Chapter 4: Dude, Where's My Rival?

Back at home, Mark and Katrina begin to grow concerned about what has happened to their children.

On the outskirts of Kicksburg was the Plum Tree Country Club, which served as a recreational area for members who could afford it, as well as a hotel that visitors to the small town used, just in case they didn't have any family or friends living there. It was home to a sprawling golf course, swimming pool and tennis court, as well as several other amenities typical of country clubs. It even served as a common venue for special events within the town such as weddings.

The owner of this place was none other than Mark himself, and today he and Katrina were currently hanging out at the club with the rest of the town's social elite, which only consisted of about three other people. It was a beautiful, quiet summer afternoon as the group busied themselves on the golf course's many holes, and it had been about a month since the former two had sent their children off on their senior trip.

"So once I got off that plane, I assumed that the only thing waiting for me was a job interview at the San Francisco Chronicle, but then the minute my cab pulled up, boy was I wrong!" Mark swung his driver, sending the ball flying until it landed just outside the green. "...And the rest is history!"

"Heh, that story gets better every time you tell it," an old, completely hairless man replied from the passenger seat in the golf cart.

"Nice one there, Mr. Simmons!" whistled a man about Mark's age with a dirty blonde comb-over as he stepped up to take his turn.

"I've already told you several times, Ben. Call me Mark," Mark replied.

"Oh, my apologies. I'm just so used to applying common courtesy. I was raised that way, y'know?" Ben replied.

"Weren't we all," a young black man chimed in, watching Ben's ball land in the bunker. "Ooh, yikes!"

"Oh, quit your worrying, Chuck. I'm still in the lead." Ben shrugged.

"Heh, well not for long, you won't be," the bald man butt in, stepping up to the tee. "Let a forty-year veteran show you how it's done!"

"Wanna bet, Frank?" Ben sneered as he polished one of his irons. "I highly doubt an oldie like you could keep up with me."

"You're damn right I will!" Frank replied. "If I win, you'll have to sell me all those wineries you take for granted."

"Are you out of your mind?! Those have been owned by my family for more generations than I can count!" Ben said incredulously. "Why not take my hair salons instead?!"

"Because by taking something that's valuable to you, I can hopefully teach you not to underestimate me." Frank smirked as he watched his ball land right by Mark's.

"You know you could just not bet, if you don't wanna risk losing anything," Chuck chimed in as he readied his wedge. "Besides, I don't think either of you could beat Mark in a fair game."

As the three friends had their childish argument, Mark busied himself walking up to the spot where his ball landed. Katrina walked alongside him as she carried the case that contained his clubs. She had absolutely no interest or skills when it came to golfing, so she settled for being her husband's caddy instead.

"Er... Mark?" she asked quietly. "I, uh, can't help but notice that we ain't heard from the kids yet."

"Well your parents said that the quality of their cell service constantly fluctuates, and sometimes it goes dead for over a month. Maybe they're just waiting to call us specifically for that reason," Mark replied, lining his putter up behind his ball.

"Yeah, I guess so..." Katrina's voice trailed off as she stepped back, proceeding to polish one of her husband's drivers. "And on another note, I can't seem to find my favorite tube-top anywhere. I've owned it ever since I developed the right chest for it, and I'd really hate to lose it now."

"Yeah, well I'm afraid I can't help you much there," Mark replied, not looking up from what he was doing.

"Ah, there you are. I take it you're gonna win this hole as well?" Chuck commented as he and the others stepped up to watch.

"Is that some sort of trick question?" Mark asked cockily as he readied his club.

"Well this is a lovely surprise!" a snooty male voice called out to the group, taking Mark by surprise and causing him to drop his club.

Looking out into the distance, the gang watched as a peachy-skinned couple about as old as Mark and Katrina approached them, each carrying a case full of golfing equipment. The man had teal eyes and wore a scarlet business suit with a navy blue tie and loafers, with a height similar to Mark's, and bleached blonde hair styled into a butch cut.

The woman had a similar height and body-type to Katrina, except she was all but flat-chested. She had gray eyes that were so pale they almost looked white, with apple red lipstick and platinum-blonde hair styled into a chignon. She sported a metallic, elbow-sleeved blue-violet body-con dress worn under a red-violet faux-fur vest, with her heels matching the latter. In her hand was a cherry red vintage cigarette that was about six inches long, which she occasionally smoked from.

Finally stopping in front of the group, the two adopted a pair of condescending smirks.

"Well now! Fancy meeting you here... Simmons!" the man maintained his smirk, speaking in a voice comparable to that of James Woods.

"Oh, hey Mike. What brings you here?" Mark asked irately. "Last I checked, there's already a golf course back over in Hitsville."

"Oh, there is. We just think the one here is superior. I mean, why wouldn't it be? After all, it's not like Kicksburg beats us in every goddamn sport!" Mike sneered.

"Uh, Mark? What the hell is this guy's beef?" Ben asked quietly.

"Pfft, nothing really. Both of our parents were wealthy business tycoons, and they rivaled each other. So now this guy thinks he's destined to be my rival or some s**t," Mark explained, rolling his eyes.

"Wrong, idiot!" Mike snapped, pointing an accusing finger at his rival. "Don't you remember high school? It was during the last game of the season: the Kicksburg Rottweilers versus the Hitsville Dobermans. We were both star quarterbacks, and not long after the game started, you tackled me so hard you fractured so many of my bones! I was crippled for the rest of sophomore year!"

"Oh yeah, I do remember that," Mark replied, his thumb and index fingers on his chin in thought. "But really, you're still sore about that after all these years? There's absolutely no reason to hold a grudge against me over something like that."

"O-ho, it's not just that..." Mike's voice trailed off before he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"Now what the hell's all this damn commotion about?" Katrina chimed in as she stepped up to her husband.

"My, my, does your husband seriously let you leave the house like that?" Mike's wife chimed in, speaking in a light German accent as she eyed Katrina's attire. It consisted of a short tennis skirt and a tight, cropped rugby shirt with all the buttons undone.

"What's it to ya'? What I wear is my business, thank ya' very much." Katrina snobbishly adjusted her beehive, immediately on edge about these strangers.

"You'll have to excuse Katherine. She has quite the tongue. Don't we, Kathy?" Mike put an arm around his wife. "Heh, your wife has quite the tongue too, Mark. Has anyone ever said she looks a lot like Amy-"

"Don't. Say it," Katrina cut him off, deepening her scowl.

"Enough of this. Why are you here?" Mark asked, already growing impatient.

"We already said we were here to enjoy the golf course, did we not?" Katherine asked in a tone of false innocence.

"Yeah. Besides, just because we're rivals doesn't mean we can't be friends," Mike added.

"Ugh, seriously, we are not rivals!" Mark grumbled. "I'd honestly prefer not to have any beef with anyone, thank you very much."

"Whatever you say..." Mike shrugged, retrieving a golf club from his case.

"Hey now, you can't just go joinin' us in the middle of the game. You can either start your own game, or wait 'till the rest of us start another one," Katrina chimed in.

"Shut it, b***h! I'm trying to have a moment with my best buddy over here," Mike snarled, slapping a hand onto Mark's shoulder and eliciting a scowl from him.

"Is that honestly how you talk to women? If so, I'm utterly baffled as to how you're a married man," Mark smirked.

"Don't you start too, Mark!" Mike warned, removing his hand and readying his club. "Now are we gonna have a fair, civil match or what?"

Mark and his friends all rolled their eyes, reluctantly letting the newcomers join their game of golf.

"I'll take that as a yes," Katherine chuckled, intentionally exhaling some smoke into Katrina's face. "So to whip up a little small talk, how is your marriage going? And what about those twins of yours?"

"We just sent them off to Florence for their senior trip," Mark replied, his tone still a little weary.

"Huh. Well gee, what a coincidence," Mike chimed in. "We're about to send our twins to Florence for their senior trip! Heh, maybe your twins can make themselves some new friends."

"If they were smart, they'd be sure to avoid those scoundrels," Katrina spat condescendingly.

"In all honestly, I forgot you even had any children. You talk about them so little that sometimes I wonder if they were even planned." Mark sneered.

"Oh they weren't, but we're Republicans so..." Mike replied nonchalantly.

"Alright, this is getting out of hand!" Katherine abruptly shouted. "C'mon, dear, let's go! If these folks are going to be such a******s, we'd best take our business elsewhere!"

With that, she proceeded to drag her husband away by the arm, right before he could swing at his ball.

"Er... right, honey. But be forewarned, Simmons. I'll be back!" Mike warned, looking back as he grabbed his golf bag and followed his wife.

Yeah, sure, I'm looking forward to it, Mark thought, but didn't say as he put on a scowl.

"Finally, those douchebags are gone," Katrina groaned as soon as they left earshot.

"Tell me about it. Let's just hope they don't show up again," Ben chimed in.

"Or at the very least show up with better attitudes," Chuck added.

"Honestly, Mark, you have quite the tendency to stumble across such interesting people," Frank commented. "If I may ask, how exactly did you come across those two?"

"Well that's a story for the next golfing session." Mark smirked.

"Whatever it is, surely it'll be just as interesting as the time we assisted and funded the 'Looks Don't Matter' movement," Katrina said.

"Undoubtedly," Mark replied.