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

by James Ross

  Lug Nut shrugged his shoulders. “I hate this place. It’s too hot in here.”

  “Are you in or not? I can’t play the game and answer questions all night from you.”

  “Whose roll is it?”

  “Mine. They’re coming down to this end,” Curt replied as he placed a chip on the Pass line. The stickman emptied a plastic tray onto the table and kept pushing a group of five dice over and around.

  “I guess,” Lug Nut conceded. “Let me borrow fifty bucks.”

  Curt turned and looked at his buddy in disbelief. “Here,” he said as he handed him two quarters. “Now buy in with your own money and leave me alone while I’m rolling. You are something else.”

  Lug Nut threw a chip onto the table. “Can I get change?” he asked the dealer.

  “Would you come on?” Curt pleaded. “You’re slowing up the game!” Lug Nut picked up his change and placed a chip on the Pass line. Curt grabbed two of the five dice that were pushed in his direction. “Let’s have a good roll.” He sent the dice tumbling toward the far end of the table.

  “Yo, eleven . . . Winner!” the stickman shouted.

  “That’s a good start,” Curt mumbled to Lug Nut. Each guy picked up his winnings. The girl at the far end of the table shared a high-five with the old man. It looked like they had placed a five dollar bet on the eleven and made ninety dollars.

  “Dice out. Hard ways off,” the stickman yelled as he pushed the dice back to Curt.

  “Let’s keep it going, Lug Nut,” Curt whispered. He sent the dice high into the air. They bounced on the table a few inches from the end of the table, slammed against the wall, and settled in place.

  “Eight. It came eeeeeasy,” the stickman bellowed. “Take the field.” The stickman picked up the proposition bets that were placed in the middle of the table.

  “Twenty-two in, no five, nickel four and ten,” Curt said to the dealer as he placed thirty-two dollars on the table. He threw a chip in the direction of the stickman and yelled, “Hard eight.” Chips flew around the table as the various players got their bets down.

  “Dice out,” the stickman shouted, “Hard ways working unless you call them off.” The dice were pushed to Curt. He grabbed them and once again tossed them high in the air and bounced them off of the far wall. “Nine. Pay the field,” the stickman roared.

  “Press,” Curt said as the dealer paid out his winnings. He picked a couple of chips up and placed them in the rack in front of him. The dealer paid out winnings and booked bets from the other gamblers as chips continued to be thrown onto the table.

  “Dice out,” the stickman yelled. Once again Curt sent the dice high into the air. In what seemed like a moment frozen in time the dice finally landed and came to a stop. “Four . . . It came haaaaaaard,” the stickman drawled. It took him three seconds to pull the words off of his tongue. “Pay the field.”

  The girl at the other end of the table shared another high-five with the old man. It was obvious that they had bet the hard four. Curt threw a single chip out and yelled, “Press the four and ten.” The dealer booked the bets and worked feverously to keep the game flowing and all of the bets straight. The female pit boss came over to stick her head in the air and look over a dealer’s shoulder.

  “Dice out. Hard ways working unless called off.”

  “Let’s keep this thing going,” Curt muttered under his breath to Lug Nut. He picked the dice up and sent them cascading through the air.

  “Ten. It came easy. Pay the field,” the stickman yelled. He watched one of the dealers to make sure that no mistakes were made on the payouts.

  “Go up a nickel on the four and ten,” Curt shouted as he increased his play on both numbers. “Hope you’ve been on the field, Lug Nut. Those numbers have been hitting.”

  “I’ll shut up. You keep it going,” Lug Nut stated softly. “I don’t want to jinx you.”

  “It’s about time for a six,” Curt whispered to his buddy as he sent the dice down to the other end of the table. He put a little elbow grease into the throw and the dice bounced all the way back to the middle of the table. One die landed in the stacks of chips in front of the boxman.

  “No roll!” the stickman shouted. “They’re in the dough!” He retrieved both dice with the stick.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Lug Nut yelled. “That was one of my numbers!”

  The stickman looked at him bewildered. “No roll.”

  “What do you mean ‘no roll’?” Lug Nut complained.

  Curt nudged an elbow into Lug Nut’s side. “One of the die rolled into the chips,” Curt whispered to him out of the corner of his mouth. “The roll doesn’t count.”

  “That’s a bunch of BS,” Lug Nut grumbled.

  “It’s tough luck. That’s the rules,” Curt explained.

  The stickman shoved the dice back to Curt. “Dice out.” Curt picked them up and sent them high into the air and watched as they bounced off of the back wall and settled on the table. “Six. It came easy,” the stickman shrieked. “Take the field.”

  “You got me there,” Lug Nut moaned as the dealer picked up his field bet. Chips went flying back out to the stickman as he took up everyone’s hard six bet.

  “Press,” Curt yelled to the dealer. He doubled up his bet on the six.

  An Asian man standing all of five foot four squeezed his way onto the table to the left of Lug Nut. He shoved so hard that Lug Nut lost his balance. “Geez, Louise!” Lug Nut shouted. He stumbled against Curt. The Asian man threw several hundred dollar bills on the table to buy chips. “Can you believe this little son-of-a . . . ?” Lug Nut whispered to Curt.

  “Don’t worry, he won’t stay long,” Curt prompted Lug Nut.

  “I know it’s hot in here, but do I smell that bad?” Lug Nut countered. He raised his right arm and sniffed at his armpit.

  “No! Look at the boxman,” Curt whispered.

  “Yeah, he’s sitting there,” Lug Nut challenged. “So what?”

  “Look at his ring. It’s got jade in it,” Curt observed.

  “What does that mean?” Lug Nut pried.

  “The Orientals think that is good luck for anyone wearing it,” Curt spoke under his breath. “Once he sees it, he’ll leave.”

  The dealer pushed a stack of chips toward the Asian man. The man stared at the boxman. He picked his chips up and walked away from the table. Curt looked at Lug Nut, shrugged his shoulders, and grinned.

  “Dice out.” The dice were pushed to Curt. He threw them high into the air. They bounced and came to a stop. “ . . . Winner! Eight! It came haaaaaaard,” the stickman shouted. “Take the field.” High–fives went up around the table. The girl at the other end of the table jumped up and down and reached for her winnings. She and the old man picked up a stack of chips that they had won on the hard eight.

  “Nice hit,” Lug Nut said to Curt.

  “You had odds up, right?” Curt asked.

  Lug Nut nodded his head. “By the looks of that babe down there jumpin’ up and down it looks like she and the old guy had a few chips on you too. Look at that rack.”

  “That rack of chips or the other one?” Curt joked.

  “Ha!” Lug Nut chuckled. “They’re both pretty full.”

  “Dice out. Hard ways off unless you call them on,” the stickman shouted as he pushed the dice back to Curt. High into the air the dice tumbled. “Seven! Winner!” The girl at the end of the table jumped up and down, made eye contact with Curt, and shook her fist in the air.

  “You’re making some friends around here,” Lug Nut said with a grin.

  “Heck, I’m trying to bounce them off her boobs and I’m coming up a foot short,” Curt laughed.

  On and on it went. Forty minutes later Curt still had the dice. “You’re not going to tear your rotator cuff or anything like that?” Lug Nut joked. It was easy to smile at this stage of the game. Most of the gamblers had a large tray of chips in front of them.

  “I’m going to hit her with this throw just to see
how she reacts,” Curt confided to Lug Nut. He reached for the dice and threw them extra high. One hit in the rack and sent chips flying. It bounced up against her stomach. The other nailed her on top of the head.

  “One out. The other is too tall,” the stickman shouted. He reached for the three remaining dice on the tray underneath him.

  “Same dice,” Curt yelled. The people at the far end were scouring the floor to find the die that bounded off of the girl’s head. She rubbed her head and waved at Curt. The die was located and handed to the boxman that had been sitting at the table the entire time between the two dealers. He twirled the die around, inspected it for nicks and damage, and placed it on the table. The other die had wound up in the rack of chips and didn’t need to be inspected. They were pushed to Curt. “I hope I didn’t jinx myself,” he whispered to Lug Nut, “but at least I got her attention.” He threw three five-dollar chips onto the table. “Hop the sevens.” He picked the dice up and sent them high in the air again. They bounced against the wall and came to a rest.

  “Seven, out!” the stickman screamed. “Pay the Don’ts, take the field.” The dealers immediately collected the bets and scraped all of the chips into the middle.

  “What a roll,” Lug Nut said with a smile. “You got me healthy.” Shouts from around the table came at him.

  “Nice roll!”

  “Good shootin’!”

  “Way to go, shooter.”

  Curt smiled and waved back to the other gamblers. “It’s about time to wrap this cruise up, don’t you think Lug Nut?” Curt stacked his chips on the table and said, “I even won on the way out of it thanks to that seven bet. Color in!”

  “I’m ready,” Lug Nut agreed. The boat was cruising to a stop. “I need to get some fresh air real soon anyway.”

  “Come on,” Curt urged his buddy. “I want to time it so we get off the boat the same time she does.” They scurried off the table and Curt nudged his way through the crowd to be close to the girl and the old man. “You looked like you were having fun,” he said as he turned to face the girl.

  “Yeah, we were until you threw that dice against my head,” she complained as she rubbed her noggin.

  Oh no, I hope I didn’t blow it, Curt mused. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”

  “How can I not be? You made over three thousand bucks for my dad and me,” the girl smiled. “My head feels fine after that roll.”

  “It looked like you were racking up the chips. I’m glad I could help,” Curt grinned at her.

  “You’re my dad’s hero,” the girl smiled. “He’s been waiting quite a while for a roll like that.”

  Curt was beaming and was dying to introduce himself. “I’m Curt. What’s your name anyway?”

  The good-looking girl extended her hand. “I’m Tina. Tina Ventimiglia.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Second Day on the Job . . . Early June 2007

  The boys whined a bit in Tina’s SUV on the way to the golf course. It became clear quickly that she didn’t have any sympathy for them. She wasn’t too fond of rising at five in the morning and getting them to the course by daybreak either.

  “Now you two get used to it,” Tina scolded them. “This is only the second day. It’s going to be a long haul for both of you this summer. Deal with it. You both have some bills to pay.” The SUV pulled into the parking lot and rolled to a stop by the front door.

  Justin grabbed his duffel bag and bolted out the door. “See you tonight, Mom.”

  He wrinkled his nose at Tina in a playful way. Keith moved a little slower and fell a few paces behind. He reluctantly forced a wave in Tina’s direction.

  “Are you guys ready to go this morning,” Curt asked as they strolled through the clubhouse door. He had the morning paper spread out on the counter with Sports Center on ESPN blaring in the background.

  “I’m tired,” Justin moaned.

  “I could use some more sleep,” Keith complained.

  “You’re up,” Curt retaliated. “Make the most of it. Let’s get rolling. We can get a lot of things done before the golfers start showing up.”

  “What are we going to do today?” Keith pried.

  “Follow me,” Curt instructed. “It won’t be anything too difficult.” He went through the clubhouse door and headed for the cart barn. The boys were dragging behind by several yards.

  “I’m cold,” Justin groaned. It would be a couple of hours before the sun would reach its peak.

  “It can be a little chilly in the morning. Start bringing a sweatshirt with you,” Curt countered. He made a straight path to the utility vehicle after sliding open the barn door. “I’m going to warm this thing up a little. You two guys start running carts up front.”

  “Just like yesterday?” Justin asked.

  “Just like yesterday,” Curt repeated. “That’s what we’re going to start off each day doing. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Keith yelled as he unhooked the cart from the battery charger and jumped into the driver’s seat.

  Curt fired up the John Deere and then turned to help the boys run carts to the front of the clubhouse. “You guys can go faster than me. I have to slow down and take it easy a little.” His pace was deliberate so that he could breathe easier. I’m acting and sounding like an old man, he reflected. I just turned fifty.

  “Are you going to make us run today, Curt?” Justin asked.

  “I sure am. We’ll do that when we get out on the course.” He pulled the utility vehicle up to the area where the carts were being parked and motioned to the boys. “Hop in. That’s good enough for now. You guys have about twelve of them up here it looks like.”

  “Will that be enough?” Justin asked.

  “For now it will be. The sun is just coming up,” Curt assured them. “J Dub will be here any minute. He can get the rest of them when he gets in.” Justin hopped into the seat beside Curt and Keith hopped into the back. Curt headed to the maintenance shed.

  “Hey, I wonder if Puddles is up yet,” Justin said as Curt parked by the maintenance shed and unlocked the door.

  “Knowing those cats, they might be going to bed about now,” Curt chuckled.

  Within seconds of opening the door Puddles was rubbing against Justin’s leg. “Look at this cute little kitty,” Justin said as he picked the kitten up and held it in his arms.

  “Get all of them some food,” Curt shouted. “The bag of food is over in the corner. Then fill their bowl with water.” Justin and Keith followed Curt’s orders.

  Curt went to the back of the maintenance shed and shoveled some sand into a bucket. After doing so he placed the bucket into the bed of the mini-truck and walked into the maintenance shed. He looked around and scratched his head. “What are you looking for?” Keith asked.

  “The hole-cutter,” Curt replied. “It is t-shaped with wooden handles. And there’s a golf cup at the bottom of it.”

  “Is that it?” Justin asked as he pointed to an object propped up against the wall.

  “Good eyes! That’s it,” Curt responded as he headed over to the wall to fetch it. He handed the tool to Keith and said, “Throw it in the back.” Curt grabbed three pins, each with a different colored flag and loaded them into the back. “Let’s go guys.”

  “Wait a minute,” Justin mumbled. He was folding a small blanket for the cats.

  “The heck with those cats,” Curt ranted. “They’ll be fine if you leave them alone. Grab a towel though. We need to take one with us.”

  Justin could see that Curt wanted to get moving so he grabbed a towel and scurried to the utility vehicle. “What job do you have for us this morning?”

  “Actually we’re going to do two jobs at the same time,” Curt started, and then backpedaled a little. “Well sort of at the same time.”

  “Are they going to get us hot and sweaty?” Keith muttered.

  “We’ll save that for the run,” Curt laughed. “What I’m going to have you boys do is move the tee markers so that we don’t wear the grass out on
the tees. As we get down to the green, then I’m going to teach you how to cut a hole in the green and we’ll change the location of the pin.”

  Keith grumbled. “ . . . On all eighteen holes?”

  Curt nodded his head up and down. “We’ll be out here all day,” Justin whined.

  “It won’t be all day, but we’ll be out here for a little while this morning,” Curt replied patiently. “What else are we going to do?”

  “Play golf,” Justin countered. He liked the way the afternoon ended up on the first day of work and he wanted to return to the range.

  “That can come after our chores are finished.” Curt pulled up to a tee box. “Keith, you grab the marker on the right. Justin, you get the one on the left.” The boys jumped out of the vehicle and scampered to the tee box.

  “Now what?” Keith asked as he held a blue marker in his hand.

  “Both of you walk up five steps and put the markers down. It doesn’t get any easier than that. Do the same with the white markers and the red markers,” Curt instructed. The boys did as they were told and hurried back to the cart. Curt pointed the utility vehicle down the cart path toward the green. “Now when we get to the next tee box I want you to look for where the grass looks the healthiest and move the markers to that spot.”

  “That’s not so bad,” Keith admitted.

  “Of course not,” Curt agreed. “It’s simple, but that is going to be one of your jobs this summer.”

  “I think we can manage that,” Justin declared.

  “Just be careful when you come out here in the morning,” Curt continued. “There is dew on the grass and it is slippery. If you’re cutting grass or in a cart or chasing cats . . .” he stopped and grinned at Justin. “Err on the side of caution. That’s my lesson for you two this morning.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Justin replied good-naturedly.

  Curt pulled up next to a green. “Now this job is a little trickier,” he began. “One of you, grab the bucket of sand and the other one get the hole-cutter.” The boys obeyed. Curt grabbed the towel and headed for the green. “First off we want to rotate the holes. We have a red, white, and blue system out here at Prairie Winds. The red flag means the hole is in the front of the green, the white flag means it is in the center of the green, and the blue flag means the hole is in the back of the green.”