3. Shelby #2
Blah. Love. Overrated, if you ask me. And not fucking real.
“So what’s the ask Ethan?” Beau says. “Are there players who need partners and you’re wanting to pair us off with them?”
Ethan doesn’t say anything. With his mouth anyway. But his eyes say it all.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Hear me out,” Ethan says, holding his hands up to block the eye-daggers I’m shooting at him. Joke’s on him, no matter what he says, the answer is still going to be no. “This is going to be good for both of you.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Oh come on, Shelby, let the man talk,” Beau says as he sits back in the chair, propping his foot up across his knee, with a smug look on his face. “I, for one, am quite interested.”
Of course he would be. He’s got to love something like this. A tournament that, because of the format, is going to be a little more lenient on the proper rules of golf? He’s probably already planning half a dozen videos he can make off of it. Videos that would have me in it as his partner.
Hard. Fucking. Pass.
“For both of you,” Ethan repeats, like I missed the joke the first time.
“This is putting you back on a stage where you belong,” Ethan continues.
“Beau, we know how the tour reacted after your episode at the America’s Open.
I don’t need to remind you of the number of tournaments that uninvited you because of your comments after that one.
You need a goodwill, laid-back, positive, PR tournament to get you back where you were. ”
Now it’s my turn to snicker as Beau lets out what can only be described as a cross between a growl and a curse word.
“I won’t apologize, Ethan. I wouldn’t then and I won’t now. Everyone knows I was right. It was fucking pouring rain. They should’ve stopped play. I wasn’t the only one whose round was ruined because they refused to call it.”
“No, but you’re the only one who used their platform to make a video calling the tournament directors ‘money hungry pieces of shit who are ruining the game of golf.’ A video that was then seen by fifteen million people.”
“And I’d do it again.”
That response doesn’t surprise me. Because for our entire lives, Beau Devereaux has been able to do or say whatever he wants with almost zero repercussions.
The golden boy through and through. In high school, he kissed the teachers’ asses for grades I doubt he earned.
During our junior tour years, he somehow got the best tee times every single week.
And as a pro, he’s been able to use his looks and charisma—which apparently he has an abundance of—to be more flamboyant than the tour was ever used to.
The tour loved it when he started gearing up his social media channels.
It brought in new faces to the game. High profile faces they’d been trying to get for years without a hint of success.
That was, until his comments at the America’s Open. That particular video put him in hot water with the tour and tournaments. It was the first time he actually had to face consequences—personally, professionally, and financially.
The video was instantly viral. And rightfully so.
You don’t see a professional golfer taking to social media to make a thirty-four minute video all about how bad your tournament was and how unfairly you treated players.
Golfers are usually more laid back. Soft spoken.
There’s a decorum built around the sport, and being loud and aggressive doesn’t fit into that stereotype.
So Beau going off like that was a huge deal. Add to it that the tournament was a major—arguably the biggest tournament of the year—and that amplified everything a thousand percent.
I remember watching it—alone, where there would be no witnesses to my viewing—and being proud of him.
He didn’t say anything false. The rain was horrendous.
But because there wasn’t lightning, the tournament refused to call play.
Which sucks, because it was a major. Majors should give golfers the best opportunities to play their best round of golf.
No one plays well when they can’t keep their clubs dry.
So while Beau had a point, he still faced repercussions because of his comments.
The governing board couldn’t exactly suspend him—there’s nothing in the rule book saying you can’t talk bad about a tournament—but there was punishment.
Suddenly tournaments weren’t inviting him.
He lost endorsements. That didn’t start happening by accident.
No, Beau was being disciplined for speaking up—a.k.a.
not behaving the way a proper golfer does.
It hit him harder than he’ll ever admit.
Well, at least according to what Gabi told me. It’s not like I talked to him about it.
“Don’t laugh, Shelby. You need this too.
Maybe more than Beau,” Ethan says, which immediately shuts me up.
“I didn’t want to have to use this as a bargaining tool, but the purse is nice.
Even if you two finish at the bottom of the top twenty, it’s more than you’d make if you finished in the same place in a women’s event. ”
“It’s not about the money, Ethan.” Yeah, that’s a total half truth, but I’m going with it. “Plus, this would be my first tournament back from injury. Should it really be at a mixed gender tournament?”
“That’s exactly where it should be,” he says. “Would you rather have your first outing there? Or do you want your first time playing in almost two years to be a tournament that actually means something in the points and money race?”
Well, fuck. He’s right. Why is everyone right today and none of those people are me?
“I’m not a fan of any of this,” I say, crossing my arms for extra emphasis.
“You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.”
I know that’s my life right now, but there are things that I don’t want to say out loud that are racing through my mind. The biggest one being that I’m not sure if my shoulder, or swing, are ready yet.
Despite months of rehab, working with my former coach, and now Chad, I’m still not back to where I once was. I wasn’t panicking as much when I thought I still had a month to get my new swing down. Apparently, now I have a matter of weeks.
Cue panicking.
What if I get out on the course, all eyes on me and Beau as my partner, and my drive tanks?
Because it’s going to be based on what I’ve been doing at practice.
My drive is going to suck, which means the rest of my game is going to suffer.
I’m going to get in my head, and next thing you know, the surgery I had to prolong my career will end it before I’m ready.
“Are you ready?” Ethan asks, his face now displaying a concerned look. Because apparently he’s not a mind-reading sports agent.
“Yes,” I say, swallowing the lie. “At least, I will be.”
I feel Beau’s eyes on me, but I don’t turn to him. I don’t want to see the pity that I’m sure is there.
“Okay,” Ethan says, but before he goes on, I need to ask one more question.
“Why do they want us?”
It’s the question that’s been brewing in my mind since I realized what Ethan was asking us to do. This tournament has been going on for a few years now, and I’ve never been asked to play in it. To the best of my knowledge, neither has Beau. So why now?
“They don’t,” Ethan says pointedly. “I called in a favor. This is for both of you. Which is why you’re going to do it and not give me shit about it.”
Beau and I both flinch. It feels a lot like getting yelled at in the principal’s office.
“Like I said, you both need this,” Ethan continues. “And what better way to get back into the good graces of golf fandom than a feel-good story about childhood friends now playing together in a tournament.”
“We’re not friends,” we say simultaneously.
“Fine, acquaintances."
I don’t know what Beau’s face is saying now, but mine is giving “and that’s even a stretch.”
“Okay, you’re two people who’ve known each other for a long time,” Ethan concedes.
“But that’s the beauty of the pairing. The storyline with you two is a PR dream come true.
PR, mind you, that you could both use right now.
Two professional golfers who grew up playing together in Louisiana, both of you finding your way to the pros, now teaming up like you did when you were kids?
Have those answers ready, because you know that’s going to be asked no less than a dozen times when you head out there in two weeks. ”
“Whoa, slow down,” I say, holding up my hands. “I didn’t say yes.”
There have been very few times since I signed with Ethan that he’s had to force me to do something. But each time he has, it’s come with the same face. Hard. Stoic. One that screams “you pay me a lot of money to make you more money. So fucking listen to me and let me do my job.”
The face he’s giving me right now.
“You haven’t, but you’re going to,” Ethan says.
Beau and I share a look, and for one of the few times in our lives, it’s not out of hatred for each other. No, both of us are realizing at the same time that we have to say yes. That we might not like this, but it’s exactly what both of us need.
“What would we need to do?” Beau asks with a heavy sigh.
“Nothing out of the normal,” Ethan says, clapping his hands together like he’s just negotiated the peace plan of the century.
“Arrive at the beginning of the week for practice rounds. Be prepared to do a good amount of media before the tournament because of the angle we’re pitching.
Have those canned answers about growing up and playing together ready to go.
After that? Go out and play golf. Oh, and don’t kill each other. ”
Easier said than done.