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“You left out the part where they wanted my shirt open.”
Tom’s shoulders shake as he laughs. Daniel watches him for a moment, then looks at me with the start of a smile.
“You survived.”
“It was embarrassing.”
“Can’t have been that embarrassing. You sent a copy to half the city.”
“That’s not the point. You signed me up for it, so you’re coming to lunch.”
He studies me for a few seconds. I hold his gaze and wait.
“Fine. I’ll make an appearance.”
“Excellent.”
“But for the record, they asked me to be June first.”
I stare at him. “No, they didn’t.”
“They did. I was busy.”
“Sure.”
He gestures to the front of his polo. “My abs have better definition than yours.”
“They absolutely don’t.”
Daniel sets his drink in the cart and grabs the hem of his shirt.
“If that shirt comes up, I’m leaving both of you here,” Tom says.
The hum of an electric cart saves us from finding out whether he means it. One of the drinks attendants pulls up beside the path, and Daniel lets go of his shirt.
It’s the blonde this time. She looks to be in her early twenties, and the name tag on her crisp white Crestwood polo reads Madison. She’s already stopped by several times.
“Gentlemen.” She smiles at us. “Can I get you anything? Water? Cold towels? Something stronger?”
“We’re fine, thanks,” I say.
She stays where she is, one hand resting on the wheel.
“I saw your drive on the last hole. You have an excellent swing.”
Tom makes a choking sound. I turn toward him.
“The squirrel you almost killed might disagree,” he says.
Madison gives a quick laugh, then turns back to me. She takes a folded piece of paper from her pocket and holds it out.
“In case you need anything later.”
I take it, mostly because she’s sitting there waiting. She smiles again before driving off. Tom watches until the cart disappears around the bend.
“Excellent swing,” he mimics her voice.
“Shut up.”
