Page 3 of Let it Breathe
"Dude, I like my wife, and I want to keep her, which means …"
"No strip clubs," we said in unison and laughed. Calvin's wife grew up with us, too. She was family to me, most of the time the nurturing motherly type, but when it came to corrupting her beloved Calvin, she was like the frenemy from hell.
"Seems like a big sacrifice," I said. I always gave him shit for getting married. We were only twenty-six. I wasn't ready for it, didn't want the responsibility.
"Seems like a small price to pay for what I got. You just ain't had it like that yet. You'll see."
I rolled my eyes and got up.
Calvin remained in the living room. I turned back.
"We going?" I held my hands up.
"Golf clubs," Calvin said.
"Oh, shit." He laughed as I retrieved them from my study and followed him to the front door.
* * *
"D, man. Aren't you getting too old for this shit?"
Calvin and I both hit clean shots into the fairway on the third hole. I was surprised he waited that long before telling me how to live my life.
"What shit?"
"Sleeping with strangers. Playing the big-time NFL baller card. Treating these women like this."
"These women know exactly what they're getting. I can't help it if their expectations are out of whack."
"You have no respect for these women, but you'll have sex with them." He stepped up to his ball, lined it up, and took a practice swing then looked at it again before taking a swing. He hit the ball pure, and it landed on the green. I walked up to my ball, took one look at the hole about a hundred and sixty yards away, swung, and landed it two feet from the pin.
"Good ball," Calvin said.
"I don't have to respect a woman to sleep with her." I jumped into the golf cart. "A woman who sleeps with a guy because he's a professional athlete, and you think your stuff is so good he'll lose his mind? You don't deserve my respect."
"You don't see how messed up that is."
"No." I jumped out the cart before it came to a complete stop. Tired of the same old lecture. "I also don't know why it's any of your business."
"No. You're right. It's not."
"So stay in your lane, my friend."
"Okay." He nodded and grabbed our putters. He handed me mine and stepped onto the green. "Speaking of my lane. What are you doing next weekend?"
"Next weekend." I walked over to my ball and checked the line. "Nothing, now."
"D, the game was over a week ago. You have to let it go. There will be more playoff games, I promise."
I twisted my neck. "Next weekend?"
"There's an investment conference in San Diego." He squatted behind the putt, checking his line. He stood up and performed two practice swings before addressing the ball. He putted, and the ball landed in the bottom of the cup. "Businesses seeking investors will have booths and pitch their business,Shark Tankstyle."
"Sounds cool."
"Maybe you can spend some of that brain power on diversifying more than just your bed," Calvin said as he cradled his putter in his arm.
"They got hot chicks at these conferences?" I said with a grin as I twirled my putter in my hand.
Calvin raised an eyebrow.
I looked back down at my putt, pulled the club back, and swung it through the ball. It rolled, caught the break just right, and landed in the bottom of the cup.
"Maybe I could do both."
