But none of them would talk about the look in Chase’s eyes when he saidboy.
None of them would talk about what it felt like to keep calm every damn day just to be disrespected anyway.
Zaire brushed off the hands still trying to hold him back. “I’m good,” he mumbled.
He stormed out the building with cameras chasing behind him, holding his head high.
He’d lost the game, sure.
But he wasn’t anybody’s boy.
Not today.
Not ever.
Zaire sat at the kitchen island with his head resting in his hands. His phone had been blowing up all morning but he was too anxious to answer any calls. He’d rather drown himself by listening to his name being tainted all over live television.
“Cooks might just be out,” John Batiste’s voice filled the open living space like a bad omen.
True Bruns disagreed. “I don’t know, John…I feel like the league rides him too hard. From what I heard, Chase might’ve deserved that.”
“Oh, here you go, True,” John groaned.
Zaire turned his body to actually look at the people discussing him like they were familiar with him. It was the third time he’d heard his name mention in the last twenty minutes. Each time, the trash talking got worse and worse but it seemed now that another Black man was on the screen, there was a little compassion being shown.
“Not here I go…I know what it’s like to be a Black man in golf. We aren’t received well and sometimes that messes with your head and has you doing crazy stuff like punching the new champion.”
“But you never did anything like this True, and you were just as good as Cooks.”
“You don’t think I wish I could’ve used my fists to greet a few of those cats? This is a new day and age and not everyonewill let that locker room talk fly.”True was trying to make his cohost understand and maybe not go so hard on Zaire because he understood what happened and why it happened.
John shook his head.“The sponsors aren’t letting Cooks actions fly, seems they are all pulling back and that has to be a well-deserved lesson.”
True rolled his eyes.“Whatever the lesson is, I just want to tell Cooks not to give up. He’s too good of a player to let golf go so soon…come back stronger young man,” True looked directly into the camera and said, “I’m rooting for you. And Zaire - I’m trying to reach you king,” True went into Black talk. “It’s starts with management…get at me, brother.”
Zaire wondered what True needed to reach him about and what his underlying message really meant.
He sat there, fingers pressing into his temples like he was trying to hold his head together. The TV voices blurred and sharpened in waves every time they said his name. He flinched, not visibly, just a small twitch in his jaw.
He wasn’t scared. He was disappointed in himself. He knew better than to swing on Chase. But he also knew what Chase muttered under his breath. And nobody on that damn broadcast would ever repeatthatpart.
Zaire’s mind kept replaying the punch - how fast it happened, how satisfying it felt for a split second, and how he instantly regretted it. That’s what people didn’t understand. He wasn’t too proud. It wasn’t some ego trip or way to show the world he was really ‘bout that life. It was simply a moment where everything he’d been carrying broke his back.
His whole life had been about control.
Quiet your emotions…lower your tone…smile on camera.
Don’t scare the sponsors.
Don’t look too hood, too sharp,too Black.
Golf didn’t make room for men like him, and now they wanted to kick him out.
Because he slipped…because he snapped…because he reacted like a human being instead of a brand.
His phone lit up again, this time with a group call from his agent, two sponsors, and his PR manager.
He let it ring until it dimmed again.
