My phone rings. Phaedra.
"The agent called back," she says without preamble. Phaedra Lo does not believe in conversational foreplay. "Bisi Mora. She's sharp. The player has accepted the concept of a trial. Six events. They want to discuss terms."
"What terms did you propose?"
"The ones we discussed. Independent contractor. Guaranteed compensation. Separate travel. My representation throughout. Termination at will by either party."
"And the player's side?"
"Mora wants to meet in person before finalizing. She also mentioned that Sarmiento can be — I'm quoting — 'spectacularly difficult in ways that are never boring.'"
I lean back in my chair. The leather creaks. Through the window, the marsh is a dark plane broken by the reflected lights of the bridge.
"Nerys."
"I'm thinking."
"You've been thinking for four years. You have four notebooks about this woman. I've watched you rewind her tournament footage the way other people rewatch romantic comedies."
"That is not what I—"
"How many times have you watched the Phoenix coverage today?"
I don't answer.
"More than five?"
"The sixteenth hole is strategically significant."
"The sixteenth hole is a mid-range birdie putt. You've seen a thousand mid-range birdie putts. You're watching this one because you cannot stop thinking about the woman making it."
Phaedra has been my closest friend for eleven years and my attorney for nine, and the only drawback of this arrangement is that she has never once permitted me the luxury of self-deception.
"She's twenty-seven," I say.
"You're not proposing marriage. You're proposing a work trial."
"She has a reputation for being impossible."
"You have a reputation for being terrifying. It's a match."
"She fires caddies."
"You fire clients. Remember Hollis Park? You dropped her after two events because she chewed gum on the green."
"She chewed gum during a putt read. It was disrespectful to the surface."
Phaedra is silent for a beat. I can hear her deciding whether to press.
She presses.
"Her problem isn't talent. You know that. You've known it since the first notebook. She has one of the most naturally gifted swings you've ever seen, and she uses it like a fire extinguisher — she sprays it at whatever's burning instead of locating the source. You want to locate the source."
"I want to help her manage risk assessment."
"You want to stand next to her on a golf course and tell her what to do, and you want her to listen, and you want to be right. You miss being right in front of people."
The sentence lands somewhere I don't expect. Beneath the ribs. Near the place where I keep the things I don't examine during business hours.
