Putting for the Green

    The second martini was beginning to do its job. Peter flexed his legs and leaned back on the teak bench, resting his head on the marble wall of the sauna. The tension was leaving his body, and the desperation he felt was washing away. Hopefully the loan sharks could be appeased with the money he would win playing in the Country Club Golf Tournament.

    He took another sip of his martini and set his glass beside him on the bench. He began to doze, thinking of Valerie, his mistress, modeling the new French lingerie he had in the trunk of his Rolls. She was a caring woman, not like his wife. Valerie answered his every need in every way. Her skin was soft, and her lips were warm and welcoming.

    "I don't give a flying fuck how good a player Peter Drummond is--he is not going to represent the team in this tournament."

    The voice was that of Henry(Hank) Hawthorne, Club President and top golfer at the club.

    Peter jumped, upsetting the glass onto his towel. The voice was coming from the adjoining locker room through the vent over his head. "Aw, Hank, why are you so down on him," responded Bradford Wellington IV, a genial club member. Brad was a teddy bear of a man and saw good in everyone.

    "Shit, Brad, the guy's a fucking cheat. You saw him 'adjust' his score when he missed his first chip shot on the eighth hole."

    "Hank, I'm the first to abhor cheating, but Peter is not himself. He's been terribly distracted."

    "It's a gentleman's game and Peter is no gentleman, he's a cheat. I am going to see that he will not represent us at the tournament."

    Peter could not breathe. He felt ice cold sitting in the 120 degree sauna. He must be on that golf team. When that team wins, he will have the $200,000.00 that he desperately needs.

    "Come on, Hank, we have to move along. Mildred said I have to be home by 5:00 p.m. for the cocktail bash she's giving. It's 4:50 now."

    "Yeah, and I have to be at my stepdaughter's piano recital before 6:00. I hope she's learned to play. God knows I've paid enough for lessons."

    Peter could hear the two of them depart through the squeaking locker room door. "Nothing will keep me off that team, and nothing will keep me from winning." Peter exited the sauna, leaving the martini glass on its side, dribbling out the remnants of Kettle One.