Page 71 of Unexpected Shot
And I’m guessing they’re very glad they kept us on. We somehow finished the round with two birdies. And while we might not be at the top of the leaderboard, we’re a hell of a lot higher than we should be for how we played and acted.
Was our key to success the whole time for Shelby and I to rip each other to shreds? Hell, if I would’ve known that, we could’ve checked that off before our first tee shots.
Asher
I still can’t believe they didn’t kick your asses out.
Maddox
Dude, everyone gasped when they came out for the 17th hole. Then all of a sudden there was a swarm of people around us. It was pretty epic.
Beau
I don’t know if epic is the word I’d use to describe that.
Theo
No. It’s for sure epic. I just can’t wait to hear how you’re going to explain this on the next episode of The Back Nine.
Shit, I didn’t even think that far ahead. Yes, Lauren has already sent me a thousand messages and emails asking what kind of fires she needs to put out. I told her to hold tight and we’d regroup when I got back to Nashville. Besides my rant last year about the America’s Open, I’ve done a good job of keeping the social media side of my career separate from my professional golfer side. Sometimes I’ll talk to other pros, but that’s about the game. Our approaches. I never give tournament recaps. Well, except that one time. And now, a second.
Beau
That’s next week’s problem to figure out. I just need to get through this weekend.
Maddox
Do you need anything? Gabi and I can swing over and bring you dinner if you’re hiding in your room.
Beau
Thanks, but I’m good. Enjoy your night. I’ll order room service and a restock of the mini bar.
Asher
I know you aren’t playing tomorrow, but don’t get sloppy drunk and do something you’ll regret.
Beau
Thanks, but that’s what I did last night and you saw how that worked today.
Theo
Yes, we saw. Everyone saw.
I put the notifications on silent and set my phone on the night stand. The only reason I haven’t turned my phone off is because I’m bracing for Ethan’s phone call.
I just need to sit here and think. And drink. And think some more. And drink more as I try to put together everything that happened today.
I knew today was going to be off from the second I opened my eyes. For starters, I woke up in Shelby’s hotel room. What I was doing there, I have no clue. But there I was, sprawled across the foot of her bed, her cold feet buried into my stomach. I wasn’t completely naked, but my pants were off, my mouth was dry as hell, and I couldn’t find my shirt. So I did what any other person would do in that situation at 4:18 a.m.—I threw on my pants and snuck out.
I didn’t wake her. I didn’t look for my shirt. I didn’t even put on shoes. I just got my ass out of there, figuring I’d fall back asleep once I made it back to my room.
Except, I didn’t sleep a god damn second after that.
I tried. I really did. But every time I shut my eyes, I had this weird vision of Shelby wearing a dollar-store veil, and me kissing her in front of an Elvis impersonator. Which…why? I could chalk it up to being in Vegas, but I’ve been to Sin City many times, and never in those trips have I had Elvis visit me during my REM cycle. But it was a god damn nightmare I was scared I was going to have every time I closed my eyes.
By the time I dragged myself to the course, I was hungover, exhausted, and wanted nothing to do with the game of golf—or anything happening in the daylight. But as soon as I saw Chad with Shelby’s clubs on his back, I snapped. Any chance I could fight off my hangover and bad mood was out the door just at the sight of that fucking weasel.
