Sudden Death (5 page)

Reid paused again to take a sip of ice water from a glass on the podi um. Not until he took a sip did he realize it was someone else’s vodka on the rocks. He fought to refrain from spitting out what was in his mouth as he put the glass down abruptly, splashing the contents all over Bill Taylor’s notes. Looking up at Bill, he said in embarrassment, “Sorry Bill, I hope you memorized the rest of your speech, because I just soaked your notes.” Turning to the audience he added, “I hope that’s the only water I splash this week.”

After a quick laugh from the audience, Reid finished his explanation. “Folks, this was not meant to be a solicitation, but if you wish to contribute to The Inner City Sports Foundation, you can call or log onto our website to find out how. Buck will leave a stack of his cards at the door for anyone who wants more information. I want to thank you all and the PGA again for this wonderful contribution. Good night.”

The audience applauded as Reid left the podium, but as he passed, the president politely reached out and stopped him. He asked Reid to come back to the podium with him.

Leaning toward the microphone, the president said, “Buck, would you please join us?”

He waited until Buck was next to them. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention for one more moment. I was not prepared to discuss this, but after listening to Reid, I feel I must. I knew about the ICSF, but I obviously didn’t know enough. I think it’s fantastic. Reid, Buck, accept my sincere congratulations on this endeavor. Reid, you had me fooled. I would never have thought the ‘Bad Boy of Golf’ would be the co-founder of such a selfless, giving and productive program. I’m going to ask our congressional leaders to look into the possibility of a grant for your foundation. It sounds to me like American sports can flourish with the help of the ICSF. I can’t wait to visit AllSport and see this program with my own eyes. Let’s hear it for Reid, Buck and The Inner City Sports Foundation.” The applause was deafening. Reid and Buck thanked the president one more time and left the stage. As they walked and shook hands, Buck whispered to Reid, “Come out to the bathroom with me. I’ve had to pee for the last 10 minutes. I think my eyeballs are floating.” “Sorry pal, it’s not piss that you’re full of,” Reid whispered back. “Hey, at least I’m not the windbag that just took 10 minutes at the podium blowing hot air. Do you have any idea how many calls I’m going to get in my office tomorrow?” “Are you
really
going to complain about it?” “No, I’m just kidding around; you did a great job up there.” “Glad you noticed.” They shook hands with as many people as they could as they walked out of the room. On the way out, Buck placed a stack of business cards on the maitre d’s table at the door. As usually happened after the speech, Reid and Buck were followed by some big potential contributors, philanthropic people who had the resources to donate millions.

Stopping them as they reached the lobby, J. Barnes said, “Gentlemen, are tours available at AllSport? I have been looking for an appropriate charity, and I think you just described it. I’d like to see the camp as soon as possible.”

J. Barnes was the founder and CEO of S-Link, one of the top satellite communications companies in the world. Buck turned to him and said, “Of course, Mr. Barnes, we would be happy to give you a tour anytime you’d like. Here’s my card. Call me and we’ll arrange it.”

Next to Barnes was Steve McAllister, CEO of the largest sporting goods chain in the country. “Please add me to the list, Buck. I’d also like to speak with you about a possible endorsement offer for Reid.” Buck handed him a business card. As the two men walked away, Reid said, “I’m going to head back to the hotel. I’ve got to turn in.” “Okay. I’m going to stay for awhile and take advantage of your speech.

The crowd seemed very receptive. I’ll be back soon. Good night.” “See you in the morning.”

The sports segment of the news was on and Reid’s endorsement story was the headline. Melting into the recliner, it suddenly dawned on Reid that he had never called Jennifer.
Oh shit
, he thought, this is not gonna be fun. He picked up the phone and dialed.

As usual, Jennifer answered on the second ring. The phone was basi cally an extension of her ear. She never missed a phone call. Sometimes she switched back and forth between conversations on two lines. “Hi honey, how are you?” he asked. “How am I?” she growled. “I’m pissed. What did you expect? You couldn’t call me? I had to find out about the endorsement on the news?” “Look, I’ve got a lot of things going on down here. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to call. To tell you the truth, right now I don’t have the time or the desire to fight with you. I need to focus on the tournament.”

“You don’t have the time? Well you better
make the time
,” she yelled. “Is this how you’re going to treat me when we’re married? You just go ahead and focus on the Master’s, but we need to talk about this later.” Her attitude oozed through the phone.

Holding the receiver away from his ear to soften her wrath, Reid was becoming annoyed. He was thinking, Why did I even call? The more she ranted, the more irritated he became. Finally, hearing the word married, he snapped. “You know what Jennifer, between the endorsement and the Masters, I’m in the middle of the biggest week of my life. I’m really not in the mood for your crap right now. I’ve wanted that Green Jacket for as long as I can remember, and you are not going to ruin it for me. As far as marriage is concerned, forget it. In fact, why don’t you start looking for a new apartment for yourself? I want you out before I get home next week. If you can’t find a place by then, I’ll stay in a hotel until you do.”

Jennifer quietly said, “Reid, look I’m sorry for yelling, I was just upset…” “Save it, Jennifer. It’s over. There is nothing more to say.” “But Reid, I love you,” she cried into the phone. “No you don’t. You love my money! In fact, Jennifer, that’s the first time you have ever said you love me, and now it’s too late. We’re over. I want you out of the apartment by the time I get home…understood?” He heard her quietly sobbing on the other end of the line. “Don’t make me ask again.” “Okay, Reid,” Jennifer said through her sniffling. Reid hung up. Great! Now he was all worked up. He was glad that she was out of his life, but breaking up was never easy. The more he thought about her, the more worked up he became. Well, he had not been happy with the relationship for the past month anyway. He knew he was going to end it. Now it was over and he could move on. He flipped through the channels, ending up where he always did, The Food Network. One of his secrets was that cooking always calmed him down. He considered himself a closet gourmet cook.
Oh good
, he thought. Emeril’s on.

Buck walked in around 2 a.m. and covered Reid with a blanket. He looked very comfortable sleeping in the recliner. Buck shut off the TV and called for a 7 a.m. wake up call, guessing that Reid hadn’t. He decided to let Reid sleep a little later than usual. The days before a tournament were days of practice, focus and rest. No distractions! He knew Reid well enough to know he would hardly talk to anyone all day. He would put himself into a trance-like state. People would say hello and he would barely notice.

Buck retired to his room. His body felt like a walking contradiction: totally exhausted yet extremely exhilarated from the negotiations and entertaining. Thinking back, he still felt relieved that no one from Eagle had seen the scathing article in the newspaper. What was it going to take to get Reid to smarten up? If he didn’t stop acting like a child with the paparazzi, he was really going to destroy everything Buck had painstakingly built for him. Buck shook his head and sighed as he realized he was going to have to do whatever it took to convince Reid to grow up once and for all.

Abruptly awakened by the ring of the phone, Reid had two immediate thoughts: Where the hell am I? and I don’t remember requesting a wake up call. He climbed out of the recliner and stretched. Ouch, he was stiff. His neck hurt, his back hurt, hell, everything hurt. He needed a massage and then a soak in the hot tub before going out to practice. He called the spa and scheduled a 9 a.m. massage and another one for 6 p.m.

He wanted to focus on his chipping today. He had been driving and putting well yesterday, but his short irons needed work. To win this tournament,
everything
had to be fine-tuned. His ball placement on the green would be critical.

Reid practiced for two hours before lunch, then another three after. He finished the afternoon feeling ready. Nine out of 10 chips were ending up within three feet of the pin. He could drop three-foot putts with ease. If he could play like this during the tournament, he would be fine. All he needed was a clear mind. He worried that if thoughts of the threats crept into his head during the tournament they could ruin everything.

He swam some late afternoon laps. No racing, no fanfare, just cool refreshing water washing over his muscular body. Then, after a deep muscle massage, he retired to the suite for the evening. Buck joined him for a light dinner from Room Service, then they sat back and watched a comedy on Pay-Per-View. It had the desired effect; not only did Reid laugh out loud from beginning to end, but not another thought entered his mind during the entire film. Afterward, Buck went down to the bar and Reid went to bed. Lying in bed, he replayed the funniest parts of the film in his mind and chuckled quietly as he drifted off to sleep.

When morning came, Reid swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. It was 10 a.m. He had been awake for the past half hour, but after such a long, revitalizing slumber, he was too groggy to get up quickly. Luckily, forgetting to place a wake up call was no problem the day before a tournament. He was at the range by 11:30 a.m., feeling very loose, hitting with each club almost perfectly. Buddy just watched and made sure no one got close enough to interrupt. It was relatively quiet at the course. Most players and fans were over at the 9-hole course for the Par 3 Contest. Reid enjoyed the peace and quiet. After half an hour of hitting balls, Reid said, “Come on, let’s go tee off.”

After six holes, Buddy said, “Man, I haven’t seen you play this well in a long time. I wish this was the real thing instead of a practice round.”

“It’s kind of funny; you know how I’ve been on edge for a while. Well, I haven’t told anyone this, but I recently made a mental commitment to become a better person, you know, like try to grow up, treat people a little nicer, even you.” Buddy looked at Reid, his face scrunched up in doubt. “I mean it. Being a nice guy can’t be that hard, can it?” “
For you? Come on
.” “Well, I’m going to try. No guarantees, but hopefully I can do it. Look what it’s doing for my game. Maybe it’s just the answer.” Buddy shrugged. “Maybe?” After Reid played one of the best rounds he had played in months, both men smiled. Each knew the other’s thoughts; if Reid continued to play like he did today, the tournament was his.

Reid had been looking forward to his 6 p.m. massage. He had requested Donna, a beautiful masseuse with the lithe body of a Pilates instructor, her other job. Reid chose her because she was extremely talented with her hands
and
he had already slept with her. As she kneaded his muscles, he thought through every hole at Augusta, playing each perfectly in his head. His thoughts shifted; Green Jacket, Mom, Jennifer, AllSport,
e-mail threats
. Immediately his body tensed. Donna asked, “Did I hurt you?” “No, just some nagging thoughts.” “Relax,” she said soothingly. “Let’s see if I can help you forget your problems for a while.” She quickly removed her uniform, rolled him over on his back and pulled off his towel. Then with the flair of a gymnast, she hopped up on the table and onto him. She rode him hard and fast into a sexual frenzy. Afterward, she lay on top of him and asked softly between kisses, “Did that help?” “Absolutely,” Reid moaned, weary with satisfied exhaustion. “Good, now go to sleep,” she whispered. She gently climbed off the table, and covered him with a blanket. She dressed, gave him a kiss and quietly left the room.

When Reid awoke it was almost 8 p.m. He went back to the suite, showered and had Buck paged. “Hey, where are you? Did you have dinner yet?”

“No, I’m on the patio,” Buck said. I was waiting for you. How was your day?”

“Excellent. In spite of everything, I was able to get into the zone; no one bothered me at all. I even had time for a massage.” Reid smiled. “Do you want to eat here or out?” “I don’t care. You decide,” Buck said in a relieved tone. Reid knew the tone well. He knew Buck was pleased that the day had gone by without any confrontations. He knew Buck always worried about him the day before a tournament. It was always possible, even probable, that Reid would snap at someone who was just saying hello.

“Why don’t you get us a table in the pub? I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.” “Fine,” Buck said. Reid dressed and headed to the restaurant. The room had the look and feel of an old English pub: dark ceiling, dark wood paneling, worn leather seating in booths around the perimeter. The big difference was the Guiness on tap here was cold. Reid found Buck in a quiet booth in the back, away from the slowly growing bar crowd. Reid sat down and took a gulp of the Diet Coke that Buck had waiting for him. Buck held out a sealed envelope with Reid’s name on it. A picture of an eagle was in the top left corner. “I met with Carl earlier; Eagle’s lawyers are working on the contract and payment terms. He asked me to give you this as a good-faith payment.” Reid took the envelope, slowly opened it, peeked inside and smiled. “Let me see,” Buck said. Reid looked up with a grin and shook his head as he started to put the envelope in his back pocket. “Real funny. Hand it over,” Buck demanded with an annoyed grin. Reid handed him the check. “Two million…
nice
,” Buck said. They raised their glasses and clinked them. “Yeah, it’s a good start,”

Reid chuckled. During dinner, Reid was grateful that Buck understood his need to focus inward and keep conversation to a minimum. After dinner, Buck said, “Let’s go out to the patio for a cigar.”

Reid ordered Navan cognac for Buck and a Perrier for himself. He told Buck, “I want you to try this cognac. It’s infused with vanilla and goes great with a cigar. I think you’ll like it.”

“Sounds interesting,” Buck said as he put his legs up on a patio chair next to the one he sat in. He was under the awning at the edge of the slate patio. Reid preferred a lounge chair under the brilliant starry sky. He loved to stare at the night sky and spot shooting stars. The vast power and depth of the solar system always awed him. Reid was pleased that, except for Buck and him, the patio was empty. Buck pulled two Fuente Opus X’s out of his black leather cigar holder. They cut and lit their cigars. A few players approached to say hello. Reid was polite but made no small talk. He wished them luck in the tournament while puffing on his stogie. Some took the hint and moved on. One guy asked Reid’s opinion about a specific hole on the course. Reid just shrugged and let a plume of smoke billow from his lips. The guy walked away mumbling, “Arrogant bastard.” Reid meant no harm; he was just getting focused. Veteran players knew to just stay away.

Having drunk half his cognac, Buck commented, “Hey, you were right about this stuff,” he held up the snifter and twirled it, sending the amber liquid into a spin, “it’s excellent. What’s it called again?” “Navan. It’s made by Grand Marnier.” “I’m gonna order another. You want anything?” “No thanks,” Reid said, “I’m heading up to bed; enjoy the rest of the evening.” Buck replied, “I’ll be up in a little while, I need to get to sleep soon, too, so I can head over to the club early. The press will be all over Carl, and I want to control them as much as possible.”

“Speaking of the press, sorry for blowing it at the conference the other day. I really need to bite my tongue when I’m with them. They just get me so damn mad. It’s like they try to piss me off.”

“Of course they do. A story about a Reid Clark tirade sells newspapers and helps ratings. They’re going to continue to provoke you. You just have to learn to let it go. Let’s not discuss it right now. Go on up and get some sleep.”