Page 149 of Unexpected Shot
Michael nods to the green, where poor Ricky is lining up a putt that’s nearly impossible to make, but especially when I can tell Chad is giving him the wrong line. “Take Ricky over there. Chad has never caddied for him before, yet suddenly he’s here. Well, how else was Chad supposed to rub elbows with all the rich people he loves? Chad gets to be his caddy this year because last year he gave Ricky a million to make a call-girl problem go away.”
Holy shit…Chad’s the Godfather of the douchebag mafia…
“What does he have on you?” I’m genuinely curious about this as I watch Ricky’s putt miss spectacularly. So badly, he gets to hit again before Beau taps in for birdie. “You’d already lost me. Lost your wife. Yeah, you were gambling. I’m sorry you fell down that hole, but out of all the sins, there are a lot worse.”
I take the second to look over at Michael, who I can say with absolute certainty, looks ashamed. Hell, this might be the first time he’s saying all of this out loud.
“I don’t know how he figured out all of our secrets, but he did. There— It wasn't just you, Shelby. There were more."
“What!” I don’t mean to yell. I know silence is sacred on the course, but what does he mean there were more!
I get evil eyes, and a round ofshhhfrom the marshals. Even Beau takes notice, giving me a confused look across the green. I try to talk to him with my eyes, attempting to convey the words ’you won't believe this shit.’ But his confused look clearly means we need to work on our nonverbal communication.
“I don’t know how he knew Shelby, but he had pictures. They weren’t doctored. They weren’t recreated. He was going to give them to my ex. One affair is one thing. A mistake. A lapse in judgment. But multiple? If she found out, I was never going tosee my kids again.”
"That sounds like a you fucked around, and you found out problem to me,” I say. “But you said there were more. I’m guessing not every guy on the tour is screwing around on their wives?”
Michael shakes his head. “Mostly gambling. A lot of loans for guys who don’t know when to quit.”
"Yeah, that's bad. But golfers can gamble on other sports. Hell, Beau is signing a deal with one of the online sportsbooks next week."
"Yes, that's allowed. But what would happen when people found out that theywerebetting on golf?"
I have to swallow my gasp, because fucking hell, that's definitely not allowed.
In professional golf, that’s one of the ultimate sins. There’s a whole integrity clause in the tour rules for both men and women. If these guys ever got caught, they’d be blacklisted. Tour cards permanently banned. They’d be back doing golf lessons in Bumblefuck, Nebraska before they knew it.
“Again, why are you telling me all this?”
Michael holds out the palm of his hand, where he’s been holding a USB drive. “This is a list of names. It’s everyone he’s ever given money to. And it’s probably going to look familiar. In fact, I’m going to guess you called every one of them asking if Chad could really help you with your swing.”
It takes me a second to process the information Michael just told me. And even after a solid thirty seconds, I still can’t believe what he's saying.
“You’re telling me…”
“They all lie for him,” Michael confirms. “He’s never fixed anyone. Him being praised as a swing coach and caddy is how he stayed close to the golfers. Then, word of mouth started and he picked up a few actual clients—mostly female.”
“The ones Emily talked to?”
Michael nods. “He convinced them no one would believe them if they spoke up. As for the guys? He blackmails us.Threatens to expose our secrets if we don’t do what he asks. For the golfers, it's to praise him as a coach. For me? It was to write the articles he wanted me to. Like the smear piece he demanded about you after Beau punched him before the Las Vegas Open. I thought it was odd, but…” He shrugs and the remorse emanating from him is palpable. “I knew I had to do what he wanted. So I did some digging. That’s how I found out about the wedding. But this is how he operates—money and blackmail.”
I have no words. Speechless. Might as well be in a coma. I don’t react as Beau sinks his putt. I don’t react to the cheers. I’m genuinely baffled at this information.
But I do have one more question.
“Why are you giving me all this?
Michael just shrugs. ”Because I fucked up. And you paid the price. Consider this one of my many steps to making up for things I broke.”
"Thank you," I say, as I realize the golfers are moving toward us. Beau should be going straight to sign his card and interviews, but he detours, hops the rope, and comes over to me.
"Everything okay over here?" he asks, instinctively putting his arm around me.
”Yeah, man, we're all good," Michael says. "You can tell him what I told you. Whatever you two do from there, that's up to you."
I'm still silent as Michael walks away, head hanging, hands in his pockets. He might be a cheating douchebag who ruined my favorite restaurant, but in this moment, he’s alright.
"What was that about?" Beau asks, confusion laced through his voice.
