Page 30 of Sundowners
My head fell back as I barked out a laugh. “Preposterous. I’ve been around.”
“Fair enough,” he said, leading me to the counter, where he proceeded to pay for both of us to play two rounds of golf.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said as he handed me my club.
“Seems only right since I have the advantage.” Roman led me to the first of the 18 holes of the Buccaneer Bay course, which spanned two floors and advertised a black-light cave.
He did play very well. It was obvious he was familiar with the place, which may have had more to do with it than actual putting skill.
I hadn’t been fibbing. I actually spent summers in high school caddying at a local golf club in Georgia. My experiences were part of the reason I’d run off after high school, eschewing the wealthy country club life for the draw out West of “flower power” and LSD.
“The first round goes to you,” I said, noting it was after five o’clock. “So how about you buy me dinner before we play round two?”
We gorged ourselves on corn dogs and French fries, and Roman moaned every few minutes.
“I missed this so much,” he said. “They definitely eat differently in Spain.”
“I’ve never been,” I told him. “What’s it like?”
He dangled a fry as he prepared his answer. “Lots of ham and cheese with bread, but in the north they have these absolutely amazing finger sandwiches called pintxos, and I fell in love with them. Whenever I could, I’d go from bar to bar, just chowing. A lot of seafood in the north as well. I lived in Bilbao most of the time I was there.”
“Sounds incredible. You said there was a religious organization you were studying there, too?”
“Yes. The Order of Mind, or La Mente, as they call it. I had a couple of interviews with their representatives, but they only gave me their public face. Most of my information came from a couple of sources and police reports. I need to dig deeper.”
I leaned my chin on my hand. For such a young guy, he’d accomplished a lot. It was sexy as hell. “How did you even decide on such a topic?” I longed to reach across the table and take his hand. I wanted to keep a physical connection to him…for selfish reasons, of course. The more he talked, the more that bittersweet energy seeped out. I knew rationally that it was helping him, releasing those built-up toxins, kind of like a massage releases the nasties from your muscles. But the fact that I was benefiting from his pain—getting fucking high off it—well, wasn’t that just pure evil?
Roman took a long sip from his Coke and stared at me, wide-eyed. “My great-aunt and uncle were victims of the Jonestown massacre. My uncle Reynaldo? His maternal grandparents.”
“Oh. God, Roman. I’m so sorry. That was a terrible tragedy.”
There had been talk at our commune of leaving the country around the time Jones took his people to Guyana. Some of the Leaders had even been sent to scout locations abroad, but the Source insisted that they were most powerful along the fault lines in the Santa Cruz mountains, and so they’d remained. That part of the “science” behind the teachings had not made a lot of sense to me.
“Thank you. My aunt and uncle went into law enforcement, and I went into academia looking for answers.” He finished off his Coke. “Anyway, Lola’s brother and his wife struggled, so she ended up raising Reynaldo and Vanessa, alongside my mother.”
“What about your parents?”
“Killed in a home invasion. I was fourteen. I was out with my friends when it happened. Fucked me up for a long time. Lola kept me in line, threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t graduate high school. I owe her everything for that.”
So much tragedy. “And I know she’s proud of you. Of all of you. She shows me your pictures on her computer every time I come in to check on her.”
Roman rolled his eyes. “Her and those pictures. She’s obsessed.”
“It’s how she keeps you close, how she holds a piece of you all even when she can’t be there.”
Roman frowned at me, and then smiled. “Something like that. Hey, you’re, what, twenty-four? Five? Why does it seem like you’re so much older? You have like this old soul thing going on.”
I had a canned response to this question, but I didn’t feel like using it with him. “I’m older than I look, but yeah. Something like that.” I echoed his words, and he nodded.
“Right. Okay, you ready to get beat again? You get enough to eat?”
“I see where your priorities are. Thanks, the food was good. And I plan a full comeback this time. I still say you won because you have the course memorized. How can I compete with your years of experience?” I winked at him as I stood up and tossed our trash.
“We’ll see about that,” he said, falling in behind me. “You are pretty distracting,” he spoke in my ear. “Kind of hard to focus on strokes when—”
“Are you watching my ass, Professor?” I turned around and walked backwards and caught him in the act. Yeah, he was watching me. God, could I make it through 18 holes so I could get my hands on all he had going on?
“Merely observing your skills, Nurse Lowell.”He rubbed at his chin as though he had a goatee.
