AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’s about to make a huge announcement.
Could it be about…
Me?
april 1st- 3rd
Three months after the New Year’s Eve party and Mike’s big announcement.
six
Damian
“Four!” I whack the hell out of the golf ball, watching as it soars through the air only to disappear into a line of hedges.
“You weren’t exaggerating.” Rockland laughs, shaking his head. "You really are a terrible golfer."
"Yeah, I was surprised when you asked me to play today," I say. "Haven't had much practice. I like rugby. Martial arts. Contact. Not this whole hitting a little white ball in the air crap."
“Or,” he smirks, “not hitting the little white ball in the air.”
I laugh. “There were a couple holes I whacked the hell out of the turf on my first try.”
The truth is, I've never imagined myself playing golf. It always seemed like an old-man sport to me—men scooting around in carts, not even carrying their own gear.
We play a few more holes. He ends with a perfect score. I lose several more balls to plant life.
Rockland tosses his club aside and grabs his hat. "Come on," he says. "Let's head back to the clubhouse. I could use a beer."
We leave our gear on the cart and start walking, our feet crunching on the stone path under our golf shoes, mine stiff from first-time use. The sun is setting on the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant orange and pink. The air is warm, and I can smell the faintest hint of cut grass in the breeze.
We talk about sports the entire way to the clubhouse, defending our favorite teams and debating the merits of various players. I try to influence him to become a fan of my favorite team, the Denver Broncos. I last went to one of their games with my mother. It’s the last time I remember having fun.
I keep sneaking glances at Rockland out of the corner of my eye. He's an influential man: quiet and unassuming, yet fiercely loyal and surprisingly wise.What does he want?
As a child born into the Bachman world, I spend more time with the head honchos of our mafia than the other brothers. The men are like uncles to me, but I can't help but wonder why he asked me out to the course today.
I keep the conversation going. "I prefer contact sports—rugby, football, anything where you get to slam into another guy."
He nods. “Get the aggression out. I hear you.”
“Yeah.”
“You know what else gets the aggression out?" he says. "Great sex.”
A lump forms in my throat, making my voice dip. “You know I don’t date.”
He lowers his voice. “I’m not talking about dating. I’m talking about marriage. That’s where you find the great sex. With a wife you’ve dedicated your life to.”
I knew Uncle Rocko had ulterior motives for this outing.
“My dad put you up to this. Didn’t he?” I ask.
"Maybe." Rockland shrugs, giving nothing away.
I think of my dad. Pops, as I sometimes call him. Dante Bachman. Massive. Bald. Still holding onto a tinge of the Greek accent from his homeland.
Dad is impossible to talk to unless it’s business.
