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Damien shoots me a fake smile, and I return the gesture. "The pleasure is mine." I shake Clark’s hand firmly.
"Damien says you love golf–’’ I turn and look at Damien, and the idiot smiles at me like the clown that he is. "–so I hope you’re ready for a little competition today."
I chuckle darkly and nod again, maintaining a semblance of composure. In reality, I want to grab my best friend and punch him hard in the gut for putting me in this position.
"Quite the honor to have you here, but remember that loving golf and being good at it are two different things. I don’t thinkyou’re going to have too much to worry about," I tell Clark, then I turn and glare at Damien again. He gives me a thumbs-up as he climbs into a golf cart.
That bastard is enjoying this. I know he is. How did I end up with a jerk like him as a business partner, let alone a friend, will never cease to amaze me.
As I climb into another cart, I have to remind myself that he is actually a good friend, even though I’d never tell him that.
We all arrive at the first hole, and the circus continues. Clark takes a smooth swing, and I join the others in clapping and congratulating him. My fake smile makes me feel like the worst kind of brown noser.
"Uh oh. I don’t know what I just got us into," Damien says good-naturedly, slapping the candidate on the shoulder. "You’re a better golfer than most politicians I have to deal with."
"Golf is my escape from all the campaign chaos. Keeps me sane." He laughs, and I can literally see his ego growing. The first hour is a mind-numbing waste of time. It’s just a bunch of self-important, privileged men telling each other how great they are at a game that doesn’t matter. In the second hour, we finally start to talk about business and how much he is ready to invest in the company–the only thing that makes my time here count.
"This is worse than watching paint dry, and I once worked as a paint watcher," I say in a hushed voice. Damien nudges me sharply and shushes me, never taking his eyes off the others play.
"I’ve got bad news for you. This is considered exciting for golf."
"Kill me now."
"You’re hanging out in the sunshine with the possible future leader of the free world. You’re at an exclusive club and there are drinks waiting for us in the clubhouse when it’s over. The leastyou can do is pretend to be happy. This is all about business, so grow up." He glares at me, and I return the look.
"I thought our business roles were specified. You kiss important people’s asses, I manage the rest. There’s no reason why I have to be here."
"I don’t know, for some reason the idiot likes you."
I can’t help but grin. "So, we finally agree on something. He’s an idiot."
We both manage to laugh. The rest of our party looks over at us, amused.
"How did I end up stuck with you, Aaron?" Damien asks when the others aren’t looking anymore.
"That’s the same question I ask myself every day, Adler." I toss him a mocking smile before he turns his attention back to the game.
"On a serious note, how much longer do I have to be here?" I ask quietly. Damien fixes me with a measured stare.
"You haven’t even been here for two hours and you’re already thinking of running off." I shrug indifferently, barely concealing the bored expression on my face.
"Like I said, this is boring."
"You got somewhere you better be than hanging out with a good-sized chunk of lawmakers? You know, the people who issue government contracts and give us lots of money?"
"Actually, I do. And you know it." I smile genuinely, and Damien rolls his eyes.
"Of course. Banging your assistant on your desk. How could I have forgotten." he says, sounding as bored as I feel.
"Don’t be bitter. Besides, I’ve never banged her on my desk. Why would I, when there’s a perfectly good conference table built for two?"
"Screwing your daughter’s best friend makes you feel good, hmm?" He sounds condescending, almost… jealous?
"Judgement coming from Womanizer in Chief. Bold."
"You’re damn straight I’m gonna judge you! This is wrong. As your best friend, I’m telling you your daughter will be hurt. You haven’t been a good father to her, and you know that. So why would you do anything to make things even worse? Imagine how she’ll feel when she finds out about this."
"You’re starting to piss me off. This isn’t any of your concern. Whatever happened to ‘go and get her?’ That was your advice, remember? And besides, when did you start caring about my daughter and how she feels?" I demand, looking around to make sure no one is overhearing this.
