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

by James Ross

  “They have a black man working over there?” Tina voiced her disbelief.

  “Yeah, but he was a nice man that rode his bike to work,” Justin explained.

  “A motorcycle?” Tina questioned. “Don’t you ever accept a ride from him.”

  “No, Mom. It was a bicycle . . . like you pedal.”

  “Is he that poor?” Tina asked.

  “He lost everything in the Hurricane Trina,” Keith tried to clarify.

  “You mean Katrina,” Tina corrected.

  “Yeah, so J Dub and Curt are helping him out,” Justin said.

  “Curt never said anything to me about that,” Tina replied.

  “And after that we went golfing with all of the guys,” Justin said, “so Keith and I could learn the proper etiquette.”

  “And behave,” Keith followed.

  “Mom, I love Curt so much,” Justin said as Tina pulled the SUV into their driveway. “We even got to see him make a birdie today.” He looked over at his mom. “Thanks for getting us this job. It’s the neatest job in the whole world.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Several Years Earlier . . . Summer of 1995

  It took Curt a few weeks after the casino cruise but he finally gathered the nerve to call Tina Ventimiglia. In his talks on the phone with her he found out that she had two small children. In the past he hadn’t dated too many women that had younger kids. Most of the women he dated had children that were teenagers or high school students. Tina was different in that regard. One of her children hadn’t reached his fifth birthday and the other one was eighteen months and still in diapers. On top of that Tina had suggested that they meet at a local shopping mall, specifically in front of a Toddler Waddler store.

  As he pulled into the parking lot Curt noticed two women scuffling out of the corner of his eye. Upon closer inspection he saw that one of the women was Tina and she was holding her youngest son in her arms. The other son appeared to be sitting in the car seat on the passenger side and was crying. After pulling into an empty parking spot he opened the door to hear the two women shouting at each other. In a few short seconds he was introduced into the world of Tina Ventimiglia.

  “I can’t believe you let that cart roll into my car!” Tina yelled. She was examining the ding in her fender and the area where the paint had chipped off.

  The other young woman, screamed back. “It wasn’t on purpose, bitch!”

  “Who do you think you’re calling a bitch?” Tina’s Italian temper shifted into high gear. She placed the toddler in the front seat and rolled up her sleeves.

  “You’re the only bitch around here,” the young woman shrieked back. “I told you it was an accident.”

  “Then are you going to pay me for the damage?” Tina screeched.

  “Hell, no!” the young woman yelled. “Crap like that happens in parking lots.”

  “Give me your insurance information,” Tina demanded.

  “I don’t have any,” the young woman shouted as she stepped closer to Tina, encouraging a confrontation.

  Both boys were bawling loudly in the front seat as their mother challenged the younger lady. “Then give me some cash,” Tina demanded. “I have to get it fixed.”

  “Screw you,” the younger gal yelled as she advanced toward Tina. With a lightning move she shoved Tina backwards into the car.

  “Girls, cut it out!” Curt insisted as he stepped between the two. He turned to the younger one. “Get in your car and get out of here.”

  “I want some money!” Tina screamed at Curt.

  “There are ways to go about it and there are ways not to go about it. Fighting in a parking lot with two little kids in the car is not the way to do it,” Curt ordered her in a raised voice.

  Tina was stunned. She hadn’t had a guy talk to her like that in quite a while. The other gal started her car and drove off. “Who’s going to fix my car?” Tina asked Curt.

  “Forget about it. It’s not that big of a deal to get in a fight over,” Curt said as he inspected the damage. “We can touch that up with a little paint. Let’s get your shopping done.” He reached down to pick up the youngest boy. The child in diapers gave Curt a big smile and reached toward him. The moment Curt pulled him up, the child put his arms around Curt’s shoulders and laid his head on his chest. This poor little guy wants a dad so bad. “What are their names?”

  “Eric is in the passenger seat. You’re holding Justin.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  First Weekend on the Job . . . June 2007

  The golf business is similar to many other types of businesses. When it is time to make money the work needs to get done. In golf, that means Saturday and Sunday are the days that count extra special. Prairie Winds was no different than many of the clubs in the St. Louis Metro area. Since those were the two days that most golfers play, it was next to impossible to get a tee time.

  Curt let Justin and Keith have Friday off and only required them to get there early on Saturday to run carts from the cart barn to the spot outside the clubhouse door. After that he let them hit a few balls on the range and arranged for Tina to pick them up during the mid-morning hours. Even though the weekends were busy and much help was needed, Curt didn’t want to throw too much at them during their first week on the job. Plus he wasn’t going to be available to give them much supervision. The course was packed and he and J Dub had enough to do to make sure that things ran smoothly.

  Sunday was a different story however. Curt knew that most of the guys would be on site early and he wanted the two boys there at dawn. “Go to the cart barn and get the carts pulled out,” he instructed them. “We need to stay on top of things before the crowd rolls in.”

  “Do we have to run today?” Keith grumbled. The early hours were causing enough consternation on his part.

  “No, not today,” Curt answered. “We’ll take a break from that and let your body bounce back a little. Get all of the carts pulled out here and then we’ll have breakfast. After that you two can go out with me and play golf with the guys. There should be a good-sized group this morning.”

  “Do we get to play today?” Justin asked eagerly.

  “No. Not yet. You’re not ready. We need to spend more time on the range and you need to watch all of us play so that you can learn the game,” Curt clarified. Justin’s head dropped in disappointment. “Your time will come. Besides you’re here to work anyway.” He glanced at the wet parking lot. “Now be careful with those carts this morning. We had a lot of rain last night and the pavement is slick.” An old-fashioned Midwestern gully-washer had dumped about an inch and a half of rain on the property during the night.

  Justin and Keith returned to the task at hand. After doing the same thing all week they knew the routine. The only difference was that all of the carts and not just a few had to come out of the barn on the weekend days. Now I know why Curt isn’t making us run today, Justin figured. We’re getting our exercise running back to the cart barn for the next cart. He smiled to himself as Curt returned to the pro shop and helped J Dub open up.

  One by one the gang started rolling into the parking lot. Fred was the first one to show up. His late-shift hours must have caused nocturnal insomnia. Pork Chop, fearful that Fred might get a leg up on the doughnut box, wasn’t too far behind. BT, Rollie, Elia, and Paco showed up in due time. Paul had phoned and said that he would be there and to look out for two friends of his that he had invited in case they showed up before he got there. BowTye pedaled his bicycle across the lot and chained it to a porch post.

  Justin and Keith finished the job that they had been assigned and sauntered into the clubhouse. They bellied up to the counter and chatted with J Dub while Fred and Pork Chop downed the pastries at the back table. Pork Chop read off the names as Fred wrote them down on a piece of paper and threw them into a hat that Paco had been wearing. “This is kind of stupid today,” Fred surmised.

  “Why is that?” Pork Chop asked.

  “It looks like we’re going to have
ten guys so we’ll play two fivesomes,” Fred realized. “We have to put Paul with his two friends. You don’t know their names, do you?”

  Pork Chop shook his head back and forth. “Beats me, but it doesn’t matter if they’re going to be playing with him.”

  “We only need to pull two names out of the hat to figure out who is with them,” Fred concluded. “Elia, why don’t you pull out two names to see who is going out with Paul and his buddies?”

  Elia reached into the hat and pulled out a slip of paper. He opened it and said, “Fred.” He reached in again and said, “Curt.”

  “Okay, Curt and I will go out with Paul and his friends,” Fred concurred. “It will be BT, Rollie, Elia, Paco, and Pork Chop in the other group. You guys can tee off first since we don’t know how Paul’s buddies can play. Plus they don’t know the course.”

  “Skins and greenies?” Pork Chop asked.

  Fred nodded. “Play whatever other game you want to in your own group.” He took a generous bite out of a doughnut and wiped the sugar off of his face with the back of his left arm. Then he took his right hand and flicked the crumbs off of his arm and onto the floor.

  BT gazed at Fred and asked, “What kind of heathen are you?” The comment garnered no response from Fred as Paul stole the platform by entering with his two friends.

  “J Dub, I’d like for you to meet Dr. Everett Rhymes and Captain Jerry Stafford,” Paul started after walking up to the register.

  J Dub looked over his reading glasses and smiled. He extended his hand. “Welcome to Prairie Winds.”

  “J Dub is the head pro and owner,” Paul explained to the newcomers.

  “Nice to meet you,” Dr. Rhymes said cordially.

  “Likewise,” Captain Stafford followed.

  “Introduce them to us too,” Fred yelled from the back table.

  One by one Paul rattled off the names of all of the guys in the group. “And one of our newest additions to Prairie Winds is BowTye. He’s all the way from New Orleans, Louisiana.” BowTye’s smile once again lit up the clubhouse.

  Dr. Rhymes and Captain Stafford politely waved to the group.

  “What are you a doctor of?” Fred remarked as he wasted no time getting the conversation started.

  Dr. Rhymes downplayed his title. “I’m just a vet. I don’t take care of people, just animals.”

  “Oh, you’re a vet doctor,” Fred surmised, “a VD . . . a Doctor of VD.”

  Dr. Rhymes smiled at Fred. “No. I don’t believe that’s how it works.” He shook his head back and forth.

  “Fred! He’s a doctor of veterinary medicine,” Pork Chop followed. “A DVM.”

  Dr. Rhymes grinned. He could tell that if he wanted to get along with the guys in this group he had better learn how to dish it out . . . and quick.

  “Doctor DV then,” Fred quipped. “What do you normally go by?”

  “Everett,” the doctor replied.

  “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Pork Chop butted in. “Not anymore. You don’t look like an Everett. From now on you’re Dr. DV.”

  “Hey, I can live with that,” Fred cajoled. The rest of the guys chuckled as the nickname was born.

  Dr. DV turned to Paul and shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? I guess I have to accept it. It’s better than VD.”

  “Be glad that you got one. They wouldn’t have given you one if they didn’t want you to come back around,” Paul stated with a smile.

  Dr. Everett Rhymes had come to the Gateway City several decades earlier on the advice of a college professor that had been a huge Cardinal baseball fan and knew of another vet that had relocated there. At six foot five he towered above most people and most certainly was the tallest in the group at Prairie Winds. His hair was turning gray and thinning on the top. His square jaw and chiseled good looks were a testament of his upbringing. He was from a small town in northern Colorado near the Wyoming border, and was an outdoorsman at heart.

  His specialty early in his career was large animals like horses and cattle as well as an occasional wild animal like buffalo and elk. Dr. DV was also trained to care for hawks, owls, and eagles. After moving to suburbia his forte became domestic animals like cats and dogs. One look in his eyes would reveal the gentleness that only a person responsible for helping other living creatures could possess. His soothing voice could reassure grieving owners that the fateful needle was in the best interest of their pet. Dr. DV’s stature and demeanor suggested that he was a gentleman in every sense of the word.

  The guys wanted a newcomer to show up frequently. Especially if he could play the game, bet, and take some good-natured ribbing.

  Fred turned to the other visitor. “So what are you a captain of? . . . A ship or train or tugboat or something like that?”

  “I’m a pilot,” Jerry responded.

  “Corporate jets or commercial airliners?” Pork Chop inquired.

  “Commercial jets. Cross-country and international,” Jerry replied. “But I’m retired now.”

  “Captain Jer,” Fred called out. “We’ve never had a pilot come out and play with us before.”

  “That’s a good one too,” Pork Chop bellowed. He turned to Fred, “You’re quick with the one-liners this morning. Captain Jer it is.”

  Jerry rolled his eyes as he turned to Paul and Dr. DV. Laughing at the absurdity of a new nickname he admitted, “That beats some of the other things I’ve been called.”

  Captain Jerry Stafford had served in the Coast Guard after graduating from college. He originally hailed from Tucson, Arizona but joined the service right after school. In his early days he tracked drug runners that were flying to the states from South America and crossing the Gulf of Mexico in private jets. The reconnaissance flights provided invaluable information to the DEA and would often uncover private airstrips in the rural South as well as serial numbers on the planes that were running drugs for the traffickers.

  He stood an inch or so under six feet and possessed a bronze tan that highlighted his silver, well-groomed hair. His worldwide travels provided him with the opportunity to act on countless sexual conquests around the globe. His current wife was his third. She was an ex-flight attendant twelve years his junior and she shared his appetite for sexual liaisons.

  “Doctor DV, you and Captain Jer and me and Paul and Curt are all in a group together,” Fred instructed. “We’ll get the kids to load the carts.” The gang migrated to the front door. Justin, Keith, and BowTye jumped up to assist the golfers.

  J Dub was busy serving food over the counter and working the register. He was very conscious of not letting the prisoners run the prison. “Look, I don’t care if you play fivesomes. But remember that it’s Sunday morning and we’re crowded today. Keep a move on it and let the faster groups play through.” He turned to attend to a golfer that wanted to pay. “One other thing . . . due to last night’s rain the course is soaked. It is cart paths only today.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The sun hadn’t risen high enough in the sky to fully heat the day. The cold front that had moved through the area the previous night had only provided a brief reprieve from the heat that was expected at this time of the year in St. Louis. The gang knew that by late morning the humidity would be on the rise and the heat would be rising off of the ground like a radiator letting off steam.

  “Keith, you and Justin get everybody loaded. We’ll do like we did the other day. Justin can ride with me, but you jump on with Fred,” Curt ordered the boys. “There are a lot of new faces for you two today. If you don’t know someone, then stick out your hand and introduce yourself.” The boys started grabbing bags and heading for carts.

  “I’m sure that you don’t remember me,” Elia said in broken English as Justin loaded his bag onto a cart. His heavy Middle Eastern accent was hard for Justin to understand.

  Justin looked at him and shook his head. “I’m Justin.” He extended his hand to introduce himself.

  “ . . . Summer job for you?”

  “Ye
ah, Curt’s helping us out,” Justin answered.

  “You were about this high when we first met,” Elia remarked as he lowered his hand to knee level. “I gave you your first haircut.” Justin looked at him with a dazed and confused stare. “You were still in diapers when Curt brought you over to the barber shop.”

  “It’s good to see you again,” Justin admitted with a smile. “I’ll try to do a better job of remembering you this time.”

  “If you’re going to be here all summer, then we’ll have a lot of time together. It seems like I’m over here three to four days a week,” Elia said. “Grab BT’s bag too. He’s riding with me today.” Justin placed the bags on the cart and Elia took off for the first tee.

  “Do you have everyone loaded?” Curt yelled over to Justin.

  “It looks like it,” Justin answered. “We can go on over to the first tee as soon as you’re ready.” He jumped into the passenger side of the cart and waited for Curt.

  The drive to the first tee was appealing this time of the year. Flowers were in full bloom. The assorted grasses gave the appearance of a links style golf course. Radiant colors shined brightly on the various bushes, and even the blend of fragrances provided a soothing aroma.

  The first tee was the natural gathering spot as the golfers congregated there after leaving the pro shop. It was the toughest spot on the golf course to get grass to grow because of the extra foot traffic. Many would take their practice swings on the back of the tee box and unearth unsightly divots. For the faint of heart it was also the most difficult place to take a swing because of the built-in audience.

  The initial fivesome hit their shots and moved out to the first fairway. Fred organized Paul, Dr. DV, Captain Jer, and Curt and got the games all set up. It was important for Dr. DV and Captain Jer to learn what kinds of games were played, the stakes, and how the rules were laid down. After that was established, the next order of business was to put the tee in the ground and begin the round.

  Curt had a heckuva time bending over to put his ball on the tee so that he could hit his drive. After rising up he felt lightheaded, out of breath, and it seemed like all of the color left his face. He had to take a few deep relaxed breaths to keep from falling over.