we’re doing fine without that side of Chino’s business.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, waiting for the catch. When our eyes met, I was struck with an image I’d never seen before on RJ—honesty. I swallowed hard, unsure if I should believe the gut feeling that was running through my insides.
“Are you gentlemen ready?” Michael asked, coming up to my side of the golf cart.
The first nine holes were awful. Having to sit with RJ the entire time, constantly trying to deal with his act of being a normal father was making my skin crawl. What exactly was he getting at? That we were normal? Was he trying to convince Becca’s family that we actually shared the same dynamics? Max Stine wasn’t an idiot; he would be able to see right through RJ’s attempts. And since when did RJ care? He didn’t care if our business partners knew how he treated us. We were out to make money, not run some mom-and-pop company.
“Let’s have a drink, shall we?” Max said, patting my back as I stood from the cart. I think he sensed I was tense and overly irritated with my father. A quick drink or two on the turn might help me relax a little.
“Yeah, sounds great.”
We walked into the dimly lit bar that only had a few other golfers sharing a pitcher of beer. They must have been done with their game, and I was jealous. I had to endure nine more holes with dear old dad.
“Can I get a Rob Roy for both Michael and myself, and put these gentlemen’s drinks on my tab,” Max said, taking off his hat to sit down at the nearest table.
“Thanks, Stine. Next round’s on me. I’ll have a Whiskey Sour. Do you want the same, Tyler?”
I nodded my head and took a seat next to Max. Since when did RJ know what I liked to drink on the golf course?
“You did pretty good out there Tyler. I’d love to see you on the baseball field. Do you ever play recreationally?” Max asked.
“Thanks. I haven’t played since college.” Saying those words made me realize how much I missed playing. I loved baseball. While growing up, the game kept me calm. I have no idea where I would have been if I didn’t have the solace of my leather glove and the sound of gravel under my cleats.
“Tyler had a pretty good swing,” RJ intruded, bringing our drinks to the table. “He could have gotten into the Majors if we would’ve let him.”
I resisted glaring at RJ, not wanting to cause a scene in front of my future father and brother-in-law.
“Why didn’t you play?” Michael asked. “Being a professional athlete would be the coolest job ever.”
“School is more important than jumping around the Minor Leagues hoping to get your call to the Majors. There would be no stability in that. And what if you got hurt? Then what would you have fallen back on?” RJ said as a matter of fact.
My teeth clenched as I burned a hole in the table with my eyes. I felt RJ put his hand on my shoulder, and it took all of me to not rip his fingers from the fabric. How dare he say that about my baseball career? Or I should say lack of a baseball career. Why wouldn’t he tell the truth, that he wanted me to do the finances for his company instead of fulfilling my dreams?
“Wise decision, Tyler,” Max said, lifting his glass. “Making the right choices for your future isn’t easy when your heart is telling you otherwise.”
RJ lifted his glass along with Max. “Tyler wasn’t very happy with me for steering him in this direction, but I’m sure he’s thankful now.”
I snorted, raising my eyes from the table. RJ took a drink, his eyes never leaving mine. After he swallowed, he said, “You’d never have met Becca if you continued with your baseball fantasy.”
I gulped, feeling like the wind had gotten knocked out of me. When he said that, for whatever reason it felt like a low blow. RJ’s comment felt too personal, too involved in my life. Using my relationship with Becca to
I bit the inside of my cheek, waiting for the catch. When our eyes met, I was struck with an image I’d never seen before on RJ—honesty. I swallowed hard, unsure if I should believe the gut feeling that was running through my insides.
“Are you gentlemen ready?” Michael asked, coming up to my side of the golf cart.
The first nine holes were awful. Having to sit with RJ the entire time, constantly trying to deal with his act of being a normal father was making my skin crawl. What exactly was he getting at? That we were normal? Was he trying to convince Becca’s family that we actually shared the same dynamics? Max Stine wasn’t an idiot; he would be able to see right through RJ’s attempts. And since when did RJ care? He didn’t care if our business partners knew how he treated us. We were out to make money, not run some mom-and-pop company.
“Let’s have a drink, shall we?” Max said, patting my back as I stood from the cart. I think he sensed I was tense and overly irritated with my father. A quick drink or two on the turn might help me relax a little.
“Yeah, sounds great.”
We walked into the dimly lit bar that only had a few other golfers sharing a pitcher of beer. They must have been done with their game, and I was jealous. I had to endure nine more holes with dear old dad.
“Can I get a Rob Roy for both Michael and myself, and put these gentlemen’s drinks on my tab,” Max said, taking off his hat to sit down at the nearest table.
“Thanks, Stine. Next round’s on me. I’ll have a Whiskey Sour. Do you want the same, Tyler?”
I nodded my head and took a seat next to Max. Since when did RJ know what I liked to drink on the golf course?
“You did pretty good out there Tyler. I’d love to see you on the baseball field. Do you ever play recreationally?” Max asked.
“Thanks. I haven’t played since college.” Saying those words made me realize how much I missed playing. I loved baseball. While growing up, the game kept me calm. I have no idea where I would have been if I didn’t have the solace of my leather glove and the sound of gravel under my cleats.
“Tyler had a pretty good swing,” RJ intruded, bringing our drinks to the table. “He could have gotten into the Majors if we would’ve let him.”
I resisted glaring at RJ, not wanting to cause a scene in front of my future father and brother-in-law.
“Why didn’t you play?” Michael asked. “Being a professional athlete would be the coolest job ever.”
“School is more important than jumping around the Minor Leagues hoping to get your call to the Majors. There would be no stability in that. And what if you got hurt? Then what would you have fallen back on?” RJ said as a matter of fact.
My teeth clenched as I burned a hole in the table with my eyes. I felt RJ put his hand on my shoulder, and it took all of me to not rip his fingers from the fabric. How dare he say that about my baseball career? Or I should say lack of a baseball career. Why wouldn’t he tell the truth, that he wanted me to do the finances for his company instead of fulfilling my dreams?
“Wise decision, Tyler,” Max said, lifting his glass. “Making the right choices for your future isn’t easy when your heart is telling you otherwise.”
RJ lifted his glass along with Max. “Tyler wasn’t very happy with me for steering him in this direction, but I’m sure he’s thankful now.”
I snorted, raising my eyes from the table. RJ took a drink, his eyes never leaving mine. After he swallowed, he said, “You’d never have met Becca if you continued with your baseball fantasy.”
I gulped, feeling like the wind had gotten knocked out of me. When he said that, for whatever reason it felt like a low blow. RJ’s comment felt too personal, too involved in my life. Using my relationship with Becca to
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