by James Ross
She reminded J Dub of his situation at the golf course. Even though he and Curt were highly visible, they gave Julie a lot of responsibility and trusted her with running the day-to-day activities especially when they couldn’t be there. So when Ricki escorted the brothers into Harold’s office they thanked her for the hospitality.
J Dub hadn’t remembered how furry Harold was about his head and face. Computer monitors and television screens continued to keep the banker in touch with the outside world and financial markets. “J Dub, Curt . . . thanks for coming over today,” Harold began in tone that suggested he wanted something from them.
“We’re interested in what you have to say,” J Dub replied. He was a little skeptical about being in such a stuffy atmosphere. The open surroundings of the golf course made him feel a lot more comfortable than the leather chairs, marble floors, and high tech environment that the bank provided.
“That’s good to hear,” Harold said as he rolled out the engineered drawings of the development that he had planned. “Here’s my problem.” He pointed to the ground that he was improving with the neighboring farmer. “Neal Brownfield and I plan on developing the eastern edge of the golf course. We’ve gotten zoning approval to place two hundred and sixty-eight lots on his property.”
“You’re joking,” J Dub quipped.
“No,” Harold replied. “Hadn’t you heard?”
“We got a notice, but we didn’t know that anything like that was planned.”
“Yes, we want to have the lots available for sale next spring.”
“That’s going to give the place a new and different look,” J Dub said. In a way he hated to see the country atmosphere that surrounded the golf course disappear. But he also understood that progress was a part of life.
“And we need to purchase an easement from you,” Harold said matter-of-factly.
“What for?” Curt asked.
“Utilities,” Harold answered. “Specifically a sewer line.”
“Where?” J Dub asked.
“The way the engineers have it drawn out is on this creek,” Harold said as he pointed to the main creek that traversed through the golf course. “We need to run sanitary sewer lines and storm water sewer lines from here to here.” He pointed from Neal Brownfield’s farm to the main sewer trunk line that ran along the state highway.
“How far is that?” J Dub asked. “It’s got to be at least a couple of miles.”
“We figure that it is about fourteen thousand feet. That’s a little less than three miles,” Harold answered.
“And you have to go through the golf course?” Curt questioned.
Harold nodded his head. “We have to get on the lowest part of the surrounding property. You know what they say.”
“No. What’s that?” J Dub asked.
“Shit runs downhill,” Harold smirked. “We need to get the pipes in that creek line and tap into the main line.”
J Dub and Curt looked at each other. “Will we have to close down?” J Dub asked.
“Not the way that I have it figured,” Harold explained. “We’ve got money appropriated for the easement and the work. We figure that all of the trenching can get done within six months. That way we can start building houses next spring.” Harold studied the reaction of the brothers. “If we do the work during the winter, then it shouldn’t affect your business too much.”
“What’s the benefit to us?” J Dub asked.
“Money.” Harold was firm. “We’ll pay you for that utility easement.”
“Who will do the work?” Curt asked.
“I’ve got a number of excavating people that I could recommend,” Harold said. “But I can’t tell you who to use.”
J Dub looked at Curt. “I’ve got somebody in mind that I’d like to help out.” He specifically thought of Tuey O’Tweety, BowTye’s friend.
“We’ll pay for the work and the easement rights,” Harold assured the two.
“Do I need to get a lawyer?”
“That’s always advisable, and we’ll pay for the legal expense,” Harold said sweetening the pot.
J Dub studied the map of the golf course and the creek. “Let me take a copy of this and we’ll get back to you.” He got up to leave.
“Let’s not waste time. I want to get on the property as soon as possible,” Harold urged.
“Give us a few days,” J Dub said. They shook hands.
“Time is of essence. Winter will be here before we know it.”
The brothers smiled and walked out the door.
Two days later . . .
Ricki Sandstoner buzzed the office of her boss. “Yes,” Harold answered as he pressed his finger on the intercom button.
“J Dub just called me with the answer that you wanted,” Ricki started.
“And?” Harold inquired. “What did he say?”
“He said that everything is fine. You can go across the golf course property as long as you use a contractor that he wants you to use.”
“Who’s that?”
“EE Excavating,” Ricki said.
“EE Excavating?” Harold asked. “Who is that?”
“I asked him the same thing,” Ricki said. “He said that it was Tuey O’Tweety.”
Harold went bonkers. “Dammit! That’s the same guy that went nuts in the city hall meeting a month ago!”
Ricki had heard about the incident. “Uh oh.”
“Yeah, uh oh is right,” Harold barked. “He’s nothing but trouble.”
“Well,” Ricki said as her voice trailed off. “J Dub said that you can have the easement if Tuey can have the work.”
“Dammit!” Harold was livid. “Nothing in life is easy!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Tuey, BowTye, and J Dub converged on the maintenance shed. “Now this is going to be your home away from home,” J Dub said as he slid the door open on the metal building. “I want you to realize something.” He walked over to the work bench with all of the tools on it.
“What’s dat?” Tuey said.
“I want you to know that the main reason that you have this job is because of the recommendation of my good buddy,” J Dub said as he tilted his head, “BowTye.”
BowTye smiled. “Thank you fo’ that Mister J Dub.”
“No. Tank bote uh you’s fo’ dat,” Tuey said sentimentally. “I’s really ’preciate da opp’tunity.”
“This is where you can set up shop,” J Dub said as he spread his arms from wall to wall. “If we’re missing anything or we suspect that you’re responsible for anything that’s gone, then you’ll be terminated immediately.” He looked at Tuey. “Understand?”
Tuey’s eyes got wide under his lime green skull cap. “I’s don’t steal.”
“I know that you don’t,” J Dub said but I have to lay down the rules. “This is a golf course and we operate on the honor system around here. That’s the nature of the type of business that we’re in. Nobody cheats around here or they’re not asked back. Nobody steals around here or they are booted off of the grounds. We are all a big family and we help each other out.”
“They’ve been the best to me,” BowTye vouched for J Dub. “I don’t know what I’d do without all of them.”
J Dub rolled out the engineered drawing and laid the plans across the top of the work bench. “Now here’s what we have to do.” He pointed at the subdivision on the eastern boundary of the property. “We have to run a sewer line down this creek to the main trunk line on the state highway.”
Tuey shook his head as if he understood.
“Curt and I talked about how we’re going to do this,” J Dub continued, “and since this is Prairie Winds Golf Course we thought that we would come up with something unique for this project.” He spread his hands and ran his fingers over the creek that was drawn on the map. “We’re calling the route that you’re going to have to take along this creek Tuey’s Course. Got it?”
Tuey eyes lit up. “I’s awe-ways wanted my’s own course.”
“We
ll, you got it now,” J Dub confirmed, “and I’m going to repeat this because I want you to get this straight and I want you to remember that your course is in this creek. We have to run the line from here,” he said as he pointed to the subdivision, “to here.” He pointed once again to the highway. “The creek bed that’s between these lines is where you need to do the work. That’s Tuey’s Course. Got it?”
Tuey shook his head signaling that he understood. Puddles darted across the gravel floor and jumped up on the couch that the guys had recently placed in the shed. “Dat’s uh pretty cat,” Tuey said as he marveled at the white paws on the gray cat.
“Its name is Puddles,” J Dub said. “We’ve got a bunch of them that chase the mice out of the barn.”
“You’s got uh bunch uh mice in here?” Tuey asked. His eyes were as big as a yolk in an over easy egg.
“Of course,” J Dub laughed. “You’re not scared of them are you?”
Tuey shook his head up and down. “Me’s an’ dem don’t git along. You’s eva seen uh brotha jump?”
“Yeah, on a basketball court.” J Dub chuckled harder at the thought. “Then you better make friends with the cats because they’ll keep the mice away from you,” J Dub said. He rolled up the plans and slid a rubber band down the cylinder.
“Jus’ uh second,” Tuey said as he headed out to his pickup truck. A few seconds later he returned with a boom box. “Let me set dis up. Dis will scare dem mice away.”
J Dub laughed harder. “Whatever you think will work. But I imagine the mice are going to stay. It will be winter time pretty soon and they’re going to want to stay warm.”
Tuey put the boom box on the work bench and turned it on. Rap music blared through the speakers. It was so loud that BowTye even flinched. “Dat be my buddy D. Wayne.”
“The referee?” J Dub asked.
Tuey shook his head up and down. “He go by Shriek Caramel U-Hop.”
J Dub was perplexed. “He’s got his hands into everything.” D. Wayne owned the bait and tackle store, refereed college football games, was deacon of his church, and apparently was now a rap singer.
Tuey shook his head to the music. He reached over and tuned the volume louder. “He be singin’ uh duet wit’ MiSSuS KuLe BReeZe SiSTa JaNeLLe on dis song.”
J Dub shook his head back and forth as if to wonder what he had gotten himself into. “Don’t play the music so loud that the golfers get upset.” He looked around the shed. “Other than that, make yourself at home in here. You’ve got the couch.”
“How’s duz I’s git paid?” Tuey asked.
“The project is financed by First Cornstalk Bank,” J Dub answered.
“Oh dat’s da same place dat D. Wayne wuz goin’ ta take me ta git my loan.”
“What loan?” J Dub asked.
“Da loan fo’ da piece uh property dat’s I’s tryin’ ta buy. He sed dat da banka down dere was uh real nice guy.”
“I don’t know about that, but he’s been fair to us I suppose.”
“Den I’s best do uh good ole job so dat da banka be happy cuz I’s sho’ wants ta git dat loan.”
“Whatever,” J Dub said. “Just bring in the job on time. You’ve got six months to finish the work.” He handed the rolled up plans to the excavating contractor. “Around here, you just make sure that you stay on your course Tuey.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Around noon that Saturday the guys had already finished their round and were at the back table figuring up their wagers. “You didn’t miss a shot,” Elia said to Scottie P as Paco popped open the top of a Vienna sausage can.
Scottie grinned. “I’m starting to get a little more comfortable on this course.”
“What did he shoot, Fred?” Elia asked.
“Thirty-four, thirty-six . . . one-under seventy,” Fred said. “Pretty good shooting.”
YouWho threw in his two cents. “Let’s see, over at Happy Peking dat be . . . ,”
“We don’t want to know what dinner item that is on the menu,” Captain Jer interrupted. “It’s chicken fried rice, red beans and rice, and steamed white rice.”
“No way you slice it,” Elia continued, “it was nice a round. I don’t think he missed a fairway and maybe only one or two greens.”
Scottie P was modest. “This place is a bit more forgiving that some of the other tracks I’ve been on.”
“That’s a nice way of saying that this is an easy, public golf course,” Pork Chop butted in. He turned to Fred. “I mean if fat boys like us can shoot one or two over then a big, strapping lad like Scottie P oughta tear this place up.”
“I don’t care where you are or what golf course you play,” Scottie said, “you still have to make the shots and drop the putts.”
“No wonder you did so good in car sales,” Paco said as he chased a Vienna sausage with a cracker. With the food packed in the right side of his mouth he added, “You know how to say the right thing at the right time.” He washed it down with a gulp of Red Bull.
Scottie P smiled again. “You know, I’m used to playing greens that are slicker than a well digger’s ass.” All the guys chuckled at the description, especially knowing how tight Scottie P was with Father Blair. “Here you can line them up and whack them in instead of putting defensively.”
Captain Jer took another swig of beer just as Tuey walked in through the front door. He put the can down on the table and looked at the massive figure. “Hey Julie, do we have a new dress code around here?” Tuey walked up to the register dressed in a black sleeveless t-shirt and lime green skull cap.
Julie was always dressed in the most fashionable outfits—neatly pressed golf skirts and chic tops. She wore her tan legs and attractive figure on a five foot six inch frame very well. “Yeah, it’s called the ‘you-make-fun-of-me-and-I’ll-swat-you-down-to-size’ look.” She looked over to Tuey and flashed a well-timed smile.
J Dub walked around the counter and toward the back table. “Guys, I want to introduce you to someone that is going to be doing some work around here.” He motioned with his head for Tuey to accompany him. “I’d like for you guys to meet Tuey O’Tweety. He going to be laying a sewer line in the creek that runs through the course.”
“So, that’s what you folks are doing,” Paul said. “We saw the backhoe out there in the creek.”
“A developer is putting some homes in on the east side of the course and they have to get a sewer line down to the main line along the road. The creek will be getting a makeover during the winter.” J Dub nodded to the contractor to go ahead and exchange introductions.
Tuey stepped forward and shook hands with the guys. As he grinned several of the guys noticed the disarray of teeth in his mouth. “Bet you can’t eat no corn on the cob,” Captain Jer blurted.
“Jerry!” Julie yelled from across the room. “One of these days that tongue of yours will snatch a fly off a cow patty.” The guys at the back table turned their heads and looked at her wondering what she was going to say next. “And you’ll get a taste of crap that will loosen your stool.” The quiet was eerie. “Then maybe you’ll poop all over yourself!”
Julie ruled the roost when things got out of hand. If the guys wouldn’t police themselves, then she wasn’t shy to step up and do it for them. Paco raised his eyebrows and promptly popped another Vienna sausage into his mouth. “Ooooooo, weeeee, dose sho’ look good.” Tuey said as Paco chewed away.
“You want one?” Paco asked.
Tuey’s eyes locked with Paco’s. Slowly his slight grin turned into an ear-to-ear smile. He vigorously shook his head up and down like a dog receiving a treat. Paco placed a mini-sausage on a cracker and handed it to the excavator. Tuey savored every chew. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Mmmmmm, dem’s be goooooooood.”
“I’ve got another can. Do you want some more?” Paco asked.
Tuey looked at J Dub as if he was asking him if he could eat. “Go ahead. Eat them. He’s offering,” the lanky head pro encouraged.
Tuey
shook his head enthusiastically. Paco got up and headed for the door. “Hold on a minute. I’ve got a bunch of cans in my golf bag.” He left and seconds later returned with a fresh can of Vienna sausages and a new pack of crackers. He handed the meal over to Tuey. “Go ahead, have all of them. I’m full.”
Tuey looked like a little kid that just saw one of Santa’s presents under the Christmas tree. “Ooooooo, weeeee,” Tuey said. “I’s owe ya one.”
“Aw, you don’t owe me anything,” Paco said as Tuey fiddled with the pull-off lid. “We all share around here. Go ahead and enjoy them.”
BowTye walked over and gave Paul’s freshly polished shoes back to him. J Dub continued his introduction to the guys. “Tuey is a friend of BowTye’s. He’s going to be here for a while . . . or at least until the job’s done. You guys make him feel at home.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Pork Chop yelled out.
“What?” J Dub turned and asked. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No! Look at this call.” He had his eyes glued to the college football game. The replay showed that the running back broke six tackles, used a stiff-arm to ward off a tackler, spun out of the grasp of a defender and tiptoed down the sidelines to complete an eighty-eight yard run for a touchdown.
The referee came on air to explain the call. “There are two penalties on the play. There was a chop block called against number eighty-six. The second penalty was a facemask called against the running back. The second penalty will be enforced. Half the distance to the goal.” He grabbed the football and stepped off the penalty.
“Dat don’t look wight,” YouWho said.
“They just took away a ninety yard touchdown run!” Pork Chop screamed.
“How much you want to bet that that’s the difference in the point spread,” Paul said.
