Page 24 of Pickled
I’d been making good money since I was eighteen years old, but growing up poor was ingrained in my DNA. I still knew how much a dozen eggs costs, I repaired cars when they break, and Iabhorred debt. One hundred dollars a shot could end up costing me thousands.
Riley and Owens pulled up beside us.
“Hey, guys, do you want to make the rest of the game interesting?” Jameson leaned over me.
“I’m always up for a challenge.” Owens rubbed his hands together.
Riley laughed. “How’s your other challenge going?” He sipped his drink, then tossed the empty at the can. It bounced and landed on the grass next to mine. I got out and dropped both into the trash.
“Which one?” Owens put his foot on the dashboard. “Oh, the BJ thing?” he laughed. “I’m right on track—one per goal.
Jameson stretched his arms, pressing them into the roof of the golf cart. “What, you mean you’ve only gotten one this season?”
Owens finished his beer and then tossed the can at Jameson. “I’m sure that’s more than you’re going to get this year, Mr. Married.”
Jameson ignored the comment. “Do you guys want to wager a hundred a shot? Loser buys lunch at the club?”
“A hundo?”
“Come on, pussy.” Riley nudged him. “Look at these two old farts. They’re practically ready for their afternoon nap.”
Jameson cut his yawn short. “Put your money where your mouth is, Riley.”
“You’re on.”
The foursome ahead finished the hole. Fueled with sugar and a somewhat friendly wager, the competitive nature of four professional athletes came out in full force. We finished number ten even, and by the end of the seventeenth hole, my cup holder was filled with at least thirteen hundred bucks. I chugged a bottle of water and wiped my brow as we made our way to the last hole.
Jameson’s phone buzzed, and he took the call while he drove. His voice changed as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line. It was softer, and he smiled as he spoke to who I assumed was his wife, Bethenny. I tried not to listen, but I was sitting right next to the guy. Fresh fish and a bottle of Chardonnay were added to his shopping list.
“I love you too.” He finished the call and tucked the phone back into the cupholder.
“What’s it like, being married?” It was a personal question, one that I wouldn’t have felt comfortable asking Jameson before the game. We’d bonded through mutual shit-talking, and frankly, I was a little tipsy from the spiked iced teas.
Jameson slowed as he approached the green. “It’s fucking awesome.”
“Really?” I wasn’t used to men being enthusiastic about marriage, let alone calling it awesome.
“You just have to find the right person.” He pressed on the parking brake with his toe. “I love spending time with my wife. I’m so glad I grew out of doing stupid shit like Owens. He’ll figure it out one day.” Jameson sipped his water. “It’s all about respect. I know that she’ll defend me, even if I’m in the wrong—she’ll cuss me out in private later.” His accent seemed thicker.“I would never disrespect her by discussing our bedroom life with anyone, especially these horndogs.” He tilted his head in a gesture to Owens and Riley, who were leaning against the beverage girl’s cart. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
Piper’s face flashed in my mind. “I’m not sure.”
Jameson raised his eyebrows. “Not sure? What kind of an answer is that?”
Since Piper left my bed, all I’d wanted was to have her back in it. But that wasn’t all. When I went for a morning swim, all I wanted was for her to be in the pool with me. Not naked, although that would be cool, but I liked just having her around. She made me think about something other than winning the cup. “I just met her last week, but I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Do you think Owens has had a second thought about any of the bunnies he’s been with this season?” Jameson hopped out of the cart. “I’m no expert, Bailey, but if you can’t stop thinking about a woman when she’s nowhere near you, that means you should try and see her again. Hell, I live with my woman, and I’m excited to get home and see her.”
Jameson’s advice resonated, echoing my own thoughts. See her again? That would be nice, but we’d agreed to one night and then a clean break. To go back on that felt wrong, but the thought of not seeing her again felt even worse. “That’s good advice.” I finished my bottle of water, knowing it was advice I wasn’t going to take.
We walkedonto the green of the eighteenth hole, and I felt more relaxed than I had in years. Golfing with these guys was actually fun.
“What is that sound?” Jameson lined up his putt. It sounded like a bunch of kids playing dodgeball but with ping-pong balls.
Owens groaned. “It’s the worst sport ever invented… pickleball.”
Riley lined up his putt and easily scored a two on the par three. “I’ve tried it. It’s actually really fun.”
Owens scoffed. “Come on. If you’re not going to play golf in the off-season, at least play a sport that requires some athleticism, like tennis.”
