Page 23 of Wood

“Holy shit, Ben,” he gasps.

I huff a laugh, then stand straight for a cameraman snapping photos.

“I have to hit drug testing, then let’s head out,” I say. “What do you say to pizza and beer?”

Geoff’s eyes twinkle. “Hell yeah. I’ll go lock these up,” he shakes my bag, “and shower, be ready to go when you are.”

The pizza is hot, the beer is cold, and I could not ask for better company. Geoff eats his large meat lovers with an eye on the other patrons, watching over my shoulders, ready to fend off any intruders, but this bar is chill, known to golfers to be a place we can hang and not be accosted by fans.

I toy with my last slice of my medium pepperoni and mushroom. I am full and push it away. Geoff eyes it, and I laugh and move it in front of him. He happily munches, swallowing beer between bites.

As he pops the last bit of crust in, groaning, I ask, “So, your first time. What did you think? Ready to do it again in a couple of weeks?”

Those beautiful blues sparkle. “Keeping me on?” he asks.

“You were so good out there, Geoff. Solid. Keeping me focused.”

He shakes his head slightly, color climbing up his neck from under his t-shirt. “Not hard, you do most of it yourself. Even Todd didn’t get to you.”

“That yelling spectator,” I remind him.

He nods, thinking. “You just needed a little chilling, a chance to refocus. It wasn’t much.”

“Geoff. Look at me.” He startles and his eyes meet mine. “You are good for me. Julian did not do what you do. We placed in the top ten in part because of you. I didn’t fire him because finding a new caddie isn’t easy, but there you were, listening, really listening. Learning. Absorbing. Calm. So fucking calm. Hell, protecting, even.” I suppress a shiver up my back. “We make a good team. A chemistry that works.”

His smile finally blooms again, wide and heart throbbing. “Ok then.”

I raise my beer bottle and we clink.

“Where is next?” he asks.

“I’ve signed up for Connecticut in two weeks and then… What do you say to Ireland in five weeks?”

His mouth drops open. “Seriously?”

My turn to grin.

16

GEOFF

Ireland. I’m going to fucking Ireland. I’d never been out of Colorado until a week ago, except a family trip as a kid to Cancun, and now I need to find my passport. And find a new apartment. My cut of Ben’s prize money hit my bank account this morning, and I have a whole new world of having enough money. The sale of my folks’ house wiped out their debt, but nothing was left, and my debt from school had been hanging over my head. Gone, now. The freedom is breathtaking.

Sitting on Ben’s private plane, I look through apartment listings.

“Where do you live?” I ask him. Should I be close to his place? The golf club? Downtown?

“Genesee Hills,” he replies. “Why?”

“I need to get out of the place I’m in,” I reply, typing in Ben’s neighborhood. Well, fuck, that is not happening. Ben is stinking rich. This neighborhood is stunning.

“Tired of roommates?” he asks.

“Tired of listening to Charles fuck every night,” I reply with a grimace. “I love the guy, but the dude is loud.”

Ben chokes on a laugh, then contemplates.

“Stay with me,” he says flatly.