A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)(19)
“What the hell, man? I just gave you my entire strategy on how we can win some change today in this thing. Are you hung over or something?”
Finally, I give up on staring because she hasn’t once turned in my direction, and I face him.
“Or something.”
He raises a finger in the air like he’s figured it out. I wait for it.
“Oh, I get it. Knocked you off a piece last night, did ya?”
Jeff is clueless. Drew would have called me out by now.
“Something like that,” I say drolly before checking out the peanut gallery waiting for a chance at Samantha.
“She’s hot. But don’t bother. She’s colder than dry ice.”
Suddenly, he has my full attention.
“What the hell does that mean?”
He holds up his hands. “Dude, she’s like everywhere and she shoots guys down faster than a gunslinger.”
I glance over at her and it doesn’t look like she’s shooting anyone down.
“You look like you could use a drink. Let’s go get you a beer. I could use one myself. I hope they have my favorite IPA,” Jeff suggests. His eyes trail over to the drink cart girl and it all makes sense. Even though it’s the last thing I want, I’ve dug myself in a hole so I don’t have much choice. We walk over and I watch Jeff in action as he tries his best to get the phone number from the girl manning the cart who looks barely legal. After I get a drink in my hand, I stew while finishing it off. I have to admit, I actually feel a little calmer.
“So, we probably should head out. You ready?” he asks.
I check my sheet and say, “Yeah, let’s roll.”
We load up in the cart and make our way to the first hole. The course is covered in people and well stocked with refreshments every third or fourth hole. By the time we get to the tee, I’m ready to swing. Everything’s going great until we get to hole number five. That’s where I spot her again. One of the golfers is blatantly flirting with her, and she’s doing nothing to stop it. I stand with clenched fists and want to throw my driver at the two of them. Or better yet, I’d like to use his head as my golf ball. Jesus, calm down, Benjamin. Get your shit together. They’re just talking and the guy looks ninety years old.
Giving my head a good hard shake, I turn away and decide it’s not helping to look at her. Instead, I tee up my ball and take a swing.
“Damn, dude, are you trying to destroy the ball?” Jeff asks. “What the f*ck is up with you today?”
The ball spins wildly as I slice the hell out of it. It flies right and barely goes anywhere but curves severely into the rough. My yardage is so ridiculously short that I want to crawl under the cart. The urge to throw my club hits, only I don’t want to look worse than I already do.
Jeff takes his turn and he ends up perfectly positioned in the middle of the fairway. We go to hunt my crazy ball in the tall grass and my next shot sucks eggs too. The rest of my game doesn’t fare any better because at every bend in the course, it seems Samantha is there. I do my best to ignore her, but it’s next to impossible. She, however, hasn’t noticed me once. So why do I keep noticing her?
By the time we finish up, I’m sure I’m bald. I’ve yanked out every hair in my head and need to pound some straight bourbon. And I rarely drink bourbon. Suffice it to say, we didn’t win a dime, and Jeff is not happy. I promise to buy him a bottle of 16-year-old Lagavulin to make it up to him. Thank God he didn’t ask for Pappy Van Winkle. That could’ve set me back a cool grand.
If not for the Sadler account final test run presentation with my dad, I would have worked from home the next day. As it is, everyone gives me a hard time about all my triple and quadruple bogeys.
By the time we call it a day, I’m ready for a Friday night out with Jeff and Mark. We’re walking to the bar and Mark is mid rant over his ex and her new guy when I spot a familiar face. She’s more gorgeous than she was yesterday. I scrub my face with my palm and wonder why I thought anyone could be better.
Then, the crowd parts and I see a blond guy with his arm slung over Samantha’s shoulder. Their smiles make mine falter. When her eyes start to shift in my direction, I force mine forward.
“I’m telling you she yodels, not screams,” Jeff says.
Mark glances at me because Jeff and his stories. And I realize I’ve missed a chunk of the conversation because Mark is now mute and Jeff is spewing the tale of his latest conquest.
“It’s true. Every time I’d hit the spot, she’d yodel, no lie.” When we don’t remark, he adds, “She has a couple of friends,” as if that sweetens whatever pot he’s boiling.
Mark again looks to me and I shrug. What the f*ck am I saving myself for? Samantha is busy all right. She hadn’t mentioned she had a date for this evening. I don’t know why I’m pissed. I barely know her and I screwed Karen the other night. Only I can’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder. She and the guy are heading into a restaurant. The view of Samantha from behind makes me want to claim her. And the * she’s with has his proprietary hand around her waist. Who is he to her? If I were a betting man, I would say he’s more than just a date. His territorial arm circling her is the first clue. The fact that she isn’t shrugging him off is the second. A boyfriend maybe? Well, f*ck her.
Jeff makes the call and we head over to his place. Mark doesn’t seem sure, so I get the drinks flowing to loosen his morals and forget his soon-to-be ex. When his phone rings with Big Sean’s “I Don’t Fuck With You,” I have to laugh knowing Jeff has changed Mark’s ringtone for the guy’s ex. Mark looks horrified and ready to snatch his phone. Jeff’s there and tosses it to me. We manage to hide it from him and * him into drinking until he’s lit. When the doorbell chimes, I have to admit any woman who walks through the door would look good to me. I’m that far gone.