Page 132 of Putting Out
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“Pop, you’re getting tired.”
Her grandfather yawned. “Absolutely not. I’m happy to wait.”
Luke crouched down behind where Reilly was still sitting front and center at a table inside a massive tent that had become known as the press pit. After thirty minutes of questions, the gaggle had given her a moment to get some water. Over her shoulder she could see her grandfather twisting on the uncomfortable metal chair and despite his protests, he yawned again.
“Tell them last one and let’s get out of here. They’ve had you for over a half an hour and Pop wants to see Kenny one more time before he flies back.”
“I still have autographs outside.”
Luke frowned, but Reilly shook her head.
“I know it’s a hassle, but I can’t leave them hanging. There are girls out there. I’m not leaving without signing some balls and hats.”
Resigned, he nodded. “Okay. How about I’ll take Pop to the hospital so he can check in on Kenny, and then I’ll come back and pick you up. They should be releasing Kenny soon so we should all be able to head back to Savannah together.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Luke moved to stand but paused for a second.
“I don’t know if I like the idea of leaving you here.”
“You’re kidding, right? The bad guy is dead, remember? I’m in a tent filled with reporters who, trust me, aren’t going to let anything happen to me at least not until their filing deadlines. Then I’m going to be surrounded by every girl on the course and her parents. I think I’m safe.”
Luke nodded and got up to leave.
“Come on, Pop. We’re going to leave the star to do her thing and come back and pick her up later.”
“I can wait,” he insisted.
“Yeah, but Kenny can’t. I’m sure he’s itching to tell me everything I screwed up today.”
“All right.” Reilly felt the gentle pat of her grandfather’s hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you overdo it.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “See you when you get back.”
Again Luke paused at the opening to the tent. Reilly might have been annoyed by this attempt at overprotectiveness if he didn’t look so cute doing it. She waved him off and then turned back to the gaggle.
“Okay, boys and girls. You’ve got ten more minutes,” she told them. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Thirty minuteslater she was outside the tent situated behind the clubhouse signing copies of her Girl Power and Hear Me Roar hats with a smile on her face. Girls gushed, mothers praised her for setting an example and fathers were in awe of her driving length. It was just past six- thirty and on a large screen over the crowd she could see Staddler making his way to the 18th green, a victory lap for all intents and purposes.
For a brief moment she allowed herself to be sad she couldn’t muster the game to compete with him today. But only for a brief moment. After all, there was always next year.
A hand pushed through two giggling girls and startled Reilly. She glanced up and saw Mark standing in front of her with a sheepish grin on his face.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I couldn’t resist.”
Mark turned back to the crowd and flashed his badge.
“Sorry folks, this is official FBI business.”
Reilly rolled her eyes, but the crowd dispersed around them.
“That was slightly evil.”
