James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  “In our foursome we’ll play a pig game,” Elia stated. In pig, each guy hits in a specified order. “We’ll just play that for quarters,” Elia told the group.

  “That’s good,” Curt laughed. “I don’t want to come out here after a few years and get stung too bad right off the bat.”

  “You won’t have any problem holding your own with us,” Fred said. “You know your game can handle us old timers.”

  Curt smiled. He had to have fifteen to twenty years on most of the guys. “Let’s just tee it up and play. It’s too nice out to not enjoy a day like today.”

  The boys had been playing for forty-five minutes or so and were walking off the fourth green when Curt stopped for a second. Paul, Fred, and Elia continued to the golf carts. Paul placed the scores on the scorecard. Curt was still lagging behind. “Curt, come on!” Paul yelled. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just a little out of breath. I haven’t played in a while,” Curt replied.

  “For crying out loud,” Fred bellowed. “If a fat boy like me can keep up, then a young guy like you shouldn’t have any problem. Golf isn’t that strenuous.”

  “Oh, it’s not that,” Curt sighed as he finally reached the cart. “I just haven’t been feeling too well lately.”

  “What’s been the problem?” Elia asked.

  “Nothing really,” Curt explained, “I just get tired real easily anymore.”

  “How long has that been going on?” Paul inquired.

  “I’ve noticed it the last few months. It just doesn’t seem to get any better,” Curt offered as he plopped down on the seat next to Paul. He was panting for air. “You know, I can sleep all night, wake up to take a shower, and go back to sleep for another three to four hours.”

  “That’s not right,” Paul said. “You need to get that checked out.”

  “I’ve got an appointment to see the doctor in a couple of weeks. It’s as tough to get in to see them as it is to get a weekend tee time.”

  “Don’t waste any more time than you have to,” Paul said. He was the voice of experience for the entire group and considered the statesman of the bunch.

  “I’ve got to do something,” Curt added. “I can’t even go and get my mail without being totally out of gas by the time I walk back to the house.”

  “You know what you need to do then . . .” Paul stressed.

  “Yeah, I am. It’s weird though. My bedroom is on the second floor and by the time I climb the stairs to go to bed, I don’t just sit on the bed when I get in my room, I flop down on the bed. I’m totally gassed. Look how hard I’m breathing now, just walking from the green to the golf cart.”

  “Get it checked out. The sooner, the better,” Paul emphasized as he drove the golf cart up to the fifth tee box.

  Curt nodded his head and turned his attention to Fred and Elia who were already on the tee box waiting for the other two players in the group. “Now’s your chance for that greenie,” Curt yelled up to Fred. “It’s a par three.”

  “If we ever get a chance to hit,” Fred yelled back. “Come on!”

  Paul and Curt joined Fred and Elia on the tee box. They had to wait until the group of golfers ahead of them cleared the green. “Why did it take so long for you guys to get the legal stuff cleaned up?” Elia asked referring to the time it had taken J Dub to get the golf course back.

  “What a nightmare of a process that was,” Curt replied. “I’m convinced that the politicians, judges, and lawyers in the state of Illinois are nothing but a bunch of crooks.”

  “What do you mean?” Elia continued.

  “If the local judges weren’t out for money, then the appellate judges were on the take,” Curt explained. “Very little has anything to do with law. It’s all about money. A lot of those guys are a disgrace to the robes they wear. And they’re all whores to dumbass lawyers that don’t have five cents of knowledge.”

  “Welcome to the real world,” Paul agreed.

  “Stop and think about it,” Curt went on. “The politicians are lawyers. The judges are lawyers. The lawyers have a good ole boy system in place. A private citizen makes a political contribution to a politician. That politician works within the system to get favors returned when he wants them. Judges make decisions depending on who is pulling their chain.”

  “It’s all about whose butt gets kissed,” Fred butted in. “What a rat race.”

  “Or a race to see who can get the most cash,” Curt corrected. “J Dub couldn’t even get his day in court for a half a dozen years because of the decisions coming from some of those lame-brain judges. They kept dismissing his case.”

  “What did you finally do?” Paul asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

  “Thank goodness we ran into the Miles family,” Curt said. “I guess they were more politically connected.”

  “How did that solve the problem?” Elia inquired.

  “All I know is that something must have occurred on the federal level to do what the State of Illinois wasn’t capable of doing,” Curt clarified. “Is that any way to get your day in court with these local idiots?”

  “Putting faith in those morons in Springfield is asking a lot,” Paul enlightened them. “They can’t even balance the budget and pay the state employees.”

  “That’s the legislative arm,” Curt reminded his playing partner. “What else would you expect?”

  “But you can’t believe the judicial arm acts any differently,” Paul said refusing to backpedal.

  “You can bet the politicians won’t miss a payday,” Elia said.

  “Or a cost of living increase,” Paul added.

  “If it took that long for J Dub to get his day in court then it sounds to me like some of these guys on the local level are way too big for their britches,” Fred said plainly as he placed his tee in the ground. His intention was to play golf, not talk politics.

  “It took us a long time to find out that the system has nothing to do with justice,” Curt simplified. “It’s all about who is going to pay what to whom . . . and who is responsible for getting somebody else in office. In this state I think the US Attorney’s office is just as corrupt.”

  Fred ripped an eight-iron at the stick. The ball hit, took one bounce on the green, and spun back toward the flag stopping four feet away. “There. Let’s see who gets inside of that!”

  Curt bent over to place his tee in the ground. He stood back up hurriedly, closed his eyes, and paused a minute to catch his breath. The color went out of his face and he looked faint. “Are you going to be alright?” Elia asked as Curt walked behind the ball to line up his shot.

  “Yeah, one of these days I hope,” Curt said as he forced a weak grin. They hadn’t even finished the fifth hole and his morning felt like more than he could handle.

  Later in the Round . . .

  “Come on Fred. Make this putt and we’ll win the hole,” Curt said with encouragement to his playing partner. “I know it’s only for fifty cents each, but . . .”

  Hey, that’s a lot of money to me. I’d rather have it than give it to Elia and Paul,” Fred said. He squatted down behind the ball the best that he could to read the line of the putt. His tremendous girth made even the simplest things difficult at times. “What do you think its going to do?” He asked as he turned over his shoulder to Curt.

  “I wouldn’t give up the hole,” Curt suggested.

  “Inside right?”

  Curt nodded. “ . . . Firm. It’s just a five-footer. Knock it in there.”

  Fred was one of the best putters that showed up to play with the guys. He had a frame and body that didn’t suggest that he was a very good golfer, but he hit the ball straight and had a knack for getting the ball in the hole. He could get up and down from almost anywhere. He stood over the putt with confidence and slowly dragged the putter back from the ball. Ring-a-ling-ling. Ring-a-ling-ling. The sound startled Fred. He yipped the ball and it moved off of the hole . . . wide left. “That damn Pork Chop! Right in my back swing!”
r />   Elia and Paul were laughing hysterically. Curt ran to the cart to answer his cell phone. “You took forever to hit the ball,” Elia chided his friend. “Pork Chop’s back there waiting to hit.” The foursome that had been trailing the group had been standing a long time over their approach shot.

  “Hello,” Curt blurted into the phone. “. . . Hold on a second. Let me catch my breath,” Curt uttered as he gasped for air. He was panting profusely.

  “ . . . Curt, it’s Tina. Are you okay?”

  “ . . . Yeah. Sure. Everything’s fine.”

  “But, you’re breathing so hard,” she said.

  “I just ran from the green to the cart. The phone was ringing,” Curt explained. He took a deep mouthful of air to try to control his breathlessness. “What’s up?”

  “It’s Justin. He got into a little bit of trouble.”

  “What did he do?” Curt queried. “That’s so unlike him.”

  “I know! That’s what surprised me too,” Tina agreed. “He got out of school for the summer and has been hanging out with Keith Pucchio. You know, they had a bunch of jobs cutting grass.”

  “Did they rip someone off?”

  “No. Dave and I were out and so were Keith’s parents. The two of them met and fired paint balls at someone’s house. The police came and we have a little chaos on our hands,” Tina clarified.

  “It had to be Keith’s idea,” Curt said. “Justin wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “I know. And he’s very remorseful. We made him spend a night in jail.”

  “That should have taught him a lesson,” Curt said with a chuckle. “Does he think that he’s a hardened criminal now?”

  Tina laughed. “No, but he realizes that he’s in over his head a little.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Curt offered.

  “He looks up to you so much,” Tina confided, “and realizes that he’s in for a rough time with Dave. Can you give him a job for the summer?”

  “ . . . Of course!” Curt accepted emphatically. “But it will be more like boot camp for him. We’ll keep him busy all day, seven days a week.”

  “How about Keith, too?” Tina asked. “I don’t want him to be a bad influence on Justin.”

  Curt thought about that scenario and answered, “Why not? It sounds like they both need a little discipline.”

  “I think that it would be a good idea for Justin and Keith to work together. After all, they both have some pretty hefty debts to pay,” Tina quipped.

  “Tell Pork Chop to get off the phone!” Fred yelled over to Curt thinking that he was on the phone with Pork Chop. “We’ve got a match to play.”

  “It’s Tina,” Curt replied as he put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Give me another minute.” He returned his attention to Tina. “If they want to come over here and work, then that’s fine with me. But it won’t be a party for them.”

  “Oh, I think that they know that. If they don’t, then I’ll have Dave make that perfectly clear. He kind of has a ‘no-strikes’ policy as it is,” Tina clarified.

  “They’ll have to be here around dawn every day. That means five to five-thirty. You and Dave are going to have to make arrangements to get them here. We can figure out a way to get them home every night.”

  “Don’t be too hard on my baby,” Tina pleaded.

  “We’ll just try to help the boys grow up a little. There could be worse environments for them to be in,” Curt replied.

  “He loves you Curt. You’re the only guy that he’s had in his life until I met Dave,” Tina emphasized. “Take good care of him.”

  “I told you a long time ago that I would do that for you . . . and Justin,” Curt reminded her.

  “Then help him out this summer. He and Dave don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

  “I’ll be there for him. But you’re going to have to make the effort to get him over here every day,” Curt said.

  “If you can give jobs to both of them, then we’ll manage something. I really appreciate your help.”

  “Hey. No problem. I was a teenager too at one time,” Curt laughed.

  “Weren’t we all?” Tina agreed. “The years fly by.”

  “We’ve got the atmosphere over here that can straighten those two out. See you on Monday.”

  “Thanks,” Tina said.

  “The guys are yelling at me to get back in the game,” Curt stressed. “ . . . Gotta go.” He hung up and joined his foursome on the tee.

  “Would you put that damn cell phone away? We’ve got a press going on this hole now,” Fred babbled.

  “Oh wow,” Curt said with a smile. “Do you think we’ll be able to handle an extra fifty cents on this hole?”

  The minute Tina hung up the phone she gathered Justin and Keith together. To break the news she invited the boys outside to the deck off of the rear of the house. On a tray she had a bucket of ice along with soda and canned lemonade. “Here’s the deal for the two of you,” she started. “It’s the good news, bad news scenario. Which do you want first?”

  Justin and Keith looked at each other. Both were scared, but relieved that Tina was helping to take care of them. “Go ahead and give us the good news first, Mom; we’ve had enough bad news lately,” Justin said.

  Tina gave her youngest a grin. “Okay. Curt said that he could give both of you jobs for the summer on the golf course. You’ll probably be cutting a lot of grass. It’s the same thing you would have been doing around here with the neighbors.”

  “That’s cool,” Justin stated. “My first real job is going to be on a golf course.” He reached over and gave Keith a high-five.

  “What’s the bad news?” Keith said, wary of the answer.

  “It means that you’ll be getting up before the sun rises. Curt wants you there at dawn every day. Plus your paychecks will have to go to Dave. He’s going to pay the upfront costs of the clean-up. You’ll have to pay him back.”

  Both boys winced after she delivered the news. “Every day?” Justin whined.

  Tina nodded her head up and down. “It’s the price you have to pay.” She paused for a second and looked at both of the boys. With a shrug of her shoulders she continued, “Now let’s go over to Mr. McCormick’s house and apologize.”

  Justin and Keith exchanged glances. They weren’t prepared for that. “Do we have to?” Keith moaned.

  Once again Tina moved her head affirmatively. “Let’s go.” With a slight prompt she made a move for the door. The boys didn’t budge. Going to Old Man McCormick’s house to apologize was worse than working all summer to fix his house. “You heard me! Let’s go!” Reluctantly the boys got up from their chairs and followed her through the door.

  The walk to Mr. McCormick’s house was short. He lived less than two blocks away. As they reached his driveway Keith backpedaled a little. “I don’t know about this.”

  “Hey! You two messed up. Go knock on his door and apologize,” Tina stressed. “I’ll stand right here on the driveway. The two of you will have to face the music.”

  “Do we have to, Mom?” Justin grumbled.

  The stern look on Tina’s face said it all. She wasn’t about to say another word. Her unyielding look at them deepened and she nodded her head toward the front door. Then she folded her arms. Clearly, she wasn’t going to budge one inch.

  Justin and Keith walked toward the front porch of Mr. McCormick’s house. “I didn’t know that this was going to be part of the deal,” Keith said.

  “Come on, let’s get it over with,” Justin urged. Suddenly he was the one that was showing the most initiative. It was obvious that Keith was the one that had put his foot in his mouth. He was the one that would probably face the wrath of the old man. Justin reached up and rang the doorbell. Keith merely closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth.

  After what seemed like an eternity, McCormick answered the door. “The two hoodlums,” he began, peering at them from behind the screen. He looked more disheveled and ornery than he did at their first c
onfrontation—bigger too. “Last time I saw you I told you to stay off of my property.”

  “We came to apologize for what we did,” Justin blurted. He thought that the quicker he could get the words out, the quicker they could get out of there.

  “Yeah, it was all my idea. We shouldn’t have done that,” Keith followed.

  “And how is all of this damage going to be fixed?” Mr. McCormick asked sternly.

  “My step-dad is going to pay for the damages and we’re going to pay him back,” Justin explained feebly.

  “Yeah, we got summer jobs and we’ll make it up to him,” Keith added. Apologizing wasn’t his forte. He was glad to let Justin lead the way.

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” McCormick said.

  A frail voice called from in back of him. “Jim. Jim, help me.”

  McCormick turned away from them to a figure sitting in a wheelchair. “See what else you two have caused?” he said peering at them again and lowering his voice accusingly. “This was so upsetting to my wife, you about put her under.” Then he paused to choose his words delicately. The boys were in awe of the imposing old man. “I think that it’s a start for you two kids to be man enough to apologize. I can start to forgive you.” He looked back at his wife. “But she was terrified. I don’t know if she’ll ever get over it.”

  “Jim. Jim. Quick.”

  “I’ve got to go,” McCormick said and closed the door in their face. Justin and Keith looked at each other and turned around to face Tina.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Several Years Earlier . . . June 1993

  Christina Maria Ventimiglia was the apple of her daddy’s eye. He had always joked that she was Triple A in his book because each one of her given names ended with the letter A. She was the oldest of a dozen children—eight girls and four boys. Because she was the oldest, Tina, as she was called, got a cram course in parenting as she progressed through her teenage years. Not only was she an older sister to her siblings, she also helped to raise them.

  Her dynamite good looks revolved around her curly, sometimes wavy, jet-black hair. That feature, and a double dose of sky-blue eyes, turned the heads of every hot-blooded male in the St. Louis area. To Tina, it wasn’t any big deal. There was never a shortage of men. When she was growing up she would follow her dad, Vito, to the soccer fields of the Catholic Youth League after he closed up shop as an independent construction contractor. It was on the playgrounds that she would run and play soccer with the boys.