Michael Balkind - Sudden Death

“Bobby, you know I can’t talk about the investigation. Talk to me about my strategy or how I’m going to win the Classic. Talk to me about my arrogance and cockiness. That stuff I can talk about. But please don’t ask me about the investigation.”

“Okay, if you won’t talk about the investigation, how about your new girlfriend? I hear you met her at Ross Misrok’s party and practically stole her away from Jamie Freed, the Wall Street mogul.”

Reid’s irritation showed in his reddening face. “You son of a bitch, you’re totally out of line. I thought you were a sportscaster, not a gossip reporter. Consider this interview over.” Reid turned his back to the camera, picked up his club and started taking practice swings again, almost hitting Bobby with his back swing.

“Hey, easy ,” Bobby said. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right, I was out of line. Come on, let’s start over again. Only golf, I swear.”

Reid looked at Bobby and growled, “Don’t ever come near me with a microphone or camera again, Bobby. Now leave me alone. I need to practice.” Bobby did the smart thing and backed off. Reid turned to his ball, muttering obscenities. He raised his club and hacked at the ball. A wad of turf flew into the air but no ball. He outright missed. Reid cursed again, louder this time. He took another swing, hitting the ball with the heel of the club. It flew left into the trees. Reid tensed and stamped his foot. He teed up another ball and swung again. The ball took off sharply to the right, into the short divider between the practice tees. It hit with a loud bang and bounced back at Reid. Jumping out of the way, he cursed and slammed his club into the ground. His face turned crimson with the heat of aggravation.

He paused, leaned on his club and hung his head. I better get myself together, he thought. Or I’m going to have a heart attack. Or worse, lose this tournament. Taking a few deep breaths and closing his eyes, he began to simmer down. He felt the gentle breeze wash over his face. Just as the heat in his face subsided and his heart rate slowed, Jim Turner approached, fuming.

“Hey, asshole, you think I’m dumb enough to send you death threats?” Turner seethed. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t bother with the fucking threats, I’d just do it. Right now, just looking at you makes me sick.”

It took Joel, Stu and Buddy all together to hold Reid back. He was enraged. Joel said calmly, “Turner, I have some advice. I think you should get the fuck out of here before we let him go, because if we do, he’s going to rip you apart. Both you and Bobby Lee make a fine pair, one dumber than the other. Now get the hell out of here.” “Fuck you all,” Turner said before he turned and stormed off. When they let him go, Reid turned toward Turner to tell him off. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. There, not 20 yards from him, Bobby and his cameraman stood in full glory with the camera running.

“Shit!” Reid screamed, picking up a golf ball and throwing it as hard as he could at the cameraman.

The man easily dodged the ball and, with an evil smirk, he flipped Reid the bird.

Reid watched both men hurry to their van and drive away. He turned and kicked a pyramid-shaped pile of balls that flew in all directions. Bobby was going to have his day.

It’s never smart to alienate a news reporter, he thought. So why do I keep doing it? It took Reid a long time, but he finally settled down. He wasn’t leaving the range until he was hitting balls consistently long and straight again. He knew if he left now, it would not bode well for him mentally. After regaining his composure, he started to laugh at the whole episode. “What a mess that was. Buck is gonna to go crazy when he sees it on TV. Guys, please tell me that wasn’t my fault. Was it?”

“No, Reid, they were both way out of line, but you can’t react like that any more,” Joel said. “I know I overreacted. I just can’t stay calm in situations like that.” “I don’t think I could have either, if it makes you feel any better,” Stu said. Buddy laughed. “What’s so funny?” Reid asked. “I was just imagining the headlines,” Buddy said. “The Bad Boy of Golf takes a few days off to be nice to his fans, but never fear, he’s back with a vengeance,” he said, drawing an imaginary line in the air as if pointing to a headline. “I actually think your fans will love it.”

Back at the hotel, the men went for their second massages. Afterward, they relaxed by the pool. Everyone except Reid, that is. Incessant fear was eating him up. He tried unsuccessfully to meditate. He thought it ludicrous that at a time he needed relaxation the most, his stress and fear prevented him from getting anywhere close to nirvana. He finally deemed it fruitless and gave up.

After a light dinner in the garden café, Reid, Buddy, Joel and Stu went to the bar to relax. A celebrity gossip show was on TV. Reid looked around to see if anyone else was watching. Seeing no one, he said, “Hey, Buddy, why don’t you go ask the bartender to change the channel?”

Buddy stood up and turned to walk to the bar when Reid snapped, “Wait. Hold on. Oh no!”

They all watched as the reporter said, “And during practice at the Classic today in Westchester, The Bad Boy of Golf proved once again how he got that label.” The next image was the scene from the driving range. “Reid Clark and Jim Turner, who by the way had his Porsche stolen earlier, were at each other’s throats on the practice range. The two, known to dislike each other, had to be held off one another by Reid’s caddie and bodyguards. Turner told us that earlier this week, Jay Scott, the PI handling Reid’s death threat investigation, had actually questioned him on his whereabouts during the incidents. Reid Clark could not be reached for comments.”

Reid was cursing as his cell phone rang. He flipped it open and brash ly said, “Hello.”

“What the fuck was that all about? Keep it up, pal, and your endorse ment contract is going to go right down the toilet,” Buck yelled. “I can do damage control, but I’m not a fucking magician. Stop the bullshit now, kid. I mean it.” “B…Buck, listen, he…,” Reid stammered. “Save it, I don’t have the time. I’ll be there Wednesday.” Buck ended the call. “Dammit!” Reid yelled, snapping his phone shut. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Joel said. Up in the suite, Reid dialed Shane’s number. “Hi, this is Shane.” “Hey, I miss you already.” “I miss you, too. What was that all about on TV?” “You saw it?” he said, embarrassed. “No, Jamie just called and told me. He’s called and left a few messages since I broke up with him. He just asked if I saw the news and said that he wanted me to know what kind of guy I was getting involved with. You didn’t get hurt, did you?” “Just my pride. I feel pretty dumb. Buck is totally pissed at me.” “Rightfully so, I guess.” “Please, don’t you start too,” he begged. “Hey, why don’t you come up tomorrow instead of Wednesday and we’ll go out for dinner. You can help keep me out of trouble.” “Out of one kind of trouble and into another, right?” she said. “What do you mean?” “You’re breaking all your tournament rules because of me, aren’t you?” “My rules weren’t intended for you. They were pre-Shane rules. How do you know about them anyway?” “Your sisters. They told me a lot about you.” “Well, don’t they have a couple of big mouths?” “They love you and you’re lucky to have them.” “I know, I know… So are you coming up tomorrow or what?” “I’ll be there, but not till late in the afternoon. I have a deadline for an article I’m writing. I’ll meet you at the hotel around 5, okay?” “Perfect, see you then. Wear something nice, I’m taking you to a fancy restaurant.” “That will be nice.” “Good. Well, I’ve got to hit the sack, I’m beat. I love you.” Wow, he thought, I said it again. “I love you, too. Goodnight babe.” He hung up, then stuck his head out into the living room and said,