5. Bryn
Chapter five
Bryn
“Okay, ladies,” Kelsey says to the group of women who have reconvened on the driving range after dispersing post-dinner. “The game is simple. You want to get your ball past your yardage marker. Each time you do, it’s one point. Every time you fall short of the fifty-yard marker, you have to take a shot. If you whiff it, Becca, you have to do two shots.” We all laugh as Becca groans. “As in an actual round of golf, we’ve handicapped everyone into skills-based groups. Group one, as the newbies, you have to get your drive past the 150-yard marker. Group two, 175. And you lucky bitches in group three with me, we’ve got to get it past that pretty blue 200-yard marker. Whoever has the most points at the end wins. Whoever has the least amount of points”—we all turn to look at Becca, who never golfs—“streaks. Everybody understand?”
We all nod, laughing at the look of sheer terror on Becca’s face.
I move my bag to where Kelsey indicated group three would be, pulling out my driver and stowing the head cover in the side pocket of my black and red golf bag. Lifting the club above my head, I take a few seconds to stretch out my back, knowing this game has forced me to use my heating pad to soothe an injury more than once before. No matter how many times I tell myself to just swing easy, there is something about drive contests that makes me take the hardest swing I can.
Kelsey clears her throat, drawing our attention back to her. “Before we start, everyone has to take one shot. We’ve got two shot options—whiskey or tequila. Just grab the one you want.”
Throwing my arm around Izzy’s shoulder, I ask, “What’s your poison for the evening?”
“Whiskey, definitely whiskey. I already had two milkshakes with it. I can’t switch it up now.”
I laugh, tightening my hold into a one-armed hug before I let her go so we can each grab a shot glass. Noting the height of the caramel-colored liquid in the glass, I’m pleased to note they are at most half-shots. We are not twenty-one anymore and have had a long day of sun and booze.
At Kelsey’s signal, we all clink glasses and toss back a shot, the burn setting my throat on fire before it travels down to warm my belly.
As the birthday girl, Kelsey hits first in our group. She flies it over the 175 marker, but it sticks and doesn’t make it past our line.
I grab my driver, ready to take my turn. I step up to the tee, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. I feel the club connect with the ball, the sound ringing in my ears as it soars through the air. The ball lands just a few yards short of the blue 200-yard marker, and I let out a sigh of frustration. I knew I should have swung easier.
Kelsey pats me on the back, a smirk on her face. “Not bad for a first shot, but I know you can do better.”
I grin at her, feeling good from the amount of liquor we’ve had today and the thrill of the game. “Still tied with you, aren’t I?”
We all take turns teeing off and occasionally throwing back shots, though no one is really holding anyone to the shot rules at this point. We’ve definitely had enough to drink today.
The newbie group has dissolved into a fit of giggles, Kelsey’s friend Skye deciding to forgo even attempting to hit the ball. She takes a sip from a shot glass each turn instead. Becca is still valiantly giving it her all in group two, but she misses the ball more often than she makes contact with it. Her lack of skills has led to more shots than if she had just accepted her fate and followed Skye’s example.
As the game goes on, the sun begins to set, and the sky turns a deep shade of orange and pink. The air grows cooler, and I pull my sweater tighter around me. The whiskey has gone straight to my head, and I’m feeling a warm, happy level of intoxication. I’ve managed to rack up a few points, but Kelsey has managed to keep pace. Iz hit a decent shot last round, so she’s not going to be streaking tonight, but she’s definitely out of the running for first.
“Last shot, ladies,” Kelsey calls out, holding up a bottle of tequila. “Becca and Skye, you better start stretching. I think you’ve got a sprint across the putting green in your future.”
We all laugh, including Becca and Skye. They both knew this was their likely fate. Plus, they are both bombshells who run on a regular basis, so they’ve got nothing to worry about showing off to any lucky old men who happen to glance out the window of their cottage.
Groaning inwardly at the thought of more shots, I set up for my final drive. Even though the ground has become a bit wobbly and I’m having a bit of trouble getting the ball to stay on my tee, I can’t resist the challenge.
I line up my shot, trying to steady my hands. I take a deep breath and swing. This time, I feel the ball connect solidly with the club, and I watch in amazement as it sails past the blue marker, landing almost at the edge of the range.
“Yes!” I shout, pumping my fist in the air. I turn to Kelsey, grinning from ear to ear. “Beat that.”
Kelsey looks at me with a smirk. “Oh, I intend to,” she says, grabbing her driver and setting up her shot.
I watch her take her backswing, the club moving gracefully through the air. She connects with the ball, and it rockets off the tee, soaring high into the air. We all watch in amazement as it lands past the 200-yard marker, rolling to a stop just a few yards short of 215.
I stare at her in disbelief, impressed despite myself. “How the hell did you do that?”
Kelsey grins, taking a victory shot of tequila. “It’s all in the hips,” she says with a cocky grin.
I roll my eyes, laughing. “Well, I guess that means we tie, then.”
Kelsey nods, looking pleased with herself. I almost always win when we play. “Looks like it. Becca and Skye, you ready to run?”
We all head over to the putting green, Becca and Skye already stripping down to their underwear in anticipation of their impending streak. Izzy hands me a beer, and I gladly accept, taking a long sip. The sun has set entirely now, leaving us in darkness, except for the lights that illuminate the range and putting green.
Becca and Skye take off across the green, their arms outside like airplanes, asses shining in the moonlight like they don’t have a care in the world.
We all laugh and shush each other, drunkenly trying to be quiet as our friends dash back toward us. Becca and Skye return, their faces flushed with adrenaline and the cold air. Kelsey hands them their clothes, and they quickly get dressed, still giggling and out of breath.
As we pack up our golf clubs and make our way back to our cottages, I can’t help but feel grateful for the fun evening we’ve had.
I feel more content and happier than I have in a long time, the buzz of the whiskey and beer still coursing through me. Tomorrow, we’ll all be nursing hangovers, but it will be worth it for the memories we’ve made tonight.
I look up at the sky, with its bright stars and glowing moon, and take a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air. This is what life is all about. Moments like these, surrounded by good friends, my sisters, and laughter, making memories that will last a lifetime. It makes me sad to know I’ve missed out on so much of it, traveling all the time for work.
Izzy and I stay up, sitting outside our rooms on the dark blue Adirondack chairs and chatting about Izzy’s company and my work building out Hungry Guy’s loyalty program. There is a full moon out, lighting up the course and the cottages, offering the perfect view of the stretch of tall prairie I’ve come to see as beautiful.
As we talk, I feel a sense of ease wash over me. Izzy is a good listener. Like I always do when we’re together, I find myself opening up to her. It’s not a coincidence that she is the only one who knows I’m a virgin. I trust her to not make a big deal about it. The whiskey has loosened the tight knot in my throat, allowing me to finally talk about the things that have been weighing on me.
“I’m worried I’m not focused enough on my job. I think freaking Kyle might end up getting the promotion instead of me.”
“Bryn, you are the most focused person I know. In fact, some people might argue you could be a little less focused on your job.”
“Yeah, but being successful at my job is important to me. You know what happened last time I tried to split my focus.” I shift my eyes away from her dark ones, scouring the ground for something, anything to avoid my sister’s all-knowing gaze.
She takes another pull from her beer. “But you are successful. You make more money than you could possibly know what to spend it on. Are you really happy with just you and your dog?”
I sigh, leaning back into the Adirondack chair. She’s right, I do want more than just me and Jack, who happens to be the best rescue mutt and most loyal friend a girl could ask for, but there’s so much I still want to do with my life, so much I still have to prove. And I can’t do that if I’m not 100% dedicated to my job.
“Hey, Jack is a good companion. Plus, you know it’s about more than that. I have to prove to myself, to everyone, that I can be good at something.”
“Bryn.” Iz sighs, the softness in her voice painful on my ears. “Anyone who has spent more than one minute with you knows you are amazing at a lot of things. You’re a great friend. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re kicking ass at your job.”
“Tell that to Peter. Tell that to Bryn of three years ago who was about to get fired!”
“You were on airplanes multiple times a week, trying to get to all the functions Peter needed you at and all the places work needed you. No one could have been successful with that schedule.”
“Momma Easley sure seemed to think I should’ve been able to do it,” I say.
“Momma Easley hasn’t had a job or a husband in the last two decades. I don’t think she’s a real reliable judge on the subject.”
“But she was right. I couldn’t juggle my career ambitions with a relationship then, and I don’t know why I would think I could do it now. I just need to focus on my job. When Tara leaves in three to five years and I’m promoted to head of North America, then I’ll make time for non-work things. Until then, I need to be one hundred percent focused on work.”
“Honestly?” She hugs herself, pulling her hands into her dark blue sweatshirt. “I wish you were a little less focused on work. Then I’d at least get to see my best friend every once in a while.”
I stare at the grass stain on my golf shoe, not sure what to say. “You…you know I love you, Iz. I wish I saw you more too.”
“I know, B. I know.” She then smirks at me and, with all the gumption of an older sister, says, “I also know there’s a certain pro golfer around here who also wishes he could see more of you…”
“Iz! That is not true!” I run my hand down my very sweaty golf tank seductively. “I mean, he would, obviously, be lucky to get a piece of this, but there’s no chance that man feels anything for me other than mild irritation. Plus, don’t forget, he was a dick. I don’t need that in my life.”
“Pshh. You might not need him in your life, but I can think of somewhere else you need that beautiful man.”
“Izzy!”
“What?” Her eyes are twinkling now. I swear to God, they are actually twinkling with mischief. “You know it’s true. He would undoubtedly be the best lay you ever have. Actually, on second thought, don’t do it. If you lose your virginity to the man, the myth, the legend that is Jameson Walker, it will destroy your chances of ever being fully satisfied with anyone else.”
With that, she finishes her beer, pulling her knees under her large sweatshirt before saying, “You know what? It’s cold as balls out here. I’m going to bed.”
She wanders off to our room, muttering something about hoping Friends is on, since hotel reruns are the best.
Finishing my beer, I pick up my golf bag and head back to the driving range. I need to get a certain professional golfer out of my head before he becomes a distraction. I’ve already unsuccessfully been down that road before.