by James Ross
“Come on! Come on! Show me something!” The nurse called to Opur.
In a matter of minutes Opur was loaded onto a stretcher, placed into an ambulance and rushed to the hospital. All told only seven minutes had elapsed.
Chapter Ninety-Nine
J Dub, Julie and Morgan were whisked away to the hospital by the tournament officials. They arrived at the hospital emergency room minutes behind the ambulance.
Hospital personnel quickly concluded that Morgan’s assistance was needed. The sudden shock of going from a near victory circle celebration to providing insurance information was too much. The unending process of forms to fill out had started. Each piece of paper was followed by a paraphrase from administrative assistants. Signatures were required.
Then confusion reigned. Morgan was not next of kin. Her name carried no significance. She was overwhelmed, pregnant and riding an emotional roller coaster that was out of control.
“Look, can we worry about that stuff later?” J Dub stepped in. “We need to get him treatment.”
A bewildered look came from the other side of the desk. “I’ll need supervisory approval.” In a calm, reassuring tone the assistant replied, “Treatment has begun. It’s our job to provide medical service.”
“Good. We’ll figure out a way to get it paid for later.”
“But I’ll need a signature that gives us authority to continue treatment and releases us from liability.”
J Dub let out a frustrating sigh. “Then we’re right back where we were.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Morgan began to sob. She feared Opur’s life was in the balance. Frustration and uncertainty enveloped the trio. J Dub draped his arms over the shoulders of the two women.
“Can I help?” a male voice asked. The man that had loaned the umbrella to Morgan stood in the emergency room lobby with the woman in the polka dotted sundress. “I’m Owen Purler,” he said.
In unison the trio gasped, “Opur’s father?”
“Yes, he’s my son.”
“We need consent and release papers signed,” J Dub replied as the two shook hands.
“Sure,” Nada said. He took a step to the desk, stopped and turned to the women. “Meet my wife, Roxie.” The woman in the polka dot dress stepped forward to embrace Julie and Morgan.
Chapter One Hundred
“What are we going to do?” the gray-haired official asked another. The pair stood in the executive office of the clubhouse.
“There’s nothing we can do,” came the reply. “He left the grounds without signing his scorecard.”
“That means he’s disqualified?”
“Yes. What choice do we have?”
“If we disqualify him the outcry from the public will be hostile.”
“We can’t rewrite the rules for the competitors.”
“We need to get Trent Tee to announce that we’ll have a press conference tomorrow.” They looked out the window. Hordes of fans had clustered by the awards tent near the eighteenth green. A dozen officials wearing fedoras waited patiently with hands clasped behind their backs.
Chapter One Hundred One
The next day . . .
“Good afternoon ladies and gentleman,” Trent started. The same gentlemen in matching fedoras and blue plumes from the day before crowded the podium as television cameras broadcast the presentation. “With the sudden turn of events after yesterday’s round, the executive committee at The Classic was left with an agonizing decision.”
Close-up cameras panned the stoic faces. “With the untimely injury Owen Purler, Junior, or Opur as many of you know by now, failed to sign a scorecard.” He paused and looked at Callum who also stood at the awards table. “The rules of golf state that each competitor must present a signed scorecard to validate the performance or the resulting action is disqualification.”
Trent sighed as he searched for the right words. “In this case a scorecard was not signed. Opur has been disqualified.” He placed both his hands on the podium and pushed away so that his arms were straight. “The executive committee had no choice but to award first place in this year’s Classic to Tank Oglethorpe.”
Dressed in pressed and pleated black golf slacks and a powder blue golf shirt Tank walked to the podium and received the congratulatory handshakes. The executive director placed the fedora on his head. What had intended to be a celebratory occasion had turned into an awkward moment for all.
Tank removed the fedora from his head before speaking. “This belongs to Opur. The young man is a fierce competitor and deserves to be the winner of this golf tournament. I will personally see that he gets it.” He paused. “Sometimes the rules of golf don’t seem just.”
The executive director of the tournament held a check that measured six feet in length. It was made out to Tank Oglethorpe in the amount of one million four hundred thousand dollars. “I will see that this check makes its way to Opur’s family,” the champion declared.
Solemn faces exchanged handshakes as Trent returned to the podium.
“And that concludes the news conference.”
Chapter One Hundred Two
Dr. Ronald Whittaker accompanied by two nurses entered Opur’s room as J Dub, Morgan, Julie, Nada and Roxie stood by the bed. Opur was resting comfortably. He looked to be asleep. Wires, tubes and life lines ran from his body to a series of monitors. His head was shaved and bandaged.
“He’s had an aneurysm,” Dr. Whittaker began. “It’s been fairly severe, but we do have several options.”
“Is he going to make it?” Morgan blurted not wanting to drag the news out.
Dr. Whittaker looked grave. “The odds are not good—fourteen out of fifteen don’t.”
Morgan’s fears had been realized. Her eyes were red from constant crying and now she fell into helpless sobs. She laid her head on Julie’s shoulder as Julie placed her arm around her waist.
“What are the other options?” Nada asked.
“Surgery,” Dr. Whittaker said. “There are a number of procedures that we can discuss.” He sighed. “But I want you to realize that the odds for a full recovery are slim. From here Opur may have a stroke. He may have permanent disability.”
The sobs deepened. “It’s my fault!”
“Chances are that it was some sort of hereditary condition,” the doctor said in an attempt to calm the hysteria. He paused looking at them directly. “Another option that the nurses can assist you with is organ donation.”
“No! This can’t be happening!” Morgan sobbed. She and Julie took a step toward the door.
“Hold on,” Nada butted in. He put his hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “What do you mean organ donation? This is all happening too fast.” He paused, bowed his head and stared at the floor. Images of his son walking on the fairways at The Classic one day earlier flashed through his mind. “Are you saying that there is no way that he’ll make it?” He looked up at the doctor. “Is there any hope at all?” Nada persisted.
Doctor Whittaker said, “There’s always hope.” His somber tone turned conciliatory. “Our staff can keep him comfortable for a long time. We never know if or when people who suffer these types of injuries will ever wake up.”
The circumstances were difficult to understand. Life, golfing competition and heaven on earth had been replaced by blipping monitors, plastic tubing and gauze.
Nada gnawed at his lower lip as he stared at Opur. He reached over and touched his forehead. He turned his head toward Roxie. “What was it you said means hope in Russia?”
“Nada,” Roxie replied.
“Then I’m his lifeline,” Nada rationalized. He looked at the solemn faces in the room. “Keep the life support machines running. I walked out on my son once.” His eyes returned to Opur. “He needs me now. I’m not going to walk out on him again.”
Roxie put her arms around her husband. “You’re his hope.”
“And I’ll keep his dream alive.” Nada shook J Dub’s hand.
# # #
WHAT
THEY’RE SAYING ABOUT PABBY’S SCORE
James Ross is fearless in exposing the social inequalities of life.
—Simon Barrett of Blogger News Network
Nothing short of brilliant
—Steve Riggs-Radio Host,
THE LESSON TEE WNRI 1380 AM Providence, RI
The characters exemplify what people in the golf community do by giving back to society and helping others.
—Rory Spears, Co-Host of Golfers on Golf Radio WJJG-AM 1530-Chicago and columnist at Chicago Area Golf and Golfersongolf.com.
Pabby’s Score will keep the reader spellbound.
—Sherry Tabb with LadiesontheTee.com
Two teens with special needs, corruption, dishonest courts and Internet dating. Can things be more diverse in this James Ross novel?
—Dan Panke, GolfinCanada.ca
Ross pulls no punches. Serious, edgy and wince-inducing.
—John Retzer with golfblogger.com
Thumbs up to James Ross! Beautifully written. With intrigue, cover-up and a well-developed cast of characters, you will not put Pabby’s Score down.
—Sallie Felton, Life Coach, International Radio Talk Show Host, Author
A great deal of originality.
—Norm Goldman with bookpleasures.com
Ross takes his storytelling to the edge.
—Danielle Tucker, syndicated talk show host of “The Golf Club” from Hawaii at www.radiogolfclub.com
Anyone who has had to deal with both lawyers and the legal system will enjoy Pabby’s Score. I wish I could spend a day in the 19th hole at Prairie Winds.
—Rory Spears, Co-Host of Golfers on Golf Radio WJJG-AM 1530-Chicago and columnist at Chicago Area Golf and Golfersongolf.com.
OTHER BOOKS BY JAMES ROSS
LIFETIME LOSER (2007)
FINISH LINE (2008)
TUEY’S COURSE (2009)
OPUR’S BLADE (2010)
Pabby’s Score
James Ross
Copyright © 2013 by James Ross.
ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4797-8680-0
eBook 978-1-4797-8681-7
Second Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Rev. date: 07/15/2013
To order additional copies of this book, contact:
Xlibris LLC
1-888-795-4274
www.Xlibris.com
[email protected]
129660
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 81
CHAPTER 82
CHAPTER 83
CHAPTER 84
CHAPTER 85
CHAPTER 86
CHAPTER 87
CHAPTER 88
CHAPTER 89
ABOUT JAMES ROSS
CHAPTER 1
The last person in the office had left. Even the cleaning crew had finished their duties. Well-manicured male hands typed on the keyboard hoping to elicit a response from a new online friend.
barrydebohn: hi—just read ur profile—hot night planned?
kittypurrs4u: do I know you?
barrydebohn: no
kittypurrs4u: give me a second
One minute turned into four.
kittypurrs4u: just read ur profile
barrydebohn: see anything u want?
kittypurrs4u: nice package
barrydebohn: they’re recent
kittypurrs4u: saw the date stamp
barrydebohn: yours?
kittypurrs4u: within the year
barrydebohn: they all say that
kittypurrs4u: wanna see for yourself?
barrydebohn: sure
kittypurrs4u: gonna be in the hot tub room in 20
barrydebohn: for chat?
kittypurrs4u: no silly on cam
barrydebohn: sounds hot
kittypurrs4u: it is
barrydebohn: I don’t have a cam
kittypurrs4u: don’t need one
barrydebohn: chatters don’t mind?
kittypurrs4u: LOL—you can peep
barrydebohn: they don’t care?
kittypurrs4u: LOL—no silly—where u from
barrydebohn: STL
kittypurrs4u: what part
barrydebohn: east side—you?
kittypurrs4u: close
barrydebohn: I can’t wait 20-any pics to share now?
kittypurrs4u: do you?
barrydebohn: sure—want more?
kittypurrs4u: yes
barrydebohn: whoa that popped up in a hurry
kittypurrs4u: your pants?
barrydebohn: no—the screen
kittypurrs4u: teehee-you found it
barrydebohn: its half my screen
kittypurrs4u: find ur pics and drag them to post
barrydebohn: thought u were going to give some 2 me
kittypurrs4u: I will but I want 2 c u first
barrydebohn: hold on I’ve got to find them
kittypurrs4u: gives me time 2 change
barrydebohn: thought u were going to be hot tubbin it
kittypurrs4u: have to put on my suit silly
barrydebohn: no fun to watch u in that
kittypurrs4u: it will come off
barrydebohn: hope so
kittypurrs4u: where r ur pics
barrydebohn: up now?
kittypurrs4u: mmmmmmm hope so
barrydebohn: no my pics
kittypurrs4u: there they r—u look nice very nice!
/>
barrydebohn: ty
kittypurrs4u: any more?
barrydebohn: lots—tit 4 tat
kittypurrs4u: LOL—you’ll c plenty of that
barrydebohn: have u had any hookups?
kittypurrs4u: I can be as busy as I want
barrydebohn: with a body like that I can see how
kittypurrs4u: I’m picky. I like the best. Maybe you? mmmmm
barrydebohn: do you think?
kittypurrs4u: never know
kittypurrs4u: I like older men
kittypurrs4u: only interested in great sex tho
kittypurrs4u: can u travel
barrydebohn: oh yeah
barrydebohn: no problem
barrydebohn: in a minute
kittypurrs4u: mmmmmm
barrydebohn: where do your talents lie
kittypurrs4u: I’m affectionate—ALL over
barrydebohn: now ur talking my language
kittypurrs4u: u like?
barrydebohn: how do u say it? mmmmmmm
kittypurrs4u: what are u good at?
barrydebohn: all of the above
kittypurrs4u: you’ll give me plenty of good lovin?
barrydebohn: of course
kittypurrs4u: good I especially like oral
barrydebohn: sounds like we’ll get along great
kittypurrs4u: gotta go
kittypurrs4u signed out: 9:57 pm
barrydebohn: wait! I have another question
barrydebohn: damn—where did you go?
barrydebohn: you there?
barrydebohn: I’ll be online for a while if you get back
CHAPTER 2
Prairie Winds Golf Course sat atop the river bluffs on the Illinois side of the Mississippi east of St. Louis. J. W. (J Dub) Schroeder and his brother Curt were the owner operators of the public golf facility that had become one of the favorite stops in the metropolitan region. An old two-story farmhouse had been converted to a pro shop and modest clubhouse. The pair could often be seen working the counter as they registered golfers and served drinks along with light snacks to the faithful paying public.
Their right-hand “man” was a gal by the name of Julie. She was about fifteen years younger than the brothers and had come their way out of junior college. Needing a bookkeeping job, she applied for the position and the guys learned to depend on her over the years. For all intents and purposes, Julie ran the joint when the brothers weren’t around. Her chic look and quick wit fit in perfectly for the hordes of golfers that entered the front door.