Marty has to be in his mid-forties, so here’s hoping his twenty-something Isabel was a part of his very distant past.
The other two men and I hit our drives from the blue tees before walking up with Izzy to the women’s tee box. Keith and Marty hang back, chatting quietly while Izzy sets up, but I follow her, watching as she bends at the waist, her exposed thighs flexing athletically, her ass sticking out slightly.
She looks…good.
From a golf perspective. Real nice form.
“Nice shot,” I say, watching her ball fly down the fairway, outdriving both Keith and me.
“Thanks,” Izzy says, offering me a tight grin.
“I’ve never understood why they even have women’s tees,” Keith says, clearly annoyed about Izzy outdriving him. “If women want to compete against men, they should play from the same tees. Women’s rights and all.”
I chuckle, pretending I’m in on the joke, instead of punching him directly in the face like I want to. “I don’t think the tees are the problem, man. Pretty sure she’d beat us no matter where we start.”
Keith and Marty scoff, but Izzy sends me a shy smile as she pulls her bag back onto her shoulder.
We fall into step behind the two men, both Izzy and I making our way to her ball since apparently this is a two-person scramble format tournament. It works in my favor because we just play from the best shot—or in other words, it’s just going to be Izzy versus the two of them.
Maybe sheshouldbe annoyed I’m her partner for the day.
Our conversations stay limited to golf strategy and the occasional sarcastic remark whispered under our breath whenever Keith or Marty choose to make a comment about Izzy’s game or mine. Or Wild Bluffs.
I may have avoided this town like the plague for the last fifteen years, but that’s because of my own shit. Nobody else gets to come here and badmouth this place or the people who live here.
Izzy’s anger at me has faded from an icy cold anger to a somewhat cool indifference. She’s being cordial enough, but I can tell she’s constructed some tall walls to keep us away from anything too personal.
And I’m okay with that.
I can stick to talking about golf and our golf partners. For now.
Even those superficial conversations remind me why Izzy and I were best friends for so long. She has the best sense of humor but also such a kind heart. Her mind works differently than mine, often approaching things from the people-perspective first, and she’s so smart that every conversation feels like the best possible use of my time—even when it’s about two random finance bros.
“Do you think they know they sound like complete douche canoes?” Izzy asks as we walk down the fairway together on hole two.
I glance at our loudmouthed companions. They’re dressed basically the same as everyone else with their golf shorts and polos. And, much like Izzy, they’re in bright colors. But somehow, Izzy’s pink looks fun and just a tad whimsical while Keith’s bright orange pants and Marty’s lemon-yellow shirt scream “trying too hard.”
“They seem like the kind of people who have been told that a time or two before,” I reply, wiping at the sweat starting to pool on my face. Who thought doing this during the afternoon in the summer was a good idea?
Izzy nods, readjusting her pink cap on her forehead. “I’m sure Jaclyn thought it would be nice to pair me with them since I’m a member here, but it just makes me glad they can’t get in.”
“True. Oh! Iz,” I say.
“—Isabel.”
I nod and remind myself yet again to call her Izzy. “I think we should turn it into a game.”
“Not a drinking game,” Izzy says with a soft moan, her hand going to her stomach. Though, I’m encouraged by the fact she didn’t shut the game idea down immediately.
“Definitely not,” I agree. “We’ll play for bragging rights.”
“Okay,” she says, a competitive gleam in her eye that I remember so distinctly from our childhood. We spent a lot of time together, so we ended up playing a lot of random games to kill the time. We’d give people backstories, or we’d play bingo with their common phrases or stories. That kind of thing.
I consider our options.
“I think Marty will mention crypto again before Keith says we’re only winning because you’ve played the course before.”
Izzy laughs, and fuck if it doesn’t go straight to the core of my very being. I miss this in my life. I miss her.
