The Long Shot

by A. L. Brooks

  “I’ll see you on Sunday, I expect,” Adrienne said, and she smiled weakly. “I have every confidence you’ll turn things around tomorrow and make the cut.”

  In spite of the disappointment coursing through her, Morgan snorted out a laugh. “Well, I’m glad someone does.”

  Adrienne looked quizzical. “You don’t?”

  Morgan sighed. “Actually, yes, I do. I just lost my focus today. I’ll get it back by morning.”

  Adrienne’s flush told Morgan she knew why that focus had deserted her, but neither of them said anything.

  “Okay, well, I’ll say goodnight, then.” Adrienne offered her a small smile, warm yet sad.

  “Want me to walk you back?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Morgan nodded, and Adrienne turned and walked back the way she’d come. Morgan watched her until the darkness of the trees swallowed her up.

  Chapter 12

  “And you just let her walk away?”

  Morgan withered under Charlie’s scathing glare. “Uh…yeah.”

  When Charlie snorted, Morgan threw up her hands. “She’s…she’s bad for me! Look what happened to my game today. And she doesn’t want me. She made that very clear.”

  “I call BS.” Charlie drained the last of her soda and sat back, arms folded.

  They were in Morgan’s room, keeping away from prying eyes. After Adrienne had left Morgan alone in the gathering gloom, Morgan had wandered for a few minutes more, locking down her feelings, turning her thoughts to the golf, to the steps she’d have to take tomorrow to fix the mess she’d created by letting Adrienne unravel her.

  Then she’d called Charlie. It was a big step, reaching out to a friend for help and advice at a critical point like this. Up until now, Morgan would have relied only on herself, battling through whatever troubled her, refusing to let anyone come to her aid. She’d had to be self-sufficient growing up; sure, her mom was a sweetheart, but she’d also been pretty good at brushing off emotions as something to be worried about another day. Although not so much lately, Morgan realized. She’d arranged to grab a quick breakfast with her mom in the morning—she had sounded very worried about Morgan when they’d spoken just before Morgan arranged to catch up with Charlie.

  “Look, I know you’re kind of romantic and you want me to have some big happy ending after what Naomi did. But I’m not sure that’s really me.”

  “Again,” Charlie said, rolling her eyes, “I call BS.”

  Morgan was close to throwing an actual tantrum—the urge to stomp her feet was strong. “Will you stop saying that? I know my own feelings.”

  Charlie sighed, unfolded her arms, and leaned forward. She placed a gentle hand over Morgan’s on the small table between them. “I’m not saying you don’t. But I do think you’re scared.” She held up her other hand. “And yes, I totally get why. Naomi broke your heart, and who wants to get out there again when their heart’s all broken in pieces?” She smiled, understanding written in her hazel eyes. “I guess I just thought, from everything you said, that Adrienne was different. Worth it. Worth fighting for, even just a little. Because despite what she said this evening, I think she does want you. She’s just scared too.”

  Morgan pursed her lips. “That might be true, but…I just can’t. It’s screwing with my head, and I can’t have another day like today. I want to win a major,” she said fiercely. She turned their hands so that she could grasp Charlie’s. “And for that I need to be 100 percent focused on my game. No other distractions.”

  Charlie squeezed Morgan’s hand, then let it go. “For now, I’ll let you have that.”

  Morgan chuckled. “Why, how kind of you.”

  Charlie stuck out her tongue. “But I think you and I both know Adrienne is much more than a distraction. Or at least has the potential to be. So will you promise me one thing?”

  With trepidation, Morgan slowly nodded.

  “Don’t shut her out completely. While you’re working on this documentary together, you’ll still need to spend time with her. Don’t be an ass when you do.”

  Morgan snorted and laughed. “I’m never an ass.”

  Charlie smiled. “Yeah, actually, that’s true. You’re not.” She stood up and pulled Morgan with her. As she hugged her close, Charlie whispered, “I just want you to be happy, you know? And I get that golf does that for you, but there is more than golf in that outside world. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Morgan hugged her back. “Thank you for listening.”

  “Sleep well,” Charlie said, then she pulled away and headed for the door. “See you on the course.”

  Morgan shut the door behind her and walked back into the room. She kicked off her sneakers and flopped onto her back on the bed.

  Jeez, being a grown-up sucked sometimes. She remembered being a teenager, willing every school day to pass quickly so she could get home and practice shots on the small green-and-bunker combo her dad had built in the corner of their extensive backyard. He’d built it for himself, of course, but when he was on tour, Morgan would make the most of his absence and play out there for hours. It was an easy life, a life that had suited her perfectly. Her mom had worried about her lack of friends, yet at the same time was happy her daughter was home every night straight after school and not getting into any kind of trouble.

  College was pretty much the same pattern: studying hard and golfing at any opportunity she got until she’d finally plucked up the courage to enter some amateur tournaments. Her father had scoffed at the idea, but she’d grown up enough by then to finally ignore what he thought. Well, mostly. Besides, once he realized how good she was, he’d come around, wouldn’t he?

  She blinked away tears. Yeah, so that hadn’t happened yet. She vaguely wondered how he’d got on with his first day of calling the tournament. The remote was by the bed, and ESPN was bound to be showing a highlights reel on one of their channels. Should I? Ugh, maybe not. If he was an ass about the women’s game, her game, that was the last thing she needed to hear today. A quick glance at the digital clock built into the TV told her it was 9:30 p.m.

  Okay, rock star, let’s call it quits for the day.

  As she brushed her teeth, she worked some more on pushing images of Adrienne back into a box marked “secret” in the back of her mind.

  Her mother stood as Morgan entered the hotel’s breakfast room the next morning, and Morgan sighed as her warm arms embraced her.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hi, darling.” Her mom held her at arm’s length as she examined her. “Hm, you look a little tired. Did you sleep okay?”

  Morgan shrugged. “As well as I could expect after a day like that.”

  She knew her mom would think she meant only the golf, and she was happy to keep it that way, not feeling the need to share the Adrienne situation with her. If nothing else, it would keep Adrienne out of her own mind.

  Her mom sat back down, and Morgan slid into the seat opposite her.

  “What happened?” her mom asked quietly. “I can’t remember the last time you played a round over par.”

  Which was a polite way of putting it, Morgan thought with a wry smile. “Actually, I’ve had a few over-par rounds this year, but I know what you mean. I’ve been on a pretty good roll the last couple of months, so, yeah, a round like that hurts a little.”

  Her mom patted her hand. “You’ll figure it out today, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah, I think I will.”

  And she actually believed it. Mostly she’d slept well, but more than anything she’d woken up with a new determination to be who she was meant to be: the world’s number-one golfer. And to do that, she needed to go out there today and shoot her best round of the year. Of course, she did know it helped that Adrienne wouldn’t be following her today or even be at the golf club. Did Adrienne really have other work back here in the hotel, or was she just using that a
s an excuse to stay away?

  Okay, stop. You’re doing it again—not supposed to be thinking about her, remember?

  “And therefore I think I’ll find myself a good spot on the eighteenth and watch you all finish.”

  Guiltily, Morgan realized she hadn’t been listening to her mom. “Oh, okay, that sounds good.”

  The waitress appeared, and they placed their orders.

  “Your father’s already at the course, having breakfast with the team. He’s enjoyed catching up with Lou again.”

  “Lou?”

  “Oh, you remember, honey—Lou Thomson. Won a few tournaments when your father was at his peak. Cindy Thomson’s father. You know, the girl on TV.”

  “Oh, right. Is Lou on the ESPN team too, then?”

  “Well, yes.” Her mom leaned in. “I heard Cindy got him a spot. Lou’s had a little money trouble, you see, and Cindy, of course, being such a sweet girl, put in a good word for him.”

  I’ll just bet she did. I can just imagine the demands or threats she made.

  “You okay, sweetheart? You’re frowning.”

  “Oh, sorry, Mom. Just thinking ahead to the day.” Why do I seem to be lying so much these days to the people who know me?

  “Are you worried?” Her mom’s expression scrunched into concern.

  Morgan sighed. At least with this question she could be totally honest. “A little. I know what I need to do to make it better, but you never know what’s going to happen out on the course.”

  “I understand. But you know, you’ve always been so strong, ever since you were a little girl. I know you can do this. Please believe it yourself.”

  The words touched Morgan, and she smiled at her mom. “Thank you. Your support is very important to me.”

  Their food arrived, and they ate in companionable silence. When they’d finished and their plates had been cleared, her mom leaned in once more, her hands clasped together on the table. She looked nervous.

  “So I was wondering, darling. How about having dinner with your father and me tonight? We haven’t seen you in quite some time, so it would be nice if the three of us could sit down for a meal.”

  She wanted to say no because the last thing she needed in the middle of a tournament was any kind of tension with her dad. But if she said no, wouldn’t that in itself create tension?

  Ugh.

  “Sure, Mom, that would be great.”

  For one brief moment, her mom looked surprised but covered it with a quick clap of her hands. “Lovely! I’ll find out what time he’s finishing up with the TV people, and I’ll let you know.”

  “Sounds good.” Morgan glanced at her watch. “Okay, gotta run.”

  As Morgan rose, her mom pushed back her chair and stood too. She held out her arms and enveloped Morgan in another warm hug.

  “You go out there and show them, darling,” she said in Morgan’s ear. “I’ll be waiting for you on the eighteenth.”

  “See you there,” Morgan said through a tight throat.

  Watching her on TV didn’t count, right?

  Adrienne rolled her eyes but still reached for the remote and found the ESPN coverage.

  Lotte Karlsson lined up a monster putt at the tenth hole. Off to one side stood her playing partner for the day, Naomi Chase. Adrienne scowled out of pure reflex, then laughed at herself. Yeah, so this whole forgetting about Morgan except in a purely professional sense seemed to be going great.

  She sat at the table she used as a desk and leaned her chin in her hands, elbows propped on the table.

  When she’d followed Morgan out to the secluded pathway near the seventeenth the night before, it had seemed so clear in her head what she had to do. And even as she’d walked away, she was convinced she’d done the right thing for both of them. Then, alone in her room, mellowed from a glass of rather good Pinot Noir ordered from the hotel’s bar, the doubts had started to creep in and then kept her awake half the night.

  So here she was. Holed up in a small conference room in the back of the hotel, hiding from the world and trying to hide from her feelings. The main one of which was regret. But she had done the right thing, hadn’t she? Like Tricia had said, Adrienne would be risking an awful lot to get involved with Morgan. Besides, she was too young, and they were both at very different points in their lives to be reckless and attempt to make something of this attraction they had. Except that every time they talked, they didn’t actually seem to be so different…

  Come on, focus! Get on with your work. You made your decision last night, and you can’t back down now.

  She stared at the notebook in front of her. What the hell was she actually supposed to be doing today?

  “And here’s Spencer at the fifth. Already two under today and in with a great chance of birdie here.”

  She swung round to stare at the TV. Two under after four holes?

  Yes! Go, Morgan!

  Knowing it was ridiculous, she held her breath as Morgan pulled the putter back, then made a good connection with the ball to send it on its way toward the hole. A couple moments later, it dropped in, dead center, and Adrienne let out a whoop as the sounds of the crowd’s applause filtered out of the TV’s speakers.

  Her phone pinged next to her.

  She’s killing it today! This is awesome to watch!

  Jenny, who had a ringside seat for what was so far a stellar round for Morgan.

  And here I am, hiding away.

  It was for the best. It really was.

  Wasn’t it?

  Work had helped. After over two hours with only coffee to keep her company, Adrienne had finally detailed an outline for the next project she’d be working on: a pre-season look at next year’s WNBA championship.

  While one part of her grumbled at always being given the women’s sports to work on, another part of her reveled in it because it gave her the opportunity to show those sports in the best light possible. At least her company made such shows and continued to promote women in sports, even if they were a tad sexist in always putting a female producer in charge.

  She was using it to her sex’s advantage, as much as she could, by hiring as many women to work for her as possible. She would have kept Toby on camera for the WBNA film, though, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d been offered a project that featured his favorite sport: Formula Three car racing. He had, however, recommended a female camera operator in his place, so Adrienne forgave him for his desertion. Diane would reprise her role on sound, and Jenny would be given more responsibility on this project. Adrienne hadn’t worked as hard as she had to get to where she was without making sure she used her position to help those coming up behind her.

  She’d left the TV on but muted the volume once she’d realized she did have to get serious about the plan she was working on, so now she swiveled in her chair and reached for the remote.

  Kim Lee was on screen about to drive off at the last. The score box at the bottom left showed she was co-leader, on seven under for the tournament. A good score after only two rounds. Her drive, as always, was perfect.

  The picture snapped to Morgan, taking her second shot at the sixteenth, and Adrienne’s eyes widened when she saw Morgan’s score box on screen: five under for the tournament, which meant she was six under for this round. And only two shots off the lead.

  A broad smile painted Adrienne’s lips, and pride for Morgan’s abilities swelled her chest.

  Maybe I’ll find her later and congratulate her. A colleague would do that, wouldn’t they? Or a friend?

  “So Morgan’s really pulled it around, hasn’t she?” It was Lou Thomson’s voice on the microphone, as the camera tracked Morgan’s shot to where it landed just on the edge of the green. “I know we need to be neutral, but that’s got to make you proud, Gordy.”

  “She’s done well,” came Gordon Spencer’s voice. “But I don’t thi
nk she’ll make birdie there. She’s landed too far from the hole. Could have done with half a club more. Besides, you know, there’s a lot of golf left to play over the weekend.”

  You couldn’t just say it outright, could you?

  Adrienne tutted. What was it with that man? All he’d had to say was, “Yes, very proud,” and then he could still have gone on with his cautious “there’s a lot of golf left to play” comment. Why was it so difficult for him to openly praise his very successful daughter?

  She angrily hit the mute button again, then pushed her chair back and intently watched the screen. Unfortunately, Gordy Spencer was right—Morgan didn’t make a birdie on sixteen. She did make one on seventeen and parred the last, almost a mirror image of how she’d finished her first round. She’d shot a sixty-six, one of the best rounds over the first two days, and finished just two shots behind Kim Lee and So Park, the joint leaders, and one shot behind Laurie Schweitzer in second place.

  The cameras caught Morgan walking off the eighteenth, laughing with Harry, who looked pleased. Well, as pleased as that gruff old face could manage. Morgan’s smile was relaxed, and it pulled at Adrienne’s heart. Bree Spencer, looking as immaculate as always, her blonde hair shining in the afternoon sun, appeared from the crowd and hugged her daughter. At least someone in that family cares.

  Jenny called a minute or two later. “Did you see any of it?” she asked breathlessly. “She was incredible!”

  “I caught the last couple of holes, yes. Good score.”

  “Amazing score! I overheard Schweitzer whining as she left the eighteenth. I think she’s worried Morgan’s gonna stomp all over her ass tomorrow.”

  Adrienne chuckled at the image that conjured up. It would be worth seeing.

  “So how did the filming go today?”

  “Really good. We got all the shots you requested and some good close-ups of all the current top ten. Toby’ll get the first cut of them to you soon.”

  “Sounds good.” Adrienne glanced at the clock on the wall. “Okay, in that case I’m going to grab something light to eat right now. Want me to get you guys something?”