by James Ross
“Can you believe that?” Pork Chop said as he went ballistic. “I’ve got six hundred bet to cover every combination and I get back nineteen dollars and ninety cents! The fix is on!” He looked over at Paco. “Come on, the next race is the jockey’s race. We’re going over by the barn and talk to Alley Cat.” He grabbed Paco and headed toward the paddock area.
The horses were led out of the barn and mounted. Alvarez Catamaran, nicknamed Alley Cat for his midnight romps around town, was the number one jockey at the park. He walked into the paddock and stood only a few feet away.
“What do you want me to do?” Paco asked.
“Speak to him in your language and ask him what horse is going to win the jockey’s race,” Pork Chop encouraged.
Paco looked at Pork Chop like he was crazy then turned to Alley Cat. “Buenos dias, Senor Catamaran.” Alley Cat turned in Paco’s direction. Paco continued. “Que hora es?”
The jockey replied, “Tres.”
Pork Chop looked at his fingers and put one down and said, “Uno.” He put a second down and said, “Dos.” He put a third down and said, “Tres.” In a flash he turned and was off. He was pushing people out of the way as he moved past the guys at the finish line.
“Hey! Where are you headed so fast?” Fred called after him.
Pork Chop glanced over his shoulder. “I got a hot tip! It’s the jockey’s race.” He banged into patrons as he made his way through the crowd. “I’m doubling up to catch up!”
The guys assembled by the finish line. Pork Chop joined them and stood with confidence. He was absolutely sure that he had the winner picked for the jockey’s race. While the horses made their way into the starting gate Fred turned to his golfing buddy. “Do you have this race figured out?”
“We’re getting it all back right here. The race is fixed,” Pork Chop replied casually.
“ . . . And they’re off!” the voice blared through the public address system.
“How much do you have on it?” Fred whispered.
“ . . . Five thousand.”
“What?” Fred said in amazement. “Which horse?”
“The three-horse,” Pork Chop coolly responded. “I’m not worried. I’ve got a winner.”
“ . . . And down the stretch they come!” the announcer blasted over the speakers.
Pork Chop couldn’t see through all the people. The horses charged to the finish line. As they ran past the tape he turned to Fred, “How did we do?”
Fred looked him in the eye and then shifted his eyes to the ground. “You don’t want to know.”
Pork Chop jerked his head toward Fred. “We didn’t win?”
“ . . . Nope. The number three was next to last.”
“Paco!” Pork Chop shouted. “What the hell did you say to Alley Cat?”
“I said ‘Good afternoon Mister Catamaran’ and then I asked him for the time. He said that it was three.”
Pork Chop looked at Paco incredulously. He started to boil; his face and neck were taking on dangerous shades of red and purple the guys hadn’t witnessed before. “You dumb son of a . . .” He looked at Paco and then his eyes shifted to the rest of them. As he slowly shook his head back and forth in disbelief his mouth just dropped open and he spun around. In an instant he made a beeline for the valet.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Curt saw Pork Chop bolt from the group. He turned to Fred and asked him what happened. “He put five thousand on the three-horse and lost.”
Oh my goodness! “Justin! BowTye! Come on! It’s time to go!” He got both of them and scurried for the door.
“Where are we going?” Justin asked.
“I’ve got to find Pork Chop!” Curt yelled. “Hurry up!”
Curt shoved spectators out of the way as he pushed his way through the crowd. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure that Justin and BowTye were following. As they reached the valet he quickly threw his claim ticket down and some money to cover the fee. Pork Chop was the next in line to get his car. He scurried over as soon as the valet service said it was ready.
“ . . . Pork Chop!” Curt yelled. “Wait!” His golfing buddy gave him a fleeting glimpse, swiftly got in the car and sped off. Curt pressed on his head and impatiently tapped his foot. He rubbed his hands from top to bottom over his face searching for answers on how to handle the imminent. The stress was almost more than he could bear. Come on! Hurry up! His car came up next.
“Where are we going?” Justin asked again.
“We have to follow Pork Chop! Maybe he’ll get caught in traffic and I can catch up to him.” Curt’s car had arrived just seconds after Pork Chop squealed away. Justin and BowTye rushed to get in. “Hang on!” Curt screamed as he sped after Pork Chop.
“There he is!” Justin yelled. Pork Chop was hung up at a red stoplight and Curt was only five vehicles behind him.
“Okay! Good. He’s headed for the interstate,” Curt figured. He pressed on his temples once again. “Aaahhh! My head is killing me!”
“Are you going to be okay?” Justin asked, worried about Curt.
“I’ll suck it up,” Curt said as he put on a brave front. “We need to catch up to Pork Chop.” They kept him in their sites and made their way onto the interstate.
“How fast is he going?” Justin asked, leaning over to look at the speedometer. Before Curt could answer, Justin shrieked, “Wow! You’re going ninety!”
“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t be going this fast with the two of you in here.” In the rearview mirror, Curt saw that BowTye’s eyes were the size of silver dollars and he hadn’t uttered a sound. “Just make sure that you’re strapped in.”
The mile markers whizzed by. The stripes on the interstate were a blur. Curt did everything that he could to weave in and out of cars as he tracked after Pork Chop. As thoughts raced through his mind he reached into his pocket on a whim and handed Justin his cell phone. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Call your mom and tell her that I’ll bring you home tonight,” Curt said, “but only tell her that we’re caught in traffic after leaving the track. I don’t want her to worry about you.”
“You’re not worried, are you?” Justin asked.
Curt looked at him and grinned. Then he glanced back at BowTye and smiled. “No. Not really. But there’s never a dull moment around all of these guys.”
The traffic slowed down as they approached the bridge that spanned the Mississippi River taking travelers from the Illinois side of the river into Missouri. “Here’s where we catch up to him,” Justin noted. “He’s only a few cars ahead of us.”
Curt made a quick maneuver here and a slick lane change there. “Now we’ve got him in our radar,” Curt joked. “He’s right in front of us. I can almost throw a lasso around him.”
As they inched over the bridge, to everyone’s surprise, the cars came to a dead stop. Unpredictably, Pork Chop got out of the car. “What’s he doing now?” Justin cried out. Pork Chop walked between the rows of cars to the side of the bridge.
“Oh, my Lord!” Curt yelled as he threw the car into park. He jumped out and raced toward Pork Chop who now had one leg up on the side of the bridge. “ . . . Pork Chop! . . . Stop!” Pork Chop paused momentarily and looked around to the familiar voice. Distraught enveloped his face and he leveled an incoherent gaze at Curt.
“I can’t take any more!” he screamed at Curt. Pork Chop looked down at the water. It was at least a hundred and twenty feet below.
Curt was inching his way toward his golfing buddy. “Listen to me. There are things that we can do,” he said calmly, taking another subtle step. “We can get help for you.” He crept closer. “There’s the toll free number, you know . . . 0-LEFT-4-U.” Delicately, Curt moved to within a few feet. “There are easier ways around this.”
With cars stacked on top of each other in a bumper to bumper stall Pork Chop’s cell phone rang. He took his eyes off Curt as he instinctively reached for it. In that instant Curt lunged for him and pulled him away fr
om the railing. Justin sprang out of Curt’s vehicle. He ran over to Curt. “It worked! I was going to ask him what he wanted for breakfast tomorrow morning!”
Curt pulled his friend to the ground and held him until other motorists ran to assist. Then he broke down and sobbed as the standoff came to an end.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Several Days Later . . .
“Are you ready to go golfing on your last day of work?” Curt asked Justin as he came through the door at daybreak.
“I can’t wait!” Justin cried out. “Are you going to make me run today?”
Curt looked at his little buddy. “Why would today be any different than any other day?” Curt studied Justin’s reaction. “Don’t you want to go jogging?”
Justin wrinkled his nose and shook his head from side to side. “It’s my last day at work. I think that I need a vacation from that.”
“After today you’re going to have a long vacation from it,” Curt reminded him.
“Yeah, but,” Justin paused and then changed his mind. “I’d rather just go play golf.”
“You don’t want to go down to the finish line and see it for the last time this summer?” Curt said persuasively. “It’s the prettiest spot on the golf course . . . especially at this time of day.”
“We can drive down to it if you want,” Justin suggested, “but please don’t make me run.”
Curt put his hand on his chin and thought for a second or two. “I suppose we can visit that spot during our round.”
“Great! I’m ready to play!”
Curt grinned. “Put our clubs on the cart. Let me get a hot chocolate to go.”
Justin was out the door before Curt could turn around. Curt fixed his beverage and went to the corner to lace up his spikes. He sat for a second and admired the wonderful shine that BowTye put on his shoes. It was kind of sad that the summer had to come to an end. It just wasn’t going to be the same around there anymore.
The two of them pulled up to the first tee and Curt lectured briefly. “Show us the way. Lead us off the first tee.”
Justin did some minimal stretching. He got three clubs and took a few practice swings. Then he went to the cart and grabbed his driver. He teed the ball up, got behind it, and determined where he wanted to hit it. Then he approached the ball, assumed the proper stance and drew the club back. As he brought the club down he swung and missed. Astounded, he turned to Curt and asked, “What did I do wrong?”
“You tried to kill it. Relax. It’s only the two of us.”
“Do I get another?”
Curt nodded his head. “I know you can do better.”
Once again Justin went through his pre-shot routine and swung at the ball. It dribbled off the tee. Frustrated he asked, “Now what did I do wrong?”
“You looked up.” Curt paused. “It’s not easy. Take a mulligan.”
The routine started once again. “Okay . . . Third time is a charm.” With that Justin pulled the club back and nailed a drive down the middle.
“Nice shot!” Curt congratulated his playing partner. “It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?”
“I’ll settle down and play just fine,” Justin commented, letting his competitive spirit come out.
They played the first four holes and Justin struggled a little, but that was to be expected since this was the first round of golf that he had ever played. The fifth hole at Prairie Winds was a par three. “Here’s your chance to make the first par of your life,” Curt prodded Justin.
“How far is it?” Justin asked.
“It looks like it’s about as far as you hit your six-iron,” Curt coached him. “Knock it on the green and take two putts. Let’s see you make a three.”
Justin took a practice swing. Curt had instructed him not to stand too long over the ball. It was always better to commit to what you were going to do and then get up there and hit it. He uncoiled with his left-handed swing and smacked the ball right into the center of the green. “I made it! I made it!”
“Just another green in regulation,” Curt said with a grin. “Now bear down and make a good putt right here.” Curt encouraged him as they pulled up to the green. They walked onto the green and Curt took the flag out of the hole. Justin was only about twenty feet away from the cup. “You’re close enough to where you can see the hole, aren’t you?” Justin nodded his head. He crouched down to study the line. “Make a good stroke here.” The putter came back and Justin knocked the ball three feet past the hole. Curt winced. “Take your time and bear down. These are the putts that separate the good players from the average players.” Justin stood over the ball, took the putter back, kept his head down and knocked the ball into the back of the cup. “Hey! Your first par!” Curt yelled as Justin retrieved the ball. They gave each other a high-five as they walked off the green.
“I’ll never forget that!” Justin exclaimed. “My first par! That’s exciting!”
“ . . . And the more you play the more addicting it gets,” Curt added as he drove the cart to the sixth tee. “Say, I’ve wanted to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“How did you know to call Pork Chop that day on the bridge?” Curt asked.
“I saw it in a movie,” Justin answered. “My mom took me to a movie earlier this summer where the phone went off and diverted the guy’s attention just long enough for the other guys to grab him.”
“I’m glad you were paying attention,” Curt congratulated him. “That was a pretty slick move.”
The two of them kept plugging along on the first half of the course. Justin shot a fifty-eight on the front nine which wasn’t too bad since he had never played before. The lessons on the range had helped him with his swing. He found that pars were hard to come by and realized that he still had a ways to go before he was to be a real good player.
The twosome played a few more holes on the back nine and came to the lake where the finish line was located. “You don’t mind if I pull over here by the cypress trees and enjoy the scenery for a few minutes, do you?” Curt asked.
“ . . . Not at all. There’s nobody out here. It’s like we have the whole course to ourselves,” Justin replied. “You’re feeling okay, aren’t you?”
“For the most part,” Curt said. “The chemo treatments haven’t been as bad as I thought they’d be. I’ve got mouth sores this time around. Normally I’m tired and nauseous.”
Justin let Curt’s words soak in. He was genuinely scared for his friend. “I don’t want you to leave me, Curt.” His eyes became moist. “This has been the most fun summer I’ve ever had in my life.” He wiped his nose. “I’m so glad that you let us come out here and work.”
Curt put his arm around his little buddy. “I was thinking the very same thing as we were getting ready to come out here. I’m really going to miss having you guys around.” He stared out over the lake and reflected. “Even though it was my worst summer with the cancer and everything, it was my best summer because of you guys. I think that you and Keith might have shown me as much about life as I got to show you.”
Justin thought for a moment about what Curt had said. “My summer kind of started out the same way. When I was in jail I thought it was going to be my worst summer and it turned out to be my best summer. I learned a lot about different things and different people. This is a summer that I’ll never forget.” He reached over and gave Curt a big hug. “Just don’t go and leave me yet.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Curt assured him as a giant tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m going to beat this stuff and stick around a while longer. You can take that to the bank.” He squeezed his buddy to his chest. “Come on. The cup on the eighteenth hole is the finish line on your first round of golf. Let’s finish strong.”
Justin hit some decent shots, but also had some trying moments as he finished the back nine. When the last putt dropped into the hole on the eighteenth green he ended up with a fifty-three on the back for a total score of one hundred eleven. “Congratu
lations,” Curt said as he put the flag in the hole and shook Justin’s hand.
“Thanks for helping me and being here for my first round of golf,” Justin said sincerely.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Curt said with a smile. He changed the topic quickly. “You’re mom’s going to be here for the going away party, isn’t she?”
“She’s got all her girlfriends lined up. They can’t wait.”
Later that evening . . .
Curt had arranged for a get-together down by the finish line to culminate the summer activities and signal the start of the fall season. He thought that would be the perfect place to assemble. The shadows from the trees would be lengthy. The sunset over the water would be spectacular. He set up several chairs and a bench for BowTye.
The plan was to do it early in the evening to bother as few golfers as possible. Tina showed up with Keith and five of her girlfriends. Dave had made up some excuse about not being able to attend. Fred, Paul, J Dub, Julie, Paco, Elia, BT, Captain Jer, Dr. DV, and even Pork Chop gathered on the side of the lake. J Dub set up the barbecue pit. He was the chef that toasted the hot dogs and flipped the burgers.
BowTye strummed on the banjo and performed his rock-a-billy music. The girls danced liked teenagers while the guys ate and drank. And everyone tapped their feet to the beat and sang along. BowTye had brought his “A” game. He played all of the long-time favorites.
During one of the breaks Justin took Tina over to talk with BowTye. “Hey Mom, BowTye and I were talking one day.”
“I would think that you had a chance to talk all summer,” Tina replied.
“Yeah, but . . .” Justin paused to say it right. “We were thinking that it might be pretty neat if he could write a song about the finish line.”
“Wouldn’t that just be incredible?” Tina exclaimed. “And you’d be able to tell everybody the rest of your life that you were a part of it.”
“We just might have to do that for Mister Justin,” BowTye beamed as he put his arm around his friend.