Page 71 of Putting Out
Odie dismissed her comment and continued. “We can make her a little stronger, but more important, we can improve her club-head speed. By el-limin-nating every twitch, every flaw, every extra movement, we can make her swing faster and cleaner, which in turn will make the ball go higher and with less spin. She’ll gain on it. That’s why you see some skinny boys on tour hitting the ball as far as the boys with the big guts. The key will be to do this without sacrif-ficing her acc-curacy. Now line up again and swing.”
Knowing she was being analyzed was slightly unnerving. With her next swing she tensed up and neither Kenny nor Odie commented. With her next swing, she relaxed and let her own natural motion rule. This time she was perfect.
“That’s it,” Odie muttered. “Again.”
And so she did it again. And again. And again. Almost two hours later she asked if Odie would let her hit an actual ball.
“Nope. Not ready for that yet.”
“Come on. I need to know how I’m doing. Kenny, what was that last distance on the monitor?”
Kenny opened his mouth to speak, but Odie silenced him with a hard look. “Don’t you worry about it. You’ve still got a long way to go.”
“I can’t have too long. I don’t have that much time. And distance isn’t everything, you know.”
“I know,” Odie assured. “But it’s the first step. If we can get you hitting it a little farther, we’ll go to phase two.”
It sounded ominous. “Phase two?”
“Iron shots. High iron shots,” he told her as he shut down the computer. “Then we’ll pray the sun holds a little longer in the sky and the moon waits for the sun a little longer at night so we’ll have enough time to get to phase three. Putting on greens so slick you’ll wish you had ice skates to navigate them. Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
Kenny tried to hide a smile as Reilly put her driver back in her golf bag.
“Did he just say the only way I’m going to make it to phase three is if time stops?”
“I think that’s what he said.”
“Oh, good,” Reilly said as they followed Odie back to the house. “Then there’s hope.”
“Hungry?” Pierce asked the group as they entered through the back doors. “I’m making a power lunch.”
“That leaves me out,” Odie announced. “I don’t like power in my lunch. I like food. Let me know when you’re done with the rabbit stuff and I’ll make myself up a steak.”
“Laundry is in piles on the stairs. Take yours up as you go,” Pierce announced.
Odie headed for the stairs, grabbing his clothes on the way to the bedroom he’d claimed. While Reilly and Kenny eyed the cut-up avocados, tomatoes, greens, and sliced chicken breasts.
“Speaking of laundry, I swear I’m missing some articles of clothing.” Reilly reached for a piece of chicken and bit into it. “Namely, my thongs.”
“Gross,” Kenny moaned. “Can we not discuss your thongs in the kitchen, please?”
“Grow up.”
“I just wash what I get,” Pierce said tightly. “If you’re missing anything, you might want to check in that mess you call a room.”
“Woa, that sounded suspiciously like our grandmother,” Kenny teased. “Clearly, Pierce likes order.”
“Without order, there is chaos,” he declared. “Clean environment, clean mind, clean body. All of these things can lead to a more productive life.”
Kenny eyed the plate of food. “Uh… speaking of a clean body, I’m not in training and I would like fries with my power lunch.”
“Then you can make a run for the nearest McDonald’s,” Pierce told him. “I only work with good stuff.”
Reilly studied the large dish of vegetables and lean protein, and considered the rumblings of her stomach after two hours of Pierce this morning followed by two hours of Odie.
“Make it two orders of fries. Supersize. With a Big Mac.”
“Absolutely not. I’m not working as hard as I am to make your body a lean, mean muscle machine to watch you eat death fries and killer burgers.”
