Page 69 of Putting Out
Instead, she was going to think about her next set of exercises. She was going to think about the upcoming training schedule Odie had laid out for her. She was going to think about golf.
It was all she really had.
When she finally made it downstairs to the kitchen, the smell of mussels in white sauce and garlic assaulted her senses. There was plenty left over for her, but she wasn’t ready to eat.
The boys, as she silently referred to them, were in the great room drinking wine and beer and shouting at the large, flat-screen TV. It looked like the better deal.
Reilly grabbed a fresh wine glass and filled it before she sat near Kenny on the couch. It took her no time at all to pinpoint which American’s year they were watching.
The year was 2000 and David Duval was in the fairway at the 13thhole on Sunday.
“This kills me every time,” Kenny groaned. “Don’t do it, man. Don’t do it.”
“Look at the indecision. Where the hell was his caddy?” Luke wanted to know.
“Sure, blame the caddy. Right now his caddy is saying, ‘Don’t do it, man. You’re not going to clear the creek.’ But is he listening? No.”
Reilly smiled and snuggled into the couch. “There he goes. He’s pulling out the big dog.”
“No!” Luke and Kenny shouted together with enough passion that they might actually change the past.
“This is it. The American is on the line and he’s about to blow it,” Kenny grumbled.
“He didn’t know that. He thought he was going to make it. He’s giving himself a chance to win,” Reilly pointed out.
“He’s about to give himself an aneurysm.” Luke leaned forward in the chair. “And there it goes, it’s up, it’s up, it’s….”
“Bamm, smack dab in the water!” Kenny groaned. “And his shot at the Royal Blue is gone, ladies and gentlemen. That is just about the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It kills me every time. One of the great missed shots in golf.”
Reilly continued to watch David’s shoulders drop as the realization of what he’d done, or more accurately what he hadn’t done, hit him. Behind him the screen was filled with green grass, lush trees, blue skies, a small creek, and a bright sun above. It all looked so innocent, so serene, but it was a course that brought good golfers, experienced major winners to their knees each year.
Fifty-eight days and counting.
