Good Time(47)

“Romance novels.” I say it proudly because I don’t care if he is a fancy lawyer, I’m not embarrassed about my choice of reading material. Besides, you wouldn’t believe the number of romance authors who used to practice law but stopped because practicing law was dreadful. I wonder if Vince thinks practicing law is dreadful? Maybe that’s why he owns the club? Because he needs fulfillment outside of work? “Do you hate lawyering?”

“I thought we were talking about reading?” Vince takes his shot, his ball stopping a few inches from mine.

“We were, I got distracted.”

“I love lawyering. I usually refer to it as practicing the law, but lawyering is catchier. I think I’ll send a memo on Monday and ask everyone at the firm to refer to their jobs as lawyering from now on.”

“You really should.”

We both finish hole one in two strokes and move on to the next hole. There’s a family a few holes ahead of us, so we take our time, knowing we’re going to eventually catch up as we’ll move faster as a party of two than they will with a party of four.

“What do you love about it?” I ask.

“I like solving problems. I like helping people who need my help. I like making a difference.”

“But you’re in criminal law, right? So sometimes you have to help criminals?”

“Sometimes, yeah. That’s how the law works. Sometimes the clients are innocent. Sometimes they’re not. Most of the time they’re just people who made bad choices and need help working through their options.”

“What else do you like about it?”

“I like owning my own firm. I like working for myself, essentially. Being the boss. Taking on the cases that interest me. I like that it affords me the opportunity to do what I want.”

Vince pauses to take his shot. He’s wearing a white shirt, which glows in this light. I’ve never mini-golfed indoors before, but I decide this is fun. Or maybe it’s being with Vince that makes it fun.

“What do you like about event planning?”

“Oh, you know, all those same things,” I joke. I hit my ball and it bounces off the side wall and rolls straight into the hole. “Hole in one!” I do a little shimmy to celebrate. Vince laughs, the lines around his eyes creasing. I love those little lines, they drive me absolutely nuts. He’s got one on his forehead too, this perfect line he gets when he’s deep in thought. I usually see it when I’ve said something ridiculous. It comes out before the long pause while he considers whatever it is that I’ve said.

“Nice. Now tell me what you like about your job.”

“I like helping people socialize. I really do. Which is weird maybe, but it’s not easy for everyone. Like Lydia, she’s not as outgoing as I am. She’d never have met Rhys if I hadn’t dragged her out of the house. She’d have stayed home and made sheet pajamas until she was thirty. Also, I sorta like the budgeting aspect.”

“How so?”

“It’s kinda like a puzzle. I have a budget and a head count and a general ideas of what the client is interested in. And then I present a bunch of options, like a giant game of A or B, and help them piece together the best version of their event. It’s fun.”

“You plan a lot of weddings, right?”

“For now.” I bristle. “But I’m working on a very exciting dermatology event.”

“You don’t like working on the weddings?” Vince seems surprised by this fact and it sorta pisses me off.

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I’ve spent my entire life obsessing about weddings.”

“No,” he replies slowly. “I hadn’t meant to imply as such.”

“I am an event planner”—I stress the word ‘event’—“who happens to plan weddings when they’re assigned to me.”

“Got it. You’re not a wedding girl. Maybe you can convince your wedding customers to elope like you did.”

“That’d probably get me fired,” I reply, wondering if the elopement thing was a dig.

“Quite the moral dilemma you find yourself in.”

“It’s a real pickle, Vince. A real deep-fried pickle.”

He laughs and then I say more than I intended to. “I wish I could convince my mother to elope.”

“You don’t like the guy she’s marrying?”

“He’s fine, I guess. I don’t really know him, I was in already in college when they met, so…” I shrug. “He’s her fourth husband so I’m not sure how seriously I’m supposed to take the whole thing. I’m not buying a monogrammed gift, I know that much.”

Vince is looking at me thoughtfully and it makes me uncomfortable. Like he’s trying to piece together the psyche of a girl who might have long-term commitment issues, hates weddings but likes eloping, and he isn’t sure if it all adds up to anything sane.

We’re on the sixth hole when I get a great idea. I’m leading by four so it’s an especially good idea for me.

“Hey! I know what we need to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Raise the stakes.”

“Raise the stakes?”

“Yup.” I grin.

“Sure. How can we do that? How can we possibly raise the bar on this insanity? Do you want to borrow someone’s baby this weekend to test if we’d be good parents?”