Putting Out

by S Doyle

  “I’m counting on it. You better hang on,” Luke growled. “I think it’s going be a long night.”

  And it was.

  26

  “Are you ready?”

  Mark Leonard sat across from Reilly in the limousine Luke had rented to take them to the course. He smiled at her reassuringly and she smiled back.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.

  “You look great.”

  “Thanks. It’s sort of a statement outfit.”

  “Did the statement have to be so short?” Luke reached over and took her hand, which he noticed was trembling.

  “You said to not let them take away my being a woman. I’m just reminding them. Besides, you think this is bad, you should see some of the outfits I’ll be playing in. Regulations will be met, but Vera Wang went out of her way to make golf gear sexy. Very impressive.”

  “The press is going to freak,” Kenny laughed. “Every man there is going to want you and hate you at the same time.”

  “I know I would,” Mark added, then pulled up when he caught Luke’s glare. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you two were…That is to say I thought you were just friends. I didn’t know you were also…”

  “Going at it like monkeys,” Kenny chimed in. “For days. You ought to be in the bedroom next to them. It’s like living next to a zoo.”

  “Kenny!” Reilly shouted. “Will you shut up?”

  “He’s stating the obvious,” Luke said, pleased their relationship was in the open. Where Mark, with the high-school-quarterback good looks, could plainly see it.

  Luke had asked him to come around more often after the incident at the golf course. He’d become like Pierce and Odie, somewhat of a fixture around the house. He didn’t sleep over, but he checked the perimeter of the property several times a day, reviewed the mail and screened calls from reporters who had tracked down Reilly’s whereabouts.

  Mark didn’t take chances. Any chances. Everything was scrutinized, which made him the perfect bodyguard. It was a comfort knowing she was guarded around the clock. If Reilly went out, Mark went with her. If Reilly stayed in, he stayed, too.

  That he was charming and engaging and perhaps somewhat of a flirt was Luke’s bad luck. And postponing all relationship talk until after the tournament was not helping, either. Not that Luke considered he was going to have to compete with Mr. America for Reilly’s affections, but he would have liked things between them to be more settled.

  Sure the sex was great and he was happy to be having it again, but he wanted more. Luke and Reilly weren’t the type to make goo-goo eyes at each other all day, so it wasn’t a surprise Mark wasn’t aware they were lovers, but it did seem like something a man whose profession was observation shouldn’t have overlooked it.

  Unless he wanted to overlook it.

  “Guess this means I won’t be asking you to dinner after all this is over, Reilly.” Mark winked at her and Luke had a feeling he’d done it just to rile him.

  “Don’t make me come after you,” Luke warned him. “Especially not when I know you have a gun.”

  “Hey, can’t blame a man for trying. Like I said, I’ve been a big fan of Reilly’s for a long time. Having the chance to work with you, it’s been great. Sorry if I’ve been a little starstruck.”

  “Not at all,” Reilly assured him. “But I have to say it’s not typical for a man to follow a woman’s golfing career.”

  “My mother was on the LPGA tour. Back in the day. It was sort of a family tradition.”

  “Leonard?” Reilly said the name aloud. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

  “It wouldn’t. She never made much money, but she loved the game. I was there all the time as a kid watching her play. I guess it stuck. Now, if I’m lucky enough to be in a city where an event is going on I make it a point to get tickets. I’ve seen you play a few times.”

  “I thought you looked familiar.”

  He laughed. “Right. Me and all the other gapers. I always get as close to the ropes as possible. If I have to beat up a few women to get there, well, it’s all in the pursuit of watching great golf. I even caught a ball once when you tossed it in the air.”

  “Get out.”

  Mark laughed sheepishly.

  “I know this is corny but I was hoping you could sign it. I never had the balls, pardon the expression, to stand in line behind all the young girls you get after a round looking for an autograph.”

  “No problem.”

  Leaning forward, his expression intense. “I know what you can do out there on the course. These guys are going to be getting more than they bargained for this week. No offense, Luke.”

  “None taken,” he said. “I know exactly what I’m in for with Slice.”

  “We’re here!” Odie announced as they drove up to the gates of the American National Golf Course.

  Reilly had watched a series of single-story homes interspersed with trailers pass by her window. Signs declaring parking littered the roadway along with complicated maps to lead unsuspecting tourists to the “best” spot at the cheapest rate.

  As they passed through the gates and proceeded up the famous Azalea Lane, the immediate impression of lushness overcame her senses. It was greener than it had been a few weeks ago and the azaleas in white and pink were like nothing she’d ever seen.

  No, that wasn’t true. She’d seen this each year on television when she tuned in to watch this event. Now it was her turn to play. Reilly started to pull on her skirt and Luke reached over to still her hands.

  “It will be fine.”

  She nodded and adjusted the pink spring hat she’d chosen to wear. She knew there would be press. This was Monday, day one of American Championship week, and Reilly Carr, the first female ever to be eligible to play in this event, was about to arrive. It was her mission to embrace the spectacle. To let everyone watching know she would not walk through those gates as a pretender, but as someone who had qualified to be here through hard work and good play.

  She was Reilly Carr. She was a woman. She was a golfer. And she’d come to compete.

  The limo pulled through the gates and spectators crowded around as they passed through the security checkpoint. No cell phones or cameras were permitted onto the grounds even during the practice rounds, forcing everyone to pass through a metal detector before entering. Reilly wasn’t surprised to see so many people meandering around trying to find their favorite players already on the course. Tickets were so precious that even the Practice Round tickets were like gold.

  Ahead, Reilly could see the clubhouse. The stairs leading up to where she would go to change were thick with camera crews, reporters, and television commentators. She recognized a few faces from her tour as well as some of the reporters who had been at the gym when she gave her announcement. Seeing them made it seem like it had all come full circle. This was it.

  “Smile pretty for the cameras,” Luke whispered into her ear. “They’ll direct you inside to a private locker room. Then I’ll meet you on the driving range. Stay close to Kenny or Mark at all times. There are thousands of people here today.”

  “All of whom had to pass through security so they won’t be carrying any AK47s,” Reilly reasoned.

  “I don’t care if they’re carrying a lollipop. I don’t want any of them closer to you than they have to be. Right, Mark?”

  “Right. No one gets close. I’ve got my badge and my gun. It should be enough to scare away the curious, and anyone it doesn’t scare is the enemy.”

  “I like the way he thinks,” Kenny commented. “Let the show begin.”

  The limo pulled to a stop and as soon as Odie got out, the crowds began to circle around. Reilly watched through the tinted windows as the reporters pushed forward, all of them already shouting questions to her she couldn’t hear, let alone answer.

  “So this is what it’s like to be famous,” she noted.

  “Pretty cool,” Mark said.

  Reilly smiled but she imagined he wouldn’t think it was c
ool if he was the one they were after and she was the one with the gun. Gulping back the surge of bile that rose inside her throat, she readied herself for the inevitable crush. One more deep breath, with a smile fixed in place Miss America herself would be envious of, Reilly opened her door.

  “Reilly! How does it feel…”

  “Reilly, tell us about…”

  “Reilly, how do you think you’ll match up…”

  Reilly ignored the questions and concentrated on setting her three-inch pink pump firmly on the pavement. She stepped out of the limo and subtly checked to see her skirt wasn’t tucked into the back of her panties. She wore a short, white, breezy cotton skirt with a matching off- the-shoulder top that revealed all of her creamy shoulders. Her wide brim pink hat was perched on hair that had spent an hour in hot rollers. For daring she’d gone with the pink stilettos and a matching pink bag to compliment the outfit. She was pleased with the effect.

  All questions were silenced as the group took in the sight of the first woman to play in the American.

  On top of the stairs leading to the clubhouse she spotted Birdie’s round bald head. She smiled and waved to match her Miss America smile. Hips swaying in a way that happened when a woman wore shoes over two inches high, Reilly climbed the steps to the sound of a hundred cameras clicking.

  She spotted a few golfers on the top of the steps near Birdie. Recognizing Sinjin Rye as one of them, her smile grew even bolder as she approached them.

  “Mr. Smithfield, so good to see you again. I hope you found the culprit who broke your window with a golf ball. I read about it in the Atlanta papers and I was shocked to hear someone would do such a thing.”

  “I’m sure. Such behavior is shocking. I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

  Reilly managed to giggle. “This old thing? Why, Mr. Smithfield, you know I couldn’t possibly play in this outfit. No, I only wear this when I’m traveling or when I’m home in my kitchen cooking.”

  The last comment was for Sinjin who sneered at her. Reilly realized Kenny had been wrong about one thing. This man didn’t want her. He did, however, hate her.

  “Looking forward to seeing you out on the course, Mr. Rye. I understand your game is rather impressive.”

  “The only thing you’ll be seeing is my back, Ms. Carr, as I walk by you on every teeshot. Enjoy the show while it lasts. I don’t imagine you’ll be here long.”

  “The goal of course is to make it to Sunday.”

  “If you make it to Sunday I’ll eat my golf shoe,” he snorted.

  Reilly beamed. “Yikes. I do hope for your sake that the spikes are removable. I hear they’re hell on the way down. Mr. Smithfield, if you would be so kind to let me know where my caddy and I can change. I have a ten a.m. tee time I don’t want to miss.”

  “This way.”

  Mark, Kenny, and Odie caught up with Reilly at the top of the stairs, but Odie and Mark were prevented from going on with her. “Caddies only,” Smithfield said.

  Odie shrugged. “Guess my job is over now anyway. I’ll see you on the range. After that I’m going to check out the competition.”

  Reilly nodded, but when he turned to leave she reached for his arm. “Thanks, Odie. For everything.”

  “You just give’em hell, lil' girl. That will be thanks enough for me.”

  “You have a problem if I do a little reconnaissance? I want to see how many possible entrances there are to the course and talk with security about their routine. That means you don’t leave Kenny’s side.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Kenny added. Reilly nodded and Mark took off.

  “Concerned with your safety, Ms. Carr?” Birdie drawled. “I assure you, the players don’t bite.”

  “I know one of them that does,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Kenny nudged her arm and she laughed. Together they followed the chairman to the clubhouse. In her dreams had she ever imagined she would be walking up these steps and through the doors? No. Her dreams were never that fanciful.

  “Can you believe this?” Kenny whispered to her. “No.”

  “Good thing we’ve got a few days to get over the shell shock. By Thursday this will be old hat.”

  The American. Nope, it was never going to be old hat. But she figured it was best to keep Kenny calm.

  “Yep. Let’s go change.”

  They followed Birdie through the hallowed halls of the clubhouse. The smell of old wood and the shine of polished mahogany assaulted her. They passed the locker room where she could see past winners emerging and current favorites entering. She thought of the history in the locker room and the great golfers who had passed through it year after year. A sense of surrealness threatened to choke her.

  “Kenny,” she gasped. “I think I’m going to hyperventilate.”

  Kenny faced her but he was as pale as a white sheet, his eyes fixed on the door to the locker room. “Did you see who came out of there?”

  Okay, Kenny was lost. It was going to be up to her to maintain her grip on her composure. Determined to be cool when she faced the men, Reilly stopped short of the door expecting Birdie to lead her inside. She imagined she would get a row to herself for privacy reasons, but she didn’t imagine she’d be banned from the locker room entirely. But Birdie was still walking.

  He made a few more turns down a hallway and stopped by a door labeled as a handicap bathroom.

  “Here you go. You understand, of course, why you need to be isolated from the men?”

  “Of course,” Reilly said. “Wouldn’t want to contaminate them with my girl cooties.”

  He didn’t laugh but he did retain his smug smile. “You’ll want to knock before entering as this will be used by our handicapped guests. But it locks from the inside so you’ll have all the privacy you need. Only players and members are allowed inside the clubhouse. You should find this hall moderately quiet. ”

  “Thank you so much.”

  He left them, and Kenny cursed. “Bastard. Sticking us in a damn bathroom stall. I’m surprised we didn’t get a closet. You think he knows it was you who broke the window?”

  Reilly glanced at the door with the carved wheelchair sign on it.

  “He knows. But it was still worth it. You’ve got my stuff?”

  He handed over a duffel bag.

  “I can step into my jumper out here,” Kenny said, extracting the white jumper with the name Carr on the back before she pulled the bag inside. “Hurry. We’ve got history to go make.”

  Luke fired one off the tee and watched it turn left. Damn hook. He was notorious for it. Not having gone through the regimented practice process he needed to correct it, it was a pretty good bet he was going to be seeing it a lot this week. Reilly would have a field day mocking him.

  “Nolan? Glad to see you back. For a while there you looked to be more comfortable in the booth.” Sinjin Rye took up a spot on the tee next to him with a bucket of balls in his hand.

  Luke fired off another shot and watched it sail left. “I was more comfortable in the booth. But I wasn’t going to miss a chance to play. The whole lifetime guarantee is pretty sweet. You should try and get a jacket for yourself.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “That and beating your girl, Nolan.” Frank Rivers took up the other tee next to Luke. “Did you see what she showed up in? Hell, if I’d known she was hot I would have told the PGA to re-rank her years ago.”

  Luke said nothing but rolled another ball into position.

  “It’s a joke she’s here,” Rye stated. “She’s going to embarrass herself as it is. Making a spectacle of herself is only going to make it worse.”

  Luke shrugged and rolled another ball forward to hit. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  “Oh, come on, Luke!” Frank cried. “I know you’re close to the family, but seriously. A woman trying to compete with the men? It’s going to be worse than a joke. It’s going to be sad. I mean, what if she cries?”

  “Sorry, Frank, I’m not much of
a crier.”

  Reilly stopped behind Luke. Kenny plopped down her clubs beside her and automatically pulled the driver for her.

  Luke smirked. “Take my spot. I’m going to work on the putting green for a while.”

  Reilly let him pass and rolled up a few balls on the grass. Rye stopped his play, picked up his bucket and deliberately moved a slot farther down the row from her. Reilly nodded and thought about what Odie had tried to drum into her head during the course of her training.

  Don’t play the players, play the course. You can’t beat over a hundred men, but you can beat one course, one hole at a time.

  His instructions made sense but there was at least one player she’d really like to beat.

  Stretching out with the driver in her hands, Reilly decided she liked the snug fit of the top. The material was breathable but clung to her body in a way that didn’t interfere with her swing. But it wasn’t too tight she didn’t feel as if she could move. The pants were comfortable, too. Light but protective against the nip in the spring air. Pink was going to be her signature color for the week.

  “See this, Reilly. This is what you can’t do.” Frank drew back and hit the ball, sending it flying.

  He had an easy swing but it lacked power. He was in the top twenty overall ranking as a credit to his putting, but he had never broken the top five in a major. A good player, but not a great one.

  She knew him from television, but he acted as if he had the right to make comments on her game. It was infuriating, but it was also nothing more than a small taste of what was to come.

  “There you go. That was almost two-ninety and I barely put any heat on it. You can’t compete with that.”

  Reilly stepped up to the tee, took one free swing, addressed the ball and smacked it. She still hadn’t gotten used to the change in speed and thrilled at the sight of the ball flying high and straight into the air, bouncing just past the three-hundred-yard marker.

  “I don’t know, Frank,” she jawed. “I didn’t put much heat on mine, either, but wow, did you look at that ball fly? Big dog went hunting and found a rabbit on that one. Wait, maybe that was luck. I should try it again.”