by Ray, Marika
She was gorgeous.
She stood by the bed, motionless, just staring at me.
“You gonna get the door, Snookums?”
She blinked and finally started moving again. “Oh. Yeah. I was just waiting for you to join me.”
“Oh, um. Could you get it and I’ll be down in a sec? Gotta do my morning stretches.” Which was as lame as it sounded. What was I? Eighty? But there was no way I was getting out of this bed in my present condition. The Big Johnson thought Gabby was pretty too.
She looked at me funny but left the room anyway. I tracked those cheeks bouncing right out the door, which didn’t help my situation any. I needed to think of something heinous, something so disgusting I went limp in three seconds flat.
Hewitt.
Yep, that did it.
Finally getting out of bed to the sounds of our cameraman shooting the shit with Gabby, I threw on a shirt and board shorts before running my hands through my hair and calling it good. The guy was laughing and so was Gabby. I came down the stairs, getting close enough to hear what they were saying. Seemed a little overkill for so early in the morning. Who tells jokes like a stand-up comedian before coffee has been consumed?
Skirting behind the jokester, I put my arm around Gabby’s waist and hauled her up against me, her soft curves fitting to my body like we were made for each other. Oh shit, think about the day Hewitt told you your mom was a cunt. Just like that, everything was back under control.
“Can I make you some coffee, Snookums?” I nuzzled behind her ear and grinned at the shiver I felt run through her body. Snuggling and shivering this morning. All good signs.
Of what or for what, I didn’t know. I just knew I liked it when she responded to me. When she showed signs of feeling something for me that was real and not just for the cameras.
“Yes, please,” she breathed. How she woke up and didn’t even have morning breath was beyond me, but then again, she seemed too put together to have a normal human issue like that. Not that I thought she was perfect, just that I bet she did everything the dentist suggested for good oral hygiene like brushing after every meal, or God help me, flossing daily. Actually, now that I thought about it, only sociopaths did that, right?
The cameraman already had his camera on his shoulder, but from this angle I couldn’t see if it was recording. Oh well. It wasn’t a chore to act like I was crazy in love with Gabby. I could see myself falling for a girl like her. Not actually Gabby, but someone just like her. I stepped away, but not before I slapped her on the ass, earning me a gasp and a dirty look that lit a fire in my chest. Damn, this girl is fun.
I went into the kitchen and started the Keurig, mentally going over what I had to do today. I had the golf outing with the guys, but I also bought a domain name yesterday and intended to get my new surf board website up and running. College taught me one wasn’t really in business unless one had a website. Who knew if that was how it played out in the real world, but I wasn’t taking any chances with my business endeavor.
Once we had coffee, chatting quietly while the cameraman tried to blend into the background, which didn’t really happen because he tripped over a stool and nearly took out Gabby with his camera, I went upstairs and got ready. Thankfully, Gabby had some forethought about the clothes a wealthy socialite man wears and there was a golf outfit waiting for me in the closet from our shopping haul.
I kissed her on the cheek as I left, the camera guy coming with me in the car. I really needed to chat with her about the kissing thing. We had yet to kiss on the lips and I thought that might be getting a bit suspicious. Natalia and Frank practically made a baby there in front of us the other night. We needed to step up our game. I, for one, was all for it.
“Whatcha grinning about? Excited for golf?” the cameraman asked me from the passenger seat of Gabby’s Mercedes as I drove up the long driveway to the country club in Beverly Hills the guys had selected. Not surprisingly, Jasper—I mean, Lord Jasper—was a member.
“Nah, just thinking of the board I’m working on right now. She’s going to be a beauty. Wait till you see her.” I grinned at the camera lens, proud of myself for pimping my business. That clip would probably end up on the editing room floor, but I had to try. This could be my opportunity to get the word out about my business. In a city the size of LA, you had to shout to be heard.
I pulled into the first parking space I saw, which meant we had quite the hike to the lobby area of the golf club. Playing the part of a socialite and then instinctually doing the things a socialite would do, were two different things, I was finding out. I could have valeted it, but I had two functioning legs, so why bother?
By the time we got to the top of the hill, Frank and John had both driven by us with a honk and a wave on their way to the valet. My cameraman’s breathing became labored a few yards in, but I figured his clogged up heart valves would thank me for the much needed exercise.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Our carts are all set up. Come right this way.” Jasper—dammit, Lord Jasper—showed us to our carts, each of us getting our own to allow room for the cameramen, personal caddies, and golf clubs.
So this was how the rich and famous played a round of golf. I actually wouldn’t know how a poor person played golf either since I’d never tried golfing before. Basketball and volleyball were my sports. Golf just seemed so boring with the white pants and endless practice swings.
We got out at the first hole and I watched what the others did, taking my cues from them.
“Hey, listen, buddy. I’ve never played before so just whisper to me what to do, would ya?” I kept my voice as low as possible, hoping my caddy would understand my situation. His head whipped to the side to look at my face and see if I was joking. When he realized I wasn’t, his eyes went wide, but he nodded in agreement. He handed me a club and off I went to swing that sucker as a warm-up.
“What’s your handicap, Rhett?” John slapped me on the back, an easy smile on his face.
What the hell was he talking about? “Uhh, don’t have one, John.”
“Oh, wow, that’s awesome! Didn’t know we had a Tiger on our hands.” John whooped it up, his loud voice ringing out over the quiet course. “Guys, did you hear that? No handicap for our boy, Rhett.”
Everyone gave me high fives and slaps on the back. I was thoroughly bewildered. I knew who Tiger was—I wasn’t that much a golf idiot—but what the hell was up with the handicap thing and why was he comparing me to one of golf’s greats? An unsettling feeling began to grow in my stomach. I looked over at my caddy, who had his hand over his mouth and wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
That wasn’t a good sign.
“Okay, I’ll start, followed by Frank, then John, and finally Rhett.” Jasper took his place at the tee, placing his ball on the stick thing and doing even more practice swings.
Jesus Christ, just hit the damn ball already.
He finally took a tiny step to the ball, readjusted his grip, and then pulled back before unleashing on the golf ball. A pleasant ting echoed out and that ball soared off into the air, right toward the flag.
“Hard to follow that, but I’ll do my best.” Frank took Jasper’s place and did the whole practice swing routine, readjusting his grip, and then finally hit the ball, sending it almost to the exact same spot as Jasper’s.
I was feeling better already. How hard could this be if they were all hitting it to the same basic spot with very little effort? John got up there and hit his ball a little shorter than the other two, but in the same general direction. It was my turn finally.
I stepped up to the tee and placed my ball on the stick tee thing, where it fell off immediately. That was weird. I put it back on and it wobbled a second before finally staying put. I backed up and swung the club the caddy had handed to me earlier. It felt foreign in my hands, the swing a bit clunky and stiff. I was young. I was strong. I was generally coordinated. I got this.
Taking the same tiny step up to the ball I’d seen the guys do, I readj
usted my grip and pulled the club back. I gave it a mighty swing and almost spun myself around in a circle. That was odd. I hadn’t heard that ting noise. In horror, I looked down and saw my ball sitting on the grass next to the freaking stick again, a big chunk of sod missing right by the tee. Dammit, I’d missed the ball entirely.
I chuckled, the other guys joining in after an awkward beat.
“Always have to get that one out of the way right at the start, huh, Rhett?” John was being kind, trying to smooth over my mistake. For that I was grateful.
I nodded sheepishly and approached the ball again, setting it on the tee carefully. I took a deep breath and wound up my swing. Keeping my eyes on that fucking ball like my life depended on it, I swung. This time I felt the club connect, that reverberation in my hands the sweetest feeling on the planet. The ting was more of a whack, but any noise meant I’d connected.
Shadowing my eyes, I tracked the ball through the bright morning sky.
Right into a dense cropping of trees.
“Ho! That clump of grass went farther than your ball!” Frank burst out laughing, the guys all joining in.
“Better luck next time, buddy.” Jasper clapped me on the back and they all took off in their carts, zooming off to their balls lying next to the green.
I plopped down in my cart and looked at my caddy, who wasn’t even trying to hide the grin this time.
“This is gonna be bad, isn’t it?”
He busted out laughing as he drove toward the trees and even though it was my reputation on the line for all of America to see once the show aired, I had to laugh with him. This shit was going to be funny.
12
Rhett
The snorts of laughter grew in volume. We were definitely making a scene in the wood paneled clubhouse where we’d placed our lunch orders. Even the cameramen weren’t attracting as much attention as our table of comedians.
“I’ve—never—had so many—golfers—play through!” Frank slapped his hand down on the tabletop, startling me into spilling a bit of the beer I was trying to drink onto my lap. If he didn’t quit laughing and start breathing soon, he might asphyxiate. The other two were right behind him. Even Mr. Prim and Proper Jasper the Baronet looked ready to pee his pants.
I felt my mouth curve up even though they were laughing at me. And had been laughing at me for four straight hours. We didn’t even end up finishing eighteen holes as intended. We’d let so many groups play through to account for my slow progression, we decided to cut out after the ninth hole. My best hole was ten strokes. I think you can imagine how horrible the others must have been and how long we took on each hole. The guys had refused to leave me behind, so I slogged through. Although I think they only stayed with me to watch the train wreck in motion, not for any “leave no man behind” type of friendliness.
The club chair was well padded, which was necessary at this point so my back didn’t give out. I swung that fucking club so many times I think I did permanent damage. I always thought golf was a sport for old guys, but man, did my back and ab muscles ache right now!
“All right, all right. Settle down, gentlemen, before we get kicked out. I’m glad I could provide some entertainment for you today. How about we plan our next outing?” I lifted my glass over the middle of the table and the guys lifted theirs too. “To new friends.”
“Cheers!” they all echoed back.
“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away again. I have a packed schedule coming up.” Frank shook his head, pressing his lips together like he regretted his goat enterprise, when in fact, it was all he could talk about.
A new server came to our table with our food, setting down each plate carefully. “Anything else I can get you, boys?” She was young, maybe mid-twenties, which was why the “boy” comment caught my attention.
John reached over and slid his arm around her waist, tugging her into him. I felt my eyes bug out of my head. What was he doing? He must have known her, I surmised. But the server’s smile morphed into a frozen grimace, which made me think she didn’t know John at all.
“How about your number, sweetheart?” John said to her, a swarmy grin on his face.
She giggled and maneuvered out of this grip like it wasn’t the first time that little song and dance had happened to her. “You’re so silly,” she cooed as she walked off, swinging her hips.
John spun around in his seat and began to eat his chicken club sandwich. “I’ll have her number by the end of the meal, just you watch.” He winked at me and kept eating, the sight of him turning my stomach.
Jasper just chuckled and kept eating. Frank didn’t say anything except for flicking a glance over at John before digging into his salad.
Ignoring my cheeseburger, I had to say something. “Dude, you’re married. There are literally three cameras recording everything we do right now.” I tried to keep my voice down, but it wasn’t easy. I wanted to punch the guy.
John looked up, surprised. He put his sandwich down and wiped his mouth. “You okay, Rhett? I was just flirting. It’s harmless. It makes the waitress feel good and I know I still got it. No harm, no foul.” He smiled, his blinding white teeth cheesier than the weather guy on Channel Four news.
“But that’s someone’s daughter, someone’s sister,” I sputtered. “More than that, she’s someone, period. She didn’t ask for you to touch her and yet you just did without her consent. That’s never okay. Besides, how would you feel knowing Lavender was doing the same with other men?”
John chuckled nervously, his voice dropping lower. “Lavender cuddles with men all day long. I think a little flirting on my part isn’t a problem. Now mind your own business, O’Donnell.”
“You haven’t been married, Rhett. Once you and Gabby get hitched, you’ll understand that a little flirting keeps the sparks alive at home.” Jasper nudged my arm, trying to lighten the mood.
I stared at the side of John’s face a few seconds longer, wishing the carefree, jovial atmosphere from just a few minutes ago was back. All I felt now was a brick in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t grow up with a little sister or have daughter of my own, but I did grow up with a mother who taught me what it was to respect a woman. John not only disrespected that server, he disrespected his wife.
Knowing I couldn’t do much to change John’s opinion, other than to live by example and stick up for what’s right, I picked up my cheeseburger and shoved it in my mouth before I said something that would get me kicked off the show. I had to keep my cool, play the part, and do what Gabby was hiring me to do. She definitely wouldn’t want me getting into a fight with the guys and alienating us even further from the other couples.
I had to look away from John to keep my cool. Instead, I focused on Frank. Good ol’ dependable, quiet Frank, who didn’t flirt with the server or try to tell me it was all innocent fun. Glancing down at his salad, I tilted my head.
“Isn’t that goat cheese on your salad, Frank?”
His fork fell from his hand to clank on the side of the bowl. He whipped the napkin off his lap and spat out the bite he was chewing, his face turning white beneath his tan.
The table erupted in laughter again and that was how I turned around the outing and got us safely back to subject matters that wouldn’t cause bickering. These guys weren’t my people, that was for sure. I just needed to remind myself repeatedly that I wasn’t here to make friends. I had a job to do and for my paycheck’s sake—but mostly for Gabby’s sake—I’d get it done.
* * *
“Lucy, I’m home!” I called out when I opened the front door and stepped inside the house.
Gabby poked her head out of the kitchen and then came to the front living room, dish towel in hand. “Hey, aren’t you too young to know about I Love Lucy?”
I took her towel and put it on the entry table where I kept my car keys. I loved it when she teased me.
“May I have this dance?” I put my hand out and she took it, a look of doubt on her face I intended to erase. Pulling h
er in, I wrapped my arm around her waist and poised our clasped hands up high in the air and began to waltz her around the entryway.
She giggled, but followed my steps like a pro. Soon, we were both grinning from ear to ear at the absurdity of waltzing around the house to silence, her in cut-off shorts and a tank top, and me in my dirty, sweat soaked golf clothes.
I ended our dance with a dramatic dip, already disappointed to have to let her go when I pulled her back up. “Too young to know I Love Lucy or how to waltz? I think not, Ms. Cole.”
She took a step back and put a hand on her chest. “Oh my. I stand corrected, Mr. O’Donnell. You’re quite the old-fashioned charmer.”
That warmth was back in my chest as I stuck my elbow out and escorted her back to the kitchen. As we rounded the corner, a waft of smoke hit our noses.
“Oh shit! The spaghetti!” Gabby raced forward and shut off the stove while starting the overhead fan. She tried to grab the handle of the huge pot, but I snatched her hand back with a hiss. Opening drawers in rapid succession, I found the potholders and moved the spaghetti to the countertop.
Gabby came up next to me with a large spoon and two plates, scooping out the top layer of noodles that weren’t affected. By the time she got to the burnt, black layer of noodles stuck to the bottom of the pot, we had enough for dinner. After all her trouble, I didn’t want to tell her I’d just eaten a late lunch and wasn’t all that hungry. A woman cooks you dinner, you eat it like a starving man eating the best food ever made in the history of cooking.
Her cheeks were pink, whether from the heat of the spaghetti or from embarrassment that it had burned, I didn’t know. I just knew she was beautiful. And I couldn’t wait to tell her all about my day and hear her laugh over my inability to hit a ball with a stick. Or her opinion on flirting when you were in a committed relationship.
It had happened so quickly, this desire to have every day be just like this one.