34. Shelby #2
I get evil eyes, and a round of shhh from the marshals.
Even Beau takes notice, giving me a confused look across the green.
I try to talk to him with my eyes, attempting to convey the words ’you won't believe this shit.’ But his confused look clearly means we need to work on our nonverbal communication.
“I don’t know how he knew Shelby, but he had pictures. They weren’t doctored. They weren’t recreated. He was going to give them to my ex. One affair is one thing. A mistake. A lapse in judgment. But multiple? If she found out, I was never going to see my kids again.”
"That sounds like a you fucked around, and you found out problem to me,” I say. “But you said there were more. I’m guessing not every guy on the tour is screwing around on their wives?”
Michael shakes his head. “Mostly gambling. A lot of loans for guys who don’t know when to quit.”
"Yeah, that's bad. But golfers can gamble on other sports. Hell, Beau is signing a deal with one of the online sportsbooks next week."
"Yes, that's allowed. But what would happen when people found out that they were betting on golf?"
I have to swallow my gasp, because fucking hell, that's definitely not allowed.
In professional golf, that’s one of the ultimate sins. There’s a whole integrity clause in the tour rules for both men and women. If these guys ever got caught, they’d be blacklisted. Tour cards permanently banned. They’d be back doing golf lessons in Bumblefuck, Nebraska before they knew it.
“Again, why are you telling me all this?”
Michael holds out the palm of his hand, where he’s been holding a USB drive. “This is a list of names. It’s everyone he’s ever given money to. And it’s probably going to look familiar. In fact, I’m going to guess you called every one of them asking if Chad could really help you with your swing.”
It takes me a second to process the information Michael just told me. And even after a solid thirty seconds, I still can’t believe what he's saying.
“You’re telling me…”
“They all lie for him,” Michael confirms. “He’s never fixed anyone. Him being praised as a swing coach and caddy is how he stayed close to the golfers. Then, word of mouth started and he picked up a few actual clients—mostly female.”
“The ones Emily talked to?”
Michael nods. “He convinced them no one would believe them if they spoke up. As for the guys? He blackmails us. Threatens to expose our secrets if we don’t do what he asks.
For the golfers, it's to praise him as a coach. For me? It was to write the articles he wanted me to. Like the smear piece he demanded about you after Beau punched him before the Las Vegas Open. I thought it was odd, but…” He shrugs and the remorse emanating from him is palpable.
“I knew I had to do what he wanted. So I did some digging. That’s how I found out about the wedding.
But this is how he operates—money and blackmail. ”
I have no words. Speechless. Might as well be in a coma. I don’t react as Beau sinks his putt. I don’t react to the cheers. I’m genuinely baffled at this information.
But I do have one more question.
“Why are you giving me all this?
Michael just shrugs. ”Because I fucked up. And you paid the price. Consider this one of my many steps to making up for things I broke.”
"Thank you," I say, as I realize the golfers are moving toward us. Beau should be going straight to sign his card and interviews, but he detours, hops the rope, and comes over to me.
"Everything okay over here?" he asks, instinctively putting his arm around me.
”Yeah, man, we're all good," Michael says. "You can tell him what I told you. Whatever you two do from there, that's up to you."
I'm still silent as Michael walks away, head hanging, hands in his pockets. He might be a cheating douchebag who ruined my favorite restaurant, but in this moment, he’s alright.
"What was that about?" Beau asks, confusion laced through his voice.
I look up at him, still shaking away the disbelief of all the information thrown at me. “You’re not going to believe this shit.”
“No fucking way.”
“Way.”
“You’re lying.”
“I promise you I’m not.”
“Chad. Chadwick. Chadwick Ashcroft. Is a loan shark?”
“Apparently so.”
Beau shakes his head, clearly not able to grasp the information I’ve barely wrapped my mind around. “That motherfucker still owes me a hundred bucks from a dinner four months ago.”
“Well, maybe if you tell him you’re down on your luck, and that I’m extorting you for money, he’ll give you a loan plus the hundred bucks.”
Beau doesn’t laugh at my joke, even though it’s funny as hell. But I get it. This is a whole lot of information to process in thirty seconds.
“Did you look at the USB drive?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. I’m not…I know the guys I talked to. I don’t need to see the skeletons in their closet that made them sell their souls to Chad.”
“Same,” Beau says. “Hell, looking at Ricky all day tomorrow is going to be hard, especially with Chad next to him. Also did you see how he was looking at me today?”
“Yes! It was creepy. He couldn’t stop staring at you, but in like a…longing way?”
“Longing? Shelby. I tried to kill him a few nights ago.”
I throw my hands up in defense as I sit down on the couch in our hotel room.
“Maybe he wasn’t, but that was the vibe I was getting.
Like he missed you. Oh! I meant to ask you.
What was he asking you, I think it was on hole number ten?
He was whispering something to you. You were clearly annoyed, and I was very jealous I couldn’t hear what he was saying. ”
Beau rolls his eyes as he sits next to me. “He thought that particular moment was the best opportunity to ask if we could talk later. That things had clearly escalated, and he wanted to know if I’d meet him for dinner so we could ‘clear the air.’”
“He did not,” I say, unable to hold in my laugh.
“He absolutely did.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I was up. Guess you could say I was saved by the tee. I tried to stay as far away from him for the rest of the round as I could. Hell, if I had a choice in this, he’d be forced to leave the course and I wouldn’t have to keep wondering if that was the moment he was going to try and sabotage me.
Especially after I finished the day in second place. ”
Beau’s right. Chad’s unpredictable. If he’s pissed at Beau for the two times he kicked his ass, or anything to do with me, there’s no telling what he’d do to try and ruin Beau over the next few days.
And the worst part, if he does anything, they won’t be big, noticeable things. There are too many eyes around. It’ll be small things. Little digs. Hidden meanings of old stories that would mess with Beau. Whispers about me. Things that will fuck with Beau maybe worse than something big and splashy.
No, Chad needs to leave. He needs to leave this course. This state. Our lives.
And it’s going to happen tonight.
“I have an idea,” I say, fully turning my body to Beau. “I came up with it thirty seconds ago, and I’m going to need you to blindly agree with me and possibly do some weird shit.”
“Shelby,” Beau says, shaking his head. “I don’t know exactly what’s going through your head, but I can tell it’s something that’s going to make Ethan, Kat, and Grayson stressed.
I’ll only be playing with Ricky, and therefore Chad, one more day.
I don’t think he’s going to make the cut, which means Chad will have to leave. I’ll be okay.”
“Nope,” I say flatly. “He’s fucked with us too many times and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. I’m done with his shit. It ends now. You’ve always been my hero, Beau Devereaux. It’s about time I returned the favor.”
I don’t know if I’ve ever made Beau blush before, but seeing the redness creep onto his cheeks, I know whatever we’re about to do is going to be worth it. “Alright wife. What do you have in mind?”
I smile and lean in for a quick kiss. “First thing you’re going to do is call Chad. I think it’s time for the two of you to clear the air.”