Chapter 12
Chapter 12
WILL WAS GOOD TO his word. One evening after work, I followed him in my car to a driving range—a place I had heard about, of course, but had never had any desire to visit in my entire life. It hadn’t been too hard to recruit my friends to come with me. I had Paige at the mere mention of Will’s name, but Marissa took a little more persuading. Marissa and ball sports didn’t see eye to eye. When I explained it was to prepare me for my next date with Parker, she reluctantly tagged along. “As long as I don’t have to hit anything,” she had warned.
After a drive through the sketchier end of town, we arrived at the driving range and parked next to Will. As we walked into what was, for all intents and purposes, a large shed with a netted area over a big lawn out the back, I noticed all but one of the clientele were men. Undeterred, we hired a booth and Will began the expected lecture on the equipment.
Paige hung on his every word, Marissa appeared to be scouting the surrounding men for her One Last First Date, and me? I spent my time fantasizing about how my imminent golfing prowess would undoubtedly elicit those three little words from Parker come Saturday morning.
“Dunny?”
I blinked, coming back to earth.
“I may need you to concentrate here, okay?” Will pulled one of his golf clubs out of his bag. “See this one? This is called a five-iron. I suggest you start with this because it’s heavier and you should be able to get some good height with your shot.”
Marissa scoffed, having given up on her man quest. “If Cassie can hit the ball at all, that is.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence! Just you watch. Pass me the bat, please.” I stretched out my hand toward Will.
“Hang on there, tiger. First off, it’s a club not a bat. Secondly, I think I should show you how to hit a ball before you go careening off, wielding a heavy metal golf club. And thirdly”—he grinned at us all—“I thought you ladies might like to check out my form.”
I shook my head as Marissa laughed and Paige suddenly looked like she needed a fan and a lie down.
He pulled a golf ball out of the tub the driving range had provided and placed it carefully on a little bit of plastic poking out of the floor.
“This is the tee,” he explained. He stood with his legs parted, holding the club by the ball and shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot.
I sniggered. He looked like an oversized cat about to pounce on invisible prey. Only he was a 6’2” man, trying to hit a small white ball with a long metal bat.
Will ignored me. “I’m in position now and ready to hit the ball. I’m aiming for that flag at the one-fifty line.”
“You look great, Will,” Paige said with a smile.
I rolled my eyes. She’d think he looked great covered in mud and stinking of cat poop. I snorted. That would mean he’d live up to his “Poop Boy” moniker nicely.
He lifted his club high up behind him and swung through, the ball and club making a thunk sound when they made contact. We all watched as the ball sailed high in the air, landing near the flag.
“Nice shot!” Paige called.
“Thanks, Millsey. Now,” he said as he handed me the bat, “your turn. Grip the club like this.” He placed my hands on the club.
I copied Will, standing the same way as he had—only I skipped the amusing cat jostling.
“That looks great, Dunny. Now, aim for the flag right there.” He stood next to me and pointed at a flag in the middle distance, the one he’d almost hit a few moments ago. “It’s about one hundred fifty yards. That’s about how far you should be able to hit a ball with this ‘bat.’” He smirked at me, and then stepped away.
I looked down at the ball. Get ready for a whooping . I eyed the flag, lifted the club up behind me, and swung it down toward the ball. Only, instead of hitting it, I whacked the club into the ground, and shock waves ricocheted up my arm and down my body.
I swallowed. That wasn’t quite the plan.
“No worries. It’s your first try. Here, let me fix your grip.” Will adjusted my hands on the club. “Why don’t you practice swinging a couple of times before you hit the ball?”
“She already did that,” Marissa said with a snigger, leaning up against the wall.
I shot her a look. “Not helping.” I got myself back into position, lifted the club behind me, and swung through. This time it was going to be different: this time I was going to show off my skills, honed by many games of Wii Golf. My club whacked the ground once again, making my arms shake.
On my next attempt, I missed the ball and the ground all together and ended up spinning full circle around. I was thankful for small mercies: at least I didn’t hit the ground, and I had managed to hold on to the club. Baby steps.
Will moved in and took the club from me. “Okay, now you’ve damaged my five-iron, let’s move onto something else.” He fished another club out of his bag, returning the five-iron—a lethal weapon in my hands, it would seem—to his bag.
“This is a three-iron. You can hit further with this one, up to about one hundred seventy-five yards. Well, I should probably say I can hit further with this one.” He grinned at me. “Have a couple of practice swings and see how it feels.”
“Are you sure you should be giving her another one?” Marissa asked, looking dubious.
He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
As I got into position above the as yet untouched ball, I noticed all three of them took several large steps away from me and my new weapon of choice. I could hardly blame them. This golfing hogwash was proving much harder than I’d expected.
“Okay, when you’re ready, Dunny, take a shot and aim for the next flag back.”
I bit my lip. “This is a lot harder than Wii Golf.”
“You mean you actually have to get up off the sofa,” Will replied.
“Cassie’s the reigning Wii Golf champion, you see,” Marissa explained.
“Yeah. No one can touch her when it comes to that game. Not that she’d ever brag about it, right, Cassie?” Paige added.
“ Moi ?” I laughed. It helped release the tension. As I lifted the new club up behind me, I held my breath, closed my eyes, and swung through. As my club made contact with the ball and shot off the tee, I got such a surprise I let go. Will’s three-iron hurtled after the ball, bouncing along the grass until it came to an abrupt stop.
I was torn between elation and embarrassment. I had just hit my very first real golf ball, but I’d also possibly broken one of Will’s clubs. I turned to look at Will, Marissa, and Paige. They were all watching me, agog. No one said a word.
I gave them a shy thumbs-up. “Yay. I hit the ball.”
“Yup. You did that,” Will replied, looking at his club, lying on the grass.
I followed his line of vision. “Sorry about your club, Will.”
He let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I think we have a lot of work to do here. When are you playing with this boyfriend of yours?” He used those annoying air quotes around the word “boyfriend.”
“Parker.” I shot him what I hoped was a withering look. “We’re playing next Saturday.”
Will let out a puff of air. “Can you delay it, maybe make it sometime later?”
“I don’t think so. Is it that bad? I mean, I just hit the ball pretty well, don’t you think?”
Marissa and Paige laughed. I pursed my lips at them.
“Sorry, Cassie,” Paige had the grace to say. “You’ve just started learning. I think it takes a long time to get really good at golf. Right, Will?”
Will scrunched up his face. “More than ten days, that’s for sure.”
“How long do you think I need?”
“Err . . . a while,” Will replied evasively.
“What’s ‘a while’? Do you think we should come here again?”
Will put his hand on my arm, smiling down at me. “Let’s put it this way, Dunny. Either you have some serious, serious beginner’s luck when you play your round with him or you need to spend every waking moment between now and when you play with him practicing.”
I bit my lip. “Oh.” I thought for a moment. As much as it riled me to do so, having Will teach me how to play would be incredibly helpful—and help me look good in front of Parker. “Will? Do you think you could . . . err . . . help me out?”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” he replied, leaning into me, cuffing his ear.
I kicked the floor. He was making me work for this. “Would you please help me?”
“Help you, did you say?” He crossed his arms as he looked at me. “Would you be willing to put the time in? Every day after work?”
I glanced at my friends. Spending every evening for the next ten days with Will “Poop Boy” Jordan was hardly my idea of fun. “Well, we have that girls’ dinner on Thursday, right?”
“I’m sure we can reschedule that,” Marissa commented, a smile teasing the edges of her mouth.
She’s enjoying this!
“Yeah, no problem.” Paige shrugged and smiled. “We can do it in a couple of weeks. We might be able to get into that new place on the waterfront then, anyway.”
“But—” I searched my brain for another excuse. Sure, I wanted to be good enough at golf to dazzle Parker, but spending that amount of time being told what I’m doing wrong by the person I’m competing against for the Regional Manager’s job felt like cruel and unnecessary torture. I was torn.
Will slotted his iron back into his golf bag. “Put it this way, Dunny. You either take me up on my very generous offer to impart my golfing wisdom or you should go home and pray. A lot.”
So that’s what I did. I went home and visualized myself hitting that ball with style and elegance, impressing Parker with my golfing proficiency and natural charm. In my mind, I was the consummate golfer, hitting effortlessly great shots every time, congratulating Parker on his good shots, and commiserating with him on his bad. At the end of every visualization, Parker would take me by the hand, look deep into my eyes, and tell me he loved me and could see us playing golf together for many years to come.
As part of my prep, I flicked the channel over to one of the many sports channels I’d never visited before and fell asleep watching the not-exactly riveting world of professional golfers in bad clothing each night, making it look easy.
And because my mama didn’t raise no fool, I took Will up on his offer, despite my reservations. We went to the driving range every evening after work. And I turned up prepared. I bought a set of clubs second-hand online and even purchased a shirt-skirt ensemble from the pro golf store I passed on my way to work each day—a store I never imagined I would ever enter, let alone exercise my Visa card in.
Will let out a whistle as I slipped my new, pink golf bag off my shoulder in the driving range cubicle. “Don’t you look the business.”
“Why, thank you.” I turned and pulled my five-iron out of my pretty pink bag, removed its pink fluffy cover, walked over to the tee, and put my golf ball (pink, of course) in place. I was ready for my first shot.
Will leaned back against the wall of the cubicle. “Hit it, tiger. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I got myself into position, did the little wiggle I noticed in my TV research all pro golfers seem to do, then looked from the ball to my target and back again. In short, I was feeling it. And it was good. I swung my club up behind me and let loose, hearing the satisfying clunk of club hitting ball. I watched my girly pink ball soar through the air, eventually landing close to the one-fifty flag.
A surge of pride rose up my chest. I tried my best to suppress a smile.
“Wow, Dunny. What an awesome shot! Are you sure this is your first time back at the range? You haven’t been cheating on me with another coach, have you?”
“No. I guess I’m just a natural, that’s all.”
“A natural, huh? Okay, let’s see that again.”
“Sure. No problemo.” I took another pink ball out of my bag, placed it on the tee, and got myself into position once more. This time, however, I clunked my club into the ground, entirely missing the ball and tee.
Will pushed himself off the wall and rolled up his sleeves. “Okay. We’ve got some work to do.”
We spent the next hour and a half taking shot after shot, Will frequently offering advice, and me frequently scowling at him. But I listened to him and did what he said. My shots, although not exactly at pro level, had improved by the time we decided to call it a night, and we even began to have a little bit of fun together.
On our way back to our respective cars, Will proposed we grab a bite to eat together at a burger bar down the road. My tummy grumbled as I thought of the depressing state of my refrigerator back home. “Sure, why not? I could eat.”
At the restaurant—a fifties-inspired American diner—a waitress showed us to a darkened vinyl booth near the bar. In my skirt, my bare legs stuck to the seat as I tried my best to shimmy around to the back. I picked up my menu, and my mouth instantly started to water at the long list of burgers, from vegetarian to fish to beef and everything in between.
“What are you going to get?” Will asked.
“I can’t decide between the Tex Mex, the Double Cheese, and the Bacon and Avocado Burger.” I looked at him over the top of my menu. “Do you think I could get all three?”
He grinned. “Why not?”
In the end, I ordered the Bacon and Avocado, a side of fries, and a lime milkshake. My excuse? I’d worked up quite an appetite at the driving range, not only playing golf, but having to be in Will Jordan’s presence for an hour and a half more than was necessary. I deserved a medal, not just a high fat meal.
“How did you know I loved burgers so much?” I asked.
“I took a wild stab in the dark. You and I have more in common than you think.”
I guffawed. Will and I were poles apart as human beings. What was he thinking?
I changed the subject. “So, how am I doing with the golf?” I asked once we’d ordered and the waitress had delivered us our shakes.
“Actually, I know I give you a hard time out there, but you’re doing great.”
“Thanks,” I replied, swelling with pride. “I do appreciate your help, you know.”
Will nodded. “It’s really important to you, impressing this guy. Right?”
I turned my glass around, feeling the cold condensation with my fingertips while thinking about Parker. “Yeah. It is.” I looked up at him, suddenly embarrassed. “Is that so bad?”
“Of course not. I mean, you’ve got to make up for that first date underwear malfunction, right?”
I pursed my lips. “You can’t be nice for more than a minute, can you?”
Will looked surprised. “What? You’re the one who told us about it. Remember?”
“Yeah. I really wish I hadn’t told the whole team about it.” What I meant was I wished I hadn’t told Will about it. I should have known he would use it against me. “And anyway, it wasn’t an underwear malfunction. They didn’t fly off me or some other bizarre state of affairs.” I squirmed in my seat, uncomfortable we were discussing my underwear.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Really. He’s a lucky guy.”
I snapped my head up. “Why do you say that?” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. This had to be the lead into some kind of dumb joke at my expense. Well, I wasn’t going to fall for it. No way. Not this time.
He shrugged. “Just that you care enough about him to go to all this effort to impress him.”
“And?” I lead. “What’s the punchline?”
He shook his head at me, smiling. “Just that. What? Can’t I say something nice, Dunny? Jeez.”
“You can. It’s just you don’t. At least not to me.” I knew I sounded like a wounded puppy, but I couldn’t help it. Will was always teasing me and calling me by that stupid nickname. I found it thoroughly disconcerting when he was actually nice to me.
“It’s just you’re so easy.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned at me. I couldn’t help but reciprocate. He was right, I was easy to wind up, especially where he was concerned. Perhaps I needed to loosen up a bit, join in the fun?
“And besides, we’re archrivals for the job. I need to get in as many potshots as I can.”
I frowned. I wanted the Regional Manager’s job almost as much as I wanted to marry Parker. “So you can make my life a living hell before I get to be in charge of you and kick your butt into next week?”
He laughed. “Something like that, Dunny.”
“You know, it’s kind of weird we’re out to dinner together, when you think about it.”
“I guess. We can still be friends, though, right?”
I nodded. Being Will Jordan’s friend was never something I’d aspired to. But there was something about him that seemed genuine, different. I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Sure,” I said, smiling.
“You really want that job, don’t you?”
“Of course. Why else would I have applied?” What was he, stupid? Of course, I wanted to be Regional Manager. It was something I’d been working toward since I joined the company—a long time before the likes of Will Jordan was on the scene.
The music changed to a song I recognized, “Jailhouse Rock” by Elvis Presley. Will started bobbing his head and tapping the table. I smiled. “Like the oldies, do you?”
“What? Oh, the music. Yup. Can’t go past a bit of The King. My pops was a big fan, so it was practically the law to like him in my house.”
“Mine, too. Must be an old guy thing. Did your grandpa live with you?”
“Well, I lived with him . He and my nan brought me up.”
The atmosphere changed.
He continued to tap and bob his head as though it was no big deal.
“How old were you when you went to live with them?”
“I was seven. You see, my parents were killed in a car accident. My grandparents took me and my brother in. I lived with them until I left school.”
My chest felt tight at the thought of Will as a seven-year-old child, losing both his parents in one horrific, devastating blow. Just like that: gone. My eyelids felt hot. I blinked. “Will, I’m so sorry.”
Will shrugged. “It’s okay. Sure, it sucked at the time, but my brother and me? We were just fine. Our grandparents were awesome; we were just like a regular family, only they were a heck of a lot older than the other soccer parents. And look at me now?” His palms up, he leaned back against the booth. “You’ve got to say I turned out pretty good.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “If I agree with you, I’ll only feed your already enormous ego. And if I don’t agree with you, I’m a heartless witch. Right?”
He grinned. “Exactly. So which is it?”
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I replied, “You turned out great.”
He slapped his hands together. “Yeah, I did.”
We both laughed. Perhaps it was the fact he’d opened up about his family to me, or perhaps I just felt sorry for the little orphaned boy he was? But, in that moment, something shifted between us.
I watched as Will got back to the serious business of looking like a total goofball, nodding and tapping to the music, this time adding in a bit of a shoulder jiggle.
I let out a chuckle. “Did you learn those moves from your pop?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Join me out here, Dunny. Loosen up a bit.”
I glanced around the room. No one I recognized. What could it hurt? Against my better judgment, I began to nod my head up and down. Elvis had moved onto “Hound Dog” by now, and Will had added hand movements to his repertoire, looking more and more like he had lost his mind. “Come on, Dunny!” he encouraged.
I shook one shoulder, then the other. Before I knew it, I was shimmying to The Pelvis complaining about his hound dog crying all the time, enjoying myself. Of course, we looked like a couple of patients who had escaped from a loony bin, but in that moment, I couldn’t have cared less.
Our seated dance off was interrupted by our waitress delivering our burgers. “You two look like you’re having a good time,” she commented as she placed my burger in front of me.
I gave her an embarrassed smile. “Ah, yes. Thanks. It looks great.”
“Well, you two enjoy.”
“Oh, we will,” Will said. The waitress turned and left. “Dig in.”
“Try and stop me, ‘Poop Boy’. These look amazing.” I picked up my burger and took my first bite. “Oh, my gosh. This is so good!” I exclaimed, my mouth still full.
He grinned at me. “I know, right?”
We sat in companionable silence as we devoured our burgers, pausing only to comment on how good the food was.
“Is it just that I’m ravenous or is this the best burger the world has ever known?”
Will chuckled, wiped some sauce from his lips with a napkin. “They are pretty good. I’m surprised you haven’t been here before, being such a burger connoisseur.”
“I don’t come to this side of town much, to be honest.”
“Well, you will be for the next seven days.”
Every last crumb of my burger consumed, I sat back in the booth, my hands on my full belly as I rested my head against the vinyl backing. “That was divine,” I declared with a sigh.
Will grinned at me. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
For the first time since we arrived, I looked around the restaurant as Will finished off his plate of fries and I sipped my shake. I took in the booths, the fifties-style jukebox, the Tiffany rip-off lampshades. Even though it was after nine, the place was packed with people, clearly enjoying the food as much as we did. It felt comfortable, relaxed, cozy. Like the Cozy Cottage. “This place has a great feel to it. I like it.”
“Yeah, me too. I’ve been coming here for a while now. Best burgers in town.”
I grinned at him. “Amen to that!”
For the next few nights, we followed the same routine: Will telling me what I was doing wrong at the driving range, then dinner together afterwards before heading home. My golf was improving, although not at the rate I’d have liked. I may not be a gifted sportswoman by any stretch of the imagination, but I could usually pick up a new sport quickly. Golf, however, was proving to be trickier than most.
Will continued to make jokes at my expense, but instead of biting, I gave it straight back. And you know what? It was liberating. I was having fun, and I liked it.
But, of course, he persisted in calling me Dunny, even when he introduced me to some of his friends when they took a cubicle next to us at the driving range one evening.
“Actually, my name is Cassie,” I corrected, raising my eyebrows at Will. Will might be Mr. Nice Guy these days, but he could at least use my proper name when introducing me to new people.
“Really? Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Cassie,” Will’s smooth-looking friend, The Joffster—another nickname, so who knew what the name his parents gave him was?—said.
I looked at him in alarm. “What do you mean, ‘finally meet me’? What’s Will said about me?” I looked from The Joffster to Will. He glanced down at his feet momentarily before looking back up.
And that’s when it dawned on me. Of course Will was feeling sheepish. He’d told his friends about this lame chick he needed to train so she could try to impress her boyfriend, the very same one he was going to beat to the Regional Manager’s job.
I was just the butt of his latest joke.
“Is that the time?” Joffster said, glancing at his watch. “Wow, I should really get on with taking some shots here. Got to get back to the Missus by nine. Nice to meet you, Dunn—Cassie.”
I watched as The Joffster—I mean, what a stupid name!—spun back to his friends in the cubicle and started rummaging through his golf bag. I turned to face Will, crossing my arms and fixing him with my steely glare.
He avoided eye contact with me. “Well, I think we should call it a night, don’t you? It’s been a good session, but it’s getting late.”
I clenched my jaw. “Sure.” I packed up my bag as Will chatted with The Joffster, making plans to play pool on Saturday night.
We walked in silence back to our cars.
“Well, this is me. See you tomorrow.”
Will paused, hovering next to my car as I flung my bag in the backseat. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, puzzled.
I let out a sigh. “Look. You’ve been great, helping me out with all this. And I appreciate it, really I do.”
“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming up?”
I pursed my lips. “I don’t appreciate being the butt of the jokes with your friends.”
“That wasn’t the ‘but’ I was referring to.” He shot me a cheeky grin.
I rolled my eyes and slammed the car door firmly shut. “Okay, whatever.”
He looked unexpectedly serious in the evening dusk. “Don’t worry about what The Joffster said. You’re not the butt of any joke.”
Hands on hips, I asked, “Really?” my voice dripping in sarcasm.
“Really.”
I studied his face for a moment. He looked genuine, but what did I know? Will Jordan had gone from being the bane of my work existence to my golf tutor and friend and back again. If you asked me which way was up, I’d get it wrong. Confused didn’t begin to explain the current state of my brain. “All right. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. And, err, thanks for the lesson tonight.”
“You know you’re doing great.”
“Thanks.”
“Still can’t tempt you with a bite to eat? I know a great Thai.”
My tummy rumbled. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m going to have an early night.”
His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Your loss. There’s a green chicken curry with my name on it. Let’s work on your short game tomorrow after work.”
“Sure, thanks.”
He turned to walk away, calling, “See you, Dunny,” over his shoulder in his usual light-hearted tone.
“See you, Man of Mystery,” I said to myself as I watched him reach his car and throw his bag in the back.
We “worked on my short game” the following evening in the office once everyone had gone. Will set up an obstacle course with cups for me to putt my pink golf balls into, which proved so much harder and more irritating than whacking the heck out of a ball at the driving range. It was a whole different skill, one of which I was unlikely to get the hang of before I played with Parker on Saturday morning—three short days away.
Will was his usual sarcastic, joking self, and I tried my best to hold my own and not react the way I used to. But something had changed. Although I tried to let it go, I couldn’t get The Joffster’s comment out of my head. I didn’t like being some laughable charity case one little bit.
“Hey, Will?” I asked once we’d packed up the cups and returned the office to its proper order.
“Yup?”
“I can’t make it for the next couple of nights. I’ve got a dinner and a-another dinner. But I wanted to say thanks for all you’ve done for me. I may not be as good as you, but I think I can hold my own now. So.”
“Hey, no worries. The big game’s on Saturday, right?”
“It is. So, I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”
“Sure. Have a good night.”
I shrugged my jacket on, collected my purse, and walked to the elevator. Once I’d pressed the button, I looked back. I could see Will through his office window. He was already sitting at his computer, reading his screen intently, clearly accepting my story about two dinner engagements over the coming evenings. I let out a sigh.
That man was beyond confusing. One moment he was going out of his way to be incredibly nice to me, dedicating hours of his free time to help me learn golf. The next moment, he’d talked to his friends about me, no doubt telling them all about how I’m some clueless charity case. I cringed. They probably all knew about my first date underwear fiasco, too!
And then there was the fact we were rivals for the Regional Manager’s job. No. This was getting too hard. As the doors opened and I stepped into the elevator, I made a decision: keep Will Jordan at arm’s length.
Anything else was simply too bamboozling.