by D STEP
Percy flashed her a look that said, “just go with it,” and motioned her to follow Chalmers. Katelyn rolled her eyes, but did as he said. She fell in line behind Chalmers, purposely avoiding the view of his wiggling butt as he strode ahead into the apparel department. What was the point of a sports store open 24 hours a day anyway, she wondered.
After leading her to the racks of new merchandise, the men thankfully left her alone for a few minutes to try on outfits. Katelyn grabbed a selection of bottoms, tops and jackets and stepped into the change rooms, which were so tiny they didn’t even have mirrors inside. With each outfit, she had to step outside of the room to use the mirrors placed among the clothing displays. As she modeled a pair of his Chalmers-label shorts with a pastel plaid pattern and a sleeveless shirt, her lips formed a frown. She wasn’t big-busted, so there were no issues with any of the shirts, but the view of her rear-end in the mirror was disappointing. Her hands slid down over the material that stretched tightly across her round buttocks. So what if her hips were a bit wide? Or her thighs a little more meaty than supermodels in magazines? She could beat anybody on the course, even Brad Forrester. She was willing to bet no-one commented on his thighs, or any other body parts.
“I’d stick with skorts, if I were you.”
Kat dropped her hands to her sides and whirled to face the man who’d spoken. Dick the Prick was back again, ogling her reflection and providing his unsolicited opinions. “If you were me, I think you’d tell me to mind my own damn business,” she replied evenly, despite her rising anger.
“You’re right,” he said, leaning a set of clubs against the wall of change rooms. “I would. But since this is my business, I am minding it.” He folded his arms and looked at straight at her, seemingly unbothered by her harsh retort. “Which is why you’re here, sweetheart. There’ll be thousands of viewers watching this tournament, and what better way to display my wares than having them draped over your, shall we say noticeable, ass? And that ass looks better in a skort. Trust me, this isn’t about flattery or charity. It’s about advertising.”
Kat threw a panicked glance around for Percy. She spotted him approaching with his arms full of shoeboxes. Thank goodness she wasn’t alone, otherwise she’d probably have given Dick the Prick a whack between his gorgeous green eyes with a pitching wedge. But she had a better idea. “I see.” She undid the zipper on her shorts and slipped them off her hips and onto the floor, uncaring that she had nothing but her panties on underneath. “How about I take my ‘noticeable’ ass right out the door?” She snatched up the plaid shorts and tossed them at Chalmers. “You can keep your ‘wares.’ I wouldn’t be caught dead in them.”
Percy dropped his shoeboxes to the floor. Sorry Perc, she said silently.
Dick caught the shorts out of the air. “Have it your way, Kit-Kat. But I think you’re missing the point. That ass and those thunder thighs are where you get your power from, and like it or not, are going to be your signature. So own it. Ever seen a skinny woman shoot more than 250 yards? Not a chance. You can drive that ball a mile, I’ve seen it. So be thankful for your “ass-ets” and the opportunities life gives you. Including this one.” He tossed the garment back at her and walked away.
Katelyn scowled after him, then stalked into the tiny change room and closed the door.
“Kat,” Percy said, his strained but measured voice filtering through the wooden door. “Get dressed and go back to campus. I’ll handle Chalmers.”
“I-I’m sorry, Percy. He’s just such a jerk.”
“That jerk is going out on a limb for you,” Percy answered. “You don’t have to like him, just wear his stuff and go win that tournament. Golf is more than a sport, it’s a business. You’ll have to get used to that if you expect to make a career of it.”
Katelyn knew Percy was right. But it didn’t make the situation any better, her legs any smaller, nor clear the vision of Chalmer’s beautiful green stare and hard, mature physique from her mind. What was wrong with her? The man was almost the same age as her dad, and a first-rate asshole to boot. So what made him attractive? The fact he was a celebrity? Kat shook her head.
“I don’t dislike him,” she called out from her small enclosure. “I think I hate him.”
*
Dick marched into his office and slammed the door. “Ungrateful little….” His voice broke off as he spotted someone sitting in his desk chair. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Frank Jordan swiveled back and forth in the chair, hands folded across his midsection. “What else? Going over your books—again. What a shocker, there’s no change. Still in the red, my friend. By a lot.”
“Is that so? Tell me something I don’t know, Frank. Get the hell out of my chair.”
Frank raised his hands in a placating gesture and stood up. “It’s all yours,” he said, moving aside. “I woudn’t want to be in it anyway, given your financial situation.”
“Are you here to help me, or just fuck with me?”
“Hey, I’m your accountant, not your ex-wife,” Frank chuckled. “All I can tell you is that her settlement will cost you a pile. On top of that, if you don’t get up to date with your mortgage payments and back taxes you’ll lose the store. End of story.”
“I’m working on it, Frank. When I’ve got the money, you’ll be the first to know. So stop lurking around like the grim fucking reaper, will you?”
Frank shrugged. “Okay man, but time’s running out. Why don’t you go on some senior’s tour or something to pick up a few bucks? You’re still a great player.”
Dick threw him a withering look. “Why don’t you fuck off? I have a business to run.”
“Not for much longer, if you keep up this attitude. I’ll be in touch next week. Surprise me with some good news, alright?” Frank twisted the knob and walked out of Dick’s office, closing the door behind him.
Dick exhaled and leaned back in his chair. He looked down at the open ledgers in front of him and in a burst of frustration shoved them off his desk. The only numbers he wanted to think about right now were the spinoff sales he was planning to make from this crazy tournament next week. He needed the television exposure for his store by outfitting the competitors, but if Miss Kit-Kat Halliday wasn’t going to cooperate, the plan had pretty much gone to shit. Forrester had signed on with a different sponsor, so as much as he’d rather ignore her, the as-yet-unknown female phenom was his only shot.
Women golfers. Far too many of them in his opinion; taking up the sport and expecting the road to be easy. She’d rather be naked than wear my gear. The image of her, full of attitude, standing in the middle of the store in just a shirt and panties not only made his hackles rise but his cock, too. He liked big curves on a woman; hell, he even complimented her on the powerful swing that her body type made possible. Not surprisingly, she was too young to understand the opportunity she’d been given.
He groaned and swiped his fingers though his still-thick head of hair. Too young. What the hell was he thinking? A college kid…Jesus. He had no right to be even looking at that. Keep your fucking wick dry, Chalmers.
Chapter Two
“We need to be there by two-thirty,” Percy’s voice said over her cell phone. “The filming starts at three.”
Katelyn sighed and turned her back to the wind as she stood on the tee box at the driving range. “Are we still doing this? I thought I made it clear I want nothing to do with Chalmers Sports Store.”
“Well, despite your performance yesterday, I spoke with Dick and he’s still on board with shooting the PR spot. As long as you model the gear for this interview, it’s up to you whether you wear it for the tournament. Don’t forget, this is publicity for you as well as him. Learn to put your feelings aside; it will serve you well in future.”
“All right, Percy. Pick me up at 2:00.” Katelyn disconnected the call and shoved the phone in her back pocket. She really wished all the media bullshit didn’t have to go along with the game. Like Percy said, get used to it. Adjusting th
e brim of her visor, she placed another practice ball on the rubber tee and re-gripped her club. Envisioning Brad Forrester’s face on the ball, Kat swung and connected with the sweet spot of her club face. “Bye-bye, Brad,” she muttered sweetly as the ball disappeared. It bounced once and struck the 200-yard marker.
That won’t cut it, she thought. Maybe Dick Chalmers 24/7 Superstar Sports store stocked golf balls with Dick’s face on them? Bet I could hit one of those at least 300 yards. She dreaded the thought of being on-camera with the overbearing, misogynistic jerk. She might say something she’ll regret. But for Percy’s sake, and her own, she made a silent promise to behave. Smile and hopefully not have to even speak. Dick the Prick would likely prefer that.
*
“You’re sure about this? Not jerking my chain, are you?” Dick tapped a pencil on his desktop as he listened to the voice of the PR consultant at the other end of the call. “Shame about that.” A pause. “Yeah, it’s short notice alright. No, we can handle it. No sweat.” More listening. “Yes, we’ll be set to go. Thanks, see you at three.”
Dick leaned back in his chair, considering what the PR guy had just told him. A classic case of good news, bad news. The good news? Instead of the local TV studios, they’d asked to film the media spot here, in his store. Not just good news—great news; fantastic exposure for the business. The bad news? That part’s outcome was less certain. He rose from behind his desk to seek out his store manager and get ready for the TV crew.
*
Reluctantly, Katelyn dressed in the outfit that Percy chose for her from Chalmers Sports. Percy knew her fashion style from working closely with her over the past season, so the clothes themselves were palatable but the idea of owing gratitude to Dick Chalmers left a bad taste in her mouth.
She reminded herself that deals and trade-offs were part of the business and she had better learn to accept them, graciously if possible, in order to get ahead in her career. However, accepting them didn’t mean liking them, nor the manipulative people behind the deals. Dick certainly fell into that category. You don’t have to like him, just wear his stuff, Percy had said. As she fastened the waistband of the golf skort he’d chosen for her, her attitude softened.
It really did look good on her; it had the same plaid pattern of the shorts she liked, and the hemline skimmed her hips in a flattering way. It minimized the thickness of her upper legs and flared out cheekily as she moved and twisted as though swinging a golf club. The pastel pink top complimented the skort perfectly, and featured a neckline that exposed her tanned décolleté. For a fleeting second, she wondered if Dick Chalmers would like her chest. The memory of him spotting her in the store, checking out her perky buttocks flashed through her mind. Was he just a letch like his reputation suggested, or did he find her attractive?
A burn started in her face. C’mon, admit it. You don’t mind being looked at by a man. Even if it is….wait a sec. Chalmers was famous. Retired from the pro circuit, but a multi-champion in his day, and his face on more magazine covers than she could count. A handsome face—both then and now, truth be told. The laugh lines around his eyes and the dash of gray in his hair even enhanced it, made him….what? Distinguished? Seasoned? The words came to her. Aloof. Untouchable. Off-limits. He’d already been and gone from a level which she might never reach. Then it hit her. She was envious. That’s what made him attractive. She resolved to put aside her resentment and take whatever advantage his notoriety might provide. How did he put it…be thankful for the opportunities life gives you?
Katelyn considered her reflection in the mirror. Was she pretty? Her blue eyes were clear and round. Her nose a bit prominent but gracefully shaped. She’d been too absorbed in her sport, too confident in her ability as an athlete to worry about such things until now. Maybe it was time to change that. There were TV cameras involved, after all.
She hastily unraveled her signature braid, grabbed her hairbrush and stroked her blond locks from root to tip, noting the sheen it imparted to the loose tresses. Her hair’s thick texture had been an annoyance outdoors on the links for so long. Today, she’d wear it free and loose around her shoulders for the sporting world—and Dick Chalmers—to see.
She took a little extra time with her makeup, and was just applying a last dab of mascara when Percy texted from his car. She grabbed the softshell jacket that went with the rest of her outfit and headed downstairs. The look on his face as she climbed into the SUV seemed lodged somewhere between shock and amusement.
“What?” she asked, arranging herself in the passenger seat and buckling in.
“You….look nice,” he said with a nod. He put the vehicle into gear and pulled away from the curb. “Slight change of plans,” he continued as he maneuvered into traffic. “We’re doing the shoot at Chalmers Sports instead of the studio.”
Kat’s heart tightened. “What? Why?” She wasn’t expecting that. She and Forrester were supposed to be interviewed at the TV station covering the event.
“Dunno, I just got a call telling me the new location.”
The TV crew vehicle sat parked near the entrance to Superstar Sports when Kat and Percy arrived. She hesitated to get out of the vehicle when Percy opened the door for her.
“Stage fright?” he asked. “It’ll be fine. Remember what we talked about. You don’t have to like him, just wear his stuff.” He held out his hand.
Kat grabbed it resignedly and stepped out. “I’m just not sure I like doing this on his ‘home turf’. I have a feeling he’s going to upstage us, do some crazy ad pitch in the middle of the interview.”
Percy laughed. “You’re all the ad pitch he needs in that outfit. C’mon.”
They were ushered to a storage room at the back of the store where a makeshift green-room had been set up. A woman from the TV crew looked Katelyn over and made some adjustments to the fit of her jacket. “You need more blush,” she commented, seating Kat onto a stool in front of a mirror. “The lights wash out a lot of color.”
When satisfied with the makeup, the woman called for a stagehand to escort Kat out. She followed a long-haired young man to the center of the store where a set of armchairs sat on a low wooden platform. A backdrop bearing the station’s logo stretched behind the chairs. Light stands and accompanying electrical cables formed a metallic cage around the platform.
A sound tech fitted her with a microphone before seating her in one of the chairs. Kat looked up to see Percy flashing a thumbs-up from the ring of people surrounding the area. Motion from the side caught her attention, and she glanced over to see another TV crew member approaching with someone following behind.
Kat’s jaw fell loose as he led the man over to fit him with a microphone. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. The newcomer turned and strode to the chair next to her and sat down. He smiled.
Dick the Prick Chalmers. “Hello Kit-Kat. Nice to see you again.”
“Where’s Forrester?” Kat bleated, her throat seizing up.
“Couldn’t make it. Norwalk virus. Very nasty case,” he answered nonchalantly. “Here we go,” he said, gesturing to one of the station sports commentators that joined them on the platform.
The commentator sat in the third chair and adjusted his clothing, mike and stack of notes. “Hi, I’m Chad Weldon,” he announced, extending his hand to each of them.
Kat nodded, shook his hand, watched him repeat the gesture with Chalmers, Chads’s admiration of him undisguised. She felt insignificant in this trio, and mortified at being uninformed. She sat rigid in the squarish, padded chair, wondering when she would find out what the hell was going on.
“We’re live in 3, 2,” the camera tech barked, gesturing the final countdown with a silent finger.
“Hello, I’m Chad Weldon, reporting from 24/7 Superstar Sports right here in West Palm Beach. A unique tournament begins this Saturday at the PGA National Golf Resort and Spa’s The Champion course where a $100,000 purse waits for the winner of a Jack and Jill matchup. Two top-ranked college competitors wer
e set to duke it out on the famous links, one man, one woman, for the big prize when fate intervened. Brad Forrester, ranked #1 in the men’s circuit has withdrawn from the competition due to illness. In his place, in a first appearance since retiring after last year’s Masters is well-known owner of the establishment you see around us, Dick Chalmers.”
The camera panned in on Dick as he smiled and nodded to Weldon. “His competition?” Chad continued. “A formidable female opponent; ranked #1 in amateur status, attending Keiser University, Miss Katelyn ‘Kat’ Halliday. Welcome, Kat.”
Kat gulped as the camera swung around to focus on her. “Thanks, Chad,” she said with a tight nod. Her guts churned in confusion and anger. This was completely unfair…the man was a pro, a legend, not a college guy on level with her. He had some nerve throwing his hat into the ring. She’d be damned if he was going to rob her of her 100 grand…she needed that money! A thought struck her as brightly as the stage light that beamed in her face. Maybe this could give her an advantage; the man hadn’t played in over a year, he was bound to be rusty. He had nearly thirty years on her, no way could he keep pace. She smiled into the camera.
“Kat, we’ve seen you power your way through the juniors; you’re coming into this tournament at the top of the ranks in women’s amateur golf. How are you feeling about this co-ed matchup?”
“I feel great, Chad. Never better.”
“No worries about playing against, well, not just a man, but a veteran champion and golf legend like Dick Chalmers?”
“None at all, Chad.”
Weldon raised his eyebrows at her comment. “Dick, I understand Chalmers 24/7 is supplying all the equipment and apparel for Kat. Is this a charity move on your part?”