“Laser maze?”
“I saw the banner a couple of months back when I was driving by. I think it’s like that scene in Get Smart with Steve Carell, where you have to try crossing a room without breaking the beams.” When she didn’t answer, he went on. “I’d hate to think you’re just afraid I might win and that’s what this is all about.”
“I’m not afraid of losing to you. If memory serves, I think I was the best in my class.”
“Is that a yes?”
“You’re on.”
Friday morning, Colin woke early and was out the door before dawn. He put in a quick six miles and visited the gym before going online and gathering the phone numbers he needed. He’d been surprised to learn that Wilmington had more than forty florists, in addition to grocery stores that also sold flowers, which meant he’d be busy.
He felt good about the night before. Though it took Maria a few holes and a couple of lucky putts before she began to relax, by the time they’d finished, she was laughing and even dancing on the green after she sank a hole in one on the sixteenth hole to pull ahead for good. Hungry, they skipped the laser maze and he brought her to a roadside stand near the beach that specialized in fish tacos, which they washed down with ice-cold beer. He asked if she’d be willing to go out with Evan and Lily – she told him of course – and when she kissed him good night, he could tell that the evening had been just what she needed.
At the breakfast bar, he began making the first of his calls, hoping he’d be able to knock out the list in a couple of hours, only to realize that the person he needed to talk to wasn’t always immediately available, which meant a second or even third call to the same number. Still, he ran through the explanation and questions he thought might work best: that the wrong card might have been attached; had a delivery been sent to the office; had a bouquet of pink roses even been assembled; and fortunately, most of the people he spoke with had been more than willing to help. By the time he had called all but a handful of shops, it was early afternoon and he’d begun to suspect that the last ones would say the same thing the others had said: that they hadn’t been the florist who assembled or delivered the bouquet.
He was right. Wondering what to do next, he decided to try some out-of-town florists; the only question was which direction to choose. He chose north. He called both florists in Hampstead, then found another eighteen in Jacksonville.
On his sixth call, at a place named Floral Heaven near the gates of Camp Lejeune, he hit the jackpot. Yes, the owner told him, he remembered the man who’d ordered the bouquet. It had been a cash order, he added. Yes, the store would be open tomorrow, and he’d be there as well.
Later that night, as he was tending bar, Colin found his thoughts returning to the fact that someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble to try to hide his identity.
A thunderstorm rolled through on Friday night, bringing with it cooler temperatures. After finishing his run and doing some yard work on Saturday morning, Colin made the drive to Floral Heaven in Jacksonville, a little over an hour away. At the shop, Colin pulled out the photo of Ken and showed it to the man.
“This wouldn’t happen to be the guy, would it?”
The owner, a portly man in his sixties with spectacles, took only a second before shaking his head. “The man in the photo is a lot older. The guy who bought them was maybe in his late twenties, not that I had that great a look at him.”
“No?”
“He was kind of a strange guy, which is why I remember him at all. He wore a baseball hat and stared at the counter when he talked. Sort of mumbled. Just told me what he wanted and walked out the door. He came back an hour later, paid cash, and left.”
“Did you happen to notice if he was alone?”
“I wasn’t paying attention,” he answered. “What’s this all about again?”
“As I mentioned on the phone, there was a strange message written on the card.”
“He didn’t ask for a card. I remember that, too, because everyone always wants to write something. Like I said, he was a strange guy.”
Colin’s afternoon workout at the gym focused heavily on defensive work and grappling. Surprising him, Daly worked almost exclusively with him, pushing him harder than usual. In his day, Daly had been a beast when it came to ground work, and more than once, Colin found himself out of position, feeling like he was fighting for his life. By the time the workout ended, he realized that he hadn’t thought about the guy in the baseball hat even once.
Whoever he was.
The preoccupation returned, however, as soon as he stepped out of the ring. Before he reached the locker room, Daly jogged over and pulled him aside.
“Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?”
Colin used his still soaking shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.
“How would you feel about fighting next weekend? In Havelock.” Before Colin could respond, Daly went on. “I know you’re three weeks out, but I got a call earlier from Bill Jensen. You know Bill, right?”
“The promoter,” Colin said.
“You know how much he’s done for our fighters over the years… including you – and he’s in a bind. Anyway, Johnny Reese is headlining the event, and the guy he was supposed to fight broke his hand a few days ago and had to scratch. Reese needs a new opponent.”
As soon as Daly said the name, Colin remembered the conversation with Evan from the diner. The dude moves like a cat. Daly continued. “Jensen’s been trying to find someone, and it turns out that you’re the only guy in the weight class who actually might make it interesting. This is Reese’s last fight before he goes pro, and he’s got the goods. Former NCAA wrestling champ, getting better at striking, for the most part fearless. He actually has a shot at making it to the UFC in a year or two, which is why Jensen doesn’t want to cancel. That’s why I went so hard with you today. I wanted to know if you were ready to take him on.”