Page 9 of Putting Out
Like Reilly, Luke was a complete loser in the marriage department. She liked to be around him because unlike her, he was a three-time divorcee.
It made her feel superior.
Not too long ago she saw him doing color commentary for CBS. His looks and easy charm made him a natural for television. She’d been shocked. It didn’t seem possible someone who had climbed so high, could slide so fast. Not at his age.
It made her question her future because when it came to competitive temperament, she and Luke were twins separated at birth.
Reilly wondered if this is what her lack of enthusiasm was signaling. Was she headed for… gulp…the booth?
No, it wasn’t possible. But then she wouldn’t have believed it was possible for Luke until she saw him there.
She told Kenny about it, but Kenny already knew. Luke had called him to let him know about the career change. That had hurt. Luke hadn’t considered her friend enough to let her know he was hanging up his golf shoes for a tie and a microphone. She thought they were closer than that.
“What did he say?”
“Oh, he wanted to see how your Grams was fairing. Kenny told him about the Parkinson’s. Of course he offered any help we needed.”
“Kenny and I are here for you and Grams.” “You think we don’t know that?”
“No. I know you do. We travel so often, though. January through October and then all the publicity stuff and ad work. I hate to be away for all that time.”
“But you’re not,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You’re here.”
“Still, if you need me to cut back on my schedule, I can. There are a few tournament titles I don’t need to defend anymore. Ones I could easily drop from the schedule.”
He looked at her as if she might be an alien in disguise. She’d never opted not to defend a title. The most consecutive wins at the same event was yet another record she’d broken. At the Du Maurier Classic she was working to put the record so far out of reach, it would hold forever.
Until the next phenom came along, anyway.
“I haven’t congratulated you on your latest victory. I saw all the highlights on the Golf Channel. I’ve been writing to them to expand coverage of the LPGA so I can watch every tournament, but to date they haven’t answered a single one of my letters. I have to say I’m getting a little teed off with them. Sorry about the language.”
“Teed” off was about as colorful as Pop’s language got.
“It’s okay, Pop. They said ABC is going to show two hours on Saturday and Sunday of the Nabisco. That’s more than last year.”
“It’s an insult.”
“It’s a business.”
Women didn’t rate as much TV time because not as many people wanted to watch them. As a result there were fewer sponsors, less people willing to pay for ad time, and less money. Facts were facts. But things were better than they were a few years ago. Annika was responsible for that. Now she imagined she had something to do with it, because any time a woman stood out, the inevitable question was always asked.
Could a woman compete with the men?
Reilly didn’t know, but she and her bank account would always be grateful they had put the thought in people’s minds.
Shaking off the wisp of pessimism dogging her, Reilly turned her attention to what was important.
“How is Grams?”
“She has good days and bad days. She does her exercises, takes her medicine. She’s not in pain.”
That didn’t make her happy because what he didn’t say was the truth.
“But she’s not getting any better.”
“The doctors told us what to expect. There’s no cure. You know that.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
