by James Ross
“We’ve been rolling in the cash this year,” Lew commented to J Dub one day in the office as J Dub counted the proceeds for a bank deposit.
“We’ve been catching a lot of breaks. The weather has co-operated and we’ve been getting a ton of repeat business,” J Dub conceded.
“We might as well own the bank,” Lew said as his eyes stared at the stack of money on the desk in front of J Dub.
“It’s nice to get ahead of the game a little bit. Some of the pressure goes away,” J Dub agreed. He could finally see that all his hard work was paying off handsomely.
“I’ve been talking to some of the neighbors. We’ve got an opportunity to pick up some more property,” Lew proposed. He couldn’t stand the thought of the money sitting idly in the bank. He wanted to get his hands on it.
“What do you want to do?” J Dub inquired.
“You can’t go wrong buying land. It looks like we have the staying power now. I’d like to start buying up the neighbors and maybe build another one of these. Then we can put houses on any of the property that is left over,” Lew projected.
“If that’s what you want to do, then we have the money to pull it off,” J Dub stated.
“Can you run and manage two courses at the same time?” Lew probed.
The thought of expanding the business thrilled J Dub. He began to envision the two courses and eventual condominiums and homes surrounding the golf courses. His family would be setup for life. “Of course! Let’s go for it if that is what you want to do.” The look on Lew’s face suggested that he had something up his sleeve.
Their plans for expansion took off immediately. They had taken that summer’s proceeds and bought an extra forty acres of land adjacent to the property. Cash was paid for the property and Lew negotiated crop rights with the seller that would allow the seller to get the soybeans off of the field before winter came. However, something happened before the seller could harvest the crop. It started raining. And it rained. And it rained.
Lew got impatient. He had wanted to make an improvement to the course which called for the construction of a small lake. Lew was bored and had nothing to do. The beans were late coming off of the field, and the rain would have filled up the lake had it been built.
So Lew started the work anyway. That didn’t set well with the seller because it meant a lower yield and a few bucks out of his pocket. Things got mighty tense around the golf course for a few days with Lew’s various threats and his refusal to reimburse the seller for his loss.
It came to a head one morning when Elmer, the seller, came busting through the door of the pro shop. J Dub stood at the register. “Where is that son of a bitch?” Elmer demanded.
Elmer was all of about five foot six and one hundred and thirty pounds. He was frail, but ornery. He wore wire rimmed glasses and had on bib overalls and a green, John Deere hat. His twitching jaw established his unbelievable frustration.
“Whoa, Elmer, who are you looking for?” J Dub asked as he looked up from the counter.
“You know who I want! Lew! He built that sepia-ass pond before I finished getting my beans off of the field.”
J Dub tried his best to diffuse the situation. “We bought that ground from you.”
“And I had a reasonable time to get my crop off of the land.”
“I guess that Lew thought you were taking too long,” J Dub theorized.
“I still had the crop rights.”
“He wouldn’t mess you up on purpose,” stated J Dub, defensively.
“Bull patties! I want some money for those beans that he ran over. If he doesn’t get it to me today, then I’ll come over here and spray Roundup all over his greens!”
Elmer was livid. He continued, “I’ve had enough of him trying to get every little bit of advantage on this deal. I want my money! This is one part of the deal he isn’t going to win on!”
The boys in the back shook their heads in disbelief. The amount that was being disputed only amounted to a few hundred dollars. Lew had been too cheap to pay for the damage that he caused and Elmer was about ready to have a coronary artery explode over a few bushels of soybeans. It was instances such as these that brought J Dub back to reality on the difficulties of dealing with Lew’s antics.
“Get it taken care of or I’ll do it for ya!” Elmer yelled as he headed out the door.
In his haste, Elmer bumped into Coach Thomas who was coming into the pro shop. The Coach was an attractive black man that stood about six foot four. He was in his thirties and a very athletic man. Elmer’s small frame did not stand a chance against the muscular physique of Coach. He bounced off and continued out the door.
Coach Thomas had earned All-America honors at a Division Two NCAA University. He could shoot the eyes out of a basketball. After leading his team in scoring during his senior year, Coach gave the semi-pro circuit a try. A couple of years of long bus rides and third class travel took its toll. Coach hung up his sneakers and took a job coaching the local high school.
He was an avid golfer and had a regular tee time with his friends at Prairie Winds. That had come courtesy of some promotional work that J Dub had done. J Dub thought it would be beneficial to business if discounted fees could be offered to school teachers. So he distributed school passes to teachers. It was more of a goodwill gesture than anything else. The teachers would have the opportunity to play for perhaps eight to ten weeks in the summer. Any play in the spring and fall was limited due to the daylight hours that dwindled after school let out.
That idea caught on. Coach always had a standard tee time. He would usually bring two of his buddies and, more often than not, golf with another black man named Thomas Jefferson Booker. Booker was in his early thirties also and had played college basketball with the Coach several years back. He was a very handsome and physically fit man too. Their competitiveness was keen and their friendship strengthened because of it.
On this particular morning Coach and Booker and a couple buddies came through the door only to nearly be knocked over by the little tornado exiting the pro shop. “What stirred up that little hornet?” Coach asked J Dub.
J Dub just shrugged it off. He really wasn’t in the mood to share the golf course problems with the customers. J Dub changed the subject. “Hey, your basketball team did pretty well at the state tourney this year, didn’t they?”
“I was proud of them. They really came on at the end of the year.”
“I saw where they fell just one basket short.”
Coach was proud of the effort that his team put forth. “Yeah, but they showed a lot of heart. It really makes you feel good, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s got to be a rewarding feeling,” J Dub concurred.
A smug look of achievement overwhelmed the Coach. “Say, I’ve got something for you,” Coach said as he handed a pan of brownies to J Dub. “My wife’s recipe is the best!”
“We’ll put these to good use, won’t we guys?” J Dub yelled across the pro shop. “Are there four of you today?” J Dub asked as he wrote their names on the sign-in sheet.
“Yeah, here’s my school pass,” Coach replied.
Lew and Lois walked into the pro shop only seconds after the transaction took place. With the sight of the four black men in the pro shop, Lew stopped in his tracks. He stared at the foursome and gave them a menacing glance. His mood quickly turned to business and Lew headed straight to the sign-in sheet to see if the foursome paid.
As he counted up the number of players, Lew noticed the pan of brownies. He grabbed one and took a bite. With a mouthful of food, Lew mumbled, “These are great!”
“Coach’s wife made those,” J Dub said.
The Coach beamed with pleasure. In that instant Lew finished counting the number of players that had teed off. He looked aghast and spat the brownie onto the floor at Coach’s feet. He feigned a choking cough. “It must have gone down the wrong pipe,” Lew stammered.
“Bullshit,” Coach said as he took a step toward Lew. Coach had be
en around long enough to know when a racial gesture had been made toward him. He had grown up in the projects and had survived a tough childhood. He didn’t want to relive the same discriminatory action that he had experienced as a young kid.
Booker quickly raised his eyebrows and stepped between the two. Their desire to win went way back to their college days on the court and Booker knew that his friend was in no mood to take that kind of behavior from Lew.
The Coach settled himself down and calmly turned to J Dub. “Why don’t you hand them back to me so I don’t get sued?”
J Dub grabbed the pan of brownies and handed them to Coach. The Coach was still frothing at the mouth to continue the confrontation, but glared at Lew instead. Lew defiantly stared back, confident that this massive man wasn’t going to touch him. The foursome headed out the door and off to the first tee.
After they exited the pro shop, Lew turned to J Dub and said, “J Dub, you can’t win with that type around here. We weren’t meant to mix with those people. Keep them off the premises.”
~ ~ ~
Lew would retreat to the sanctity of his hill more and more, especially when there was a disagreement or some sort of conflict. Now he had a companion and a built-in ally. Lois was in need of someone to take care of her so she would normally always accompany Lew on the ride to the top of the hill.
After the confrontation with the Coach in the pro shop, Lew and Lois took off for the hilltop. The blaring muffler echoed across the course as he powered the bike to its destination. It was meant to be a constant annoyance for anyone within earshot and a not so subtle reminder of his supremacy over the golf course.
Under the tranquility of the shade tree, Lew would preach to Lois about how good he had it. “This is the best view in the whole county. No one can tell me what to do,” he would say. “This is all mine,” he would appear drunk with his own power as they looked down on the golf course below them. Lew would talk to Lois as if she was an inanimate object.
It didn’t take long for the Coach and his playing partners to come into sight. “Well those sons of bitches . . .” he muttered under his breath as he squinted down the fairway at Coach and his group walking the course. The more they seemed to be enjoying themselves, the more infuriated Lew became.
With Lois sitting behind him on the cycle, Lew glanced over his shoulder with a look of disgust. “Watch this, Lois. Time to make those assholes run,” he countered. He grabbed the remote control device and hit a few buttons. The sprinklers were activated. Water sprayed all over the green where the Coach and his buddies were putting.
“Hah! Look at’em run! They’re not so tough! They’ll think twice before messing with me,” Lew shouted. He glanced over his shoulder with a pleased grin on his face. Lois hugged him tighter. She returned a pleasing grin and laid the side of her face on the shoulder of her new best friend. The power that Lew possessed appealed to her.
“We’ll fix this problem,” Lew said.
With that he raced down the hill and raced the motorcycle toward the green where the Coach and his playing partners were toweling off. When Lew and Lois arrived, the foursome was approaching the next tee box.
“Can I see your receipt?” Lew asked.
“We’re playing on a school pass,” Coach replied.
“You still paid, didn’t you?” Lew persisted.
“Yes we did . . . at a reduced rate.”
“Then I need to see your receipt.”
“J Dub didn’t give me one,” Coach said.
Lew spoke defiantly. “Go get one or you’ll be told to leave.”
“Can’t you just call the pro shop?” Coach asked.
“ . . . I guess I could, if you were the right kind of customer,” Lew replied.
“You mean right color, don’t you Cracker?” leered the Coach.
“If the shoe fits . . .” Lew said and smiled his evil smirk. Each of the men glared at the other and Lew knew that Coach was not going to get physical with him. “Listen you ninety-nine. It wouldn’t look so good in the newspapers if a high school coach were to beat up a white man, on a peaceful day at the golf course, now would it? I’m thinking that it might even get ya fired. What do you think, Lois?” Lew patronized his dim witted girlfriend as she smiled her sickening smile to the Coach. “Hell, a big strappin’ fella like yourself, might even be tempted to rough up Miss Lois, here. What a shame.” Lew locked his eyes with the Coach for several moments.
Finally Booker intervened. “Pick your battles, Coach. It’s not worth it.”
With that statement, calmer heads prevailed. Coach turned to his playing partners and said, “I’ll be right back guys.” The Coach hopped into a golf cart and began the long trek back to the pro shop.
Lew felt the power and control of the situation. After all, he was on his own turf and could make his own rules and do what he wanted. The minute that Coach got out of sight he turned to Booker. “And Leroy, you can bet I’ll make sure that all you others paid, too.”
Booker had to bite his lip to keep from turning a nasty situation into a brawl. Lew returned to his motorcycle and screamed away. Lois hugged her man tighter than ever.
Dub was in the pro shop working the counter. He had just dealt with the Coach and glanced out the window to see Lew racing across a fairway. Right on time, he thought to himself. He went to the coffee machine and placed the pot of coffee into the microwave and heated the pot to the boiling point.
As Lew reached the parking lot J Dub returned the hot pot of coffee to the burner. Seconds later, Lew strolled through the front door. He continued to the coffee machine and poured a cup of coffee.
“What was all of that nonsense with the Coach?” J Dub inquired as he made a concerted effort to keep his cool.
Lew did his best imitation of playing dumb. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Without checking the temperature of the coffee in the cup, Lew took a sip and spat the hot coffee out all over the floor.
“That’s getting to be a habit with you,” J Dub said with a very slight smirk.
Lew rushed to the nearest water faucet. “Dammit! What did you do?”
“I microwaved it so it would be the way you liked it.”
Lew glared at him. J Dub nonchalantly turned and headed toward the door. On the counter was a sign that J Dub had started to make. Lew glanced at it and asked, “What are you making?”
“It’s only a sign for the parking lot,” J Dub answered.
The sign on the counter read: RESERVED FOR BLACKS . . . NIGHTS ONLY
“We can put it in the far corner of the lot,” J Dub offered. He had done his best to be passively aggressive without entering into a confrontation with his partner.
As if he missed the total point, Lew replied,” If they come in here at night, they’ll steal us blind. I don’t want them in here period.”
J Dub walked out the door in total disgust.
Chapter Thirty
At home later that night . . .
Marcia’s catering business kept her occupied but there were plenty of times that she found herself daydreaming while doing monotonous tasks. Such is the case when making hundreds of meatballs. She began to think about when she first met J Dub. A smile came to her lips as she was reminded of their romance. She knew he was the one. That was one beautiful man, she mused.
She knew the deal was sealed when J Dub kissed her for the first time. Marcia always prided herself as being a woman that wasn’t easily impressed. Yet, when his lips softly caressed hers that first time, her knees almost buckled. She had never met a man that could kiss the way J Dub did. She also loved the way he accepted and loved her true self. He wasn’t afraid of a strong woman like other men. That made him all the sexier to her. No doubt about it, she had it bad for J Dub. As she watched her hands make the meatballs over and over, she audibly sighed. She was so frustrated with her husband’s absence at home. The more she thought about it, the more she became upset
.
“Hi Hon, it’s me,” J Dub called as he shut the front door. Marcia glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed the time. He gets home later and later, she fumed as she continued making meatballs.
“I’m in the kitchen J Dub, making meatballs,” she called out. He came in to the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck.
“Could you use some help? I’m a master cook, remember?” He cheerfully volunteered. J Dub wanted to forget about the day’s events.
“Thanks, Honey,” Marcia tried to overcome her frustration with her husband’s job. J Dub took the completed meatballs and began cooking them. “These are kind of large, aren’t they? You won’t make any money on this item,” he offered. That was it. The straw that broke the camel’s back.
“Who are you to tell me what I can or cannot make money on?” Marcia snapped back at him.
“I was just offering some advice. They look awfully big.”
“What are you, an accountant now?”
J Dub shook his head. This had been brewing for quite some time. Marcia was very resentful of the hours that J Dub had been spending at the golf course. Ever since he told her that Lew demanded he work weekends and four out of five weekdays, there had been a tension in the air. He had very little time to spend with Marcia and Gail.
She threw a bag of chips at him. “You’ve been around him too damn much. You’re starting to talk like him.” Her feelings about Lew festered until they bubbled over.
“He’s teaching me about business, I am trying to build a future for our family,” J Dub reasoned.
“Bull! J Dub, if you keep the pace you are right now, neither your kids nor your wife is going to know who you even are. Do you really want that? Do you want Gail growing up not knowing what it’s like to have a father?” Her eyes pierced through him. “Well, do you?” Marcia was adamant and wasn’t backing down.
