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Co
His remark was met by a room full of stony expressions.
“Damn,” Co
Later that night, a different conversation took place in another office in the clubhouse. The office was dark except for the illuminated glow radiating from a single desktop Tiffany lamp. The low lighting silhouetted the two figures standing on opposite sides of a desk. The expressions on their faces and the tone of their voices revealed that the discussion was anything but amicable.
“I want an explanation for this!”
“I’m afraid… I have none to give.” The man standing behind the desk had a slight catch in his voice. “Perhaps if you could give me some time…”
“Your time is up.”
“If you could just give me a week. A day, even.”
“I want an explanation now. Because if this means what I think it means-”
“Please.” The man behind the desk began to fidget with a paperweight. “I promise you. It’s not what it seems.”
“Then what is it?”
“It-It-It’s just a terrible misunderstanding.”
“Oh, I think I understand. I think I understand perfectly.”
“But-don’t-“ His head fell into his hands. “If you could just give me some more time.”
“I’ll give you until tomorrow morning.”
“But that’s not nearly enough-”
“Tomorrow morning. And if you can’t clear this up by then, I’ll go public.”
“No!”
“Yes. Then you can make your explanations to everyone.” He turned and started toward the door.
“Please wait-“ But it was too late. Before the man behind the desk could finish his sentence, his companion had left the office.
He collapsed into his chair. How had he gotten himself into this mess? It had all seemed so i
But there was no point in wallowing in those ruminations. He had to do something. To do something quick. But what?
There was no way he could rectify this mess before morning. If the other man was as good as his threats, he would be ruined. Absolutely ruined.
His only hope was that the other man didn’t go public, that he kept his mouth shut. Not just tomorrow morning, but forever. Something had to happen. Something had to change his mind. Or something had to make it impossible for him to tell what he knew.
An idea flickered in the corner of his brain. A wild idea-a crazy one.
But just possibly the only one he had left.
He pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to fight back the throbbing inside his head. He had no hope unless John McCree kept his mouth shut. Permanently.
6
Co
The ball etched a perfect parabola before cascading down in front of the 300 marker-exactly where Co
There was no point in berating himself with that question. If he knew the answer, he would have acted on it long before now. He had barely snuck onto the tour three years ago, had a so-so first year, and had gone downhill since. Sure, he was still playing well enough to keep his card, even well enough to make a few bucks here and there. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was falling short of his potential. He couldn’t shake it because Fitz kept hammering it into his brain at every opportunity.
He checked his watch. Where was John, anyway? Co
Truth was, knocking the balls down the driving range was not so much about practicing as relaxing. In the still of the night, hidden away under the cover of darkness, Co
Or used to, anyway. Where the hell was he? This was totally unlike John. He was theoretically the reliable one. If Co
Co
He stopped abruptly. The silhouette moving toward him was too short, too wide. Whoever it was, it wasn’t John.
“How’s it hangin’, Co
How’s it hangin’? Wait a minute…
Co
“I’m fine, Freddy. Just trying to get in some practice strokes.”
Freddy nodded. “I heard about your score today. I don’t blame you.”
Co
“I’ve made a discovery,” Freddy a
“A discovery? What kind of discovery?”
Freddy’s eyebrows danced up and down. “The best kind.”
“Meaning-?”
“The raunchy kind.”
Co
Co
Freddy led Co
“I don’t want to disillusion you,” Co
“I’ll bet you haven’t seen this.” Freddy led him past the lockers, past the stalls, past the showers, almost to the door that exited near the first tee. They jogged sharply to the left, where Co