4. Jameson
Chapter four
Jameson
I watch the woman walk away, her long, brown ponytail swishing in time to her steps, her ass like a beacon in a pair of bright orange shorts.
With a concentrated effort, I pull my eyes back to my menu, pretending to study it as I mentally work through what just happened.
She didn’t know who I was. And, even once she did know, she didn’t try to stay, arrange to meet up later, or, hell, flirt with me. She insulted me. Again.
Who does that? Shit. I don’t even know her name.
“Tony,” I say, turning to look at my tall waiter. “Who was that?”
“Oh, that’s Bryn Harper. She’s a local.”
“A local, huh? How many locals are members out here, anyway?”
Tony shifts on his feet before answering. “I’m not exactly sure, Mr. Walker. I could go find the manager if you’d like me to.” Taking a deep breath, he continues, “Though you should know Bryn is here as her sister’s guest. They’re celebrating their other sister’s birthday, and I would really hate for the manager to get them in trouble. My sister is around their age, so I’ve known them my whole life. They’re good people. Bryn just doesn’t have a filter. She wasn’t trying to be mean.” Then he adds, as if an afterthought, “Sir.”
“Shit. No. That’s not why I was asking. I don’t want to get her in trouble,” I say as I run my hand down my face. “I may have even deserved it. I was just curious how many people from Wild Bluffs were members out here… Oh, and really, Tony, you don’t have to call me sir.”
Tony glances down at his order pad. “I don’t know the exact number, but there are a few. Maybe ten local members. The Harper girls grew up caddying out here, and Bryn even played out here during a few tournaments in high school.”
Thinking of the end of her swing that I saw today as she hit my ball, I can believe that. She clearly isn’t new to the game.
“Thanks, Tony. That’s more than I anticipated. I suppose I should probably let you get back to your job. I’ll take the burger with avocado and sweet potato fries on the side. Hold the bun. And a whiskey on the rocks. Blanton’s if you’ve got it, please.”
“You’ve got it, Mr. Walker.”
As I wait for my dinner, I catch tidbits of the conversation floating over from the birthday party in the corner. Apparently, one of the women just went through a bad breakup and is taking a hiatus from the dating scene. Here’s hoping that goes better for her than it has been going for me.
Tony drops off my whiskey, two fingers in a glass tumbler with the Wild Bluffs Country Club logo etched on the front. With a name like Jameson Walker, I had no choice but to love whiskey. So, even though I’ve curbed my drinking in the past few months, I still allow myself one a day to sip on while I relax over my dinner.
Taking in the oaky scents, I’m transported to the back deck of my house overlooking the beach in Florida. I can hear the waves crashing and see the dark greens and purples that fill the sky as the sun sinks lower. Then I hear the memory of her voice—Alexis, talking on her phone—and I shake my head, forcing myself back to the present.
I’m going to have to sell that house. It’s got too many memories of Alexis, and thinking about her will only piss me off. I’ve gone down this road enough times in the past year. Her memory will only lead to me ordering another round, and then another, and likely another, until I’m so drunk, I can’t stop thinking about the woman who broke me.
Somehow, more whiskey always seems like the perfect plan to make me forget and only manages to make me remember more.
I hate that gold digger. And most of all, I hate that I was ever stupid enough to love her.
Luckily, Tony drops off my burger, bullying me out of my dark memories. He sets down a milkshake next to my plate and glances over his shoulder.
The entire birthday party is watching me with smiles on their faces.
“Bryn’s sister Izzy,” Tony says, gesturing her way, “wanted me to make sure you got this to make up for Bryn.”
The girl in question waves, making it blatantly obvious they were listening to every word. “To make up for Bryn being a complete twat-waffle, Tony!” Izzy’s eyes spark with mischief as she yells it across the dining area. “If you’re going to relay the message, at least do it correctly!”
Turning bright red, Tony nods before replying, “Right, for that. Somehow, Iz is embarrassed by Bryn’s actions, but not by yelling twat-waffle across a dining room.”
The whole table breaks into laughter, some of them falling over onto the others, they are laughing so hard.
I pick up the milkshake, salute the table with it, and take a long pull from the straw.
Coughing, I look up at Tony through watering eyes.
“What…the hell…is that?”
This, for some reason, makes the women laugh even harder, their cackles reverberating off the walls of the dining area.
With a small smile, Tony points to the chalkboard behind the bar. “It’s a peanut butter whiskey milkshake, Mr. Walker. It’s one of our specials tonight.”
Grabbing two more of the milkshakes off the counter, he walks over to the only other table left in the dining room and sets them down in front of two gentlemen.
Bryn’s sister Izzy gets up from the table and walks over to the two men, quietly apologizing for the disturbance. The men both laugh and soon she’s sitting at the table, telling them about some business she owns.
These women are funnier than the ones I’m used to meeting at golf courses, although that may be because the only women who I interact with while golfing apart from my sister and mom are either reporters or fans. All the women I’ve dated lately have definitely fallen into the fan group, and, if I’m being honest, the hero worship is getting to be a bit old. It’s been a long time since a woman other than my sister told me something that wasn’t exactly what she thought I wanted to hear.
I take another drink of the peanut butter concoction and find it’s surprisingly good once you know to expect the booze. I nod toward the table of women once more, most of whom have gone back to chatting and eating, and dig into my burger.
As I finish my meal, I realize it’s just me and a few of the birthday party women left in the room. One of which is the girl in the orange shorts, Bryn. It looks like it’s just her and her sister and one other girl at the table. As they get up to leave, Bryn’s light brown eyes land on mine, and her mouth twists into a small smile. Damn, it’s a nice smile.
Without thinking, I stand up and quickly cover the space between my table and theirs. “Big plans for the evening, ladies?”
The three glance at one another conspiratorially, then Izzy finally nods, and Bryn smiles a bit sheepishly. “Indeed, Mr. Walker. Tonight is the drunken drive contest.”
Laughing, I reply, “You know you’re not supposed to drink and drive, right?”
“Ooo, the famous Jameson Walker wit. Finally, it comes out. I was starting to think those gossip rags were filled with lies!” Bryn clutches at her chest dramatically, making my smile widen.
“Well, they say you shouldn’t believe everything you read, but I personally have never bought into that. The gossip columns should be considered absolute fact.”
She lifts her right eyebrow at my sarcasm, clearly enjoying the banter as much as I am. “As the only one here with any firsthand knowledge, we will have to take your word for it. Don’t have too much fun tonight…Mr. Walker.”
“Please, call me Jameson.”
The three girls smile, the third clearly the other sister based on the similarity in the gesture, and they turn to leave. Bryn calls over her shoulder, “Well, don’t have too much fun tonight, Jameson . And if you happen to see someone streaking outside your window this evening, maybe don’t call the manager, huh?”
With a wink, she lets the door close behind her, leaving me standing there wondering how the hell my night made such a 180 and why I didn’t want it to end. And why I’m suddenly thinking about sleeping with my blinds open tonight.