A couple more hours went by. It was four o’clock already. Amazing how much faster the time went by when I wasn’t killing myself outside and counting the minutes until I could go home. We heard her father’s car pulling into the driveway, so we went downstairs, back out to the chairs outside.
Cut to a barbecue in the backyard, a few hours later, this day getting more unlikely with every passing minute. I was sitting on top of a picnic table, next to Amelia. I was holding a beer in my hand, three and a half years away from being able to drink it legally, but what the hell on a hot summer night. The beer had been given to me by Mr. Marsh himself, after I’d just spent two solid hours in the close company of his daughter in her bedroom. The only dark cloud being Amelia’s brother, Adam, who was home for the evening from East Lansing. He was wearing a ripped tank top, his arms bulging like they’d been stuffed with coconuts. His hair had been cut high and tight, with a faux Mohawk running down the middle. As soon as he saw me there in his backyard, he looked very much like he wanted to kill me.
“You’re the little bitch who broke into our house?” he said.
That’s when Mr. Marsh came to my rescue. He told him I was a stand-up guy and how he should leave me alone and forgive me and not kill me, et cetera. Ever since then, though, Adam hadn’t stopped glaring at me from the other side of the yard. He had five former Lakeland football players standing around next to him, with more on the way, apparently. Mr. Marsh was grilling hot dogs and hamburgers at a frantic pace to keep up with their appetites.
Amelia took my right hand in her left, lacing our fingers together. Nobody else seemed to even notice this. She seemed barely aware of it herself, as she stared out at the night sky.
“Nights like this,” she finally said, in a voice low enough so only I could hear. “You’d think we’re a nice, normal, happy family.”
She turned to look at me.
“Don’t believe it. Not for a second.”
I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. I’d never thought of them as nice, normal, or happy. I wouldn’t even know what that looks like in the first place.
“If I asked you to, would you take me away from here? As far as we could get?”
I squeezed her hand.
“You’re a criminal, after all. You can kidnap me, right?”
I took another sip of beer, feeling that same little lightheaded feeling I had the night we broke into this very house. It was another night that felt like it was opening up right in front of me. Like anything could happen again, good or bad.
The night got darker. The moon was shining. The smoke from the grill hung in the air. Mr. Marsh played the Beach Boys on his boom box. His favorite group, apparently. At least on a warm summer night. His partner Mr. Slade showed up just in time to get the last hamburger. I realized as soon as I saw him that I had seen him before. Then I remembered. He was the man who had come out to watch me dig for a few minutes, before going inside to meet with Mr. Marsh. Today he was once again dressed in a suit, with the tie knotted tight against his neck. His hair looked slightly wet, like he had just come from the gym.
When Amelia went inside for a moment, Mr. Marsh cornered me and officially introduced the man.
“Michael, meet Jerry Slade. My partner.”
“I believe we’ve met,” he said, shaking my hand. “Good to see you again.”
“I don’t think Jerry believes you can do what you can do,” Mr. Marsh said. “You still think you could show him?”
Amelia came back outside and saved me.
Mr. Marsh grabbed me and whispered in my ear. “We’ll show him later.”
Then he slapped me on the back and went back to his grill.
A couple of hours later, Adam and his friends rolled off to hit another party. It was just the four of us now.
“Gotta get this boy home to bed,” Mr. Marsh said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “We might just have him out digging again tomorrow.”
“I thought he was done with that,” Amelia said.
“I’m just kidding, honey. I’ll let you two kids say good night. Actually, can you stop in to my office on your way out, Michael? I wanted to ask you one more thing, you know, about our new work arrangement.”
He turned off the music. Then he and Jerry went inside. It was quiet and dark now in the backyard. The big white tent seemed to glow in the moonlight.
“What is he having you do now?” Amelia said, wrapping her arms around my waist. “And why is Mr. Slade here? That guy gives me the creeps.”
I shook my head. Hell if I know what’s going on.
“Just be careful, okay? Those two guys get together, God knows what they’ll come up with.”
I wasn’t sure how to take that, but I figured I’d find out soon enough.
She kissed me good night. I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to stay right there in the backyard with her for the rest of the night. But I knew the men were waiting for me.
She went up to her room. I went to the office. They were both standing underneath the giant fish. As soon as I came in, Mr. Marsh took out a leather case and gave it to me.
“Do you remember these?”
I opened it and saw the same lock-picking tools I had used in our little exhibitions with the locksmith.
“Can you show Mr. Slade what you can do with them now?”
I looked back and forth between them. They were dead serious. This wasn’t just a bar bet.
“Now, I know we’ve got those fancy unpickable locks on the doors now, but there’s gotta be something around here…”
As he rummaged around in his desk, I stood there sorting through the picks and tension bars. Such a perfect set of tools. I couldn’t help it. I had to try them again. So I gave them a little wave and had them follow me out the back door. When all three of us were outside, I locked the door and closed it.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Marsh said. “You can’t open this lock, remember?”
I bent down, took out the tension bar and a diamond pick, and got to work. Using the same idea for these serrated pins… oversetting all of them, and then letting them fall back down just enough, one by one… with the good tools, it was a snap.
Two minutes later, I turned the handle and pushed the door open.
“Holy Christ,” Mr. Marsh said. “How the fuck did you do that?”
“I’m impressed,” Mr. Slade said. “I mean, I know what you told me, but seeing it in person? God damn.”
“What else can you open?” Mr. Marsh said. “Can you open any kind of lock?”
He pushed in past me, into the kitchen. He started rummaging through a junk drawer. Then he pulled out an old padlock.
“I don’t even know the combination to this thing anymore. Can you open it?”
I took it from him. A cheap padlock off of one of his kids’ gym lockers, probably. Thrown into the junk drawer forever.
“This I gotta see,” Mr. Slade said.
He didn’t realize that this would be easier. A lot easier. But what the hell. I spun through the sticking points, found the obvious last number. Cleared it and started through the super sets, using the good old number families. I got lucky, because the first number was a three. So it didn’t take me more than a minute to snap it open.
They both stood there with their jaws open, like I had just levitated or something. I mean, it really was no big deal to me.
“Did I tell you or what?” Mr. Marsh said. “Is he or is he not amazing?”
“He is amazing.”