Page 161 of Unexpected Shot
Mentally, I’m the best I’ve ever been. I have a new caddy—Phil’s son wanted to break into the business, and he’s been a well-needed addition to my game. I’m working with a new swing coach to make sure I’m not allowing my shoulders to start taking over again. But luckily, that’s not cutting into my earnings, because I sleep with him every night and he works for blow jobs.
Turns out, my husband has quite the knack for coaching. It started with just watching and helping me while we were out together on the range. Then, he saw a junior golfer struggling a bit with his irons, so Beau asked if he could give the kid some pointers.
The kid lit up like a Christmas tree.
But it wasn’t brighter than how Beau looked when he got home that night, filling me in on what he did and how he adjusted him, telling me about every little trick he did to try and help the boy, who was probably around eleven. It was adorable. I was smiling the entire time as I watched Beau talk about working with him. Even better? Before he left the course for theday, he talked with the country club about offering a junior golf clinic.
To say that clinic was a success would be an understatement. He had to turn kids away, which he felt horrible about. That’s when he got the idea to hold kids’ golf camps around Nashville. No matter skill level, financial status, or experience, Beau wanted to make it happen. When I told him that I already secretly sponsored girls’ camps, and asked him if he wanted to join forces, I don’t think I’ve never seen him more excited for anything. And that includes the night I welcomed him home by sitting naked on the kitchen counter, wearing only his visor.
And he was very excited that night.
He won’t say the words out loud, but I have a gut suspicion that if he wins the final major of the year—which would complete the career grand slam for him—he might step away from competing in the sport to focus on taking the clinics across the country. Well, and of course,The Back Nine. I know I used to make fun of him for the show, but now that I’ve seen how much work he puts into it, and the money it brings in, I can’t fault him for wanting to take that path in his career.
Even if that means I have to be on it.
As we predicted, my initial episode ofThe Back Ninebecame his most watched in less than twenty-four hours. He told me my phone and email were going to be impossible to keep up with, but I brushed him aside.
If anything, he underestimated it. Because, holy shit.
Kat and Grayson did happy dances. Ethan couldn’t return phone calls fast enough to all the companies offering sponsorship opportunities and who wanted to make Beau and I their spokespeople. As for Beau? Well, his shit-eating I-told-you-so grin said it all.
After my initial hesitation—because at the end of the day I’m still me and I’m going to assume the worst before I come around to anything—I took Beau’s advice and sat down and looked at every offer. I wanted to stay true and not sell out just for the sakeof a deal. But he showed me how I could do this while also not feeling, in my words, “icky and gross.”
I eventually signed with a women’s athleisure brand I love that’s size-inclusive and women-owned. Beau and I are partnering with a meal-kit service that specializes in dinners for two for “couples who can’t, or don’t want to, cook.”
And yes, Ethan got me a deal with Sprite, who made me specialized head covers of their cans to keep on top of my clubs.
Best. Endorsement. Ever.
Being happy is the weirdest feeling. My game is great. My professional life has never been better. I’m head over heels in love with my husband. I get to see my best friend and her family all the time. I talk to Beau’s parents again. I didn’t realize just how much I’d missed them over the years. For a girl who’s lived her life thinking the glass was half empty, I have to admit, right now it’s pretty full.
Which…again…weird.
“I’m glad for you,” Libby says, giving my arm a pat as we approach the green. “If anyone deserves today, and this year, it’s you.”
“Thank you,” I say softly as she walks toward her chip shot, while I wait for my turn to putt.
If anyone would’ve heard that exchange, no one would’ve thought the wiser, or looked into a double meaning of her words. But I know what she means.
The entire golf community does now.
Chad’s case is officially underway, and whoo boy…it’s a doozy. The amount of charges that have been brought against him—both in quantity and currency—as well as his father, are mind boggling. No one is talking about it out loud, but in the locker rooms and the hotel bars, where it’s just us golfers, for the golf world, this is our trial of the century.
But for Libby? She’s been paying special attention to it because her now former caddy was one of the many Chad blackmailed and extorted from after he needed money to pay offescorts, which Libby obviously had no idea about. She was just as blindsided as I was.
Okay, maybe not that far. To this day, I still can’t wrap my mind around how Chad did all of this because he had this weird man-crush, obsessive fan-boy love for Beau. Like…I can hold a grudge. With the best of them. I might be in love and happy and shit, but it’s still not a good idea to piss me off.
The hatred Chad had for me because I…existed? That’s some epic level hating.
Oh, well. I won. And he’s likely going away for twenty to forty years, depending on his good behavior, and I’m going to live happily ever after with the man I used to hate as we take over the golf world one tournament and YouTube video at a time.
That is, after I make this putt.
“Nice and easy, Shelby. Nice and easy.” The words I whisper to myself could probably be heard around the golf course, because everyone is currently here watching me, but I don’t hear a sound. “No pressure. If you miss, you’re still winning. That’s what’s important.”
I close my eyes and take one last deep breath.
When I open them, I realize I’m standing in Beau’s eyeline, who’s giving me the biggest smile of encouragement he possibly could. And I don’t know where he got it, but somehow, in the last day, he found a T-shirt with my face on it. On the back, it says “Mr. LeBlanc.”
