CHAPTER SIX ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER by B. A. Linhares

Surprise Birthday Party

“Give a man a free hand and he’ll run it all over you.” Mae West

 

 

I push the key pad, open the door, and climb into the van, tossing the little brown sack on the seat with my purse. The throbbing under the scar on my temple is freaking me out a little. I sit calmly and take a few deep breaths. I don’t want to pass out at the wheel. I just need to get home and eat. I fire up the van and flip on the radio. Pop has it tuned to a local news station. I go to change to DC101 ROCK and hear my mom's name.

“New details on Special Agent Eva-Sheahan Blakely investigation were learned today. We haven't heard much since Cookie Blakely, the daughter of deceased Special Agent Eva-Sheahan Blakely, was at home when her father, Christopher Blakely, was arrested by the FBI. It was believed that Mr. Blakely was connected (somehow) with the spy cell and allegedly had something to do with SA Blakely’s mysterious death. It's still unknown how much Mr. Blakely knows about his wife's double life as he refuses to speak to the media. Nevertheless, Christopher Blakely was found innocent and released. It is believed he and Cookie are under Secret Service protection, and asked to be left alone during their time of grief.

An unnamed source reported today that Blakely’s case may be connected to a Russian sleeper cell that recruited American children to carry out espionage. Those outed were deported from the US last year. Russia Today simply reported that President Putin said he knew nothing about this. US Government sources say that it was believed X-KGB spies infiltrated high schools and universities in New York, Florida, and Washington DC suburbs and used the children to bolster their ties to the United States. Later in life, the American children could more easily acquire US government background checks. Not sure what that means, but it sure sounds spooky. Now for the weather...”

“Wait what the hell!” I surf around to see if any other station is reporting the news. I give up and punch the button set on DC101 ROCK. A song I don't recognize is playing. It sucks! I turn down the volume. I need to wrap what the reporter just said around my aching head.

They think Mom was in a Russian sleeper cell that recruited American children to carry out espionage? I agree, it sounds spooky, but I don’t even know what that means. That's insane! Mom worked for the Pentagon. She knew seven or eight languages. She translated important stuff, then she became a Cryptologists. She didn't... I’d like to discuss this ‘new detail’ with Josh. I smack the steering wheel. I can’t believe we talked for so long and didn’t even exchange phone numbers. I glance over at my purse. I do have Officer O'Dells card. I'm sure he won't mind giving me Josh's cell number. We've know the O'Dell since like, forever.

I head home thinking about how lucky Josh is to have his life set in stone. He's always wanted to work in law enforcement. I have to seriously start thinking about my future. What would it be like to be “Cookie the Cop”? I bet I’d be a kick ass cop. I think I'd be very convincing when welding a big gun. I stop at a red light and dance in my seat singing, “Bad Boys Bad Boys what cha gonna do when they come for you?”

I’d look good in a cop uniform as long as the colors complement my fair skin and auburn hair and it didn’t make my butt look big. Better yet, an Undercover Cop, Private Investigator, or an FBI Agent, then I could wear street clothes like on X-Files. Hum, what would Pop say about me getting into law enforcement? Oh, he’d freak.

“What cha gonna do when I come for─” The light turns green. I check both direction and drive through the intersection. “You!”

My first case would be to find out what actually happened to Mom in Austria. The thought makes my stomach feels strange and excited at the same time. Thinking about the possibilities of running my own investigation is exciting, before I know it; I’m turning down our street. I pull into our driveway and kill the engine. No motion lights. I leave on the headlights. Leaning over the console, I rest my hand on the seat, and peer out the passenger side window. Our entire house and yard is shrouded in total darkness. I twist in my seat looking around the neighborhood. All of the other houses on the street are lit up like normal. Did Pop blow a fuse using so much electricity? Maybe he forgot to pay the electric bill. For some reason, the old man in at the Checkmart flashes in my mind and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Just get inside and bolt the door. What about burglars? Are you kidding? Pop would kick their butts. He owns a slew of weapons, even a sword. Still, this makes no sense. My stomach growls loudly in the quiet van. What about my birthday dinner? “Phoey! I'm going inside, I'm so hungry, and I could eat a horse!”

I turn off the headlights and grab my purse and the little brown sack. I open the door and cautiously step down on the dark driveway. I shut the door silently then hit lock on the key pad. Easing my way to the rear of the mini van. I glance up and down our well-lit street again. I didn't notice before that the white work van is parked in front of the Dobbs’ house. Well that explains that. Mr. Dobbs is the newly elected President of our Neighborhood Watch Group. Pop started OLLA, stands for Oak Lawn Lane Association, after the news of Mom’s death attracted every nut job to our neighborhood. Duh, the work van must be some sort of under cover security team keeping an eye out for strange vehicles or activities. There also has to be a logical reason all of our lights are out.

I hike up the walkway to the front porch mumbling incoherently. Some cop you'd make. Freaking out so easily. I fumble in the shadows, trying to put the key into the lock and hear something like laughter. I twirl around and press up against the front door as my eyes dart around the shadows. It’s nothing, just the wind in the branches. I turn the knob slowly and open the door a crack. No beeping noise. The alarm system is disarmed. I reach in and flip the light switch next to the door. The outside lights come on. The electricity works. Okay, now I’m a bit concerned and really confused. Is Pop messing with me? He's been known to pull a practical joke or two. I stick my head inside. The house is completely dark and bathed in silence.

“POP?” I holler, my voice rising in shrillness at the end. No answer. I step inside, shut the front door firmly, lock it, and slide the deadbolt home. I flip on the overhead light in the foyer.

“Hello?” I call out raising my chin. I scurry into the living room and turn on every lamp, glancing around the room for any signs of robbery or disorder. Everything looks normal. Out in the hallway, Out of habit I drop the van keys in the bowl on the table and they clatter loudly in the stillness. I tip toe up a couple of steps and shout, “You can come out, and I’m on to you! Jokes over!”

I steel my nerves. I just know any second now he's going to jump out from the shadows and yell “BO!”

“Pop…Pop…come out, where ever you are,” I whisper as if playing hide-n-seek, and flip on every light.

I inch my way down the short hall between the living room and the kitchen. I stop to peer inside the den, empty. I shut the door and freeze. Fear creeps into my heart. Oh my God, did Pop have a heart attack? My eyes grow wide. He could be laying somewhere. Should I call for an ambulance? Mom died the day before her birthday. No, I refuse to think anything bad has happened on my birthday. Stop jumping to conclusions.

I open the door to the downstairs bath, empty. It’s spotless and smells like potpourri, guest towels on the counter. Wait, I hear something. I hold my breath and strain my ears. Music is coming from the back of the house.

I slowly push the kitchen’s swinging door open. The music sounds louder from in here. It wouldn't be the first time a kid parked illegally in our ally with his music blasting. I flip on the bright overhead track lights and glance around the kitchen. My reflection in the window startles me at first. The backyard is dark. I twirl around. The kitchen is spotless. Where's all the food? The crescendo rises and I begin to recognize the beat. It’s The Beach Boys singing “Good Vibrations”.

Is Pop in the garage with the radio on? I don’t recall seeing any lights on in there when I pulled in the driveway. Sigh. What about my birthday dinner and cake? Pouting, I set the little brown paper bag containing the can of baking powder and my purse on the spotless counter top. There's the music is again. Good...good...good...good vibrations...

I cross to the back door and cup my hands to the side of my face, and peer through the glass out at the yard. Someone yanks open the door, and the backyard lights up like daytime. It's as if somebody threw a switch on the sun. I jump backwards and almost fall on my butt. I blink and see a billboard size poster of a surfer riding the pipeline, wave. It rips apart, and a crowd of people rush towards me.

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY COOKIE!”

I stand there in shock holding my face like Edvard Munch's painting, The Scream, and take in the scene. Familiar faces take turns, giving me hugs and birthday wishes. I crack up. Everybody has on shorts, Hawaiian shirts, or bathing suits, and the entire backyard is decorated like a beach scene. I’m a huge fan of Gidget, Beach Blanket Bingo, Endless Summer...you name it, if it's a movie or TV show with surfing, I've watched it numerous times.

In a daze, I wander around talking to the people sitting on woven straw mats and colorful beach towels spread on the grass around my filled blue plastic kiddy pool. Multi-colored candles in the shape of water lilies, float on the water’s surface. Smoky Tiki Torches stuck in the yard here and there, keeping mosquitoes at bay. The lower branches of the Irish Oak tree, above my head, are lit up with strings of multi-colored lights and plastic Chinese lanterns. Speakers on stands, blast The Beach Boy's music from all four corners of the backyard.

The older man, who lives a few houses down, comes over and shouts over the song, “Happy birthday Cookie!” He sticks a finger in his ear and waggles it. "Good thing most of the neighborhood is here!”

I smile. I can't remember his name; I must be having a brain cramp. I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Surprise!”

I swing around and gasp. It’s Char wearing a purple glow in the dark bikini with little white poka-dots. Triangle patches barely cover her girl parts, which are pretty much, out there. Char squeals and gives me a girl-hug. I pat her shoulders. With so much bare skin I'm not sure where to touch. She steps back, blows a purple bubble with her chewing gum, and hands me a small box wrapped in shiny lavender paper and a white bow. “Oh, pretty, thank you.”

I watch her adjust the tiny triangles more or less covering her boobs. Char’s figure is what Cosmo classifies as “Rubenesque”. Evidently this also classifies her as a guy magnet. It has to be the big boobs. In that department, I’d have to say I’m just average.

“New kini?”

“Billy insisted I buy it for your theme birthday party.” Char bugs her big blue eyes at me. “Don't you get it?”

I give her a blank look.

Char shakes her hips in a sexy rendition of the Twist, and sings “Itsy-bitsy-teannneee-weannneee––”

“Got it!” I grab her arm with my free hand, wishing she'd put on a cover-up. Let’s just say there's a whole lot-ta shaken going on and people are starting to point and stare. “Hey, what gives? I thought you and Billy had a fund-raiser thingy at the White House tonight.”

“Had you going, huh? I so should be an actress. Strike a pose,” Char says, imitating Madonna by framing her face with one hand. “Oh hey, did you like the drunken act on the phone?” She laughs and pops her gum. “You're so freaking gullible C, I get you every time!”

“Ha-ha!” I want to say, well you're a crummy friend, and I spent the whole day feeling betrayed. “He didn't come?” I ask, shocked to see them not attached at the hip.

“Silly girl, Billy's here.” She whispers, “Don't look, but he's over there in the rose bushes, taking a piss.”

Class act there!

“Hey, open your present already,” Char says, jumping up and down. I rip off the paper and left the lid of a plain white box. Inside is the cutest little silver surfboard on a thin silver chain. I throw Char a kiss. “It’s adorable, I totally love it! Help?” I take out the necklace and hold up my hair while Char fastens the clasp. Billy Brennan lumbers over, knuckles dragging on the grass. Just kidding. Beaming up at his sweaty-ruggedly-handsome face Char says. “Hey babe, I missed wou.” She takes hold of Billy's upper arm––man, I thought Josh's biceps were big. I notice a 'Char & Billy' tat that's still healing. This must be serious. Was I too quick to judge? Billy sticks his tongue down Char’s throat and I turn away. In My Room, a classic Beach Boys slow song, starts playing and several couples kick off their shoes and start dancing barefoot on the grass. Zack dips Brook backwards, upside she waves at me and mouths 'Happy Birthday". I force a smile and wave back. Once again, I feel like a third wheel. Thanks a lot Sean.

“Happy Birthday Cookie,” Billy says, finally coming up for air.

I look over and he flashes me a perfect white smile, and then leans forward and pecks me on the cheek. Ewe. “Thanks,” I murmur shyly, and finger the little surfboard to keep from wiping his sweat off my skin.

Billy smacks Char hard enough on her butt to leave a hand print, and she squeals with delight. “Come on, let’s dance.” He pulls Char under the oak tree in the shadows, and wraps his beefy arms around Char's back, squeezing her butt cheeks.

I meander around, letting my eyes sweep over the crowd. This is amazing, practically everyone I know in Georgetown is here. I wave at some friends from school, and blow a kiss at Pop, at the side gate passing out colorful plastic leis to late comers. Just like him to stay in the background while I say hi to everyone. It feels good to see friends I haven’t seen since Mom’s funeral, laughing and munching on food. I realize how much I’d become a loner. Aside from hanging out with Sean over the summer. I dropped swim team. I screened my calls. I didn't want to talk to anybody about Mom. When I didn’t return their calls they stopped calling altogether.

I suck in my next breath. Whoa. Sean Palmer and Josh O’Dell are sitting on a couple of beach towels talking to each other. I guess he lied too. I venture over and they look up and smile.

“Josh O’Dell,” I say cheerfully, “so nice to see you, again.”
“Surprise!” Josh stands up and gives me a quick hug. I want to kiss him on the cheek, but I resist with Sean looking on. No telling how he’ll react.

“Did you get a speeding ticket on the way over here from Safeway?” I ask, teasing him.

“Uh, actually I rode over with my parents.” Josh cocks his head to the side and gestures at his folks talking to the Williams.

“They were waiting for me behind the store, by the unloading docks. That’s why I had to rush off. We loaded your monster cake in the back seat and hauled over here to help decorate.

“So, I guess you two know each other?” Sean remains seated and I cut my eyes down at him.” I wonder if Josh told Sean that I ran into him at Safeway and he's jealous. Is that why he's being a butt?

“Sort of,” Sean says. removing a dilapidated straw hat with Porto Rico stitched in the brim, and rakes his finger through his blond hair.

“Char gave me this,” I say, showing off my necklace and trying not to let Sean's aloofness bother me.

Josh leans closer. “Very pretty. I got you a little something too, but Mrs. Williams is telling everyone to leave your presents over there.” Char always goes against the system. He gestures over my shoulder and I turn my head. A few feet away, sitting in the middle of a six-foot collapsible table is a huge cake shaped like a wave with a plastic girl surfer in a red bikini, riding a surfboard. My mouth drops open. Next to it is another table piled high with wrapped gifts.

“Unreal. This is so awesome. I had no clue.”

“Yeah,” Sean says, “looks like you hit pay dirt in the present department.” He stretches out his long tan legs and nudges me with his foot. Palmer is very handsome, but I think he sucks as a boyfriend.

I take a step back, smile at Josh, and cross my arms over my chest. “So, O’Dell, isn’t there some law about withholding information?”

Josh looks down at Sean. “Hey, help me out here Sean.”

Sean holds up his hands palms out. “Hey buddy, I was literally sworn to secrecy like everyone else.”

“Knowing my dad, he probably made everyone put their hand on a bible.”

“He did!” Sean and Josh exclaim in unison.

“Oh no he didn't!” I laugh and glance around at the familiar faces mingling around our festive-looking backyard. So that’s why everybody was acting so strange. I get the feeling these two are up to something. No telling what shenanigans Pop has planned for the evening.

“Just so you know,” Sean says, finally getting up off the towel. “It was Char and Brennan, over there that came up with the idea to spook you by turning off all the lights.” Sean drapes his arm around my shoulders and consults his watch. “Damn, I need to make a call.” He takes out his cell phone, and walks away.

Josh holds up his right hand looking guilty “I confess. I was the one who yanked the door open just as Billy flipped on the spot lights.” Josh looks at me with a boyish smile. “Pretty dramatic, huh?”

“I almost wet my pants.”

We laugh and my stomach begins to rumble loudly. The air smells wonderful. I pat my stomach. “Excuse me.”

“Mr. C is cooking colossal burgers on the grill. He had me buy the best ground Angus beef from the butcher on thirty-first Street.” Josh squeezes my arm. “Would you like me to fetch you a plate.”

“Thanks Josh, but I’ll get it. I need to have a word with my dad.” I back away from him. What I really want is to get away from Sean, Josh, and the proverbial elephant in the room or in case the backyard, which is my failing relationship with Sean. Besides, my face is starting to hurt from all the smiling.

Pop is working like a mad man cooking burgers on his stainless steel grill. I get closer and burst out laughing. He's wearing the most ridiculous get-up I've ever seen him wear. He's wearing a grass skirt, an orange Jimmy Buffet tee-shirt with a big parrot across the front, and the size twelve, red flip flops he bought last week at the drug store. He smiles broadly and mops sweat from his brow with a paper towel.

“Baking powder huh?”

He just shrugs, and picks up a red plastic plate.

“Thanks, Pop,” —I sweep my hand— “this is the best birthday ever! I can't believe you pulled this off without one hint.”

“I have my ways.” He slips one of his gourmet half-pound cheese burgers on the bottom half of one of his homemade sesame seed buns. When Pop bakes bread, he calls it heaven’s potpourri. The whole house smells awesome. He knows I like the works so he adds a side of lettuce, tomato, pickle and onion slices, and holds the plate out to me, and takes it, and has to hold it with both hands. I glance around at everyone. “Pop, this is really incredible.” I smile up at him and tears fill my eyes. “I am so lucky. I had no idea you were planning all this...”

“Happy birthday, love.”

I look down at the huge burger taking up most of the plate. “Wow, looks good. I’m so hungry, I can probably finish this monster.”

He then picks up a plastic squeeze bottle of ketchup, and holds it over my plate. I balance the plate and remove the top half of my bun. At first, I just stare at the silver key sitting on the burger patty, trying to process its significance. Then I pick it up and scream. I start jumping up and down, and Pop quickly take the plate out of my hands before it hits the ground. When I settle down a bit, he hands me the garage door opener stowed in the breast pocket of his shirt. The music dies and all eyes are on me.

“I got a car!” I shout and sprint through the yard, and out the side gate. I come to a screeching halt in front of the garage door and the motion lights come on. I leap up and down in front of the garage door smacking at the open button with my hand. The garage door rises excruciatingly slow. Meanwhile everybody meanders over and gathers behind me in the driveway. Bending side ways, I peer underneath the door. The garage's overhead light is on. “I see tires!” I shout, and hear soft gasps from the others. I stand there in awe. Inside the garage is a shiny, pale yellow 1966 Mustang convertible with a gigantic white bow on the roof. I run around to the trunk, and then back to the hood. I hug the first person I come to and say, “I recently passed my intermediate driving test and I've always dreamed of owning a car like this!” By the time I take most of my guests for a spin, it is way after ten. I still haven't eaten a bite. I park her safely in the garage, drag myself away, and finally get to munch on a burger. After that, everybody sing Happy Birthday and I make a wish and blow out all seventeen candles. No. If I tell you my wish it won’t come true.

I open presents while Pop slices my Surfboard cake, and several of the ladies, pass out ice cream and cake to the guest. I receive a lot gift cards to various stores in the mall, which is awesome, I need to shop for school clothes and stuff. Brook and Zak gave me a really nice black leather backpack––my old one is pretty ragged. Inside are tons of really cool school supplies. Josh's present is wrapped in a huge box. I open it and pull out a bunch of tissue paper. At the bottom is the newest Goo-Goo Dolls CD with a cool sticker of the band. It will look great on the front of my one of the new school notebooks. The Williams give me about twenty different things from Nordstrom, all beautifully wrapped. Sean’s gift is a beautiful silver bracelet wristwatch with tiny hearts engraved in the crystal. I can't find him to thank him. He made that phone call and took off without a word. Turns out he really did have to take his father to the airport. Still, he could've said goodbye. Right?

After that, Josh and I hang out and even dance a little. Josh stays after everyone is gone and helps us clean up some. Pop says he has a crew coming in the morning. I drive Josh home in my new Mustang, and during an awkward goodbye, we promise to keep in touch. I decide to keep my emotions in check, for now. Nevertheless, there is definitely something brewing between us. On the other hand, I'm still torn as what to do about Sean. Should I break up with him or give him another chance? With school starting in a few days, I think I’m leaning toward making a fresh start my senior year—sans boyfriend.

I crawl in bed thinking, yep, time to get serious about Cookie Blakely’s future. I pull out my new Journal, pick up an ink pen off the floor, and prop my pillows on the headboard of my sleigh bed.

Saturday night, 19 August, post Surprise Birthday Party!

Dear Journal,

I would write a quick synopsis of my 17th Birthday, but that wouldn't do it justice. Tomorrow is Sunday, I have all day to write about what happened. Should I even try to talk to Pop about the phone call from Agent Werthoust, or just drop the idea of finding out what happened to Mom? Like Pop has said, it won't bring her back. Each time I try to talk to him, the discussion becomes so heated... I think I'll drop it. The feds treat us like criminals. Until they come clean with the truth, I’m done with them!

A couple of days after Mom’s funeral, two Federal Agents came to the house and said they were there to take him down to the Pentagon for questioning. I watched them hand-cuff him and put him in a cruiser. The media is saying he was arrested for suspicion of murdering his wife and that the Feds are even trying to pin him to a Russian spy cell. It's insane! Pop should hire my Godfather's brother (a trial lawyer) again. The Feds backed off last time, he was never officially charged. I shiver thinking how horrible that was for him to go through. I shut my eyes and think about my beautiful Mustang and our up coming trip to Florida over Labor Day. Before I know it, I’m sound asleep.

Fast forward to Sunday night. I’m up in my room sulking. I feel the need to spew. I take out my journal and summarize the day. I just want to get what happened out of my head and move on.

Sunday, 20 August was a wash. Dear Journal,

Don't get me wrong, I love, love, love my '66 Mustang convertible, but my life on a whole definitely needs some work. Starting with my relationship with Sean. Char is with Billy now, so, so much for a best friend. Then there's Josh.

I spent the afternoon with Sean. We pack a picnic lunch, but it rainy and yucky out, so we eat in the Mustang. I tell Sean about the strange man at Checkmart. He thinks I'm obsessed about being followed so I decide to drop it before we get into an argument and spoil the our date. Since the weather is crappy, we head to a movie at the mall. On the way, I call Brook, to see if they want to double, but she doesn't pick up. I leave a message. We run into Char and Billy at the mall. No surprise, Char practically lives there. They're there buying school clothes. Char buys me a giant purple key-ring for my Mustang keys. Billy talks us into watching Arnold in True Lies, which is pretty good––for a dude flick.

The rain lets up so on the way home from the theatre we put down the convertible top. Halfway home it starts raining again, this time really hard. By the time I locate an overpass to pull under, we were totally soaked and so is the Mustang’s interior. Then the freaking rag-top wouldn’t go up and we're forced to stay under the overpass until the rain lets up. It's totally gross under there with all the filthy graffiti, and smells like something died and is rotting. Sean tells me that my car is a piece of junk and we get into a huge fight. Afterward, we don’t talk. I drop him off at his house and go home. He calls later to say he's sorry, but he doesn’t sound very sincere. What to do?

After that, I spent the rest of the night in my room preparing for school and contemplating breaking up with Sean. Then something weird happens. I exchange my old backpack out for the new one Brook and Zak gave me. I find Mom’s yellow throw stuffed in my old backpack. It freaks me out. I'd completely forgotten about putting it in there. When in Austria, Pop and I left to go sunrise skiing, Mom had this yellow throw draped over her to keep warm. When I came looking for her later, I found it on the floor of our hotel suite. I hold it to my face. It still smells like her perfume, Eternity by Calvin Klein. I fold it carefully and place it in my window seat. I stand there looking at it. It's comforting having a piece of her here.