Page 11 of Unexpected Shot
“Not a problem,” Beau answers before I can. “Sounds like you’ve got something brewing for us?”
I start to snap that there’s no “us,” but I remind myself that I need to be professional right now. As painful as it is for me to do so.
“I do,” Ethan says, flashing the smile he reserves for when he knows whatever he’s about to say will be a hard sell. He’s had todo it many times since I’ve signed with him. “Are you two familiar with the Las Vegas Open?”
“I am,” Beau says. “Went and did content for it last year. It looked like a hell of a time. It’s coming up in a few weeks, right?”
I rack my brain trying to figure out which tournament these two are talking about… when it hits me.
And it takes everything in me to not blow up right here because they cannotbe serious.
“The mixed pairs tournament?” I’m ninety-nine percent sure it is, but I still want confirmation. Because I have a feeling I know where this is going, and I already don’t like it.
Actually, I hate it with my whole self.
“The very one,” Ethan says. “They have a few spots open, and the tournament organizers reached out to me to see if I had any golfers on my roster who’d be interested in playing together.”
No. Hell no. Fuck to the no. He better not say what I think he’s about to say.
“Shelby, before you immediately say no, let me tell you all the details,” Ethan says. That gets a snicker out of Beau. I don’t know what the hell he’s laughing at, this involves him too. “The tournament isn’t a sanctioned one for either of your tours, but as you know, since it’s at the beginning of the golf calendar and has such a unique setup, it gets a ton of eyeballs and publicity. And as they’ve brought on a few bigger sponsors, including Nashville’s own Left for Love, the purse is a really nice one.”
Really? He’s trying to convince me to play in this tournament because a fucking dating app is a sponsor? I barely want to live in Nashville, let alone be associated with a local business that promotes people finding their one true love.
Blah. Love. Overrated, if you ask me. And not fucking real.
“So what’s the ask Ethan?” Beau says. “Are there players who need partners and you’re wanting to pair us off with them?”
Ethan doesn’t say anything. With his mouth anyway. But his eyes say it all.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Hear me out,” Ethan says, holding his hands up to block the eye-daggers I’m shooting at him. Joke’s on him, no matter what he says, the answer is still going to be no. “This is going to be good for both of you.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Oh come on, Shelby, let the man talk,” Beau says as he sits back in the chair, propping his foot up across his knee, with a smug look on his face. “I, for one, am quite interested.”
Of course he would be. He’s got to love something like this. A tournament that, because of the format, is going to be a little more lenient on the proper rules of golf? He’s probably already planning half a dozen videos he can make off of it. Videos that would have me in it as his partner.
Hard. Fucking. Pass.
“For both of you,” Ethan repeats, like I missed the joke the first time. “This is putting you back on a stage where you belong,” Ethan continues. “Beau, we know how the tour reacted after your episode at the America’s Open. I don’t need to remind you of the number of tournaments that uninvited you because of your comments after that one. You need a goodwill, laid-back, positive, PR tournament to get you back where you were.”
Now it’s my turn to snicker as Beau lets out what can only be described as a cross between a growl and a curse word.
“I won’t apologize, Ethan. I wouldn’t then and I won’t now. Everyone knows I was right. It was fucking pouring rain. They should’ve stopped play. I wasn’t the only one whose round was ruined because they refused to call it.”
“No, but you’re the only one who used their platform to make a video calling the tournament directors ‘money hungry pieces of shit who are ruining the game of golf.’ A video that was then seen by fifteen million people.”
“And I’d do it again.”
That response doesn’t surprise me. Because for our entire lives, Beau Devereaux has been able to do or say whatever he wants with almost zero repercussions. The golden boy through and through. In high school, he kissed the teachers’ asses for grades I doubt he earned. During our junior tour years, he somehow got the best tee times every single week. And as a pro, he’s been able to use his looks and charisma—which apparently he has an abundance of—to be more flamboyant than the tour was ever used to. The tour loved it when he started gearing up his social media channels. It brought in new faces to the game. High profile faces they’d been trying to get for years without a hint of success.
That was, until his comments at the America’s Open. That particular video put him in hot water with the tour and tournaments. It was the first time he actually had to face consequences—personally, professionally, and financially.
The video was instantly viral. And rightfully so. You don’t see a professional golfer taking to social media to make a thirty-four minute video all about how bad your tournament was and how unfairly you treated players. Golfers are usually more laid back. Soft spoken. There’s a decorum built around the sport, and being loud and aggressive doesn’t fit into that stereotype.
So Beau going off like that was a huge deal. Add to it that the tournament was a major—arguably the biggest tournament of the year—and that amplified everything a thousand percent.
