Got Game?

by Stephanie Doyle

  Unless it was to get engaged… again.

  “I’m not mad. You’ve made your decision. You’ll tell everyone tomorrow. Then it will be done.”

  She breathed deep. “Then it will be done.”

  Together they walked back inside the house to a series of questions about what they had been doing outside in the freezing cold, to which Luke promptly replied they had been making out.

  Pop groaned, Grams beamed, Erica howled and Kenny didn’t believe him.

  Luke and Reilly made hot chocolate for everyone and then settled back down to watch the end of the movie. Luke, to his word, said nothing about her decision and for that, Reilly was grateful. Tomorrow was going to be hard enough without the added pressure of family disapproval.

  The American. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She was going to turn it down. She was either absolutely right or absolutely insane. If it was the latter, she hoped she could live with herself after it was done.

  CHAPTER 9

  “I can’t believe you’re not going to tell me what you’re going to say! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Because I’m close, Reilly. I’m very, very close.”

  Reilly pulled the cell phone away from her ear as her agent’s ranting became progressively louder. She’d let him know about the mini-press conference in the school auditorium as she was standing outside of the school ready to go inside. He was not happy about the short notice.

  “Look, Gus, I’ll call you as soon as it’s over, which should be in ten minutes. But the truth is I wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. I’ve had reporters up my ass, Kenny on my back and I’m getting a little annoyed. We’re not talking about going to the moon. We’re talking about a golf tournament.”

  “The Golf Tournament.”

  Reilly sighed. “I know. Look, the reporters are waiting inside for me. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Please think about this. Think about what we could do in endorsements!”

  “You mean think about how much money you could make?”

  “Exactly!”

  “See you, Gus. I’ll talk to you.” Reilly turned off the phone with a sigh of relief. If she’d let Gus know what she was doing then he would have insisted on coming to Little Creek to stand at her side, despite having no idea where the state of Nebraska was. More than likely he would have used every strong-arm tactic in the book to get her to do what he wanted. When that didn’t work he would use guilt.

  She hated guilt.

  Glancing at the time display on the phone, she figured she couldn’t put it off any longer. Erica and Kenny, along with Pop, were already inside. Grams chose to avoid the “to-do” as she put it, and Reilly didn’t know where Luke was. He’d left earlier this morning with a note under her door saying he’d meet her at the school, but there was no sign of him and the press conference was about to begin.

  If Reilly could even call it a press conference. About fifteen reporters from assembled golf magazines, golf news shows and a few representatives from the bigger sports magazines. Plus a guy from ESPN. They were all ready to have at her. She had memorized her prepared statement. She would deliver it. There would be a rush of questions and then it would be done. The “to-do” would be behind her. Luke was right to make her agree to this.

  So where the hell was he?

  Not that she needed him here. She had no problem doing this on her own. It’s just his presence over the past few days had been… settling. He had a tendency to remind her of who she was at her core and it had helped her to make a firm decision.

  Or if not a firm one, then a semi-hard decision.

  But it was done. She was ready. He wasn’t here so she would go in without him. If she found out that he’d already taken off for the Pro-Am without at least saying goodbye, then she would hunt him down like the dog he was and kick him.

  The door, which served as a fire exit for the auditorium, opened and Luke stepped out with an easy smile on his face. The whoosh of feeling running through her stomach almost made her pitch the eggs and bacon she’d eaten for breakfast.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” she blurted out.

  “And miss all this? I don’t think so, Slice.”

  Nodding, she made her way over to him realizing her legs and arms felt stiff. She wasn’t sure what the problem was but if she had to attribute it to something she guessed it would be nerves. It was sort of how she felt when she accepted Buck’s engagement ring.

  “You ready?”

  Rather than speak, she nodded. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her bangs brushed her eyebrows. She’d chosen a dress, maybe to remind herself she was a woman and paired it with long, high-heeled boots. Luke took her hand and led her inside to the back end of the stage. They climbed a few steps and Reilly could see the curtain to the stage was closed. Behind it was a mumbling noise that sounded like a hundred bees buzzing about.

  “This is just the reporters, right?”

  “They’re here. Yes,” Luke answered. “I’ll take your coat.”

  Reilly shrugged out of the heavy coat and let Luke slide it off her arms. The wool turtleneck dress clung to her body with static so she had to stretch it out a bit to feel comfortable.

  “Nice,” Luke mumbled in her ear.

  She turned her head to see him standing behind her with a look in his eyes. A look she had been very familiar with at various points throughout their relationship. “Are you complimenting me on my choice of outfit or my body?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, stop it. We’re not doing things like that anymore, remember? Your girlfriend wouldn’t like it.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Then your soon-to-be ex-wife. Whoever the mystery woman is.”

  “She is a mystery,” Luke allowed. “There are times I don’t know what she’s going to do from one moment to the next.”

  Rolling her eyes, Reilly dismissed the wave of jealousy and tried to remember the agonizing nervousness from earlier. It was easier to deal with.

  “Can we get this over with?”

  “Sure.” Luke took her hand and she let him because hers was cold and his was warm. He walked her across the stage and she could hear the drone from beyond the heavy red velvet curtain grow louder.

  “It sounds like more than a bunch of reporters.”

  “Maybe a few more, but don’t let them make you nervous. A few kids from the school came out in support.”

  Reilly turned to him. “What the heck…”

  Luke found where the curtain parted and pulled back the material to create an opening. “Go on now, you’re on.”

  For a second she hesitated, but then she felt a hard push at her back and she was stumbling forward through the opening.

  The roar didn’t register for at least a second. Her head was filled with a buzzing noise louder than the bees in front of her. Every seat, every open space in the large auditorium was filled to capacity with people standing on their feet and cheering. She couldn’t hear them.

  Finally the noise in her head quieted to be filled with the sound of applause and chants and whistles. Numb, she looked around and saw various different groups of students clustered together. There was the girls’ soccer team in the Little Creek High colors of red and white carrying a sign that read: Go For It!

  The girls’ basketball team, also in uniform, was behind them. Other students, former teachers, friends from town had all come to cheer her on. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. There were a few men in the back standing around a sign that indicated she had no place at The American, but for the most part she had to believe the crowd was in her favor.

  Glancing down at the front row, she saw the reporters she’d thought would be her audience. They were recording the noise of the auditorium. There was a camera crew off to the right filming all of it. This wasn’t what she wanted. This bandage was going to hurt like hell when she tore it off.

  On unsteady legs she made her way to the table on
stage, which had been set up for her, and sat down. She tapped the microphone and heard the sound resonate.

  “Hello,” she muttered.

  Another cheer went up from the crowd. After a few seconds she was able to quiet them with a wave of her hand.

  Reilly considered the statement she had written and rehearsed. Her mind, however, was now blank. She couldn’t even recall the first sentence. Cursing herself for not bringing a copy, she figured the crowd was too juiced for a boring statement, anyway. The first question would come and she would let them all know her answer and then the cheers would be replaced with boos. She wondered if people had brought food inside as a sudden image of a flying egg made her cringe.

  “Okay. Uh…” Again, she glanced to the first row. The guys she knew all had their hands up, but one guy she wasn’t familiar with was bouncing out of his seat. “You, on the end.”

  The man stood. He was older with a round belly that would have made people think he was nine months pregnant if he wasn’t a man. His thinning hair was combed over to one side of his head and he wore an ID tag around his neck labeling him as press. In a booming voice, he shouted, “Ms. Carr, do you honestly think you deserve to play in the American?”

  Instantly, the students around him started to boo. Boos she feared soon would be directed at her. Wow, they were loud.

  “It’s okay, everyone. Settle down. I’m sorry, what paper are you from?”

  “I’m from the Conservative Weekly. And my question is do you feel you deserve to play in a tournament such as the American?”

  It wasn’t the question she’d been expecting and she wasn’t sure how to deal with the man’s obvious condescension. “I take it you don’t. Think I deserve to be there, that is.”

  “Frankly, no.” More boos, but he shouted over them. “But I want to know if you think so. Are you so deluded you’ve bought into this travesty of a ranking system and believe you are better than nearly three quarters of the men playing on tour?”

  The catcalls and insults continued to flow. Reilly could see Stan from Golf Digest rolling his eyes. It was clear he had no time for the debate, but rather wanted his question answered. The athletes were pumping their fists and the crowd at large seemed to be taking sides. Reilly’s gaze drifted to her left and she spotted a girl sitting on the floor in front of the first-row seats.

  The girl’s blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail. She was thin and wore pink sneakers but she didn’t carry any kind of sign in her hand. Instead, she held her hands together clasped in a prayer position. Her eyes were closed tight as if it took all of her effort to keep them shut. Her lips kept repeating the same word over and over again. Please.

  Reilly chuckled even as her eyes filled with tears. It all made sense. This had never been her choice to make.

  Taking a deep breath, she sighed and brushed away the tears. “Sir, honestly I don’t know if I’m better than three quarters of the men playing today.” There were groans and shouts, but Reilly pressed on. “Because I’ve never had a chance to play against them. You think I don’t deserve to be there? As if somehow I’m not entitled? I guess that’s what they used to think about women being in the voting booth, too. Professional golf has ranked me as the thirty-eighth best golfer in the world. They do think I deserve to be there. And I for one am not going to disappoint them.” Reilly stood because she couldn’t sit anymore.

  The crowd instantly quieted as they waited for her final words.

  “I’m playing in the American.”

  The roar was deafening. People were jumping and stomping so hard Reilly could feel the stage shaking under her feet. She looked to the little girl to her left who was jumping up and down and waving her arms in the air as if the best thing in her whole life had just happened to her.

  For a second they made eye contact. Reilly pointed to her and mouthed, “This is for you.”

  She didn’t know if the girl understood, no reason why she should, but she continued to jump up and down and that made Reilly feel good. Not in any kind of mood to answer any more questions she headed for the curtain. Luke was on the side of the stage leaning on a support beam, his arms crossed over his chest and a smug smile on his lips.

  “You!” Reilly accused as she stormed over to him. “You did this. The people, the girls’ teams.”

  He held up a hand. “Guilty. I wanted you to see what it meant. I wanted you to look in their faces and know. It isn’t just about you, Slice. It’s about them, too.”

  “Great!” Reilly shouted with her arms waving wildly above her head. “Now I’ve got to go freakin’ play in the American. The American! What if I blow it?”

  “You won’t.”

  “What if I freeze up? What if I can’t hit the ball?”

  “You’ll hit the ball.”

  Reilly’s face fell into her hands and she laughed and cried at the same time. “There was this little girl out there on the floor. I saw her face and I just had to do it. You know?”

  “Her name is Jenna. I met her mom here earlier. Jenna’s a real big fan of yours. I thought she might like a seat up front.”

  “You bastard.”

  Luke laughed and opened his arms. Reilly hugged him and in doing so felt for five seconds like everything was going to be all right.

  “Woo hoo! The American, baby!” Kenny came pushing through the curtain and ran straight to where Reilly was hugging Luke. He wrapped his arms around both of them and lifted them from the floor.

  “Kenny, relax.”

  He backed away, but his puppy dog smile was still in place. “I thought you weren’t going to do it. Last night, you had this sad look in your eyes and I thought son of a bitch, she’s not going to do it.”

  “I wasn’t. I sort of got talked into it.”

  “Yeah, what an asshole that guy was. Thank God you picked him first. As soon as he asked his question I was like, that’s it, she’s going to blow. You were great.”

  “You do understand what this means?”

  “Uh… yeah. We’re going, baby! Here we come!”

  “I’m not going to make a fool out of myself there. Which means hard work. Really hard work from now until then. I need to raise my game. Take it further, and that all starts with one thing.”

  Kenny and Luke looked at each other. Luke shrugged and Kenny asked, “What?”

  Reilly took a deep breath. “I’m going to need to find a way to hit that damn ball farther than I ever have before.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “Okay. I’m out.” Erica bounced down the stairs with an overnight bag over her shoulder and a matching purse on her wrist.

  It was Wednesday morning and the phone hadn’t stopped ringing since Reilly’s announcement the previous afternoon. Again, they were forced to disconnect the phone much to Grams’ dismay, but the other alternative was to listen to the constant ringing.

  If Reilly thought the press conference would be a great way to get everyone off her back, she was mistaken. Or maybe it was her decision causing the uproar now. There were even more reporters camped outside her house. Forget sportswriters and golf journalists, she was dealing with national magazines, news agencies and tabloids.

  Through Gus she had already received offers from every major network for an interview. Katie Couric, Diane Sawyer. They all wanted to talk to her.

  Not twenty-four hours had passed and already it was overwhelming. Like being thrown into the middle of a tornado. Everything was whirling around her. The noise and the pressure were so intense she wondered if she might not be ripped apart.

  This was day two.

  It was enough to make a person reconsider. Not that she could. Not that she would. She was locked into her decision and the reasons for it. She could have used every ounce of support available. Instead, Luke was upstairs packing and Erica was ready to leave.

  Reilly noted the matching overnight bag and purse, and smiled. She didn’t recognize the name brand, but knowing Erica, it was expensive. Erica didn’t do anything that wasn’t expen
sive. Since her performance on the tour was spotty, it was lucky she had wealthy parents to fall back on. A fact Erica took no shame in admitting.

  Reilly thought again about the possible relationship between Erica and her brother. She tried to imagine a scene in which Erica was explaining the necessity of owning a five-hundred-dollar wallet because it went with her two-thousand-dollar purse. She didn’t see Kenny as being that understanding. It wasn’t her problem. Considering the sudden riff that developed between them last night over her decision to compete, Reilly feared it might not be anyone’s problem.

  “I’m sorry you have to go,” Reilly told her as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “San Diego awaits. Some of us have a tour to return to,” she returned.

  Reilly felt the cut and considered ignoring it, but Erica was her friend. She didn’t want to lose her. “Look, Erica, I know you didn’t approve of my decision…”

  “Didn’t? Don’t. I don’t approve. I understand why you’re doing it. I understand why a lot of people are happy for you. But for me it’s like you turned your back on our tour. On me. Like somehow we’re not good enough for you anymore.”

  “That’s not the case,” Reilly insisted. “This is a one-time thing.”

  “If you say so. Listen, I’m being straight with how I feel. I’m not expecting you to change your mind. I’m not even expecting you to agree. You were never going to make everyone happy, no matter what you did. You need to understand I can’t be your cheerleader on this one.”

  She hadn’t made everyone happy. Reilly thought back to some of the men in the crowd. It seemed inconceivable such chauvinism was still alive and well in the world today, but it was there on their faces. In the tone of the reporter who had asked her the first question. They didn’t think she belonged. If pressed, they probably didn’t believe any professional sports should be played by women.

  “I get it. So long as it doesn’t get between us permanently.”