Page 50 of Putting Out
“Really?” Jim seemed taken aback by Luke’s response. “Well, there you have it, folks. Two-time American winner, Luke Nolan, is betting on Reilly Carr to make it to the weekend. It would be quite an achievement if she could pull it off. Has she asked for any advice from you?”
Luke let out an honest chuckle. “No. I doubt she’ll seek help from me. But she’s working with her old coach now, trying to squeeze a few more yards out of her swing. Now that she’s made the decision to play, she’s going to give it her all.”
“We wish her good luck. Frankly, the way we’re seeing Staddler and Rye hit the ball today, she’s going to need it. These guys can really put it out there.”
It was a nice lead back to the broadcast. Mentally, Luke went over everything he said and decided the short interview had been a positive one. Jim had thrown up a few softballs, and he’d been able to give some pretty standard answers. It did occur to him he was going to be asked more and more about Reilly as the event drew closer. He probably should talk to her about what she did or did not want let out there for general media consumption.
Luke smiled. He loved the way he’d so nicely convinced himself he wouldhaveto talk to her again. The truth was he’d only left her a few days ago and already he found himself anxious. Anxious about how she was handling the new surge of reporters, this time from outside the sports world. Anxious about how she was getting along with Odie. Anxious for her.
Anxious for her or missing her?
It was hard to tell. He’d never missed her before. They’d gone as long as a year without seeing each other and it never occurred to him to miss her. Probably because he knew she was out there in the world. Somewhere. He was pretty sure it was the same for her. Their time apart didn’t matter because it was always as if no time had passed when they were together.
Lifelong friends. Part-time lovers. Did he really want to mess with that and turn it into something that could eventually end? He wasn’t sure, but he figured the best plan at this point was to go with his gut. It worked when making club selections for those in between distances, it could work for this, too. He’d leave first thing Monday for Little Creek and let it go from there. She might not ask for his advice, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t force her to listen to it.
The round was finishing up. Rye putted for par on 18 to solidify his two-shot lead over Staddler going into tomorrow’s final round. Tom Buckley, who had been following the two on the course for shot coverage, caught up with Rye as he was walking off to sign his card.
Luke sat back in the booth, knowing the camera was off him and watched on the monitor as Tom conducted the interview. He could see Rye grimace, and Luke could appreciate the sentiment. After a good round, all a golfer wanted to do was sign his card and go home. If it was a bad round, that meant hitting some more balls. Either way, the five-minute interview was always somewhat of a nuisance, but it was part of the job.
“Sinjin, good round today.”
“Thanks, Tom. I hope I can keep it going for tomorrow.”
“You and Mark were trading some pretty sharp barbs out there.” Sinjin shrugged. “It’s all in good fun.”
Tom tilted his head, but didn’t pursue the comment. Luke wondered what the hell had been said out there. “Tell me, we just had Luke Nolan commenting today about the upcoming American and the fact that for the first time, a woman is going to be playing. What are your thoughts on Reilly Carr’s 38thplace ranking and her decision to play?”
“I don’t have thoughts about Reilly Carr. Frankly, I think the rank is a joke. She’s a girl. She plays with other girls. She should be ranked among girls. If she’s crazy enough to show up, she’s going to look like a fool out there.”
“You don’t think she should show up, then?” Tom prompted.
“I think she should stay home and bake some cookies. It will be a lot more fun and a lot less humiliating for her. Excuse me, I’m done discussing this.”
Rye walked off and Tom was left for a second looking like a guppy out of water. His mouth opened and closed before he was able to get out the words, “And back to you. Jim.”
Luke whistled softly. Any woman in the television viewing audience who had heard Rye’s comments were about to send a very strong letter to the network. He could only imagine what Reilly was saying right now.
Not sure how to address Rye’s comment, Jim tactfully decided to wrap up the broadcast by thanking the production crew and letting the audience know what time the broadcast would begin for the final round of coverage.
The director gave the hand cue to indicate that the cameras were off and Jim began to chuckle.
“Wow! That’s going to piss a lot of women off.”
“Rye never claimed to be a politician,” Luke said neutrally. He also never claimed to be an asshole, but he sure as hell was one. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jim.”
“Sure.”
Luke removed the microphone attached to his jacket and collected his cell phone. He didn’t have it in his hand for a second before it started to ring.
He saw the name and braced himself. “Hello.”
“Did that pig tell me I should stay home and bake cookies?”
Smiling, he clipped the hands-free receiver to his ear so he could walk and talk at the same time.
“Maybe he thinks you’re a baker.”
“Where does he get off?” Reilly demanded.
