / Abraham
T onight is warmer than last night, which tells me the predicted snowfall is on its way. Flurries are already swirling as I walk to Annette’s door and knock, a bag in my hand and my heart racing like a rookie operative on his first mission.
Spark barks just before Annette answers the door, her dog in one arm. She’s wearing a cozy sweater and yoga pants, and she looks as beautiful and perfect as ever. “ Come in.” She leads us to her couch where we both sit and Spark nestles into her side.
I like this room. The couch faces a fireplace with two narrow but tall windows flanking the sides of it, and Christmas decorations are all around. Her tree has a mix of traditional ornaments and ones likely made by her kids when they were young. Pictures of Dylan and Reese as both children and adults sit on the mantle. A bigger, framed family picture that includes her daughter-in-law and granddaughter adorns one wall, and a collage of her kids and her dog are on another. It’s clear that family is important to her by this room alone.
I take a deep breath, then decide to just get right to it and say, “ There’s something I haven’t told you about me that I really want you to know,” at the same time she says, “ Okay , I have to say this before I chicken out.”
Then , at least partially hearing what I said, she asks, “ Wait , what?”
“ You can go first.”
Annette pauses, holding her breath, before she shakes her head. “ You can.”
She is so beautiful. The look on her face is one of wariness, though, and it might’ve made me hold back if I didn’t want so badly for her to know everything. “ I have things about me I want to tell you, and I now have permission to do so.” That sentence didn’t lessen the wary look on her face at all. “ I told you that I work at a business solutions company. Lancaster Business Solutions , specifically.”
She nods as she absently pets Spark .
“ That’s our cover name.”
“ Cover name?” she asks, her hand freezing mid-pet.
“ I actually work for the Clandestine Services Agency . It’s a top-secret government intelligence agency.” I search her expression, which I’m pretty adept at doing, yet I can’t guess what she’s thinking.
Then she laughs. It’s not a happy laugh, though, and it makes her stand and walk a few steps away, Spark following her, before she turns back to say, “ Now , see? This is why we need to talk. I need to be able to trust what you tell me.”
“ I know,” I say, pleading with my eyes for her to come back. She must sense my earnestness in wanting her to know what I’m about to say because she sits back down, turned toward me. “ After how much we’ve joked about me being a spy, I worried it wouldn’t sound believable. So I brought this.” I pull my work lanyard and badge from my bag and hand it to her.
She takes it in both hands and inspects it. “ Huh . This looks pretty legit.” She turns the badge over, runs a finger across my name, the CSA’s emblem, the hologram, and the watermark, touches corners worn from years of use, and the fraying part of the lanyard that rubs against my desk when I lean in. Spark climbs over her to check it out, too.
I wait until her eyes meet mine before I say, “ This isn’t one we’d use in the field, of course. It’s strictly for in-house purposes—accessing locked areas and the like.”
I pull out my business phone. “ This is the phone I answered the day we tubed down Doomslide Summit . It’s for work, and it’s encrypted.” I tap on the screen until I’ve opened my email from the Personnel Security Division . “ I have permission to show you this. It’s the form I submitted to let them know I’m interested in pursuing a relationship with you.”
Then I tap on the reply. “ And here’s their response, saying that you’ve been vetted and cleared to be read in on my title, basic responsibilities, the name of the agency, and any other information necessary that does not require a security clearance.”
I hand the phone to her, and she looks at it, her eyes moving quickly enough that she’s probably only catching a few words here and there as her mind whirls. “ They had to clear me before you told me?”
I nod, and she keeps staring at it. Eventually , she hands the phone back. “ Wow . ‘ Secret agency’ was not one of my guesses. You said you work in graphic design?”
“ Well ,” I shrug, “graphic design of the face. Sometimes the whole body.”
“ This is huge. Were you always in that department?”
I can’t even guess how she feels about any of this, though I am trying. “ No . I spent many years as an intelligence operative. I only moved to my current department when I retired from field work.”
“ You were a spy ?”
I hide my flinch—years of practice—and say, “ Yes . Basically a spy.”
She studies me. “ So , did you really have ‘ Covert infiltration’ training?”
“ Yes .”
“ You didn’t tell me all this because I said I needed excitement in my life, right?”
I chuckle. “ I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve had plenty of excitement since we met, even without this.”
I know she agrees because, for the first time tonight, a bit of a smile crosses her face. She’s quiet again then shakes her head. “ This explains a lot. But not why several of the Lancasters didn’t seem to recognize you.”
“ Yeah ,” I say, grimacing, “my occupation isn’t the only thing I need to tell you about.” She’s studying me again, all her focus on my face. “ I think it’ll be easier to show you.”
I pull from my bag the case that stores my facial appliances. Then , one at a time, I peel off the pieces affixed to my face that make me look a little older, a little more wrinkled, my eyebrows a bit bushier, and place them in the case. Annette watches in disbelief. I remove the cap and wig that make my hair appear more balding and whiter. My hair is actually a dark gray with light gray at the temples. I put it all in my bag and run my hands through my hair because I know how it probably looks.
Annette gapes at me, more shocked than when I told her who I work for. I get it—it’s disconcerting to see someone’s appearance change right before your eyes. “ So , yeah,” I say. “ This is me.”
“ Why ? Why are you wearing a disguise? Do you wear it everywhere? I don’t understand.”
“ I don’t wear it to work—only around town. Most of the Lancasters hadn’t seen me wearing it until that day at the park. As for the reason why…” I take a deep breath because this requires even more vulnerability than taking the disguise off did. “ Until recently, I thought I was being smart and safe. My dad was killed by someone he’d tried to capture as an intelligence operative. He’d been recognized as he came out of a movie theater.”
“ Oh , Hammy . I’m so sorry.”
“ It was almost forty years ago. I’m okay. I realized that somewhere along the way, though, I became accustomed to hiding behind a disguise. To hiding who I really am.”
The expression on her face is changing, so I push forward. “ And then you came along. I’ve never known anyone as incredible as you. I’ve never been captivated the way you’ve captivated me. I’ve never wanted someone to see the real me before you came along.
“ I’ve spent my life hiding, Annette , and I don’t want to hide from you. I want you to see… Me . The real me.”