𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨
﹥━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Shit." I cuss myself for such a bad swing.

This golf thing — it's hard. I thought it would be a fun little hobby to pick up, stop being in the gym so much, going so hard, but this is worst. It's making me angry. Worst of all, these rich assholes keep trying to offer me advice and I hate not being good at shit. I did learn my lesson, though, and stopped playing for money. Tate humbled me, I'll give him that.

"Well, well, well," a taunting voice makes me turn around.

I squint under the rays of the midday sun and see it's Tate and Jake on a cart.

Perfect. Just what I needed, I think in my head as my eyes roll back.

"Vaughn," Tate shouts as he approaches me with open arms. "We're just in time."

"I was just leavin' actually." I say, pushing a club to his chest because he damn sure wasn't getting a hug from me.

Jake tips his hat me and just sits in the cart menacingly. I can't stand Jake, actually, he's a fucking incel.

"Come on, stay a while," Tate tries to lure me. "Have a beer on me. You know you could use my help with that swing."

I chuckle, pushing the sweaty hair under my white Nike hat. "I'm getting better."

"Let me see it, then." Tate offers, handing over the club.

I hang my head and laugh, hands on my hips.

"No. Thanks." I say firmly.

Tate shrugs. "Got somewhere better to be?"

I ignore his question and ask my own. "I know I've asked you this before, but you've gotta know something about Jasmine, right?"

"Who?" He raises one eyebrow and leans in to my body as if he's hard of hearing all of a sudden.

"Jasmine." All I do is repeat the name and now he knows who I'm talking about.

"Dude, maybe you should send out a search party!" His sarcasm only amuses Jake who starts to cackle.

"She's a grown ass woman, doing grown woman shit. She used me for my money then took off when LeBron James or whoever that was came. Are you surprised?" Tate makes himself laugh as he lines up his shot.

I rub my the stubble on my chin.

Maybe he's got a point, I think. I mean, that was my theory. Just because no one's seen or heard from her doesn't mean she's in danger.

"She used to tell me how she wanted to go Mexico. Maybe she's there, but don't waste your time looking." Says Tate, driving his club through the ball.

Toot-toot.

"Cart girl, over here," Jake whistles at the girl, "I got a tip for ya!" He grabs himself and puckers his lips at her.

He and Tate snicker, pounding each other's knuckles for that poor joke, if you can call it that.

I recognize the girl, but couldn't recall her name. Whoever she is, she kept riding by our hole and wore a look of disgust.

"What's up with her?" I allude to the cart girl.

Jake opens his mouth, ready to tell me when Tate cuts him off.

He vibrates his lip and waves her off with the flick of his wrist.
"She, uh, hates me for dumping her friend."

"The other cart girl - the brunette?" I remember.

Tate tilts his head slightly and takes longer to reply.

"Yeah, her." He says plainly.

He spits on the field and then says, "I used to fuck her, she got clingy, I let someone else have her, now they're pissed."

"They seemed more than pissed." I let him know.

Tate shrugs. "They've been trying to destroy my reputation. You know how women are with their petty bullshit."

"Just seems like a lot of emotion for something that happened so long ago." I shrug back.

Tate frowns. "What's with the third degree, you want me to take your money, or not?"

I look between Tate and a smirking Jake, then shake my head.

"Nah." I respond, untucking my shirt.

I'm finally realizing how unbearable Tate's henchmen are. Wait—

Curious, I turn and ask, "Where's Ben?"

"He's preoccupied." Is Jake's cryptic answer. As if I actually care where he is, I'm just wondering why he hasn't been around Tate and Jake lately.

Tate gives into my inquisitive stare, and tells me, "He snaked me, but he's making up for it."

"Or he's gonna..." Jake comments under his breath.

"Don't worry," Tate tells me, "his hands are full."

I couldn't sleep last night; something about what Tate said yesterday got me thinking.

Even if Jasmine is okay, what's with Ben or Cart Girl? Jake's a weirdo, but something is off with them. If it is just a petty breakup case, I'll feel stupid, but I need to know. Ever since Beck, I have a sixth sense with these things.
Plus, since I'm single I need to occupy myself somehow.

I go to the country club around three because I know Tate or Jake won't be there, they usually go before 11am or after 4pm.

"Chris, this is just lovely. Did I ever tell you about my late husband-" Lydia's voice fades.

She lets go of my arm and smacks her red-painted lips. "And here I was thinking you brought me here because you enjoy my company."

I return my attention to her at the table for a second and apologize.

"I brought you here to talk about the plans for your house, but yes, I do enjoy your company. I'm just-"

"Preoccupied?" She drawls.

I look at her blankly for a second and then snap out of my head.

I know that's an average word, but it haunts me because Jake just said that about Ben.
It's like when you get a new car and you never really saw that one before but now you see it everywhere, you know? Coincidences.

My phone starts to ring. I get hopeful for a second, thinking it could be Morgan but my smile disappears when I see it's only my father.

Sent him straight to voicemail.

"Not talking to him, either?" Asks Lydia.

I cut my eyes at her for being in my business but I suppose I did vent to her on the way over here about the fall out with my mother.

"No," I swallow. "I just don't want to hear from him right now."

"I'm glad you're grown, I don't know if your parents would even fight for you in a custody battle. I think the judge would let you pick who you want to stay with." She tries to make me laugh. I decide to laugh just so she doesn't feel bad.

From afar, I spot who I think could be Ben.

"Excuse me." I use my manners before rushing away from the table.

Past the tennis court and just beyond the snack shack, I find Ben talking to a small, blonde girl.

"—Bye, Ben." She flirts, walking away.

"Oh, hey, Chris." He says to me, shakily.

"She was cute." I engage in small talk. I hate small talk.

"Eh," he laughs it off. "Not my type."

"Blonde, no?"

"Nah." He shakes his head, looking away from me.

"Where you been, man?" I ask him, stuffing both hands in my pockets.

"Uh," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Around."

"I haven't seen you, is all."

"Y-yeah, I've been busy." He nods rapidly.

I nod my head once and size him up. "Yeah, that's what Tate said. Hey, what's up with you two, anyway?"

Ben blinks quickly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," I laugh. "You finally thinking on your own now?"

He cracks up. "I don't know, man. Like I said-"

I finish his sentence for him. "Busy."

"Right." He exhales deeply, looking anywhere but in my eyes.

"You alright?" I ask him.

"I gotta go." He frets, struggling to push past my body.

I step to the side without another word and watch him scurry off.

Huh.

✕

"Hi, handsome, can I get you something—" a small voice asks me from behind my back.

I turn around and see the mixed, beverage girl.

She stumbles back once she lays eyes on me.

"You need to leave." She insists, creating more space between us.

I look at her, confused, and ask why.

"Where are your little pervert friends today, huh?" She raises her voice.

"Pervert?" I repeat out loud.

Well, I think in my head. Jake and Tate are perverts, I can't lie or defend them there.

"They're not my friends, I told you, I don't know what they having goin' on."

She relaxes but only slightly. "What the hell do you want?"

I watch her stock her cart in a rage.

"Um, you came up to me, calling me handsome." I try to make her laugh.

She rolls her eyes hard. "That's before I knew it was you, and I was just doing my job."

"Tate and Jake are perverted but you hit on men all day?"

"It's different," she claims.

"I'm sure it is." I taunt her, sitting on the cart.

"Do you like your job?" I ask her.

"Get off my cart."

"Well, do you?"

She sits beside me, getting behind the wheel.

"I like the tips." She says.

"That's not what I asked."

Her eyelashes flicker. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, if you're asking..."

"Get out!" She yells.

I laugh innocently. "Relax, I wasn't thinking like that."

"That's a first from someone like you."

"What does that mean?" I act offended.

She cracks a laugh. "Tell me what you want. Quickly."

I gulp, taking a second to think. "Tell me what happened with your friend and Tate."

She swallows hard. "What are you, a cop?"

"Maybe." I humor her.

I pause to ask, "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Harper. You gonna tell me yours? Your real name."

I laugh out loud. "I'm Chris."

"Nice to meet you, Chris. I guess you aren't so bad."

"You just don't know me, yet."

Harper wets her already glossy lips. "I can give you a beer or something, but you have to get off my cart."

I stand from the cart and hold my hand out for that cold one as promised.

"Here." She flashes a smile.

"Appreciate you, and this." I raise the can to thank her.

"Don't mention it, just," she pauses to look around. "Watch who you hang with, okay?"

"Noted." I return, patting the hood of the cart so she can drive off.

✕

Lydia hangs up the phone after telling me she'll meet me at my car.

A yawn slips out of my mouth as I slam my locker shut in the changing room.

Time completely got away from me, we'd spent the whole day eating, watching a tennis match, and at the spa. By the way, what an underrated experience. I may be going back to see Helga soon for another back massage, shit, I feel so relaxed now.

I glue myself to my phone as I stroll down a quiet corridor until I hear cracks of laughter come from a room to my right.

Curious, I stall and see where the eruption came from.

Since the door is cracked, I help myself to peek inside.

Hm.

I'm disappointed to see it's only a group of old white guys smoking cigars and playing poker.

"You dabble?" A gruff voice sneaks up on me.

I turn with a balled fist just in case.

"Vaughn, I didn't know you were interested in poker."

"Mr.Slaughter," I greet Tate's dad, Raymond. "I didn't know you played."

He crosses his hairy arms and subtly brags. "I don't just play, I take everyone's money."

I don't really laugh.

"How you been, Vaughn? Loving this Southern life?"

"I'm still getting used to it, I think."

He gives a hardy laugh. "Big adjustment from where you're from, what's that again, New Jersey."

"I'm from Colorado."

"But wasn't it you in, uh, Jersey?"

"I moved to New York."

"New York, that's right. How'd you like it?"

"Well, I'm here for a reason."

"Oh, yeah," he shakes his head. "I'm sorry about y'all loss."

"I'm sorry?" I don't know how he means. What loss?

"First Malcolm, then your bosses, right?" He strikes a nerve.

"Seems to be some sort of dark cloud following you," he says, circling my body. "I'd hate for it to make its way here, to Nashville."

"I would, too." I quip, shrugging my shoulder to shake his hand off of it.

"Well," he chuckles from his gut, "do let me know if I need to prepare for a storm. I'll get my good umbrella."

His wink brings me a sense of unease that made me take a step back and think thoroughly about his words.

"You scratch my back, I scratch yours, amigo." The millionaire chats, eyeing his Chopard wristwatch.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Mr.Slaughter." I assure him and then seal my lips.

He smirks, removing the cigar he's just put between his teeth. "I didn't think I would, being that you made good with my son. He could learn a thing from you, too."