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“That’s a little dramatic,” I mutter. “And the course cats I feed don’t make me crazy. They make me a decent person who loves animals.”
“Whatever. Make his life a living hell.”
“And while I do that, I’m gonna need you to cuddle up to Bodhi and get some information out of him about Putz. Like what the hell kind of excuse he’s going to give me for why he dropped me two years ago, so I can prepare myself for that load of bullshit.”
Tess laughs and shakes her head at me.
“Oh, I’m totally going to suck Bodhi’s dick, but only because I want to,” she says, reaching over and patting the top of my sweatshirt-covered knees. “You can find the information you seek by sucking your own dick.”
I glare at her, shoving her hand off my knee.
“You know, your own dick being Putz’s dick.”
“I thought you were my friend,” I complain as Tess leans back into her chair. I do the same, and we both go back to staring out at the dark ocean, while someone sets off a few fireworks a little way down the beach.
“I’m not sitting here telling you you’re being completely childish and ridiculous and the more you protest about not wanting to talk to Palmer and the more you avoid him, the more it’s going to prove to him how much he still affects you, am I?” she asks, always the smart one in our friendship.
“No, I’m not,” she continues without giving me a chance to answer. “You do whatever it is you need to do to make it through the day with him being back on the island. If you want to act childish, you do you. If you want to see what he has to say and decide if you have it in you to forgive him, go with that. It’s your life. He did this to you, not me. And as mad as I am on your behalf, I can’t tell you whether or not to forgive him. I can only stand waiting in the wings, sharpening the blade of my knife to cut off his balls if he hurts you again.”
I think about all the times Palmer and I worked side by side at the Dip and Twist on nights when my mom would get slammed and he’d always volunteer us both to give her a hand. I think about bonfires on the beach, sharing a large pizza with everything from Island Slice. Quiet talks out on the 8th hole, where we’d always sneak out after the course closed with a blanket. Hours-worth of dreams and wishes for our futures were spilled there, because that hole was the farthest from the clubhouse and offered us the most privacy. I think about Palmer never losing his patience with me when he taught me how to golf. Me dragging him to caddie parties and teaching him how to shotgun a beer. The special treats he’d bring me from the mainland every time he came to the island, because he had easy access to them, knew I’d murder my mother and sister for them, and because he was just thoughtful like that. And countless other memories flash through my mind faster than a supped-up golf cart, all starring him.
I’ve always missed his friendship, but I wouldn’t let myself dwell on it or I’d never be able to function. Having him here on the island where I can share a pizza with him, talk for hours with him, or hold his hair back when he pukes from shotgunning too many beers, or play a round of golf with him whenever my heart desires makes it harder and harder to stay away from him and not give him a chance to explain or try and forgive him. I’m not about to spend another fifteen years of my life pining for a man who doesn’t look at me that way, so it’s a good thing I’m not in love with him anymore. We’ll see if I have it in me to forgive him and maybe form a friendship again. You know, while making his life hell along the way.
“I still have a few of Bradley’s things in my closet. Want to torch them?”
“Awww, I knew I was your favorite.” Tess beams at me as she scrambles up off her chair, shouting over her shoulder as she pulls open my sliding glass door and runs into the house. “I’ll grab the lighter fluid and Bradley’s box of shit. You grab the hose and tell the neighbors to keep their damn mouths shut!”CHAPTER 8Palmer
“Home on the Range.”“Pitching wedge.”
Looking up the small hill and calculating the distance between here and the hole, I know I can get my ball out of the rough and sink it in one shot, since I’ve done it a hundred times on this course. When my arm starts to get tired from holding my 9-iron out behind me, I look back over my shoulder to find Bodhi kicked back behind the wheel of the golf cart with his feet up on the dashboard and his nose buried in a book, paying absolutely no attention to me.
