The Long Shot

by A. L. Brooks

  “Oh yes, of course, they’re at the table. Let me take you through.”

  Her parents sat at a table near one of the windows, a small glass of wine before each of them and closed menus beside them. They’d clearly been here a while, and Morgan braced herself. Tardiness was not an admired trait in her family.

  “Hi, I’m sorry I’m late,” Morgan said as she quickly slid into her seat.

  “Who was that woman?” her father asked instantly, his tone hinting at barely repressed annoyance.

  Morgan blinked, then glanced out the window. Oh shit, prime view. She inhaled slowly and willed herself not to blush. “That was Adrienne Wyatt, the producer and director of the TV documentary.”

  “Oh?” Her mother’s eyebrows rose majestically.

  “What did she want at this time of night?” her father asked before Morgan could react to her mother.

  Shit. “Um, we were just, you know, discussing the next moves. Shots, I mean.”

  Her father looked pointedly at his watch. “And you couldn’t get away sooner, considering you were meeting us?”

  “I really am sorry, Dad. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

  How did he do this practically every time? Make her feel like she was about eight years old and being scolded for some childish misdemeanor?

  “Oh, Gordy, she’s not that late,” her mom offered, peacekeeping as usual. “We’ve barely looked at the menu.”

  “I know what I’m having,” he said, still staring at Morgan as if he could drill into her mind for her secrets.

  “Well, let me quickly choose, and then we can catch up.” Morgan opened the menu, grateful for a moment’s respite from her father’s glare. She spotted a Niçoise salad and shut the menu. “I’m ready.”

  Her mom caught her eye and gave her a gentle, understanding smile.

  Morgan swallowed, blinked, then reached for her water glass so she’d have something to do other than blurt out everything to her mom. She’d barely had time to process everything she and Adrienne had talked about, but she couldn’t shake off the hopeful excitement that warmed her blood and body. Adrienne hadn’t outright said no, and those brief kisses they’d shared by the garden were cause enough to give Morgan joy at what might become of them.

  Woo her, Charlie had said. Well, she hadn’t exactly made any progress in that respect, but she had apparently charmed her, so there was that.

  “Morgan! Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  It was her father, and his frown made it abundantly clear he was pissed.

  “Sorry, Dad.” Her face burned. Come on, focus! “Could you repeat it?”

  He tutted. “I asked what time you were teeing off tomorrow. I haven’t seen the start list yet.”

  The waiter arrived at that point, which gave Morgan another couple minutes to get her head in this game. It was one she didn’t actually want to play but it always transpired whenever she and her father had to spend more than five minutes with each other.

  After the waiter left with their orders, Morgan sat up a little straighter in her chair and answered her father. “I’m at 1:30 p.m., as I’m in the penultimate group. I’ll be playing with Laurie.”

  Her father grunted and took a sip of his wine.

  “What’s it like playing with her?” her mom asked.

  Morgan grinned. “She’s tough. She doesn’t like to chat on course, and she can be a little, you know”—she leaned in and lowered her voice—“stuck up. She’s pretty conceited.”

  “Morgan,” her dad snapped. “There’s no need for that.”

  Morgan stared at him, her irritation rising. “For what?”

  “Gossiping about other players,” he responded. He clasped his hands in front of him on the table.

  And here comes the lecture.

  “In my day, professionalism was everything. We all respected each other. We all worked well together. Yes, we all wanted to win but not at the cost of our dignity.”

  “Dad,” she said carefully, “I wasn’t gossiping. Mom asked for an opinion. I gave it. I have the greatest respect for Laurie—she’s done a huge amount for the women’s game, not just here in the US but around the world.”

  “I’m going to the restroom,” he said and stood.

  As he walked away, Morgan caught her mom’s eye.

  “How are you, Mom?” There was no way she was going to reference what had just occurred.

  “Oh, I’m fine, darling.” Her mom leaned in, also seeming happy to ignore what her husband had said before he left the table. “You seem…happy. Well, not that you were unhappy, but you know…”

  Morgan smiled. “I had a good day today.”

  “Are we only talking about golf?” Her mom’s eyes twinkled.

  Waggling her hand back and forth, Morgan chuckled.

  “She’s beautiful,” her mother said, and Morgan knew she had easily put two and two together. She always could read me so well. “I mean, I only saw her from across the street but even so.”

  Morgan nodded. “She is. And it’s not just on the outside. She’s a lovely person and wonderful to spend time with.”

  “And what sort of time are you spending with her, hm?” Her mom grinned conspiratorially.

  “We’re…negotiating that.” Morgan smiled. “There may have been some progress on that this evening.”

  “Well.” Her mom sat back and lifted her wine glass. “Here’s to more progress if it makes you this happy.”

  Morgan touched her mom’s glass with her own, and they sipped.

  Morgan’s father returned and retook his seat, wincing slightly as he did so.

  “You okay, Dad?”

  He grunted and made a chopping motion with his hand in the direction of his hip. “Just this acting up. It’s rather cold in the studio, and sitting around all day didn’t help.”

  “Are you enjoying the work?”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’d rather be doing a proper tournament, but it’s a start.”

  Morgan bristled at his words. “‘Proper’?”

  He waved off her protest. “You know what I mean.” He lifted his wine glass and took a healthy mouthful.

  “Actually,” Morgan said icily, despite her mother’s warning glance, “I don’t. Please enlighten me.”

  Her father glared at her. “We are not doing this now. We’re here to eat.”

  “Oh, no, you started it, so you can finish—”

  “Don’t be so childish,” he snapped.

  Morgan made to retort, but the waiter appeared to deposit their meals on the table. Under the table, she felt her mom’s hand come to rest on her knee and squeeze gently.

  With every ounce of mental strength she possessed, Morgan swallowed back—again—all the words she wanted to say and picked up her fork. She shot her mom a quick glance, a look that said, “Okay, I’ll keep quiet,” and concentrated on her food, even though her stomach was in knots and her pulse thudded painfully in her veins. She really didn’t know how much longer she could keep on keeping quiet.

  Chapter 14

  Harry raised his beer. “You didn’t win, but I’m proud of the way you turned it around.”

  Morgan smiled and tapped her glass to his. “Thanks. I really don’t feel so bad about this one. Me and Laurie didn’t stand a chance once Kim and So raced ahead.”

  She and Laurie had tried, pushing each other to try to catch the Koreans during the last round, but having both started the day three shots behind Lee in second place, it was a big ask. Although Laurie had shot a sixty-eight and Morgan a sixty-seven, the Koreans had each shot a sixty-seven, with So Park taking the Women’s PGA title by one shot from her compatriot Kim Lee. Morgan was delighted with her third place, all things considered.

  “Yeah, I heard they were sinking thirty-footers like they were nothing. We were all outclassed this
week.” He paused, tilting his head to one side. “But what else was going on this week? Is there something I need to know?”

  Morgan blinked, unsure how to answer. She knew Harry would be asking for two reasons. One, would whatever it was affect her play, and two, because he cared about her as a person. They didn’t do emotional stuff, though. Not really. So telling him everything, even though she suspected he’d guessed the basics already, would feel a little awkward.

  “Is it Adrienne?” Harry asked, eyes narrowed.

  Her face burned.

  Harry chuckled.

  “I ain’t blind,” he said, shaking his head. He picked at the edges of the paper coaster his beer glass rested on. “And, you know, we don’t have to talk about these things.” His voice was gruff. “But a happy Morgan makes a better golfer, so…” He shrugged.

  Morgan’s heart swelled with affection for this man who’d stood by her for so long.

  “Yes, it’s Adrienne,” she said. She kept her voice low; there were plenty of people from the tour in the bar, the official end-of-tournament dinner having finished around half an hour earlier.

  “But it’s good, right?”

  Morgan smiled. “Let’s just say, I’m hopeful. We talked, and, well…”

  Harry held up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me anything else. As long as you’re okay.”

  “I am. Promise.”

  Harry opened his mouth to speak, then his gaze flicked away and narrowed.

  “What?” Morgan itched to turn around and see what had caught his eye.

  “Cindy Thomson and Naomi have their heads together in a corner,” he murmured before bringing his gaze back to Morgan. “And that can’t be good.”

  Harry had never liked Naomi for Morgan, she’d always known that, but she was surprised at the venom in his tone when he spoke Cindy’s name.

  Morgan took a quick peek over her shoulder. Yep, there they were, sitting close together, their conversation animated but certainly looking friendly enough. She hadn’t realized they knew each other that well. But then, there were a lot of things Naomi had kept from her.

  “Hm,” she murmured, and turned back to look at Harry.

  He grimaced and picked up his beer. “That Thomson woman is in the class of journalists I warned you about. In fact, from what I hear, she’s one of the worst. Watch yourself with her.”

  “I will.”

  Morgan was about to ask him how he knew all this stuff when he nodded at something behind her.

  “Incoming.”

  Before Morgan could respond, a chirpy voice called, “Hey, Morgan!” and she turned to see Jenny bounding the last few steps up to their table.

  “Oh, hi, Jenny.”

  “Sorry, am I interrupting?” Jenny’s eyes went wide as her gaze moved from Morgan and Harry.

  “No, not really. We’re just having a last beer and shooting the breeze after the day.” Morgan mustered up a bright smile, trying to forget about Cindy and Naomi and whatever they were up to.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I just wanted to say well done.” Jenny blushed slightly. “I think you did really well, especially after, well, you know, that first round.” Her blush deepened. It was kinda cute.

  Harry rolled his eyes at Morgan over the top of his glass and drained his beer. “You know what, I’m done. Morgan, I’ll see you for breakfast, yeah?”

  “All right. About eight, okay?”

  He saluted her and wandered off with a murmured “Good night” in Jenny’s direction.

  Jenny looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. “Sorry, did I…? I mean, is he leaving because of me?”

  “No, he’s just tired.” I bet he isn’t. He’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t have much time for TV people, as he calls them. Morgan smiled and motioned to Harry’s vacated seat. “Want to sit down?”

  Morgan wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, but neither did she want to sit here alone in case either Cindy or Naomi got any dumb ideas about approaching her. Besides, Jenny was fun company, and it might be nice to hang out with her for a while. Of course, she’d rather hang out with Adrienne, but apart from exchanging a few casual text messages the last couple days, Adrienne had left Morgan to play golf, and Morgan had left Adrienne to that thinking time she wanted.

  It had been the right move. Morgan had been able to focus completely on her game, and from the tone of Adrienne’s messages, Morgan knew she was appreciative of the space Morgan gave her. They were meeting for coffee after breakfast. Ostensibly to talk about the next steps for the project, but Morgan was hopeful they’d talk about “them” too.

  “That would be great,” Jenny said as she eased into the chair. Her hair, which changed color on a weekly basis as far as Morgan could tell, was currently black on one side, bright red on the other—even her bangs were half and half.

  “Your hair looks good,” Morgan said with a grin. “I’d never be brave enough.”

  Jenny laughed and visibly relaxed. “Thanks. I never really think about it being brave. I just love bright colors and figure that doesn’t have to stop at my clothes.”

  “Do you want a drink?” Morgan asked, spying the waitress walking in their direction.

  “Oh, sure.” Jenny faced the young woman. “Can I get a rum and Coke?”

  “No problem,” the waitress said with a smile.

  Morgan took a sip from her light beer. “I can’t wait for November, when I can have a real drink again.”

  “You really don’t drink during season?”

  “I try not to. Some of the early starts and all the travel really don’t fit well with hangovers. And I am a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol anyway. Always have been. So the occasional light beer during season, but I indulge a little over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  “And where do you spend the holidays?”

  “Oh, with my family. And you?” Morgan asked it quickly, hoping to head off any family-related questions.

  Jenny’s smile was small, and she didn’t answer straight away, pausing as the waitress placed her drink on the table. Once she’d walked away again, Jenny took a sip, then responded.

  “I usually spend it with my chosen family. Some really good friends from college.” She hesitated. “My family disowned me when I came out. I don’t have any contact with them.”

  “God, I’m sorry to hear that.” Morgan shook her head. “I will never understand families like that.”

  Jenny shrugged. “They’re very religious. I was brought up in the faith but just couldn’t reconcile it to who I really was. I thought they’d feel differently if it was their own daughter, but I got that wrong, it turns out.” Her chuckle was humorless. “I was out the door, with my bags at my feet, before I could even blink.” She took another pull on her drink. “Still, I had this great group of friends who all rallied round, and within hours I was living in someone’s guest room.”

  “Well, I’m glad you had them.”

  “Me too.”

  “So how did you end up working for Adrienne?”

  Jenny’s entire demeanor lifted, and her smile was wide. “Oh, that was part luck, part me being pushy.”

  Morgan laughed. “Okay, now you have to tell me more.”

  Smiling, Jenny leaned forward and launched into a tale involving a presentation Adrienne had delivered to Jenny’s media class at college, Jenny trailing her afterward to a coffee shop downtown, and then informing Adrienne why she’d be the perfect assistant Adrienne never knew she needed.

  “I still can’t believe she didn’t just get up and walk out of the coffee shop,” Jenny said with a grin. “She told me after it was because her feet were hurting so much from the heels she’d worn that day, she literally couldn’t face getting up again. She figured she’d be able to tune me out, just make noises like she was really listening until I went away.” She
sat up like a strutting peacock. “But I totally wowed her, and she was mesmerized by my pitch.”

  “Well, she must have been because here you are.”

  “Yep. Best job ever. I love it.”

  “What’s she like to work for?” Hm, fishing much?

  “Oh, she’s amazing. She’s so cool about sharing stuff that I know other managers keep to themselves. She’s not all about protecting her own job to the detriment of anyone else. I kinda suspect that might be her age. I figure she doesn’t want to still be doing this when she’s, like, eighty, so she’s happy to pass things on to give me a chance at establishing myself. I guess, too, she knows I won’t crap all over that. She’s been too nice for me to turn around and kick her in the ass.”

  “Yeah, she seems like she always encourages all of you to think for yourselves and take some chances from what I’ve seen of you all working together.”

  It was wonderful to hear that Adrienne was that good a manager. It fit with everything Morgan had already learned about her and made her even more admiring of the woman she was becoming so attached to.

  Jenny nodded. “Oh, yeah. I know Toby loves working with her because she gives him so much freedom with shooting angles, et cetera. She doesn’t seem to have any of the control freak tendencies I hear other PAs moan about.” She smiled and blushed. “I could talk about her for hours. She’s kinda my hero.”

  “I get it. I sort of feel that way about Harry, believe it or not.”

  “Harry? The grumpy one?” Jenny grinned.

  “Yeah, he’s a grumpy old grizzly on the outside, but trust me, that guy’s been there for me for a long time. I can’t imagine working with anyone else.”

  “Yeah, I can see that with you two. It’s sweet.”

  Morgan snorted. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

  Jenny laughed, and they easily fell into a discussion of the tournament’s highs and lows and what they thought might play out in Miami. Jenny was very knowledgeable about the women’s game, and although sometimes Morgan felt her questions were bordering on pure gossip collection, Jenny did seem to have the utmost respect for all the players.