Page 148 of Unexpected Shot
“Walk,” I command as I start to melt in with the crowd, hoping Beau doesn’t see me walking with Michael. Not because I’m going to hide this from him—oh no, he’s going to get a whole debrief when the round is over—but the last thing he needs on the final hole of the day is to see me walking with my ex.
I find a spot away from the crowd of people where I still have a view of the green and Beau’s putt, but we’re far enough back that if Michael whispers, we won’t get yelled at by the golf marshals—a.k.a., the golf police. “Timer starts now.”
Michael takes a deep breath. Is it bad that I’m glad he’s kind of scared?
"I'm sorry, Shelby."
I give him a side-eye. “Is that a blanket sorry? Or is it for something specific? Because if so, you’ll need tonarrow it down.”
“Blanket, and that doesn't even come close to doing justice,” he says. “I fucked up, Shelby. In a lot of ways.”
“Okay…is this the part where I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? Or say that you’re forgiven. Because if so, you just wasted a whole dramatic thing.”
“Believe me, I don’t expect you to forgive me. I fucked up and I paid for it. Lost my wife. Lost my family. Lost you. Lost…”
He trails off, and I’m pretty sure it’s to push back a tear. Which almost makes me feel slightly bad. Co-emphasis on almost and slightly.
“After I ended things, she kicked me out. And then…I spiraled. Got into some bad trouble.”
"What kind of trouble?" I ask. "Not because I care, but because I'm curious."
"Gambling," he says with a heavy sigh. “You'd think for a sports writer I'd be better at picking a winner. Turns out I'm shit at it.”
"Am I supposed to feel bad for you?"
He shakes his head. "No, I'm admitting all of this because those decisions are now directly affecting you.”
That gets my attention. “Are you betting on me?” I try to keep my voice down, but it’s hard when my ex is making me regret not busting in his windows when I had the chance. “Because if so, I’m going to throw the next tournament for shits and giggles.”
“No, it’s not like that. I started losing money. Daily. I was paying rent on an apartment, on the divorce, on child support. Everything else was down the drain. I couldn’t stop myself. I kept thinking I could win it back, and then I didn’t and…I hit rock bottom.”
I do feel for him. I know addictions are hard to come back from, especially when you’re at a low point. But I still fail to see what his gambling has to do with me. And why I should care.
“I was flat broke. I needed money…” he continues.
I tap my finger to my chin like I’m about to drop insane wisdom. “Let me guess. You didn’t go to a bank.”
I catch Michael looking down, nothing but shame rolling off him. “There was always a rumor around the tour that if anybody got into any money trouble, there was a guy they could call. He wasn't a bookie or some guy in the mob. But he was close to the game, had deep pockets, and would be discreet about it.”
Now that grabs my attention. “Am I that out of it that I’ve never heard about this guy? Does he have a name?”
Michael doesn’t say anything, but his eyes focus to our left as the groups come walking up to the green. “You know him. Rumor has it, you’ve even kicked him in the dick a few times.”
I have to double take between Michael, then Chad, then back to Michael, then back to Chad when I grasp what he’s saying. “Are you telling me Chadwick Ashcroft is a fucking loan shark!”
I try to keep my whisper down, but holy shit, I did not have that on my bingo card.
“I don't know if he’s giving people the money directly, or if it’s coming from his father,” Michael says. “But either way, when guys on the tour need some money, for whatever reason, he's the one we call.”
I try to process what Michael's telling me, all while staring daggers at the man I've known since I was a kid. Sure, he was always slimy, shady, and liked throwing his money around. And now that I process this for a minute, Chad being a loan shark actually feels plausible. I just didn’t know he was willing to get his hands dirty like that.
“Okay, so Chad is shadier than I ever thought. But why are you telling me all of this? What does it have to do with me?”
“I’m telling you because you got wrapped in his web, and I don’t even know if you realized it,” he says. ”Because besides the insane interest he charges, he grabs us by the balls in other ways.”
“How?”
“We do his bidding.” Michael pulls me a few steps back froma group of fans who have started to gather in front of us. “Whatever he needs, we do it. It’s how he ensures our silence. He knows our darkest secrets—ones we get money from him to make go away. And he uses them against us.”
