The Long Shot

by A. L. Brooks

  Adrienne chuckled. “No such luck. Part of the deal with the apology was giving her a slot in the film. I have to interview her on Sunday after the last round.”

  “Oh, no…”

  “Hey, I’m a big girl. I can handle her,” Adrienne said with a wicked grin, and Morgan’s libido shifted into fifth gear.

  Oh, holy hell. I really am in deep trouble here.

  Chapter 9

  Morgan stepped out of the press room, smiled and waved at various people she either knew or thought she should at least be polite to, and then exited the building, breathing in a deep lungful of crisp air as she did so.

  Her nerves jangled but in a good way. She’d played an awesome third round today and had extended her lead out to five shots going into tomorrow’s final round. As long as nothing crazy happened out there the next day, she’d win her third tournament on the run, something she hadn’t achieved thus far in her career. The thought gave her a thrill, which she quickly tamped down.

  Don’t jinx it. Don’t think that far ahead.

  “So are you ever going to talk to me again?”

  Morgan stumbled at the harsh words and looked around quickly to find the person who had spoken them.

  Naomi leaned against the wall of the building, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles. She was beautiful—Morgan could still acknowledge that—but her features now were scrunched into an angry frown that negated that beauty.

  She supposed she should have known this would happen at some point. Morgan had done her utmost to avoid Naomi all week, while at the same time not obsessing over it to the point where it would interrupt her focus on the tournament. But now there’d be no getting away from it. From her.

  “Naomi, I really don’t think we have anything to say to each other.”

  Morgan made to move on, but Naomi caught up with her, and a firm hand on her bicep pulled her to a stop.

  “Naomi, don’t. Please.”

  She didn’t want a scene, didn’t want anything more to do with the one woman she’d let close since college. The woman who’d stomped all over her heart.

  “Morgan, this is ridiculous! We’re both on the tour. Avoiding each other is pretty much impossible. I think you ought to be a grown-up and just deal with this so that—”

  “‘Deal with this’?” Morgan stepped in closer to Naomi, ignoring the beautiful blue eyes and the tightly curled blonde hair that had always felt incredible clenched in her hands when they’d made love. “You broke my heart, so forgive me if my need to stay away from you comes across as immature. Believe me, it’s not. It’s by far the most sensible thing I can do in the circumstances.”

  “You know it didn’t have to be the end of us. We could have worked out that little…misunderstanding.”

  She reached out to brush Morgan’s cheek, but Morgan flinched away.

  Naomi frowned. “Am I really that repulsive to you now?” she asked, her tone full of wonder.

  How could she not get this? It was as if they spoke a different language.

  “Naomi, you cheated on me. It wasn’t a misunderstanding. I walked in on the two of you in your hotel room, the room where we had slept together the night before.” Naomi tutted, but Morgan rushed on before she could interrupt. “I trusted you. I gave you more of myself than I’ve ever given anyone, and you threw it right back in my face with that…that groupie. So, no, we couldn’t have worked it out. Not at all.”

  Naomi snorted, and her expression turned hard again. “And just how much of yourself did you give me, huh? Jesus, talking to you about how you felt was like trying to get blood out of a frigging stone. Every time I thought I was getting close you pushed me away! Some days I felt like I didn’t know you at all. You were just some other golfer I knew on the tour, not the woman I was supposed to be in a relationship with. A relationship that no one else knew about, I might add.”

  “Now hold on, we both wanted to keep it on the down low. Don’t you dare try to pin that on me and say it had anything to do with our breakup. And while we’re at it, don’t you dare blame me for you cheating on me! Talk about immature. Face up to your own responsibility. If you weren’t happy with our relationship, you could have talked to me. Then we might have worked it out. But you took that choice away when you slept with that woman.”

  “And just when the hell was I supposed to talk to you? You were never present. Even when we were together, alone, you were off somewhere else up here.” She gestured with a twirling finger at her head. “Morgan world, where no one else gets in. And don’t even start with the whole ‘you don’t understand what it was like for me’ crap about your daddy and growing up famous and all that other shit.” Naomi glared at her. “You fell back on that way too often. Such a great excuse to avoid actual feelings.”

  Morgan’s throat tightened but damned if she was going to cry in front of Naomi. She forced her voice to be calm and rational when all she wanted to do was scream. “This is pointless. We didn’t agree about it when I caught you, and we’re not going to agree about it now. We didn’t fit. I realize that now.” She sighed. “I suppose you want us to be friends now, is that it?”

  Naomi grimaced and exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure what I want,” she said quietly, and it was probably the most honest thing she’d offered to Morgan since that infamous day back in Miami.

  “Well, take it from me, friendship seems unlikely. I mean it, Naomi, whether you can accept it or not—you broke my heart that day.” She shook her head. “I thought you knew how I felt about you. I thought you understood what I meant when I talked about my feelings. The fact that you could crap all over them, that hurt. Still hurts.” She blinked away the tears. “But yes, trying to avoid you completely on the tour is ridiculous. So maybe we can at least say hi whenever we pass by and be professional if we ever get drawn against each other for a round. But that’s all I can give you. Nothing else.”

  Naomi huffed out a breath and looked skyward for a moment. The sun was setting, and the golden light that spilled across her face softened her features.

  “Then I guess that will have to do.” She brought her gaze back down to Morgan’s. “But it would also help if you could tell your girlfriend to treat me with a bit more respect in the future.”

  Girlfriend?

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Naomi scoffed. “Oh, come on, I’m not blind. That TV producer you’re seeing. Adrienne Wyatt. Treating me like I was a piece of dirt she’d spotted on her shoe.” Naomi jabbed a finger at her. “I’ve accepted her apology this time, but if she tries anything like that again, I’ll do more than put in an unofficial complaint to her boss, you hear me?”

  Morgan clenched her hands at her side. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Adrienne is not my girlfriend. We’re just working together on that documentary they’re making. And if she thinks you’re rude and wants to call you out on it, that’s her choice.”

  Naomi smirked. “Yeah, whatever. Working together—that’s a nice way of putting it. A tad old for you, though, isn’t she? Still, maybe that would suit you—I doubt at her age she has much of a sex drive, so all those issues you had with sex won’t need addressing at all, will they?”

  She threw Morgan one last glare and strode off into the descending darkness.

  Williamsburg was surprisingly cold for July. Cold and wet. Morgan sighed as she gazed out the window of the car taking her to her hotel. I hate playing in the rain. The rain matched her mood. She should have been feeling way more positive going into the week ahead after the great win in Chicago, but after the run-in with Naomi on Saturday night, she’d slipped into a bit of a funk. Unfortunately, the forecast said the rain would linger all through Thursday and Friday, so she’d have to deal with it for the first two rounds at least. At least I can try to improve my mood in the meantime, given the weather is out of my control.

  The hotel lobby was
busy with other arriving players and their entourages. She spotted Charlie and waved. Hell yes, time with Charlie would definitely help her mood.

  “Hey!” Charlie bounded over and wrapped her in a crushing hug. “Dinner tonight?”

  “Yes, please.” Morgan sounded desperate even to her own ears.

  Charlie threw her a concerned look. “You okay?”

  “Yes. No.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Later, okay?”

  Charlie patted her on the arm. “Cool. I have to run, but let’s say seven, somewhere not here?”

  Morgan glanced around. Yeah, the hotel’s restaurants would be full of everyone from the tour tonight. “Good thinking. Work your magic. Find us something quiet?”

  Charlie saluted, grinned, and charged off.

  Chuckling, Morgan stepped up to the desk and checked in. As she turned away from the desk to point the bellboy in the direction of her bags, she came face-to-face with her mom.

  “Darling!” her mother exclaimed and pulled her into a warm embrace.

  “Mom?”

  “Surprise! Dad and I just arrived. We hoped you were in the same hotel. Gordy, look, it’s Morgan. Isn’t this perfect?”

  Her father, who had been talking to someone Morgan couldn’t see, turned around. He smiled, and even though it didn’t reach his eyes, it was an improvement on their last meeting, so Morgan decided she’d better run with it.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Here’s my girl!”

  Cameras flashed, and Morgan’s heart sank. Oh, so that’s why we’re doing the loving father routine. I should have known. She plastered the Spencer public smile on her face and posed for a few shots for the fans who’d pressed closer, her dad’s arm tight around her shoulders.

  “Congratulations on the Chicago win!” someone said, and Morgan’s smile this time was genuine.

  “Thanks!”

  “Yes, great result,” her father said before he let go of her shoulders and stepped back one pace.

  The three Spencers turned into a private circle, and her mom grabbed Morgan’s arm. “And you’re only a few points off number two! We’re so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” She dared a look at her dad.

  He smiled, and the sight startled her. “Well, we’d best get checked in, Bree,” he said, and the moment was gone. “I’ve got to be at the course in an hour.”

  “Oh?” Morgan asked.

  “Preparation for Thursday. We’re walking the course. Well, I’m riding it in a cart because of this damn hip.”

  “Ah, yes, you’re part of the commentary team.” Morgan smiled with as much encouragement as she could manage. “I hope that goes well.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. I know what I’m talking about,” he said gruffly, then stepped past her to the front desk.

  Her mom looked embarrassed by her husband. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on,” she whispered, leaning in. “Don’t mind him.”

  If only it were that easy.

  “So,” her mom continued. “Do you have time for a coffee? Just you and me. Let’s catch up.”

  Morgan had planned on going for a run, but she hadn’t seen her mom in weeks, and the happy coincidence of them sharing a hotel was too good to go to waste.

  “Sure, that’s a great idea. Meet you back down here in about half an hour?”

  “Perfect!”

  They decided to walk out of the hotel, in spite of the rain, and find somewhere downtown. A cute place on a corner a few blocks from the hotel caught their eye. They soon lounged in comfy chairs by an old, blackened, currently empty fireplace.

  “So, darling, how are you?” Her mom clasped Morgan’s hand. “You’ve been doing so well, but we’ve barely spoken the past few weeks.”

  “I know. I’m sorry about that. I’ve just been working really hard on keeping that momentum going.”

  “Oh, I understand. Don’t worry!”

  “How are things with you?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve been busy, of course. Your father’s hip is really getting him down. I think working on this tournament will really give him a lift.”

  And in that Morgan read that her dad had been a grouch and her mom couldn’t wait for them to have a few days apart to give her a break.

  After taking a sip of her coffee, her mom asked, “And how is Harry? And Charlie?”

  Morgan smiled. “Both good. Harry’s working me hard, but that’s a good thing.”

  Her mom nodded. “And how about that TV film?”

  She wasn’t sure why she nearly choked on her mouthful of coffee. Although mention of the TV film always conjured up an instant image of Adrienne, so she shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “Oh, darling, are you okay? Do you need some water?”

  Morgan waved her mom off. “No,” she said in a strangled voice once she was nearly recovered. “I’m good.”

  Her mom frowned at her over her mug. “Is something wrong? Is the TV film proving difficult?”

  Morgan’s mother could never be called stupid.

  “Uh, not wrong, not exactly, no.”

  Was it worth getting into? So far, Morgan’s perception of her own behavior was that she was in danger of making a fool of herself with a woman who wasn’t remotely interested in her. But if that should change, there was one thing about the situation she’d appreciate some advice on, and who better to give it than her mom?

  “There is something. It’s nothing much, not yet, but I guess it might be if I’m lucky.”

  Her mom waited, eyes narrowed.

  “Well, I’ve met someone.”

  Her mom’s smile split her face.

  Morgan rushed on. “She, um, she’s part of the TV team. And I really like her, and although I’m not sure if she likes me, maybe she might. But the thing is, she’s a lot older than me, and I wondered, did the age gap between you and dad ever factor in to anything? Like, did it hold either of you back from, you know, pursuing each other?”

  Her face heated, and it intensified as her mother chuckled.

  “Pursuing each other? Morgan, honey, sometimes you’re so sweet.”

  “Whatever.”

  Her mom laughed again. “You know, I don’t think either of us really thought about it. I mean, it’s not like I met him when I was eighteen. I was thirty, and he was only in his early forties. It just wasn’t that big of a deal.” She pinned Morgan with a penetrating look. “How old is this woman?”

  “You know, I’m not really sure. But I’m guessing at least ten years older than me, maybe a little more.”

  “Okay.” She nodded slowly, then sighed. “I’m the last person on earth who should try to talk you out of being involved with someone older, but I think you should think very carefully about it. You have to make compromises when the age gap is that big. If she’s that much older than you, she may be looking for very different things in a relationship than you are. You don’t want her holding you back.”

  Morgan pondered her mom’s words. Adrienne didn’t seem that much older, even though Morgan knew she must be. She still seemed pretty young at heart, and you’d never know there was any gap from the way they talked to each other. But she had to acknowledge that she really didn’t know Adrienne or what she wanted from life. At the same time, she herself wasn’t exactly the young woman about town who hopped from club to club, staying out late and partying until all hours. Maybe she and Adrienne would have more in common than anyone realized.

  “Okay, I get what you’re saying.” She sipped her coffee. “And I note your concerns,” she added with a grin.

  Her mom smiled. “I want you to be happy. Please don’t mistake my warning as me trying to stop that from happening.”

  “I know. And I won’t.”

  Her mother smiled again,
but her eyes told Morgan she was worried.

  Adrienne finished taking her notes on the dailies she’d just watched and sat back in her chair. Toby and Diane had done a good job of gathering the fill-in shots she’d need to slip from one player interview to another in the segment featuring this week’s major, the Women’s PGA. Toby’s reliability was a boon, no doubt.

  “How is it looking?” Jenny asked, lifting her head up from her laptop. She blinked a couple of times as she focused on Adrienne. Today’s hair color was the black base but with pink tips on the spikes and one bright pink streak on one side of her head. It was odd yet strangely beautiful.

  “Not bad at all. There’s nothing that looks like it needs redoing, which is good news for the budget.”

  “Yeah, about that. We’re a little behind again after having to do that extra thing with Naomi Chase on Sunday.”

  Adrienne shrugged. “I assumed we would be. Don’t worry, we’ll find somewhere else we can claw it back. I’m seriously considering not going to Miami next week so we can save on travel costs there.” At Jenny’s gasp, she smiled and continued. “I’m happy for you and Toby to get what we need there, given we have no sit-down interviews planned.”

  Jenny’s eyes were wide. “Seriously? You’d let me run those two days?”

  “I would.” Adrienne smiled. “You’ve been paying attention. You know what I need.”

  It didn’t matter, other than the money it would waste, if what Jenny brought back wasn’t that good, because by now Adrienne probably had more than enough footage of all the players prepping for tournaments. But she really wanted to give Jenny a small part of the project to call her own and see how she ran with it, and this was as good an opportunity as any.

  Jenny chair-danced, her smile wide. “This is awesome!”

  Adrienne laughed then reached for the remnants of her coffee. She grimaced at how cold it was. “Ugh.” She put the cup back down. “I need a fresh one of these. How about you?”

  “No, I’m good, thanks.”