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“Flux was a big loss,” he says, again.
“Yeah.”
“Heard he’s gone?”
“He is.”
“What’s he doing?” There’s a level of interest to this question that surprises me.
“He’s going back to school, actually,” I say with a little nod.
“No shit?”
“He’s going to be an assistant for the D-1 team.”
“Who’s their head coach? Derek Carroll?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Great guy, even better coach. He’ll learn a lot. Good on him,” Rick says, tipping back more of his drink as we slow to a stop.
We leave our drinks in the cart and tell the caddy to meet us at the hole. We’re not exactly aficionados and our drivers will do just fine for our purposes.
“You given any thought to your post-career?” He lines up his club and knocks it a ways down the greenway.
I nod in appreciation and we head toward the tree line where my ball dropped.
“More recently,” I say, and he understands my meaning.
I hadn’t really considered what my life would look like when I was done playing as a twenty-one-year-old in my second year in the league. But watching my best friend go through such a sudden end, has given me pause.
“And?”
“And…” I say with an awkward laugh. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Totally fair. You’re still young, right?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Ah,” he says, with a little smirk. “Dating an older woman?” He watches me with a shit-eating grin, and I can’t keep the smile off my face.
“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he says, laughing.
“Do what?”
“Put that bee in your bonnet.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, laughing still.
“You’ve never had to work this hard for pussy before, have you?”
I stiffen at the way he’s so callously spoken about his soon-to-be niece’s sister.
“Don’t say that,” I say, scrubbing my hand down my face.
He studies me for a moment, the grin frozen on his unshaven face, and he flicks the hair out of his eyes with a sharp nod.
“That’s what I thought.”
