James Ross - A Character-Based Collection (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  Lew was furious. “You need to remind me of these things! That’s one less day a year that I can make money.”

  “You said that the write-off would more than make up for that.”

  “That’s not a good practice for us to get into. It hurts our cash flow too much.”

  “Lew, it’s one day, for crying out loud, anyway it’s over and done with now,” J Dub stated.

  “Do we have a signed agreement with them?” Lew asked.

  “It was a gentleman’s agreement.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It was a handshake agreement,” J Dub said in an exasperating way. Leave it to Lew not to know what being a gentleman is, he thought.

  Lew pondered the statement. “Then we might be able to get out of it.”

  “If so, then our reputation would be shot,” J Dub hinted.

  “I don’t like that deal.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have made it,” J Dub challenged.

  “We need to get out of that.”

  Julie had done most of the preparations for the scramble tourney. She was bursting at the seams. “Get a grip, Lew! My God! It is one freaking day! Your precious cash flow won’t be affected that much.” She was disgusted by the talk of canceling the event. Only Lew would pitch a fit about a one day charity event for children she muttered as she turned to storm into her office.

  Lew couldn’t help but follow her butt as she walked off. He chased after her as if he was on a mission. “You fill out that outfit so well,” Lew leered. “You look delicious.” Over the previous few months he had been becoming very forward with his advances toward her.

  “Oh, pleeeeeease,” pleaded Julie. “Don’t even go there.”

  “I’ve been thinking. I’m getting up there in years. I need someone to take care of me.” As Lew inched closer to Julie he continued, “You need a Sugar Daddy to take care of you.” He rubbed his arm against her breast.

  Julie jumped away and said, “You come any closer and I’ll kick you so hard you’ll cough up things you ate as a child, and don’t think I won’t do it! I ought to sue you for sexual harassment!”

  Lew was offended and taken aback by her reaction. With a defensive tone he replied, “Then give me a check for fifty thousand. I just finished doing all of the work on the fifth tee box.”

  Julie exclaimed, “I can’t do that! That’s illegal!”

  An angry Lew grabbed the checkbook away from her and made a point to cop a feel by rubbing his arm against her breast again. He started to write a check. “I’ll run my business how I see fit,” Lew insisted. “Get used to it.”

  Julie grabbed her purse and stomped out of the office.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Next Day at the Golf Course . . .

  “Alright, Julie. The course is in great condition. It looks like we’re ready for the tournament,” J Dub said proudly to his trusted assistant.

  “And all of it was done without one bit of help from Lew. What a butt hole,” Julie commented. The two of them stood together peering out the picture window as the sun was rising. “J Dub, the course looks more manicured than my nails. If I didn’t know better I would swear that you were trimming the course with scissors last night,” Julie remarked as they both admired the beauty of the course.

  “How do you know I didn’t?” J Dub asked with a quick wink.

  Julie smiled and started walking toward the coffee machine. Over her shoulder she asked, “I’m going to fire up the coffee pot, want some?”

  “Nah, I’m good for now. There are more important things to digest.” A couple of hours later, J Dub squinted toward the entrance as he heard traffic begin for the day. He scurried over to the parking lot to direct the processional of luxury cars. A Mercedes-Benz led them, followed by a Jaguar, followed by a BMW on so on. Cadillac’s, Lincolns, and even a Porsche and a Lexus dotted the asphalt spaces.

  J Dub had hired a lot of kids to assist the players upon their arrival. “Alright everybody, as the cars pull into the lot and park be available to load golf clubs into the carts for our players, ok? Make our guests feel welcome!” Everyone participated, including Marcia, who had made dozens of baskets of sandwiches for the group. Julie and a group of volunteers made sure that drinks were flowing in the circus-like tent and that all the activities were going according to plan.

  J Dub checked in with Julie frequently and was pleased with the progress they were making. “You did a fantastic job, Jules. This event is going off without a hitch.”

  “Thanks, J Dub,” Julie said. She accepted the compliment shyly; a nice comment from him meant more to her than a lifetime of “atta girls” from Lew because she knew he was sincere in his praise. She had worked hard for it, too.

  Promptly at ten o’clock the event started. J Dub was paired with Mel and two doctors from the hospital. Dr. Peterson was a younger doctor in his forties and Dr. Thompson was somewhat older. They shared a passion for golf and genuinely wanted to try to win the tournament. So Mel “stacked” his team by inviting J Dub to be their “ringer.” Mel thought that it was necessary to have someone in their group that could be counted on.

  As with most scramble tournaments, the holes were crammed with golfers. The play was very slow and there were long waits between shots. Of course, much of the slow play was because these golfers were busy working all day and didn’t get out often enough. Playing quality was sub-standard to say the least but that was to be expected on a day like today. To a lot of them it was a day off from the pressures that were associated with a normal work day at the hospital.

  Mel’s team got off to a very good start. They had six birdies on the first seven holes, thanks in great part to J Dub’s solid swings. He could flat play the game of golf.

  The foursome hit a little bit of a snag on the course and was forced to go through a minor delay on the eighth tee box. Mel stood back as J Dub prepared to hit a drive. “Let’s see the master hit one into the stratosphere!” Mel yelled. J Dub smiled and continued with his concentration. He adjusted his grip to really lay into the ball. The doctors stood completely silent as they studied his technique up close. POW! J Dub connected with the ball on a perfect swing. The doctors were amazed and Mel let out a low whistle of deep admiration for J Dub’s obvious natural talent. “Do you think that you’ll ever try the tour again?”

  J Dub was flattered by the attention but nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders saying, “That was a dream of mine at one time. Running this place is my everyday vision now.”

  Mel persisted. “Don’t waste that God-gifted talent that you have, son.”

  “I had my chance and it didn’t work out. That door closed. Marcia was pregnant and a new door opened up,” J Dub volunteered.

  “How many hours a week do you put in here?”

  “Somewhere in the neighborhood of seventy to eighty,” J Dub replied.

  “That sounds like an emergency room doctor,” cracked Dr. Peterson.

  J Dub smiled. “You know, when you think about it, the work environment is pretty nice. Almost all of the people are out here are on their day off and they’re in a good mood.”

  “But with those kind of hours, you won’t see your kids grow up,” Mel stated.

  J Dub took a philosophical tone. “There are different ways to win in life, Mel. This is my way of setting my kids up down the road.”

  With that, a drink cart approached the tee box. Three girls dressed in short shorts and v-shaped halter tops occupied the seat. It was obvious that they were enjoying a day on the golf course. The weather was picture perfect. A cool breeze was blowing and the sun felt warm on bare skin—this was San Diego, wasn’t it?

  The driver, Amy, was an attractive young woman in her mid-twenties. She had light brown hair tucked neatly into a visor and her halter top was positioned to accentuate her ample cleavage. “Who wants a drink?” asked Amy. She flirted with Mel and the two doctors. “I know at least one of you wants one. Come on, don’t be shy!” She smiled and winked
at Mel in particular.

  Mel was a functional alcoholic. He had risen to a respectable level within the hospital despite his penchant for partying. Everyone at the hospital was aware that Mel had a weakness for vodka. In his defense, Mel was able to resist drinking on the job. However, the minute that his work day was over it was common knowledge that he could be found at the local watering hole.

  His love for a cocktail would many times lead to a cab ride home and a bright red nose the next day. The powers-that-be would turn their heads because Mel ran a very profitable operation. His infectious personality and towering stature made it next to impossible to dismiss him. When Mel replied, “I’ll have a Peach Snapple!” everyone on the tee box grinned.

  Dr. Thompson immediately turned to the other members in his golfing group. His comment was sort of a signal to the others that things could get out of hand, “Uh, oh.”

  Mel was quite proud of the drink girls that he had recruited for the day. He had gotten permission from J Dub to bring his own cart girls from the hospital to serve drinks to the golfers on the course. “J Dub, these ladies are three nurses that work at the hospital. I’d like for you to meet Amy, Beth, and Carin. And make sure you say Cuh-wren.”

  As Amy handed the Peach Snapple to Mel she said, “Here you go La-La.”

  J Dub started laughing. “ . . . La-La? Where did that come from?”

  “Two more Peach Snapple’s and you’ll see,” stated Dr. Thompson. “He’ll be in La-La land.”

  “You never told me that you had a nickname,” J Dub jested.

  Mel enjoyed the fact that his peer group knew about his addiction. He grinned affectionately at Dr. Thompson. Of course there was no way to tell how many drinks Mel had under his belt at this time of day. The playing partners in his group figured that Mel had probably started at breakfast since this was his day off. Mel turned to the girls and asked, “How are the tips running today?”

  Beth was a cute brunette. “We’re not making anything, Mel. It looks like we need to get the players loaded.”

  “You know that these doctors are heavy tippers ladies. Fill ’em up.”

  The girls were anxious to serve the golfers. They ran around the drink cart waiting on the players. Mel sneaked off to his golf bag and pulled out a quart of Grey Goose. He took a thermos bottle out of his golf bag and mixed the vodka with the Peach Snapple.

  Mel grabbed a couple of hands full of ice out of the drink cart and packed the cubes into his thermos. He shook the humongous cocktail before taking a healthy swig. “You know, I’ve been thinking. We need to figure out a way for you girls to increase your tips. Why don’t you girls get those tops up?” Mel said with a devilish grin to the three cart girls.

  He pulled his shirt out of his pants and tried to lift it over his head. The shirt got caught on his head. That, coupled with the effect of the vodka, put Mel in a ridiculous position. His ample belly overlapped his belt buckle and he stumbled.

  As he staggered around with his shirt over his head Carin said, “We can’t do that out here. We’re decent girls.”

  Mel got out of the mess that he was in and pulled his shirt down from his head. He replied, “Decency doesn’t have a thing to do with being entrepreneurs. If you’re afraid to show those puppies, then what do you say we buy some belly shots?”

  Beth was the adventurous one in the group. She hopped into the golf cart and spread-eagled across the seat. “I’ll go for that!”

  Mel licked his chops. “That’s my kind of girl!”

  Mel ran to his golf bag and grabbed the Grey Goose. He handed it to Amy. Amy acted as if she had played this game before. She poured the vodka on Beth’s lips. The liquid cascaded down Beth’s chin, across her throat, and through her cleavage. The vodka formed a puddle in Beth’s navel.

  Mel couldn’t resist himself. He dove into Beth’s navel and lapped up every drop. He rose with an impish grin on his face, peeled off a twenty dollar bill, and gave it to Beth. Feeling proud of his accomplishment, Mel yelled, “Next!” He was obviously starting to feel the effects of the vodka.

  “My turn!” shouted Amy. She jumped into the cart and sprawled across the seat in a similar fashion. Carin grabbed the vodka bottle.

  The whereabouts of Lew Zerrmann were unbeknownst to the group that was frolicking on the tee box. He had retreated to his safe haven—the highest point on the golf course. Lew sat atop his motorcycle, under the large shade tree, and surveyed his domain. Through his binoculars he noticed a commotion in the distance.

  With an ornery spirit, Lew revved the motorcycle down the hill and headed across the golf course. He was oblivious to the golfers that were busy making their shots. The muffler on the motorcycle echoed across the property. It blared out of control until he screeched to a stop next to the tee box where the drink cart was parked. As he slid to a halt, Lew caught Mel as he lapped vodka out of Amy’s navel. “What the hell is going on here?” Lew demanded.

  Amy grabbed a twenty dollar bill from Mel and reveled in the good fortune that the day had suddenly offered. She innocently said, “We’re giving belly shots for tips. It beats serving drinks for a dollar.”

  A disgusted scowl encompassed Lew’s face. He grabbed the vodka bottle from Carin and turned to Mel. “Where did this come from?”

  Mel glanced up from the compromising position that he had found himself. With vodka smeared all over his face he replied, “It goes great with Peach Snapple. You ought to try some!”

  Every party needed a pooper. Lew was determined to fill that role on this day. With newfound morality, Lew barked, “That’s it for you guys. Your day is over and so is this charity.” With a swift motioning of his hands, Lew told the golfers and the girls to get into their carts and drive back to the clubhouse. “Take it on in. Head back to the clubhouse. This is my place and I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior out here.”

  As they started the long trek back to the clubhouse, Mel turned to Dr. Peterson and exclaimed, “What an asshole.”

  “Some people just don’t get it,” Dr. Peterson replied.

  Amy, with tears in her eyes, turned to J Dub and cried, “It’s my day off. All I was trying to do was make a couple of extra bucks for my kids.”

  J Dub, out of fear for retaliation from Lew, could only say, “He’s the boss.”

  The girls drove off behind Mel and the doctors. J Dub turned to Lew and bristled, “They were just having some fun.”

  “ . . . With their own booze!” Lew yelled.

  “We’re trying to build the business, aren’t we?” J Dub persisted.

  Lew tipped his hand as to what was really irritating him. “Then they can pay for it!”

  “It’s their day off from work. Let them have some fun.”

  “Not at my expense!”

  “Oh, give me a break!” J Dub continued. “You were dead set on ruining this event from the beginning, weren’t you? Well, congratulations! Take a victory lap! Your motive is as transparent as your business sense!” J Dub was fuming, but he sensed that he had better keep his mouth shut before it got him into more trouble with Lew.

  Lew glared at J Dub then mounted his motorcycle and gunned its motor to a deafening pitch before squealing off.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  In the days that followed J Dub’s frustrations were reaching the boiling point. He hated to bring his problems home to Marcia, as he knew her probable solution to the matter. He had worked too hard and invested too much. He had an ally in Julie, but if he brought her down, then things really would be miserable at work. That left Bogey to listen to J Dub’s ranting and venting about Lew. With a simple cock of the head, Bogey became J Dub’s sounding board. J Dub took Bogey to the driving range and would hit one ball after the other while cursing Lew. Somehow, J Dub felt that Bogey was the only one that really understood his circumstances.

  J Dub avoided Lew as much as possible. Lew became more obsessed with his motorcycle, painstakingly polishing its chrome. He touched the body of the motorcycle with the hand
of a lover and subconsciously patted it in a sexual way. “We’re not going to let anyone or anything happen to our land, are we gorgeous?” Lew whispered sensually. As he stroked and caressed his bike, he looked off into the distance of his clubhouse. He smiled an evil smile and carefully finished polishing his motorcycle.

  The days went by. The weeks and months went by. And, soon the seasons would pass. J Dub was faced with a couple of challenging situations. He worked for a partner that constantly reached for power and control. He tried to work within the confines of those demands and tried to balance his work life with his family life.

  The real joys for J Dub were at home. He cherished the time that he could spend with his daughter yet, in some ways, a chasm was developing in him. He enjoyed the time that he spent with his newborn but the hourly demands of running the golf course were present too. He enjoyed every minute of being a father, a parent, and a husband, but he knew that to fulfill that pleasure he had to be successful bringing in the money that could afford those privileges.

  In spite of the conflict that had occurred between home and work, J Dub had developed a love for his job. It was great to be around the guys. It was wonderful to be self-employed. Plus he had a bright future and watched the business expand. Sure, the moments around Lew became stressful at times, but J Dub decided to overlook those instances and look at the whole picture instead.

  Marcia also had seen her opportunities expand. She loved every minute of being a mother and a parent and a wife. She felt as if she had delivered on her purpose on earth by bringing new life into it. Marcia felt the joy that only a mother could feel and became very protective of Gail.

  A few months after Gail was born, Marcia returned part-time to her catering interests. It was the sort of job that allowed her to be a stay-at-home mom and earn extra income for the family. She was constantly nagging at J Dub about the number of hours that he was putting in at the golf course. Not only were weekends peak business times for J Dub, but the amount of hours that he was expected to be at the course during the week were growing, too.