She recognized the song just based off the swing of his head and the words she couldn’t hear but swore she felt.
Without thinking, she rapped every line under her breath. “They begging for mercy like the Lambo…know they wanna see me fall, look where I am though.”
Tia said, “Lord…she rapping like she in the video.”
“He swings on beat,” Meadow whispered, chest swelling. “Watch…watch him.”
After more bullshit comments from the commentators and a few commercials, it was Tee time. The first swing came. His whole frame was locked and flowed in one motion, and the ball sliced out across the green.
Blain sat forward. “Damn.”
Tia clapped her hands. “Come on, Zaire!”
Meadow stood up without thinking. “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about…comin’ out strong!”
Brent didn’t have anything slick to say because the hit was good as hell, and he wasn’t a hater.
“This gonna be a sad night for them.” Meadow flopped back down to get comfortable again. That one swing was going to set the tone. She was going to sip her rum punch and snack on a few things, while enjoying the game, wishing she was there.
Zaire was killing everybody.
By the third hole, he was so far ahead, the commentators had to swallow their critiques.
“Cooks may actually be showing us something impressive today…”
“Oh now he impressive?” Meadow scoffed. “Y’all fake as hell.”
Tia leaned forward excited. “He is draggin’ these men!”
Tia didn’t know exactly what she was watching, but she understood Zaire was on their necks.
“This shit ain’t even close.” Blain whistled, beyond impressed.
The next few shots were flawless. Every stance precise, every swing heavy with purpose. Meadow felt each one in her stomach. She talked through all of it.
“Line it up, baby… c’mon Z…yup…yup. There you go. Send that shit!”
Brent laughed. “He can’t hear you, Meadow.”
“Shut up. He feels me spiritually.”
The camera zoomed in on Zaire again, sweat glistening across his forehead. Meadow licked her lips. He adjusted his glove the way he always did when he got locked in, nodding to himself like he was answering an internal question.
He swung.
The ball lifted into the air.It was perfect, cutting through the air with so much velocity it made the crowd murmur.
Meadow jumped up for the hundredth time. “Talk to ‘em! Talk to ’em, Zaire!” she clapped each word out.
Tia slapped her shoulder. “Hoe, calm down.”
Meadow ignored her. She was pacing now, palms sweaty. Her heart was beating fast enough to make her dizzy.
By the time he got to the last hole, the entire living room was quiet. Even Brent’s shit talking had died all the way down.
The tournament wasn’t even close.
Zaire was drowning them but this last shot mattered. This was the one they’d replay everywhere. The one people would remember.
