36. JT
Chapter thirty-six
JT
“Damn, you clean up nice,” Lila says as she steps out of the bathroom in our room Saturday night. I’m standing in front of the full-length mirror, trying to get my bow tie to straighten out. I look in the mirror to find her reflection over my shoulder, her body wrapped in a bright red dress, somehow looking both classic and sinful at the same time.
Jameson and Bryn are already at the large event space in the Everlight—the hotel the Ferguson brothers just purchased and renovated on the Strip. They coupled the tournament and event with the grand opening. As sci-fi as the name sounds, it’s supposed to be incredibly classic in its designs, like you’re in an old library or smoking room. All the tournament players were offered the chance to be the first to stay there, but I wasn’t willing to pass up the opportunity to relive my and Lila’s first time together. Damn did it pay off.
Though, after our amazing night, Lila fell asleep, and my mind continued to spin, haunted by the fact that I went the entire night without thinking about my game once. My parents have been relentless, calling and texting reminders about how important it is for me to win this tournament with its large purse. Despite playing well enough to be in the hunt, I’m terrified I’m going to fail them again. I also never seemed to find the right moment to tell them about Lila.
Lila and I walk into the event space thirty minutes later, and I’m overwhelmed by the size and grandeur of the event. There are people in black ties and formal dresses carrying flutes of champagne and tumblers of hard alcohol. There is not one shiny beer can in sight, and if that doesn’t scream fancy, I don’t know what does. It’s clear the invite list has expanded to include a wealthier group, even though, as I start to look closer, I can spot the program directors and parents of the junior players or the recreational golfers who participate in the youth programs. I’m glad the Fergusons made it black-tie optional, though I know I would’ve felt out of place at an event like this when I was first playing. Hopefully it didn’t scare any players or their families off.
As we make our way further into the grand ballroom, I hear Lila’s name being called. Bryn is headed our way, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. She looks great in a long-sleeved black dress. It’s nothing compared to how delectable Lila looks, but that’s probably for the best, since she’s dating my best friend.
“Hey, Bryn,” I say, giving her a one-armed hug while keeping hold of Lila’s hand.
Bryn points me in the direction of the bar, where Jameson is already holed up, looking like an advertisement for an expensive cologne. I tell him as much when I join him there moments later, and he falls into a formal commercial pose. Sometimes I forget the man actually does rep a whiskey brand—though surprisingly not Jameson.
“Are your parents here yet?” he asks me.
I take in the space around me. The low lighting and the dark wood finishes make everything seem prestigious. The bar has an old speakeasy feel to it with what I can only assume are hand-carved accents along the sides. Rather than high-top tables around the room to mingle at, there are little alcoves set up complete with deep leather chairs and couches. I don’t see my parents, but they could be anywhere, blending in with the other black-clad people.
“Not yet, I don’t think. Though I’m sure they’ll be glued to my side as soon as they arrive. Probably will send me to bed at eight thirty with a glass of warm milk, so I get a good night’s sleep before the final round tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Lila told me your parents were really pushing this one.”
“I don’t love that you guys talk about me.”
“I don’t love that you guys are doing it in my guest room, but such is life.”
When the girls’ drinks are placed in front of us, we make our way to where the women have staked a claim to one of the high-top tables. Just as I hand Lila her drink, I spot my parents walking in. “Oh, there are my parents,” I say. “I’m going to go say hello.”
“I’ll come too,” Lila says.
“I’ve got it. No worries. You can stay here and keep chatting with Bryn,” I say, not wanting to break the news to my parents that we are dating with Lila standing right there. I know I should’ve told them one of the one hundred times I’ve talked to them, but it never seemed to be the right time. I want them to be happy I found someone as amazing as Lila, but I doubt that will be the case. They’re going to see her as a distraction I can’t afford.
“Oh. Sure,” she says with a forced smile, and I feel guilty for putting this off. Now it seems like I’m ashamed of her, which is as far from the truth as possible. I just don’t want to have to deal with my parents’ reactions to the fact I’m dating.
Knowing I can’t put it off any longer without risking Lila finding out, I make my way to the bar in the far corner of the room where my parents are ordering drinks.
“Hi, Mom. Dad,” I say, giving my mother a quick peck on her cheek before shaking my father’s hand.
“JT. How are you?” my mother asks.
“Your hips are moving through your swing slightly too early,” my dad says in greeting.
“Okay,” I say in answer to both the question and the critique. “Though, before we start making the rounds, I was hoping to tell you both something.” I look around, trying to find a private area to have the conversation. “Can we step out into the hall for a minute?”
I don’t miss the skeptical look my parents share before nodding in agreement and following me through the heavy doors into the corridor outside the event space.
“What’s going on, JT?” my dad asks.
“I need to tell you both something. Something I’m really excited about.”
“Oh, honey, did you finally put together enough money to get us the cash we’ve been asking for?” my mother cuts in.
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s not about my finances.”
My mother’s face drops at the news, and for some unknown reason, tears start to form in her eyes.
“I’m dating Lila Walker.”
“You’re what?” my dad asks.
“Dating Jameo’s sister, Lila. We both ended up in Wild Bluffs this summer, and yeah. We’re dating now. I’m really happy about it.”
“You know this is the worst possible time for you to be distracting yourself, don’t you?” my dad asks, just as I expected.
“Dad,” I say.
“How can you be so selfish, JT?” my mom asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You know we need you to be focused on your game. We need you to bring in additional money.”
“I know you have a great investment set up, but worst-case scenario, if I don’t win this tournament, we’ll just press pause on it. I’m sure you can find another opportunity later this year that will be just as beneficial. It’s not a big deal.”
My mom’s eyes are wide, the white scar under her eye standing out prominently against the flush of her cheeks. She looks like she just finished a race against an axe murderer.
“Not a big deal?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’ll be back to my usual earnings soon.”
“Soon won’t work,” she croaks, a noise that is so unlike her normal elegance, I can’t help but stare at her in shock.
“Why?” I ask.
“Why?” Her voice is now an octave above where it falls. “Why?!”
My dad is shaking his head at my mom, trying to tell her something, but she’s not listening.
“Because we need the money now. Because we must start paying our construction crews, and the bank won’t loan us any more money. Because your father is terrible at making investments. Because we lost everything on a deal your father thought was a sure thing.”
What? They’re broke? How could they possibly lose all their money? I pay them a healthy management fee, and I fund most of their extravagant lifestyle out of my portfolio. Shit. Am I broke too?
“Don’t you blame this all on me,” my father cuts in. “I’m not the one who spent millions of dollars we don’t have renovating a house we are already underwater on. I’m not the one who invested in her friend’s fashion line that folded within two months. I’m not the one who—”
“Enough,” I say, loudly enough to cut him off. “How could you possibly be broke?”
“Bad investments,” my mom says, glaring at my father.
“Extravagant spending,” my dad shoots back.
“Okay.” I wish I had my hat on right now. I’m not sure what to do with my hands. How the fuck could they lose all their money? How is it even possible that I’m standing here in a black tie having a conversation about not being able to pay workers who have already completed the work ? I’m so mad, I can barely think straight, but, as I look into my mom’s tear-streaked face, watching the mascara flow over her scar, I know I’m going to help them out of this mess, in whatever way I need to.
“What about my money?” I ask.
“It’s there,” my dad says.
My mom glares at him. “Tell him the truth.”
“It is there.”
“The real truth.”
My dad sighs, looking anywhere but at me. “Well, anything that was tied up in longer-term investments is there. Your pain-in-the-ass PA has called me about seven times this month about the losses in your portfolio. We’ve had a couple of large business loans come due this year, and I’ve needed some cash freed up to pay them. I’ve been borrowing money from your accounts to keep us afloat for a few months now, but it’s no longer enough.”
“A few months?!” I roar. This isn’t some bad luck, poor timing, type of thing. They’ve known about this. They decided to renovate their house knowing they didn’t have the money to do it.
“Shhh,” my mother shushes me, and beneath my anger, I feel guilty. How had I become so distracted that I didn’t even notice the funds missing from my account or my parents losing all their money?
“We understand this isn’t ideal, but we’ve always been a team. Seven million dollars will cover the repairs as well as the business loans that are due. If you win this tournament, you’ll take home close to ten after taxes. We gave up our dreams, ones that would’ve earned us far more money than where we are now, to help you chase yours,” my father says, his voice defiant. “I’m sure you understand how hard it is to maintain our lifestyle on the pennies we make managing your money.”
“Live a less extravagant lifestyle,” I suggest.
“And have everyone think we’re poor wealth managers?” my mom asks.
“You are poor wealth managers,” I hiss.
My dad holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “We’re wealth managers because we had no other options after I gave up my pursuit of professional golfing to give that dream to you. Managing our child’s money was the only option we had. Did you want your mom to continue working the night shift, cleaning offices her entire life? Please, JT. The earnings from this tournament will more than cover our debt. One win and we can all forget this ever happened. Let’s just focus on your game.”
Inside, we hear the sound of people being called to their seats, and before I can respond, the doors open, a waiter stepping out to ask us to find our table.
I’m in a fog as I introduce my parents to Lila and Bryn and as I listen to Conrad Ferguson talk about his firm’s work. My mom keeps shooting me concerned glances, all of which I ignore. My father, on the other hand, is using his proximity to Jameson to pitch their wealth management services. I want to yell, to tell Jameo to run away fast, but instead, I sit there in silence, unable to comprehend how it came to this. As mad as I am, all I can think about is how much I owe my parents and how I’ll do whatever it takes to help them out, just like they did when I was trying to become a professional golfer.
As the speaking portion of the event comes to an end, I clap along with the rest of the guests, trying to clear my head. “I should head out,” I say, forcing cheer into my voice. I turn to look down at Lila. Her smiling face makes my guts twist uncomfortably, the sight of it reminding me of how selfish I’ve been, focusing on my enjoyment instead of winning like my parents asked.
“You should stay here and have fun,” I tell her. “Don’t let me ruin your night.”
“Don’t be silly,” she says. “Of course I’m coming with you.”
I nod, offering a quick goodbye to the table before making my way toward the door. Lila trails after me, blessedly silent, before climbing into the car waiting for us at the hotel entrance.
Lila tries to say something to me once we’re slowly creeping down the Strip to our hotel, but I’m spiraling, unable to stop the memories of the tears running down my mother’s face, the sound of my father’s voice telling me their money is gone, following their dreams into a world where they can never return. The guilt of my parents’ sacrifice smothers me, overshadowing everything.
I have to win tomorrow.