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I cock my head and slant her a grin that physically pains me to produce.“Have fun with the girls tonight, Fielding.”
The hope in her face flickers and dies, and I watch her revert to the cool, untouchable woman I met that very first night.
“Sure, Jonesy,” she says.“I hope you and the guys have fun.”Then she pushes open the door and leaves.
Sixteen
Jonesy
“I’m sorry, you kicked her out of your bed?”
Wyatt punctuates his question with thethwackof his club against the golf ball.
“No,” I correct him.“She left my bed when I told her we couldn’t have sex.”
“Aren’t you the guy who let the older sister of the bride eat scrambled eggs off your stomach one time?”
This is from Gabe’s brother-in-law, Sebastian.I met him three hours ago, and he’s already giving me shit.What has my life become?
“Ha ha, so funny.Everyone stop and laugh at the loser who’s completely fucked up his life.”I’m sprawled on the lush grass of the Beaucoeur Country Club driving range watching as Wyatt hits another ball high into the night sky.
“The wind really caught that one,” Gabe snickers.
“Let’s see if you can get it higher.”Wyatt bats at the cracked plastic candy cane dangling off the bucket hat he’s wearing.
“Can and will.”Gabe takes a swig from the bottle of Patrón, then swaps it with Wyatt for the driver and the hat, which Gabe settles carefully onto his head so he doesn’t knock off any of the holly berry sprays that have been threatening to come loose for a few years now.
The designated golfer hat is an important part of Golfmas, our annual holiday celebration.Wyatt found the red-and-green plaid monstrosity at a dollar store forever ago, and we’ve been adding to it every year since, gluing on little Christmas knickknacks and the scraps of decorations that we scrounge from our parents’ houses, that kind of thing.Some year it’s going to get too heavy to actually wear, but this year is not that year.
We’ve been celebrating Golfmas since Gabe and I were sixteen and Wy was seventeen.That summer, we landed jobs at the country club golf course and had the farmer’s tans to prove it.As the season wound down in December, our terrible boss Mr.Finchy called us into his office one by one.We were terrified we were being fired, but instead he gave us each our year-end bonuses and an invitation to come back the following season.It was more money than any of us had ever seen.
We celebrated by sneaking onto the driving range after hours with a tray of fried chicken, two fruitcakes, half a bottle of tequila, and some spiked eggnog—all left over from the club’s Christmas party the night before—and had golf cart races and hit a crate of balls all over the range until we couldn’t see straight and had to sleep it off in the equipment room.It was the best night of any of our lives up to that point, and since then, it’s grown into a slightly more adult event.
We even have T-shirts.This year’s is bright green and features a golfing Santa saying “Ho-ho-hole in one” under the idiotic logo Gabe designed for our fifth annual event.He swears he picked out this year’s Santa theme before I ended up in a weird jealousy throuple with Liv and my Luke alter ego, but I’m not sure I believe him.
“Take that!”Gabe shouts, sending his ball sailing so high into the air that it arcs straight up and lands a few yards away.
“Impressive,” Wyatt says before turning back to me.“So what are you going to do about Liv?”
“There’s nothing Icando,” I say.“I already hooked up with her as snake-hips Santa, which means I can’t hook up with her as myself.And I can’t explain why we can’t hook up now without telling her we already hooked up.The end.”
Hook up.My stomach curls at the dismissive phrase, but talking about sex with Liv is too big and too personal for me to parse while I’m on a golf course drinking tequila straight from the bottle.
“So you’re just going to pretend nothing happened the next time you see her?”Sebastian asks skeptically.He and his girlfriend were in town to do Christmassy things with Darby this weekend, so he’s experiencing Golfmas for the first time.
“I’ve been pretending nothing happened with Santa Luke, so why not keep it going?”
“Right, but she doesn’t know you know that something happened with Santa Luke,” Gabe says.
“And she definitely knows nothing happened with you.”Wyatt, our designated driver tonight, adds after taking a sip from his thermos of green tea.
“Fuck.”I tug on my hair in frustration.How did things get so complicated?“All I know is, I’m going to keep things light and friendly at work, and I’ll keep doing that until she leaves town.”It’ll suck balls, but I’ll do it.
“Or you could tell her,” Gabe offers.
“Sure.Because she’ll forgive me immediately and decide to stay in town so we can get married and have a million babies.”For a second, I let myself imagine it.My dream scenario.Then I face reality.“Here’s what’s really going to happen if I tell her—she pepper-sprays me and then never speaks to me again, and when she leaves town, she’ll always remember me as the worst asshole she ever met.”
Gabe winces.“Okay, yeah, I see what you mean.”
