Page 18 of Hating the Boss

Me: See you then.

I clicked the side of my phone, locking it. Stretching my arms over my head, I smirked that my plan was unfolding as I hoped it would. I could appease Anton, while also hopefully sealing the deal with Neil.

Hours later, the August sun beat down against me as I swung my driver, the thwack of the ball sounding on the quiet course. I placed my hand over my brow as a visor, watching the white ball soar into the distance, growing smaller and smaller until it landed on the green just a few feet away from the hole.

“Well, shit,” said Anton, his gaze following mine.

“You’re a shark,” said Neil with a shake of his head.

I smiled confidently, swinging my club up over my shoulder as Neil set up his ball on the tee.

“You just had to work today, didn’t you?” muttered Anton, as he sidled up next to me.

“Can’t help it.” I shrugged.

“I know.” Anton chuckled, adjusting his white golf cap over his black hair.

He knew me better than anyone. We had known each other since college, meeting in the common area of our dorm the first week of our freshmen year. He had been playing Call of Duty, muttering profanities into his headset. I had shit-talked his choice of gun, and he had challenged me to join in on the game. Three hours later, we had ordered a pizza, not as good as Anton’s, and had wrangled a case of beer from the RA.

Neil swung a clean shot, landing his ball near mine.

“Looks like someone brought me some competition today,” I said.

Anton shot me a look before climbing into the golf cart, muttering the same profanities he had during Call of Duty that day nearly twenty years ago. Chuckling, I slid into the driver’s seat. Neil grinned proudly before climbing into his own cart, and following us up the asphalt path to the next hole.

Two hours later, I was shaking hands with Neil in the lobby of the country club. He had beat me by one stroke, which had softened his ego enough to agree to a meeting with me, leaving me feeling like the real winner. As we watched him slide into the driver’s seat of his Jaguar, Anton slapped me on the back.

“Feeling good?”

“Oh yeah,” I said with a nod.

“Up for a game of basketball at the gym?” he asked.

“You can’t get enough, can you?” I asked, giving the valet my ticket.

“I need to beat you at something,” he said, rolling his eyes.

He had just gotten his ass beat.

“Fine.” I sighed just as the valet rounded the corner with my blacked out convertible. “Want a ride?”

“That would be great. I Ubered here.”

The gym was packed when we arrived, but we were able to snag one of the courts after we had changed into the gym clothes we kept on hand in our private lockers. Tossing the ball from hand to hand, I spotted a lawyer I knew from a firm that had represented us not long ago. I invited him and his associate to join our game, catching up on business as we ran down the court. Anton rolled his eyes as he dribbled the ball, taking it up for a layup.

“Do you ever take a break?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow as he took a sip of water from his bottle during a quick break.

“I can’t help it. It’s not like I invited him here.” I shrugged, taking my own sip of water.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, tossing the water bottle on the shiny wood floor of the gym, and picking up the ball again. I ran after him, clapping my hands. He passed me the ball and I threw it up for a three-pointer. It swished through the net with ease.

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” asked Anton.

“We’re on the same team!” I said in amusement, my hands still in the air, fingers arched from where the ball had just left them.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I’m hungry.”

“Is that why you’re so grumpy?” I chided. “Beer and pizza at my place?”