By the time I’m showered and dressed, my father is done with his dinner, so I help put him to bed, set the timer on the TV, so it goes off in an hour, then take the tray out of the room. I throw away the trash and put the dishes into the dishwasher. After that, I pour myself a large glass of wine, turn on some soft music, and sit down at the small round table in the dining room – which is basically a cramped alcove just off the kitchen – and drop the stack of envelopes in front of me.
I stare at the pile of mail, knowing that most of it is bills I can’t pay right now. My job is to shuffle them around – figure out what I can afford to put off and what I have to pay now. Between the day to day expenses and my dad’s crippling medical bills, just surviving is a delicate juggling act.
I push the stack of mail away and lay my head down on the table, the tears coming before I can even think to stop them.
“I can’t do this. I can’t keep doing this,” I whisper to myself for the millionth time, even though I have no other choice but to do this.
Chapter Two Sawyer
“I can’t keep doing this to you.” I hold my arms up in a victory celebration as my ball disappears into the hole. “I mean, damn – how many holes is that you’ve lost now?”
Rider chuckles and shakes his head. “I believe you’re up six holes.”
“And at a hundred bucks a hole, I believe that means you owe me six hundred bucks.”
“You can do basic math,” he replies dryly. “Congratulations.”
“Hey, don’t get salty with me,” I chirp. “You set the amount of the skins.”
He laughs. “Eat shit, brother.”
A soft rain starts to fall as we drop our clubs into our bags, and the afternoon temperature is dropping noticeably. I look up at the slate gray sky, silently bemoaning the fact that winter is on its way. It not only gets cold as hell here; it’s going to make getting a round of golf in next to impossible. I’m going to have to head down to Florida or out to California if I hope to play.
Our round finished, I sigh and climb into the cart as Rider gets behind the wheel, and we head back to the clubhouse. As the drops start to fall heavier on the roof of the cart, I make the best of it by putting my feet up and clasping my hands behind my head, enjoying another victorious ride back. It’s the simple pleasures in life. Rider looks over at me and gives me a dry grin, shaking his head.
“You realize you only won six holes,” he smirks. “That’s not even half the round – it’s a third.”
I shrug. “Still a third better than you.”
Rider has been my best friend for years now. We first met back in college, and even though our backgrounds were completely different, we just clicked right away. His younger life was humbler – he grew up in a working-class home – while I grew up in a wealthy family. Despite our differences, we hit it off almost instantly, and he’s been my right-hand man ever since.
After my father passed and I took over the company, I brought him over once he finished out his law degree. I brought him in not just because he’s my friend, but because he’s one of the smartest people and most capable corporate lawyers I’ve ever met. The man processes things faster than anybody I know and brings a different perspective to everything we do – which is something I value. I trust him with my life – and my company – and know he’ll keep me on the right path if I ever start to get a little wonky. Which admittedly, I sometimes do.
Rider pulls the cart to a stop at the valet station, and we climb out. He laughs as he fishes six hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet and hands them over to me. I give him a wide, smug smile, and slip the bills into my own wallet.
“I’m suddenly feeling generous,” I announce. “Why don’t you let me buy you lunch.”
“You’re such an asshole,” he laughs.
“Not the first time you called me that.”
“Isn’t going to be the last time either,” he notes.
“You should work on some new material. Creativity is everything, man.”
We turn over the cart keys to the attendant and head into the clubhouse, where we’re seated at our usual table. Mandy, our usual waitress, waves to us from behind the bar and saunters over to our table, putting some extra swish into her hips. She’s a gorgeous brunette in her early twenties with long legs, curves for days, and a smile that can make even the most chaste of men blush. The woman just oozes sex appeal, and she knows it. She also knows how to work it to the maximum effect to keep the tips flowing.
“Nice to see you boys, again,” she purrs.
“Hey Mandy,” I wink. “Good to see you again. A couple of beers?”
“Right away.”
She turns, and both Rider and I fall silent as we watch her walk off, admiring the way her black slacks perfectly frame her heart-shaped ass. Finally, we turn back to each other and share a chuckle. A couple of minutes later, she returns and sets our beers down on the table, then takes our lunch order. With another thousand-watt smile, she departs again, leaving us to watch her go.
“You should ask her out,” I start.
“Funny, I was just thinking you should.”
I laugh and take a long pull of my beer. “Seriously. You two would look good together.”
Rider looks over and grins. “Yeah, you’re right. We probably would.”
We laugh and make small talk until Mandy drops off our
