Chapter 10
I pulledinto the parking lot of Stone Bridge Golf Course, situated on the outskirts of North Charleston. Mid-November in the South was the best golf weather, in my opinion. The temperature hovered in the mid-to-high sixties during the day, so it wasn’t sweltering hot, but it wasn’t cold.
It wasperfect.
I slid into the spot beside the white Hummer, shaking my head as I threw my car into park. When I slipped out, the front door of the oversized vehicle next to me flung open, and I stiffened, watching a hand catch it before it smacked the side of my Audi.
Chad chuckled as he slid from the front seat. “Relax.”
“You almost hit my car.”
He waved me off. “Almost doesn’t count.”
I walked to my trunk, popping it open. “Maybe you should get arealcar instead of this oversized piece of shit you’re using to overcompensate with.” He didn’t just have a Hummer. He had a HummerPickup, which somehow made it fucking worse.
“Jealous?”
“Don’t make me laugh. You bought a Hummer, hoping it wouldgetyoua hummer. How’s that working out for you?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he flipped me off before opening his trunk, earning a laugh from me.
Chad Chamberlain was a friend of mine from college. We attended the University of South Carolina for pre-law and law school, were roommates on campus, and had an apartment together off campus. We had a friendly rivalry, always trying to one-up the other. We both had the same affinity for partying and hanging out with girls without tying ourselves down, and our constant competition made it so we pushed one another in school. We both graduated with honors at the top of our class—I was ranked four spots ahead of him, though.
After graduation, I came back to Bayport to work at Pierson & Callahan. Chad settled in Charleston, having a job lined up at none other than Colson Legal Group. He always busted my balls about how my position as a partner was all because of my “daddy”—I really wanted to punch him in the face every time he fucking said it. What Chad didn’t realize was that my dad wouldn’t have hesitated to pass over his own son and give the family business to someone else if I fucked up in his eyes. I didn’t get special treatment and had to start as an entry-level associate, just like everyone else in the firm. Andno onehad to prove themselves more than me. Not just for my dad, but formyself. I wasn’t about to let people think I was successful simply because my last name was on the building; I wanted to be successful because I was good at my job.
And I damn well was.
I reached into my trunk and grabbed my golf bag beforeclosing it just as Chad stepped up and smirked. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”
“When are you going to learn,Chainz?” I smirked at the name, and he glowered; I found out that was his nickname in high school during our freshman year of college, and I haven’t let him live it down since. “You say stuff like that to people you’vebeatenbefore, not someone who’s never lost to you.”
“One of these days, Iwillbeat you. And I’llneverlet you forget it when it happens, only because you’re so certain it never will.”
“We’ve been golfing together for, what…nearly a decade?” I chuckled. “Your confidence is inspiring, though. Truly.”
Even now, in our late twenties, our friendly rivalry that started in college waged on. It didn’t matter what it was—women, cases and wins in court, a friendly game of golf—we made it into a competition.
We walked into Stone Bridge and headed to the back, where our cart was waiting outside. The club director, who knew our faces well by that point, was speaking to one of the employees when he spotted us walking toward the door. He dipped his head with a grin of acknowledgment. “Albatross. Mulligan.”
I snorted. “See,Mulligan, even Larry here knows.”
Chad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
After arguing over who was driving—I won—we made it through the first few holes. I walked up to the tee box of hole four, setting my tee and ball up before taking a few practice swings.
“Your backswing is shit.”
“Your face is shit.”
“That’s not what your sis–”
My sharp glare cut him off. “You even think about finishingthat statement, and I’ll knock every one of your fucking veneers right down your throat.”
“Calm down.” Chad laughed, holding up his hands defensively. “Also, I don’t have veneers. The big man himself blessed me with this amazing andnaturalsmile.”
I snorted as I stepped up to the tee. “Yeah? Is that why I saw a veneer pamphlet in the door of your car six months back when we went to that conference in Orlando?” I swung, sending the ball sailing through the air until it dropped down on the fairway and rolled just short of the edge of the green. I turned, giving Chad a smug grin for both my astute observationandmy shot. “Nothing to say?”
“Shut up,” he grumbled as he stepped into the tee box.
“There’s nothing wrong with them. Just own it.”
