Sounds like a win on all fronts.
My Bluetooth connects to the car, and Noah’s voice sounds through the speakers. “What do you say?”
“I’m liking what I’m hearing. We’d have to work it around my golf schedule, though. I’ll need to practice, especially if we’re filming this spring, with the Grandmasters and the PGO Championship.”
The fiery face of my coach pops into my head. She’s going to hate this.
“I’ll need to stay in one place to film, except the travel I’d be doing otherwise for tournaments,” I tell Noah. “My training can’t be affected.”
“I’m sure we could work that all out,” Noah says. “You let me handle the details. I’ll talk to the producers and loop you back in when I have something solid. You good with that?”
“Yeah, man. Thanks. You’re the best.”
“I know,” Noah says on a chuckle. “Later.”
No sooner does our call disconnect than my phone rings again.
Speaking of my coach…
“What now?” I let my eye roll color my tone.
The at once silky-smooth and hard-as-a-rock voice of Mallory Walsh comes through my car’s speakers. “Where are you?”
“Aw, did you miss me?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Ouch.”
“You were supposed to meet me at the driving range twenty minutes ago, Holland.”
I sigh. I owe most of my success to Mallory. She’s a year older than I am and a heck of a golfer in her own right. But she’s an even better coach.
Still, I wish she would lay off. I’ve put in the work. I’m reaping the benefits.
“I’m on my way. I had something to do.”
“It’s always something.” She scolds me like I’m five years old. “What did I tell you about not taking this seriously?”
“I was helping out some friends. Give me a break.”
“What about this weekend? I saw the pictures online. You were out both nights. When did you get home? Did you get any sleep?”
“Jeez, Mom.” She hates when I call her that. “Lay off. I’ve got plenty of time to recover.”
“You say that, but you’d be surprised. Hurry up and get your butt over here.”
“I always knew you liked my butt.”
“It’s good for kicking, I’ll give you that.”
“Looking forward to it.”
In response, she ends the call.
I huff out a laugh. This is how our relationship works. She pushes me. I push back. She gets the best out of me in the process. But it always seems like she hates my guts.
If she’s unhappy with me for being late, she’s going to be totally rage-y when I tell her about theMost Eligible Misteropportunity. She’ll consider it an unnecessary distraction, tell me it is completely ludicrous to even consider it. Basically make me feel like an idiot.
