“Think I’m gonna sit here for a little longer.”
“You sure?” Completely. There’s nothing I want more than to order another cocktail and enjoy the space. I catch myself before my gaze lingers back to Paloma.
“I’m positive. Go dance for the both of us.” Sel gives me a hug. “If you sneak out of here before I’m back, I love you, and remember we have that meeting in the morning.” I nod my head once and she’s zigzagging through the crowd.
I try my best to keep my eyes from searching for magenta curls, but now it’s the only thing I want to see. Pulling out my phone, I select a rideshare to take me back home, finishing off the appetizer as I wait. When my phone vibrates I know it’s time for me to take my leave, and I rattle off a quick text to Sel, letting her know I’m heading home. I make my way into the cool night air and step into the sleek black SUV waitingfor me. If I can’t get my mind off my little heartbreaker, then I’ll force myself to get some work done.
“I’ll be right back. I think our guest is here,” Sel says, making her way out of the meeting room. My phone vibrates against the desk. I glance at it and see the caller ID flash:Mossy Oaks Golf Club.
“Hello, this is Clinton,” I answer formally, not sure if this is a confirmation call for the upcoming meeting to discuss the Albatross Charity Tournament.
“Hey there, Clinton! It’s Glen. I hope you’re well. Do you have a moment?” the general manager of the club says through the line. He’d always been a funny guy who was straight to the point when he wanted something. It's been a while since we last spoke. Glen has been able to take on several key areas of the tournament, but we are officially getting into the planning phase, and it’s all hands on deck. Still, we have a meeting scheduled already so Glen calling right now has piqued my interest, thinking of the various reasons as to why he is calling.
“Hi, Glen. I’m about to walk into a meeting, so I only have a couple minutes. What can I do for you?” I ask, encouraging him to speak quickly.
“Well, I’m in a little predicament, and I won’t keep you long. Would you mind coming in before our upcoming meeting?” he asks. Before I can answer he adds, “I’ve also asked Paloma Reyes to join us. I’ll fill youin on all the details later.”
Did he just say Paloma Reyes?At the mention of her name my heartbeat picks up. I didn’t realize she would be on the vendor team. “Of course,” I stumble over my response, attempting to calm my erratic heart and the emotions welling inside of me. “I can get there a little early to discuss. Here to help.” I add the last part, trying and failing to sound cheerful.
“Sounds good. Looking forward to it.” He hangs up and I pocket my phone, standing to greet the investor. I’m glad Sel is here to provide the needed paperwork and business plan for Albatross because my mind is fixated on the course and wondering if Paloma realizes we’ll be working alongside each other again. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.
I won't pretend as though I haven't spent more time than I’d like to admit thinking about the one who ran away, my little Heartbreaker. When we first ended things, well, whensheended things, I did a search for her socials. I had this need to know what she was doing. Every single time I did, it hurt. I tried to email her several times until I forced myself not to seek her out. She had a life to live, and I wasn’t in it.
When I got on that plane nearly a decade ago, I never thought I would see Paloma again. I was sure Ireland was where I wanted to be—I had not planned to come back home. But when I decided to start Albatross—I knew I had to. Cypress Lake will always be home no matter how many countries I traveled to or attempted to put down roots in.
As I toured throughout Europe, swinging my way from one tournament to the next, I also had a chance to see how much the kids loved the sport, and I enjoyed being a part of their journey. If I was going to assist any youth, it would be those in my hometown.
I think back to my younger years. Growing up, my family didn'thave a whole lot, but what we did have was each other. My mom, dad, aunt, and cousin all lived under the same roof—we were lucky to have a three-bedroom home. It had been passed down from my grandma after she passed away.
Her and Pops, my granddad, wanted it to stay in the family, and we stayed true to honoring their wishes. Having the house was the one thing we could count on, even if rice and beans was all we had left to eat when things were a little more scarce in our fridge.
When I started middle school, I signed up for after-school golf. The head coach was a retired pro golfer, and he taught me everything he knew. After he met with my parents, we started meeting twice a week outside of the school’s practice to work on my game, to get a real feel if it was something I was truly interested in pursuing. I put my all into playing once I realized I could really make a name for myself. A laugh rumbles through my chest thinking about the time I told my mom I was going to become a rich and famous golfer. Now, I’m back home, apparently famous and financially rich, although that’s not a label I like to apply to myself no matter how fortunate I am.
I feel like I made true on the promise of my self-made success. Between my PGA wins, prize money from tournaments, the plethora of endorsements I’ve acquired over the years, and the select investments I’ve made over the course of my career, my bank account is something I rarely have to consider; and I pay my accountant handsomely to worry about it on my behalf.
My parents never have to worry about working another day for the rest of their lives, and they haven’t had to for the past five years. I made sure to set up my aunt and cousin well too. I still remember the shock on Selly's face when she attempted to make a payment on her studentloans and was told she had a zero balance. She couldn't believe it. I know because she called me on video chat, shouting about how it must be a miracle or a mistake in the system. When I told her I was the one to pay it, she cursed me out and then cried like a damn baby.
We’re family, and she’s more like a sister to me than anything. What would it look like for me to make it and not take her with me? Sitting across from her now in her office, while she lays out a plan for Albatross to a hopeful investor, makes me damn proud. We formulated exactly what she would be going over with them, and it would have been amazing to witness if I wasn’t in and out of the conversation while I daydream about kissing one pretty-mouthed Latina. The things that woman does to me.
“If we were to house the program anywhere else, it wouldn't be considered coming back home, would it?” she says to the gentleman sitting across from her. We don’t necessarily need the capital or connections, but you truly never know what someone could bring to the table if you don’t invite them to have a seat.
“Have you considered designing your own course?” a man by the name of Grey speaks up. We’ve only had one lunch meeting prior to this, and from the file I have on him matched with the research Selene has done, he would be an incredible investor to have on our team. He’s made a name for himself by designing some of the most beautiful and challenging courses I’ve ever laid eyes on. Some of the golf courses he's designed have steep memberships along with celebrity clients putting across the green. Hell, I myself have played at no less than twenty of his courses. Sel’s gaze turns to mine, waiting on me to be the one to answer.
“It’s been a fleeting thought. I haven't decided if it is something I want to put in for Albatross, though I might take you up on it as acollaboration if you’d consider being a sponsor for the Albatross Charity Tournament.” His eyebrows peak slightly, not wanting to show too much of his excitement. “If interested, I would be open to discussing what a partnership in design could look like.”
“I’ll be sure to have my assistant contact you,” he says, his tone lifting slightly.
“Have her email me.”
His head nod is all the acknowledgement I need to keep the agenda moving.
We take our time finishing up the meeting, adding in small tidbits on what a possible collaboration could look like—I try my damnedest to not think of one magenta-haired pixie.
9
Chuck:Oh, here we go. The past has entered the chat.
Lou:This is where things get tricky. It’s like trying to putt through a minefield.
