Katherine Bloom, formerly known as a respectable news anchor and
upstanding citizen, who is
expected to play golfâgolfâ early this
coming Sunday morning.
p.s.
Speaking of prisons, thanks
for the pardon, J.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Â
To: Katherine Bloom
     Chloe Sinclair
From: Julia Boudreaux
Subject: You say tomato
You might
not have had a good
old-fashioned fuck, sugar, but I can read
between the lines. You'll be having one soon. As to golf, I guess you
were right about finding yourself a big strapping man with a fine,
strong putter and a great set of balls.
xoxo, Julia Scarlett Boudreaux
p.s. That wasn't a faint you saw. I was laughing so hard I collapsed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Â
FIFTEEN
Jesse needed to clear his head, find his focus. But all he had been
able to do since last night was think
of Katie.
Kate
.
Hell. It hadn't just been since last night. It had been since he drove
across the city limits.
He had become obsessed with her, her beautyâthe innate sensuality that
she was just beginning to discover. But it was more than that. Kate was
beautiful in a way that went deeper than the surface. As much as her
idealism and determination drove him crazy, he also admired her
willingness to do whatever it took to make something happen. She wasn't
a quitter. And she wasn't afraid to show that she cared deeply and
unabashedly for the things she considered to be important in life.
He had taken responsibility for Travis as much because he couldn't
stand to see her disappointed in him as because he didn't know how to
do anything else. It was the right thing to doâhe knew thatâand he saw
it that way because so often in his life he found himself looking at
issues as
if he were looking at them through Kate's eyes.
He cursed the affliction even though he knew it had saved him more than
once.
But he had to set thoughts of Kate aside. At least for now.
Starting today, he planned to spend his mornings concentrating on his
game. In the afternoon, once
Travis returned from golf camp, they'd
work on the tree house. And at night, he would concentrate
on Kate.
He got hard just thinking about all the things he would show her. The
pleasure he would give her. But
that was for later.
He had allowed Travis and Kate and the tree house to become an excuse
not to deal with what was
really wrong. His game was falling apart. He
was unable to take a driver in his hand without breaking
into a sweat.
He'd always had nerves of steel. But now his heart pounded just
thinking about having to play in the PGA Championship. Was he choking
now that he finally was considered a favorite to win?
And then there was his son. Jesse didn't really know what it was about
Travis that made him want to make space for the kid in his life. Was it
because the boy was something he had createdâeven if it was
unknowingly, much less unwillingly? Something beyond himself, beyond
the total consumption by golf that had been his life?
The boy was naive in so many ways, though far older than his years in
others. Jesse wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about the kid, but
he knew he needed to do somethingâgive something to the boy beyond the
memory of a tree house they had built together. Something that would
provide him with a foundation of faith in himself, a confidence that he
didn't have.
There was no denying that Travis wasn't happy and wanted to quit golf.
This was after the boy had all but begged him to be able to play.
Something wasn't right, and Jesse had every intention of finding out
what it was.
And when he should have turned right to head to the country club to
work on his swing as time ran out before the PGA Championship, he
turned left and headed for Travis's golf camp.
His own game would have to wait.
*Â
*Â *
Travis stood as far away from the group as he possibly could. The sun
beat down so hard that there wasn't a green piece of grass as far as
the eye could see. Stretching out before him was a long, mowed field
with more grass roots than actual grass since the hard-packed and dried
earth refused to allow anything to burrow deep.
When he took a step, a fine powdery dust puffed around his sneakers. He
felt like Pig Pen from the ancient Charlie Brown cartoons that his mom
liked so much, and just as much an outcast.
He would have skipped camp altogether if Jesse hadn't been watching
when the bus showed up. That morning they had started out like usual.
They ate breakfastâhis dad was obsessed with feeding him.
But then they
didn't do any work on the tree house. Which was fine with him since he
couldn't handle
the tools very good. No matter how many times Jesse
showed him how to use stuff, he couldn't quite
get everything to
connect right. Once he nearly smashed his own thumb, but Jesse had
reached out
real quick and grabbed the hammer just in time.
Travis shuddered just thinking about the potential pain.
But not even that compared to the very real pain of dealing with the
bullies at golf camp. He'd rather
be hanging out with Lena Lehman, who
was pretty cool, even if she was a girl and a real know-it-all.
One day the two of them had snuck onto the golf course and played a few
holes. The chipping and putting had actually been fun. And while he
might not be all that great at the whole game, he had impressed her
with his putting.
But then Jimmy and his sidekick Walter from golf school had shown up
and hadn't been happy to see him. The last thing Travis wanted was to
be embarrassed by those two in front of Lena, so he'd said
he had to go
home, and escaped.
Lost in his thoughts, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and
hoped that Coach would forget to
call on him. He didn't realize trouble
was brewing until it was too late.
"Hey, perve," Walter taunted, pushing him in the back.
Jimmy didn't say a word, he just glared.
"Ah, hi," Travis said, flipping his hand up, then turning as fast as he
could and heading for Coach, who was way over at the other end of the
makeshift driving range, helping some other hapless camper with
his
swing.
But Walter and Jimmy circled in front of Travis, blocking the way. The
only thing Travis could do now was yell. And he wasn't that big of a
baby.
"Where you going so fast, fat boy?" Walter pushed him into Jimmy.
Jimmy pushed him back. "We have some talking to do."
"Talking?" Travis asked with a traitorous shake in his voice.
Walter shoved him up against the chain-link fence edged by prickly
bushes, scraping his arms. "Stay the hell away from Lena. She's mine."
"Oh." Lena had said she hated Jimmy and Walter. "How can she be your
girl if she doesn't like you?"
That's when he got the big push. But since there was nowhere to go, the
only thing that happened was that the air got knocked out of him when
he slammed harder into the fence. Travis realized too late that he
shouldn't have said that to a bully.
"Stay away from her, piss face," Walter hissed.
Air rushed back through his body, making him dizzy. He thought he just
might barf all over Jimmy's
and Walter's fancy golf shoes.
"No problem," he said. "I won't talk to her ever again."
They laughed in his face and shoved him again. Travis tried to get
away, but he only ended up in a
cloud of dust and gravel when they
threw him to the ground.
"You're a freakin' bastard, remember, perve breath," Walter added.
Walter and Jimmy laughed at that, but all of a sudden their laughter
cut off like a guillotine had slammed home.
It was the shadow that Travis noticed nextâthe harsh West Texas sun
blocked out. Thank God, Coach had arrived to save him from certain
death or, at the very least, the loss of a few teeth.
"What's going on here?"
The voice stopped him cold. Not Coach.
Travis glanced up and felt his heart cease to beat in his chest. It was
bad enough to think of Lena seeing Jimmy and Walter pick on him, but he
thought he would die over the idea that his dad would see him looking
like a wimpy moron,
eating dust.
"Travis?" Jesse asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in the situation.
"What's going on?"
Walter and Jimmy made a big production of pulling Travis up, dusting
him off, and putting their arms around his shoulders. "You're all
right, Travis, aren't you?" They laughed self-consciously. "He's our
good buddy."
"Yeah, I'm fine. Really." Travis gestured to Jesse to follow. "Come on,
I think we should go."
The boys didn't need any more than that. They turned tail and ran
toward the campers who were lined
up firing golf balls into the parched
field.
It wasn't until Walter and Jimmy had slipped into their spots in line
that had been held by their clubs that Jesse glanced at Travis. "What
was that all about?" he asked.
"Nothing."
Jesse considered him for a minute. Travis didn't worry that he'd pursue
it. He never did. Using the
simple word
nothing
had
proved to be a
great answer to get Jesse to leave him alone.
"Are they beating you up? Is that why you don't like golf?"
Okay, it had worked in the past.
It didn't take more than a second for Jesse to realize he wasn't
getting anything out of the kid. He remembered the welt on Travis's
temple. Suddenly the boy's desire to quit golf school took on a
whole
new dimension.
Jesse's first instinct was to do whatever it took to make things better
for Travis. "I'm going to talk to
your coach."
Travis grew agitated and his eyes went wide. "No! Please don't. There's
nothing to say, really."
Jesse's own father leaped to mindâthe way the man constantly
embarrassed him. One minute laughing like a boisterous fun guy, then
next glaring with the fury that settled in his eyes so easily and at so
little provocation. Derek had responded by becoming cautious and
staunchly conservative. Jesse had become just the opposite of his older
brotherâcareless and intentionally wildâand he had done it with relish.
But careless and wild, he had learned, had consequences. The kind that
was standing right in front of
him with dust and gravel sticking to his
skin.
Jesse wanted to do this right. He didn't want to embarrass his own kid.
His own kid
.
The words hit him all over again.
"Really," Travis added. "It'll only make it worse."
Jesse stared silently for a second, then he bent down on one knee. "I
want to make things better. Tell
me why they beat you up."
Travis grimaced, looking despondent. "You really don't have to do the
dad thing. You're not very good
at it. But thanks." He headed toward
the parking lot.
Jesse wasn't about to give up that easily. "Travis, I'm trying. Give me
a break."
This time Travis groaned and hung his head.
"I'll fix things for you, T." That nickname that Kate used for Travis.
Jesse had never wanted anything more than he wanted to fix this for the
boy. "Tell me what's going on."
Travis sighed wearily. "I guess they think I'm a nerd. You know, kind
of like Xander on
Buffy
."
"You're not a nerd," Jesse stated indignantly.
He got a snort for an answer.
"I mean it. You're a great kid. And all you have to do is be yourself
and not worry."
"Being myself is what gets me into trouble."
"No way. I bet you get around them and are nervous, or you try too
hard. You really are a great kid.
And you don't have to take any crap
from those guys."
"You're saying I should fight back?" The twelve-year-old gasped. "Like
fist fighting?"
Jesse couldn't tell if Travis was horrified or thought it was cool. Not
that it mattered either way. Jesse could just imagine how Kate would
respond if she found him giving the boy fighting lessons. Though
his
initial instinct was to do just that.
"No. No fighting." He racked his brain for an alternate idea. "But you
have to stand up to them."
Now there was a useful plan, Jesse thought disdainfully.
"That's easy for you to say. You're cool. And you wear cool clothes."
"I'm not so cool," Jesse admitted. "I'm just a kid in adult clothes.
Ask Kate."
Travis finally smiled, giving a snort of laugher. "Yeah, you make her
crazy."
"Maybe a little."
Another snort. "I think you make her a lot crazy."
"Okay, okay, I get the point." He grimaced. "But I think she's coming
around."
Suddenly they both smiled, the image of Kate clearly in each of their
heads.
"Come on. Let me talk to your coach. Then we'll figure out how to deal
with golf camp."
The minute Jesse headed for the opposite end of the driving range, Gary
Peters noticed.
"Jesse Chapman!" the big burly coach called out.
"Hello, Gary."
The men shook hands.
"I was hoping you'd stop by sometime," Gary said.
Jesse turned to Travis. "Go get your clubs, T."
The minute Travis headed away, his feet scuffing in the dirt, Jesse
refocused on the coach. "I wanted
to talk about Travis."
"He's a good kid."
"I know that, but when I drove up a few minutes ago, he was getting
pushed around."
Gary sighed. "I've been trying to keep my eye on him, but you know how
it is with a boy like Travis."
Jesse's eyes narrowed. "No, I don't."
Peters shifted his weight. "Like I said, he's a good kid, but he's had
a hard time fitting in. He's kind of awkward. I wish I could do more.
Travis could be a decent golfer. His short game is pretty damn good and
he putts better than anyone in the class. I'll hand him that. Hell, if
the sports programs had a lick of money to spend, I'd have an assistant
and it wouldn't be me alone trying to keep twenty-five kids in line.
What we need is money. Then I could do something with a kid like
Travis. And it's the same all over town."
They talked for a while longer. And by the time he and Travis were
leaving, Jesse had an idea where to start to help his son.