A Deadly Reunion (3 page)

Though I wanted to ignore her and head
straight to the table holding the alcohol, she caught my eye and
practically shrieked at me to come over.

She knew my name. She knew I was Patti
Smith. She’d tracked me down, after all.

“Patti, Patti, I’m so glad you could come!
You said you couldn’t! But I printed out a nametag for you just in
case,” Annabelle waved her hands around excitedly and loped around
the table, her pink stilettos sinking into the soft grass with
every step.

Without warning, she threw herself at me and
wrapped me up in the most enthusiastic hug I’d ever received. She
even bounced me up and down until finally peeling back, squeezing
her shoulders up, and grinning at me with as much tooth showing as
a chimpanzee.

“Annabelle,” I straightened up my shawl and
tried not to look too shocked.

“I’ve read all your books,” she suddenly
admitted, taking a step back as she grinned again, “and I can’t
believe you’re the same person.”

I didn’t know how to react, so I settled for
an unsure smile. “Well, I am. I can produce my dental records if
there’s any doubt.”

After an awkward pause, Annabelle burst into
peals of excruciatingly loud laughter.

“
Yeah...” I tried to join in, but my
chuckles petered out quickly. “How many people have you told that I
am—”

“Rich and really successful?” Annabelle
winked and elbowed me lightly. “Oh, I’m leaving that for later. You
know, today is only the first get together. Just a chance for a
chat. The main event is tomorrow night. Then we’ll be handing out
the awards. I had them engraved myself,” she winked
conspiratorially, as if engraving was not something one admitted to
in public.

“Awards?”

“Oh yes. Of course. It will be just like the
senior prom. Except instead of people guessing who will be the most
likely to succeed, we already know,” Annabelle laughed again.
Really loudly.

“
Oh,” my voice shook a little, “oh...
that’s... great,” I managed through a swallow.

“I know,” Annabelle grabbed my shoulder and
squeezed it as she offered another rabid grin. Then she became
distracted by her phone ringing, and waved at me one last time
before loping off again in her stilettos.

I winced and let a slow breath of air
through my locked teeth.

Great.

The last thing I wanted to do was stand up
in front of my whole senior class and be forced to make a speech
about how rich and successful I’d become. I hated elitism, and the
last thing I liked to do was draw attention to my wealth.

Perhaps if I left now, no one would find
out.

Before I could turn and rush back to my car,
I realized there was someone behind me.

Denver Scott.

He walked past me and grabbed his nametag.
Hoping he hadn’t overheard Annabelle’s chatter, I went to leave.
Just as I yanked my gaze off him and that terribly rugged stubble,
he cleared his throat.

“Patti.” He handed me my name tag.

I hesitated then took it from him. After a
long pause, I managed a barely audible “thank you.”

“You thinking of ditching this already?” he
asked, very perceptively.

I cleared my throat and shifted my shawl
around, still holding the nametag awkwardly.

“You know you’re meant to put that on; it’ll
help people remember who you are.” Denver fixed his own nametag to
his shirt, managing to attach it neatly without even looking.
“Well?” he prompted when I didn’t react immediately.

Who was this guy? Where did he get off
prying into my business and asking so many damn questions? I mean,
I knew who he was, but who had he become? The Denver Scott I
remembered just swanned around being good at sport and dating all
the hot girls of Wetlake.

“So, rich and successful, ha? What exactly
do you do, Patti?” he continued, undaunted. It clearly didn’t
matter to him that I hadn’t said a word and had mutely accepted the
name tag without a hint of enthusiasm. He was steamrolling ahead
with his questions as if he pried into people’s lives for a
living.

I grated my teeth together. “You heard
that?” I asked carefully.

He nodded. “Annabelle ain’t exactly quiet.
Oh, by the way, I’m Denver Scott. We had fourth-period English
together with Mrs. Fitzpatrick.” He tapped his nametag as he
introduced himself and then offered me his hand.

One of my eyebrows inched up. “I know who
you are. We’ve already established this at the back of our
motel.”

“Yeah, and you also established that I had
two options: introduce myself to you or move on. So this is me
introducing myself.”

I held his gaze and then deemed to hold his
hand as he did all the shaking.

He had a warm, firm grip, and the kind of
strong, large fingers that could wrap right around your hand
tightly.

I had a thing for hands. Hell, I had a thing
for arms, necks, jaws, eyes, and backs too. Right now I was well
placed to appreciate that Mr. Denver Scott sure had nice hands.

I was allowing myself to get distracted.

“Right, now I’ve introduced myself, you
probably want to know what I’ve been doing since high school,
right?” he kept bowling ahead, still not caring that I had barely
said a word to him. “I’m a Federal Agent. I live in Washington, in
a really shitty apartment, but it’s close enough to a nice park. I
like running, hiking, and being on the water. I’ve never been
married, and I ain’t got no kids. I do, however, have an enormous
Great Dane called Dane.”

It was a lot of information to take in all
at once. I felt like we were on a speed date.

“This is where you jump in and tell me all
about your life, Patti Smith. Also, you still haven’t put on your
name tag.”

I laughed. I had to. I wasn’t sure if he was
joking or if Denver had gotten really anal.

He was a Federal Agent, so perhaps it was
the latter.

Suddenly his behavior behind the motel no
longer seemed as strange, neither did his constant barrage of
questions. Denver Scott appeared so practiced at prying into
people’s lives, because he was.

A Federal Agent, ha?

“Patti?” he prompted again.

“Fine, damn, you don’t allow a girl a moment
of silence, do you? You want to know all about me? Well there isn’t
much to tell.”

He gave a short laugh. “Except that you
clearly left Wetlake, completely reinvented yourself, and have
returned a new, rich, and successful woman. So what do you do?”

“You don’t stop, do you? I see you question
people for a living, but I’m not in trouble now, am I?”

“You’re pretty good at dodging questions,
Patti. Or would you prefer I call you Pat?”

“I don’t remember you being this pushy,
Denver.” I was still holding onto my nametag, thumbing the edge of
the plastic and tracing my fingernails over the pin at the
back.

He laughed again. It was a brusque, quick
move, as if the man simply didn’t have the time to find anything
too funny. “I find pushy gets things done.”

My lips crinkled in with a very specific
kind of smile. “What makes you think you’re going to get to do
me?”

Yep. I actually said that.

Patti Smith, the awkward girl from high
school, had gone away and become spunky.

Denver coughed quickly.

Before he could say anything or heaven
forbid start to blush, a man walked up behind him and clapped him
squarely on the shoulder. “Denver!”

Denver turned, and it gave me just the
opportunity I was looking for. Ducking towards the table, I tucked
my nametag down underneath someone else’s, and then promptly
scooted off.

During high school I would have given
anything to talk to Denver, anything. In fact, I remembered making
silent pacts with God, the Devil, Hecate, my ceiling, or anything
that would listen. I’d been prepared to give up my cassette player
and my electric green wristband for a bit of attention from the
finest Scott brother. Now here I was, running away from the
guy.

Before I could run all the way back to my
car to hightail it out of Wetlake, I began to mellow. My mother’s
words started echoing in my ears, and I soon became fascinated by
the people around me. With a little bit of effort, I could
recognize them all. Some had become fat; some were now thin. Some
looked unchanged, and some looked like they were already fifty.

All too soon I found myself clutching a
plastic goblet of wine and chatting to a girl who’d flunked out of
chemistry, only to go on to be an astrophysicist. Then I met a
couple who had been high-school sweethearts and now had five
children, with a sixth on the way.

I met teachers, nurses, stay-at-home mums
and dads, chefs, architects, shop assistants, and even a news
anchor I’d vaguely seen on TV.

Despite my assertions otherwise, my
classmates clearly had changed. Apparently I wasn’t the only one
who’d grown up, landed a job, and moved on from the football
game.

I mingled for a few hours until I found
myself pinned in a corner by a rather ruddy man who’d had a few too
many beers.

“Where’s your name tag?” he slurred my way
as he gestured at me over the top of his beer.

“I burnt it and buried it in the yard,” I
quipped dryly.

He looked confused, and then proceeded to
peer at me, narrowing his bloodshot eyes in what looked like a
concerted effort at concentration.

He would be lucky if he didn’t strain
something, but all too soon, his eyes widened with recognition.
“Hey, hold on, aren’t you that girl from high school?”

I took a long moment to look from the left
to the right, waiting for him to clarify.

He didn’t; he simply took another swill of
his beer then shrugged his shoulders. “Well?” he prompted me.

“We’re all from high school. This is the
Wetlake City High School Reunion,” I made my voice slow and clear,
and was ready to draw out paper and pen from my purse in case I had
to scribble pictures for the guy.

He was clearly tanked already, which was
quite an achievement considering it wasn’t even two o’clock
yet.

One of his lips kinked up. “I knew that.
But aren’t you... oh yeah,” he suddenly shot me a snide
smile.

I allowed one of my eyebrows to press up
slowly.

I knew what was coming next.

“Holy crap, yeah, I remember now. You’re the
geek from the football game. The chick who lost her pants in front
of the whole class.” He was now snorting with laughter, one of his
nostrils kind of flapping back and forth with the force of his
move.

Needless to say, it was unattractive. Manic
even.

“You must be so embarrassed; I bet everyone
is bringing up that story,” he actually thumbed away a tear of
laughter.

I didn’t react.

I waited until his fits of laughter died
down, and then I shot him a smile. A killer smile. One that I let
spread slowly and deliberately across my lips.

I’d been dealing with this story all day,
though thankfully most of my classmates were now discreet enough
and mature enough to talk of grownup things like finance and wine
instead. This guy, however, was not. He appeared gleeful in his
attempt to rub my nose in a past mistake.

He was about to realize he was walking into
a trap.

His eyebrows crumpled for a second. “I bet
you’ve never lived that down,” he tried again, though with a heck
of a lot less bluster.

He obviously knew something was up; I wasn’t
reacting as I should be.

“How did it even happen?” he gave another
laugh, but his heart was no longer in it, and it petered out with a
nervous hiccup-sound at the end.

I kept my killer smile on my lips, and then
let my hair trail over my shoulder as I slowly inclined my head to
the side.

He gave one more hiccup-like laugh, but it
was nervous and short.

I replied with a slow blink, taking the time
to ensure my eyelashes touched.

“
I... ah,” he began.

He’d lost.

It was as simple as that. He’d started off
trying to insult me by rubbing my nose in a past shame, but now he
was sipping at his beer awkwardly as he kept shooting a distracted
glance at my smile.

“I got over it by growing up,” I pushed my
lips higher and wider, letting my eyes sparkle as I did, “and now I
take my pants off only when the company is right. Nice talking to
you.” I gave him a quick wave. “And that’s a lovely suit,” I added
as I turned, brushed my hair over my shoulder, and walked off.

Though the party was loud, I was certain I
heard him splutter.

That was the second guy I’d made splutter
today, and the party was only just getting underway.

As I found a rare section of sunny grass and
sipped at my wine in silence, I got a tad thoughtful.

And what did I think of?

Oh, a certain football game all the way back
in my senior year.

Withdrawing into the silence of my memories,
I didn’t hear someone walk up behind me.

“You still don’t have your name tag on,” a
man said as he approached.

I didn’t need to turn to find out who it
was; there was only one person at this party who was so fixated on
name tags.

I flashed a quick and not-so-friendly smile
as I turned. “Denver, are you back to question me senseless?”

“This is not me questioning you senseless,
Patti, believe you me. Should I ever want to extract information
from you, I’ll be very effective. This is me socializing.”

“And this is me going for a walk,” I waved
at him as I headed out over the grass.

“Are you running away again?” he trotted up
behind me.

“No, I’m just taking a stroll through my old
school grounds.”

“You don’t seem the type to be nostalgic. In
fact, you look like the type to advise people never to live in the
past.”