by James Ross
“You need to get him away from Blue and that bar.”
“I’ve got something up my sleeve,” J Dub said. He walked around the clubhouse picking up magazines, throwing away old newspapers and tidying up the chairs.
Julie put her hands on hips and watched him. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Wait until some of the others get in here and you’ll see,” J Dub said. “I’m going to go out there and talk to him.” The pro walked out of the clubhouse and stood on the edge of the green. He watched as Opur made putt after putt from about eight feet with the awkward looking setup.
“What am I going to do?” Opur asked as he went to the cup and retrieved the balls from the hole.
“About what?” J Dub asked. “Your putting looks fine.”
“My car,” the teen answered. “I can’t believe that happened. It was such a fun night being on stage and playing in that band.”
“I didn’t think you could play an instrument,” J Dub said.
“I can’t,” Opur said. “We faked the whole thing. Daddy Mac is good. He told me to get up there and have some fun. Just act pretty.” The teen placed the putter on the ground and leaned on it, then shifted his attention to the parking lot. “Look at that.” He motioned his head in the direction of his car. “Now what am I going to do?”
One by one the guys had been filing into the clubhouse. “Meet me up in the office,” J Dub said. “I’ve got a little project that might solve that problem.” The pro returned to the pro shop.
“That was quick,” Julie said as J Dub re-entered the building. He glanced in her direction and continued to the back booth where Fred, Paul and Curt had gathered. In a soft tone he spoke to the trio, turned and walked behind the counter and back into the office.
In due time, each guy got up from the booth, marched past Julie and joined J Dub in the office. Julie kept her hands on her hips and moved her head from side to side as each guy walked past her. “J Dub, what’s going on?”
“Send Opur in when he gets up here,” the pro yelled. The office door closed.
Almost on cue Opur walked through the front door. He was now over six inches taller than Julie. She remembered that it seemed like only a few days ago when he first walked through the clubhouse door with Rayelene. “Are all your body parts okay?”
Opur smiled. “They’re still going in the hole.” He looked around. “Where did J Dub go?”
“He said he wanted to speak to you in the office.”
“I hope I’m not in any more trouble than I’m already in.” He headed for the office and felt somewhat intimidated when he saw the other guys.
“We heard you got in a little mishap the other night,” Curt started.
Opur shrugged and then nodded his head. “I guess that’s what I get for trying to help someone out.”
“No good deed goes unpunished,” Curt said.
“Were you trying to get down her pants?” Fred blurted. He probably hadn’t been with a woman in over a decade; the details would have made his day. The guys laughed.
“She’s older than me.”
“Those are the perfect kind!” Fred continued.
“She was drunk.”
“Oh, man. That makes it even better!” The guys chuckled some more. “Don’t tell me you didn’t take advantage of that!”
“Believe me, it never crossed my mind,” Opur said.
“You’re not like one of those guys that are a little,” Fred started and let his voice trail off as he stuck his right hand out and wiggled it. He raised his eyebrows.
“No!” Opur shot back. “You weren’t there.”
J Dub redirected everyone’s attention to the task at hand. He said to Opur, “Look, we’ve been talking about ways to help you out.” He rolled his chair a few feet from his desk, leaned back, stretched his legs out and put his feet on the desk. After placing his hands behind his head he continued, “Paul and Curt came up with a decent idea a while back.”
Curt shrugged. “We just borrowed something from the guys at the country club.”
“They came up with the idea to sponsor you,” J Dub continued.
“What’s that?”
“We all think that you’ve got the game to take to the next level,” Paul answered. His days in the military had allowed for him to travel the world and he had seen a lot of great players.
“What level?”
“The pro tour someday,” Curt interjected. He turned to his brother. “Don’t you agree, J Dub?”
The pro replied. “There’s no question. I noticed it the first time I worked with him on the range.” He held his arm out from his body and turned to Opur. “You were only about this tall back then.” The guys chuckled.
“It doesn’t take long, does it?” Fred said.
“They grow up in a hurry,” J Dub agreed. He turned back to the teen. “That was then, but now we need to get you to a place where you can practice all year ‘round.” He took his feet down, scooted the chair in closer and folded his hands on the desk. “Here’s the deal. The guys around here and I got a nice collection up to take care of you for a while. If you need more money than what we’ve got then we can go places for that too. But for starters we want to send you down to Florida where you can play every day. Summer is about over up here and the weather is going to get cold. We need to get you down there where it’s warm.”
“I can’t do that,” Opur said.
Fred was the excitable type. “Why not?” He thought the idea was great.
“I’m just now learning to live on my own,” Opur said, “and I only live a few miles away.”
“I’ve got that taken care of,” J Dub replied. “I’ve got a buddy south of Orlando that owns some trailer parks and has a driving range. He’s going to let you stay in one of the trailers and work at the range.”
Opur went into deep thought. The idea struck him like a thunderbolt. It was an opportunity for him to chase his dream. “If I do that, what do I owe you guys?”
“Nothing,” Paul said.
“That’s right,” J Dub followed. “Nothing. If you make it on the tour someday then you can steer some bucks back to us.”
“Who is the guy?” Opur asked.
“Jerry Greene,” J Dub answered. “I call him Greenie.”
“That’s a name suited for golf,” Fred roared.
After a few seconds the room got calm again. Opur mulled his opportunity. “If I say yes how are we going to do it?”
“We’re going to get you a van,” J Dub answered. “You and I will drive it down there.”
“We’re going to pay for the trailer for two years,” Paul said.
“It’s cheap,” Fred added. “It’s no Hilton.”
“You get to go to the range all day and pound balls, you know, keep your game in shape,” Curt butted in. “Greenie said that he can get you in some of the events down there. If you’re good enough, then we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Plus it gives me an opportunity to get you out of Blue’s place,” J Dub said. “That was good for a while, but I hope it taught you what to stay away from.”
Opur looked at the guys. The feeling of warmth being spread around the room was numbing. He hadn’t felt it in a long time. He grimaced as he contemplated the idea. The thought of moving over a thousand miles away scared him. “What will I do without you guys every day?”
“We’ll come and visit,” Curt said, “and you can give us a place to shack.”
“And I can lay on the beach in my thong,” Fred chimed in.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Several years later . . . September 2008
The days and years on the calendar changed. With it all a lot of things stayed the same. Fred still held court in the back booth. That area wouldn’t be the same without a box of doughnuts and a card game. Paul, BT, Curt, Paco and Elia were mainstays.
Several of the guys had gone down to Florida and visited Opur. He staye
d in constant touch with J Dub via phone, e-mail, and an occasional post card from distant places. The young man held his own in the tournament circuit in Florida and had even traveled abroad on occasion.
A few new guys had joined the group at Prairie Winds. Andrew started coming around. Fred introduced him to the guys, and body-wise, he could have been his twin. Thanks to a penny stock that made the big time he had an opportunity to retire from his job in steel sales. Some people called him Andy while others called him Drew. The guys at the golf course compromised and nicknamed him Pork Chop.
Dr. DV was an older veterinarian and his sidekick was a retired pilot the guys nicknamed Captain Jer. Yuuto was a Japanese businessman that had relocated to the states. The guys took to calling him YouWho. Scottie P had sold his used car dealership. His long, golden locks suggested that he was much younger than he actually was.
Even Tyrone Munroe did not go unnoticed. He was a tiny, frail black man who had survived Hurricane Katrina and relocated to St. Louis. Up and down the river and in the music circle he was the legendary Peel It Backe, the king of rockabilly blues. The guys nicknamed him BowTye. Now he did odds and ends around the property and shined shoes for the golfers.
The long and short of it was that there were always plenty of guys around to get a golf game up or play cards or go to the casinos. The gang was best of friends.
“Can I help you?” Julie said as the guy with hair well past his collar walked through the door. She was busy running the register and serving snacks to the guys in the far corner.
“Don’t you remember me?” a deep voice asked.
Julie stopped and did a double take. “Opur? Is that you?” His beautiful smile took her breath away. “Oh my goodness!” Julie dropped everything and ran around the counter. She opened her arms wide and hugged him placing her head on his shoulder.
“Whoa. I know it’s been a while but . . .”
Julie gathered herself, stepped back and studied him further. “Look at you! You’re beautiful!”
Opur stood six foot three. His shoulders had filled out; his biceps were toned and taught. His silky brown hair was parted near the middle and layered over his ears. “I don’t know if that is what I necessarily want to be categorized as.”
Julie took a deep breath. “Now I’m acting like your mother.” She waved her hand in front of her face to cool down and with wide eyes said, “She would be so proud of you!” before embracing him again.
Even though Opur was athletic and physically fit, his face was pretty, almost feminine looking. His perfect smile was genuine, his high cheekbones attractive, his whiskers prominent. And his soul shined through his eyes. Julie noticed that right away. “We’ve still got some work to do on that,” he said.
“Look who’s here!” Julie turned and announced to the guys in the back booth.
All the regulars came up and shook hands and exchanged the latest news. The newbies had only heard stories of the boy wonder and were eager to meet him.
After many minutes Opur said, “I guess it’s time to say hi to the main man.”
“J Dub?” Julie asked.
Opur nodded. “Is he around?”
Julie looked out the window and motioned toward the driving range. “He’s out there giving a lesson.” The pro was teaching a lady the intricacies of the golf swing. “Go on out there. He’d love to see you.”
She watched through the window as Opur strolled past the practice green and walked forty yards to the range. The men shook hands and then embraced.
“Excuse me for a few minutes,” J Dub said to his pupil. “Hit some practice shots while I catch up on a few things.” The young lady smiled as the pro took a bucket of balls, turned it over and rolled them in her direction.
“You’ve got the life, don’t you?” Opur teased.
“Tell me what’s been going on,” J Dub started. “I saw where you won the English Amateur Chalice.”
Opur smiled. “That was four days in England that I’ll never forget. That was a different brand of golf that I’m not used to.”
The comment tickled J Dub. “With your swing you can play anywhere.”
“But that is one of the reasons that I came back here.”
“What in the world does you winning the English Amateur Chalice in England have to do with Prairie Winds on the east side of St. Louis?” J Dub asked.
“You know what comes with it, don’t you?”
“A nice trophy maybe. You didn’t win any money, did you?”
“No,” Opur said, “I’ve still got amateur status.” He paused. “You don’t know?”
J Dub shook his head. “I’ve got no idea. What?”
“It gives me an automatic berth into The Classic,” Opur said with a tinge of excitement.
“You’re kidding me,” J Dub said. “I didn’t know that!” He took a second to comprehend what he just heard. “That’s news to me and I’ve been following golf for years.”
“I didn’t either, but I got the invite. The guys at the tour headquarters want me to turn professional next spring and use that tournament as my debut.”
“Opur, that’s great!” J Dub said as the two hugged again.
“Anyway,” Opur started up again, “that’s what brings me here.” He took a deep breath. “I want to know if you can be on my bag that week.”
J Dub sighed. The invite to caddy overwhelmed him. “I don’t know if I can with my status. We’ll have to check or get an exemption or something.”
“Get it done. I want you to be there with me.”
“Count on it in a heartbeat,” the pro confirmed. “I’ve always wanted to walk on those grounds. That’s the most hallowed spot in the golf world. It’s the second week in May, right?”
“You betcha,” Opur answered.
“I’ve heard so many people talk about how great of a trip that is. They go to the Derby in Louisville, party all week and drive their RVs to Muscle Shoals for The Classic.”
Opur smiled. “But we’re going to get the opportunity to do it differently.”
“I know,” J Dub sighed, “inside the ropes.”
Opur looked over at the woman hitting balls. “That’s the same way I started.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” J Dub said with a grin. “You stay away from that. You’ve got other things that need to occupy your mind.”
“Those things are eight months away,” Opur replied. “A guy’s got to have a little fun along the way.” He flashed his teeth in Hollywood style.
Chapter Fifty-Five
“He didn’t waste any time,” J Dub said to Julie as he gazed out the window toward the driving range. Opur had been back in St. Louis for about three weeks. It was late September and Indian summer had gripped the area. The leaves on the trees were starting to turn, the wind was non-existent and no traces of humidity lingered.
Julie smiled. “I’d rather see him frolicking around with her than sitting on a bar stool at Blue’s.”
“I warned him about getting to know her,” the pro sighed. “He doesn’t need that distraction.”
“Oh, let him be,” Julie said as she defended the budding romance. “Look at them.”
Opur had his arms wrapped around his new love interest. By standing behind her it was easier for him to show her the proper stance, ball position and takeaway. Plus their bodies felt natural that close to one another.
J Dub was dismayed. “It might look good now, but what is she going to think when he shows her that awful looking putting setup he’s got? She’ll really get messed up when he stands on the other side of the ball.”
“Maybe she wants a younger teacher,” Julie cracked. “You’re not the rooster you once were.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Julie stared at the pair. “They look perfect for one another,” her mind wandered. “I think this one will be great for him.”
Morgan Langdon was a friend of Ginny Slater, only about fifteen years younger. Ginny did something high up with the go
vernment and it was believed that Morgan did something in politics. They never talked about their jobs and both were secretive about their means of support. Ginny had started dating Curt and introduced Morgan to the crowd at Prairie Winds.
Standing five foot six with light brown hair in a trendy cut, Morgan could hold her own in business and have any guy that she set her mind on. After graduating from the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa, she worked as an intern in Washington, D.C. From there she made contacts in the government and political circles, but things got vague after that.
Morgan’s Southern accent drove Opur wild and her look reminded him of Rayelene. Once the ice had been broken the pair became constant companions on the driving range. It was refreshing to see their budding relationship and Julie was going to do everything she could to continue it.
“She does sort of look like Rayelene,” J Dub said. He headed for the door. “Maybe it will be a good thing for him. I just don’t want him to lose his focus on what he needs to do. Women have a way of doing that, don’t they?”
Julie laughed. “What’s more important than falling in love?”
“Don’t get me started on that,” J Dub mused. “Getting your career jump-started would rank right up there.”
“And if you don’t have anybody to share it with, what does it mean?” Julie retaliated.
“We’ll talk about it later. I’m out of here.” J Dub closed the door behind him as Julie returned to her roost in the window.
Opur had worked his way over to the putting green. It looked like Morgan took an interest in what he did so he dropped a few balls onto the surface, approached the ball awkwardly and continued with the routine which now was second nature. Like clockwork he drained everything in sight.
He wasn’t the sort to make her wait impatiently so the putting tip ended in short order. The duo worked their way to the clubhouse. The parking lot had pretty much emptied. Julie was wrapping up things on the inside while Paul cleaned up the carts and drove them into the cart barn.
“Hey Julie,” Opur said as he entered the building. “Can Morgan and I get something to drink?”
“You know anything in here is yours. Help yourself.”