Page 1 of Jealous Boss

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Ethan

Ihate golf.

Like, really,reallydespise it.

Seriously, you whack a ball then trudge after it to whack it again.

And again? Don’t get me wrong. Fair play to those who have that sort of time.

I don’t. And with every bone in my body, I wish I wasn’t doing it now.

But I’ve learned to play the game.

And when the path to senior partnership comes with losing one Saturday morning per month to whacking the hell out of a small white ball and pretending to love it? Well, I can do that.

With gritted teeth and a ton of vile, silent cursing, but yeah…

So I line up my graphite driver—the one that cost me a shit ton of money, align my feet, and send the dimpled ball arcing through the air down the fairway with a satisfying grunt.

I pretend a keen interest in where it’s headed and then smile when it doesn’t wedge itself into a sand bank, bush or lake.

A firm slap on my shoulder makes me turn, my smile still in place as the two older guys I’m playing with watch with something close to envy.

“Damn, you’re getting better than us, Ethan.”

“Not even close, but I’ll take the compliment,” I reply, handing my club to the caddy.

Philip Hyde, the senior partner I’m hoping to impress—the one whose place I’m aiming to take when he steps down in six months—chuckles.

“Modesty doesn’t look great on you, boy.”

I laugh and shrug because, fuck it, it’s true.

My accomplishments have seen me rise from junior executive in Philadelphia’s number one venture capitalist firm to partner in record time.

It’s the ‘senior named partner’ label that I’m angling for now. The culmination of my hard work before I hit forty in a little over two years.

And Hyde is the way to get there.

I wait until both Hyde and Mason Tucker, the other partner, have teed their shots, then slow my stride as we head for the buggy that’ll take us down the fairway.

We talk shop for a few minutes, then Mason glances at me. “That China deal you pulled off was mighty impressive, son. Everyone at the club was talking about it this week.”

I pump an invisible fist but manage another modest nod. “Thank you, sir.”

Mason grimaces. “None of that sir crap, it makes me feel old. You’ve already got one foot and both hands in the door. It’s about time we got on first-name basis.”

“Thanks. And that’s good to know, Mason.”

He grins, his thick mustache dancing. “It is? Hell, weren’t you seen at lunch with that dick Lovells last week? If you’re trying to light a fire under our asses, I’d say you succeeded.”

I shrug, breathing a sigh of relief now everything is out in the open. Hopefully, sacrificing my Saturday mornings is about to be a thing of the past.

“I’m confident I can do even greater things for the firm as named partner,” I reply without admitting the Lovells thing was indeed a well-aimed shot across their proverbial bows. Glad they took note of it.

“You won’t get any argument from me,” Philip says. “This old dog is ready for his next adventure.”

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