Shut Up and Talk

Chapter 7

Overnight, I became Ian's assistant instead of his lawyer, but there would be plenty of time to rectify this mistake. I intended to make it perfectly clear how I fit into the scheme of things and it wasn't just to hold an umbrella above his head, fetch him bottled water or book his post-race hydration therapy appointment.

With my exam only four weeks away I'd miss the race in Brazil. As much as I wanted to see Rio de Janeiro and its famous beaches – with all my clothes on – I couldn't take the time away from studying.

"I'll have to get on without you," Ian said as we drove to the golf course. He picked me up in the BMW, the only car he owned that would hold both sets of our clubs. It was his big boy car.

"I'm sure I won't be missed."

"When you're there I've company," he said with a pout.

"If the race wasn't halfway around the world I'd be there."

"I understand. It's important you get this obstacle out of the way."

It wasn't a particularly warm day and there weren't many people out on the course as we ventured to the first hole. The hike would have been great exercise, but Ian insisted on a cart. His laziness surprised me. While other drivers took fitness seriously, the only thing Ian took seriously was fun. His love for women and cars was legendary. I'd read in an unauthorised book on IRF that Ian liked to buy all his special girlfriends fancy cars. I wanted to ask him about it but when I told him I was reading the book, he went ballistic and chastised me for spending money on 'that piece of shite.' Ironically, Max was credited in the acknowledgements.

"Nice clubs," he said as I set my ball on a tee.

"Thank you." I knew he was watching my every move and he made me self-conscious. "They cost me a fortune."

"I could've got you a set of Callaways. I know people."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Didn't think of it."

I shook my head. "Do you pay for anything?"

"Try not to. How much did they cost you?"

"Enough."

"I'll see if I can get 'em for you. It doesn't hurt to have two sets."

Two sets! I barely had room for one set. Space at Lilia's apartment was at a premium and now that I had to house Ian's papers in my two-foot closet along with all my new and old clothes, the clubs had to go under the bed. The next option was to sleep with them since Lilia frowned when I used the empty closet space in the hall.

My first shot sailed into the short rough. I put my club away and turned to discover that Ian was still setting up his shot. He'd pulled up a few blades of grass and threw them in the air. Dissatisfied with his first attempt to read the wind, he repeated the motion. He looked out over the hole and surveyed it, taking a few steps to his right and then his left. He stood behind the tee and pointed his driver towards the spot he expected his ball to land. Finally he approached the ball. He carefully took his stance and made three practice swings. Distracted by something – a breeze, a blue jay, his throbbing ego – he broke his stance and had to regroup. Geez, this was going to take forever. Again he approached the ball, took three more practice swings and slowly raised back his driver before swiftly swinging down to make contact. Two minutes of preparation and the ball flew straight into the trees.

"That's a spectacular hook you have."

He flipped me the bird and moved on.

I knew it was going to be a long afternoon but I revelled in it. The last few weeks had been filled with travelling, reading and studying, so the idea of a relaxing day on the golf course appealed to me.