Page 157 of Unexpected Shot
She shakes her head at me. “You act like we haven't seen each other in weeks.”
“It's been a whole week, and that's too long.”
“We knew this is what we were getting into, Big Boy. And it's still early in the season.”
She's not wrong about that. It's been a whirlwind over the last month. After I won in Georgia—yes, even with the shit going on all around us off the course, I was still able to pick up what I’ll call the biggest win of my career—life has been nonstop. Shelby had back-to-back weeks where she was playing before I was back at it. Then this past week, I was in Dallas while she was playing in Florida.
And that’s just our normal crazy. Add the fallout of the Chad shit show, and, needless to say, neither of us have felt relaxed in a very, very long time.
When Grayson dragged a battered and whimpering Chad out of the hotel room, we had no idea what was going to happen next. For Shelby and I, we got what we wanted and then some. We got answers—some more disturbing than others. We got to perform a little vigilante justice. Shelby lived out her long-desired moment of beating the shit out of Chad.
Except, at least at the start, the aftermath wasn’t what we thought would happen. Turns out, the head of the golf tour didn’t want a scandal, which I wasn’t surprised to hear. Like many privileged old men that Shelby and I have been dealing with our entire lives, he truly believed enough power and influence can make problems go away. He told Grayson as much. That it would be handled internally and we weren’t to worry about it.
With all due disrespect, as my wife likes to say…fuck that.
It’s why both Shelby and I were shocked—shocked, I tell you—when our good friend Emily the reporter wrote a quite damning exposé about Chad, the near-criminal enterprise he was running in the shadows of golf, and how the head of the tour was trying to cover it up.
Wonder how that happened…
After that piece came out, the shit started raining. The things Chad admitted to us that night and the files Michael gave us were just the tip of the iceberg. Chad wasn’t just paying off measly gambling debts and making a few mistresses go away. We’re talking money laundering. Illegal gambling in many forms. Players, caddies, tournament directors. It seems like everyone at one point turned to Chad for something, and he used them all. Currently, the federal government is going after him, his father, and many of his father’s partners for racketeering, trying to bring a RICO case against them.
Yes, Shelby and I are being called in for depositions. And we can’t fucking wait. Shelby even said she’d wear a dress for the occasion.
When the news hit the golf world, the ones who were shocked were genuinely shocked. The ones who weren’t…let’s just say they didn’t hide their guilt well. It’s a scandal that’s rocked the golf, and sports, world. All because an insecure man wanted to be cool, have a little power, and he used his daddy’s money to do it.
The video we took wasn’t shared with the world—mainly because he admitted more in that against me and Shelby than he did about his crimes. But it has been turned over to prosecutors. We don’t know if they’ll be able to use it, but even if not, we’re glad we did it. He admitted to enough of his crimes to get the legal ball rolling. He admitted to all the crazy shit he pulled over the years when it came to me and Shelby.
And wow…was it crazy…
Never would I have ever thought that Chad tried to ruin Shelby because he was jealous of her. It’s like he was a crazed fan. I’ve never had one, but the lengths he was willing to go… I still can’t believe it. I don’t even want to think how much further he would’ve gone if we hadn’t caught him.
But I can’t dwell on that. He’s in jail. He’s going to be prosecuted. And hopefully, somewhere along the way, he gets the help he needs.
“Whoa! You can’t park here.”
I shoot Shelby a curious look, because why can’t I park in my own parking spot in the back of the bakery I own? “Care to tell me why?”
“I have to pee!”
Now, since we were kids, I’ve always known that when Shelby has to go, she has to go. But even this seems a little sudden for her. “And you can when we get inside.”
“No. Go park out front. It’s closer. If I’m sprinting, I don’t want to have to dodge things in the kitchen.”
Her pleading look does me in, and I put my SUV in reverse and drive around the building. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I know you do,” she says, seemingly a bit more relaxed. “And I promise, we’ll go in, say hi to Gabi, grab my lemon bars… If Kitty and Phyllis are here, give them each a pinch of your ass…” She snickers at the not-amused look on my face. “Then we’re home for the rest of the day.”
“Promises, promises,” I joke as I make a right onto the street, and, luckily, find a spot right up front. “This good, wife?”
“Yes!” Shelby exclaims, jumping out of my SUV. But then she slowly walks around to my side of the vehicle.
“I thought you had to run inside?”
“Um…I did. Must’ve passed.” She shrugs, holding her hand out. “Ready to go in?”
“Are you up to something?”
“I don't know what you mean,” she says as we walk toward the door.
