Chapter 3 – Black Slacks and Business-First

Five intense breakfasts – that was what she'd had to go through so far. Five mornings in a row of waking him up, five mornings of being yelled at and called crazy, and five mornings of what she could only describe as slightly mature hissy fits from him.

She felt like she actually might need that Haldol he suggested.

They weren't even close to learning to get along with each other, only learning to co-exist. Every day it was the same thing – she walked into his quiet apartment and picked up last night's mess, started the coffee, and spent ten minutes arguing with him about waking up – so at least she could say they'd gotten a routine down.

What she couldn't say was that he was everything people told her about him. Oh no, he was worse than that. Every morning after going through his schedule, he gave her an entire list of tasks to complete. Most nights he had her running his ridiculous errands until eight or nine. Then she would head home to collapse in her bed and do it all again the next day.

She hadn't had time to unpack any of the rest of her belongings. She'd hardly had time to take a shower. She was officially going to go crazy by the time she was done with him.

So that Saturday when she got to his apartment, she was surprised – not only was the apartment semi-clean when she got there, but he didn't give her a fight when she woke him up. In fact, he woke up the second time she asked, and he didn't throw any insults her way either.

By the time she sat down with her coffee and started to go over his schedule, the only explanation she had come up with was that he'd suddenly found out he had three months to live and was trying to right the wrongs of his life.

“I moved today's lunch with your friend Jamie-Lynn to Monday, because I thought you could use the extra time before the tournament to practice.”

She sat down at the table with her coffee and two bagels, one for him and one for herself.

“Okay,” he said, and for a moment she was shocked that there was no argument or fuss over it.

“Oh, and Joey called,” she said, tearing off a piece of bagel. “His daughter is sick with the flu so he's not going to be able to make it to the tournament this afternoon.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “When?”

“I don't know, around nine last night. Why?”

“He's my partner,” he said. “There's only two to a team. I've lost half my team!”

“I'll call them, I'm sure they can assign you a new partner.”

“You have to call 48 hours in advance,” he said. “They can't assign me a new partner. I have to come up with one on my own or forfeit.”

“Well...I'll make some calls to your friends and find you a new partner.”

“No one will be available on this short of notice,” he said with a sigh. “The tournament starts in five hours.”

“It'll look pretty bad if you forfeit,” she said. “I mean, it's for charity.”

“I know,” he said. “But do you have any other suggestions?”

She sighed. He was obviously disappointed. As bad as he seemed to her on the outside, she knew that he loved to do work for charity. Plus, she had noticed that he had been looking forward to this for several days.

She knew she would regret it, but she hated seeing him like this.

“I do, actually,” she said. “What if I took his place?”

He started out smiling, and then laughed.

“You? Golf? Please.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What? Because I'm a girl?”

“Because you're...” He hesitated. “Well, you're you!”

“What the hell does that mean?” she said, suddenly feeling even more offended.

“You're all black slacks and business-first. I can't imagine you dressing down to have fun, that's all.”

“That's all?” she said with a scoff. She downed the last of her coffee and stood up to take the cup to the sink. “I don't know why I'm still surprised at how insulting you are. God knows I should be used to it by now.”

“What'd I say?” he exclaimed with a smile.

“Forget it. I tried to help you and you laughed at me then insulted me. Go ahead and forfeit your game, I'm going home.”

She started to walk out of the kitchen to grab her coat and leave.

“Adeline, wait.”

She turned, figuring that he would stick her with yet another long to-do list for the day.

“Do you even know how to play?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “But you hit a ball with a metal stick and aim for the hole. How hard can that be?”

Immediately, he rolled his eyes and sighed.

“This'll be worth all the money I'm donating just to see it,” he said, smiling. “Go home and change into something sensible, you can't play in that. Meet me at the course around eleven so I can give you a crash course in hitting a ball with a metal stick, okay?”

She looked down at her pencil skirt and black flats, briefly wondering for a moment what exactly he thought was not sensible about them.

“Fine,” she said, surrendering. “Meet you at the golf course at eleven.”

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It took her an hour to rifle through her packed clothes to find an old polo shirt she'd worn back in college, a pair of white slacks and some tennis shoes. She managed to get to the golf course in time to park, pull her long brunette hair out of the bun it was in and into a ponytail, and see him park his Escalade right next to hers.

“You made it on time,” he said as he pulled a bag of golf clubs out of the back and threw it over his shoulder.

“I'm always on time.”

“And you actually took my advice and wore something sensible,” he said, looking her over head to toe.

“I'll have you know that was one of the most sensible outfits I own.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled out a second golf bag.

“Whatever.” He shoved it into her arms, startling her. “This is your briefcase for the day, princess.”

“Yes, your jackass-ness,” she said, and threw the bag over her shoulder.

“I'm as thrilled about teaching you as you are about learning from me,” he said as he shut the door. “Let's get this over with and we never have to speak of this again.”

“How in the world can women resist you when you talk like that?” she said sarcastically as he walked away.

He led her through the parking lot and past the office and other buildings over a small hill, where she saw nothing but open nature – water, trees and some of the greenest grass she had ever seen. She hadn't expected it to be this beautiful.

After a few minutes of walking, he stopped at what looked like a random spot to her.

“Have you ever even held a golf club?” he asked.

“I saw a spider in the kitchen once and all I could find to kill it with was one of my husband's clubs,” she said. “It was that hockey-stick-looking one though, so it didn't work that well.”

“Putter,” he said. “The putter. And that's not exactly what I was talking about.”

“Well...” she said, hesitating. “I don't know that much about golf. I'm more of a bookworm and business-type than I am a sports fan.”

“Oh, so it's okay for you to say it, but if I say that about you I get my head chopped off?”

“It's a woman thing.”

“What the hell did I get myself into,” he said with a sigh.

“Hey,” she said.

“First thing you need to learn – stance,” he said, ignoring her dirty look. “Let me show you.”

He placed his golf bag on the ground and walked over to her. He pulled the bag off her shoulder and did the same thing with hers, then took her by surprise by grabbing her shoulders.

He turned her slightly, then leaned down and grabbed a club and golf ball out of her bag and placed the ball on the ground in front of her.

“You want to stand with your legs together,” he said, looking directly at her. “But you don't want to tense up either. Take this.”

He held the club out to her, and she took it from his hand.

“You know how to hold it?”

She had seen Marc hold his clubs a few times when he had practiced in the backyard, so she positioned the club in her hands emulating him.

“Like this?”

“Pretty good,” he said. “You want to keep your stance a little looser though. Here, let me help.”

He moved behind her and suddenly, she felt him against her. He used his foot to move her feet apart a little more and when she felt him move closer and grab both her arms from behind her, her heart suddenly started beating a little faster.

“Now you grip the club like this,” he said. He grasped her hands in his and positioned them in place on the top of the club. “Got it?”

“Y...yeah,” she stuttered.

“Okay, now before you actually hit the ball, you want to take a couple of small practice swings, to make sure you're lined up and everything, like this.”

He pulled her arm and the club back about a foot, then swung it forward towards the ball without hitting it.

“Got a feel for that?” he asked, looking at her.

“I think so,” she said, thinking that the only thing she really had a feel for was him so close to her and how strangely it made her feel.

“Alright, now when you get ready to swing, you want to loosen up and not be so uptight – which should be the most difficult part for you,” he said, smirking at her.

“Are you going to teach me how to golf or be my therapist?” she asked.

“Sorry, I couldn't resist. Relax your shoulders.”

When she didn't relax to his liking, he removed his hands from the club and placed them on her shoulders and pushed them down.

“Relax,” he repeated. “Now line up your shot.”

He grabbed her hands and pulled the club back again slightly, and when he brought it forward he relaxed his grip.

“Now swing when you're ready,” he said.

She expected him to back off but he didn't, so she exhaled a breath and pulled the club back to swing. As she started to swing, he removed his hands and she heard the club connect with the ball and sent it flying across the course.

“Wow,” he said, looking at her with a smile. “That wasn't too bad. I bet it went at least a hundred yards. Your follow-through wasn't bad at all. Now if you can keep doing that and not screw it up, we might have a chance at winning this.”

“You hung onto 'charming' for about two seconds,” she said. “And then, you had to go and ruin it.”

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“I can't believe we got third place,” Adeline said with a smile. She threw the bag of clubs into the back of his car as he opened the door for her. The tournament had lasted longer than she thought it would and the sun was just about to set.

He looked at her and smiled back.

“I have to admit, you did awesome,” he said, shutting the hatch door. “You really surprised me.”

She grinned slightly – he'd actually handed out a compliment. As well he should have, because for never having played golf before, Adeline had kept up with the rest of the golfers and even though she didn't play a perfect game, she did well enough for them to earn that third place win.

“In reality I suck,” she said, “but I disguised it well.”

“You sucked a lot less than most of the other players, though.”

“I think I should take that as a compliment,” she said, chuckling.

“Let's go get dinner to celebrate.”

“You mean, together?” she said, suddenly surprised.

“No, I'll sit in a booth and you have to eat in the car,” he said, smiling. “Of course, together. We can take my car and I can bring you back to pick yours up later.”

She stood there, not able to say a word. She hadn't expected them to get along as well as they had today, even though they did have a few spats. Even at his nicest, he didn't seem like the kind of guy who would want to do dinner with her.

“You do eat dinner, right?”

“Yeah,” she spit out. “Of course I eat dinner. I just...wasn't expecting the invite.”

“Well, I'm inviting. I'll even treat.”

“Okay, now I'm utterly shocked,” she said.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Get in.”

They drove through the city for about twenty minutes, under the illusion that they were deciding where to go – but neither were that hungry. The conversation was too alluring.

He turned down another street, sunglasses over his eyes to shield him from the bright setting sun, his hands steady on the steering wheel.

“So, you're married to that famous director, right?” he asked.

She looked over and thought she saw a hint of a smile on his face.

“Yes. And 'that famous director' has a name – Marc.”

“Sorry, Marc,” he said. “So do you two have any children?”

The smile left her immediately, and her breath hitched when she felt the stabbing pain in her chest.

“No,” she said, trying to keep her cool. “We don't have any children.”

“Do you plan to?”

Suddenly, her whole body warmed over and her stomach turned.

“I don't know,” she said.

He went on talking, but she zoned out. She suddenly felt constricted by the seat belt across her chest, and she felt herself start to shake. Her eyes played tricks on her as the cab of the car felt like it was enlarging and shrinking at the same time, causing her tiny bit of claustrophobia to settle in as well. She heard him speaking, but she couldn't understand what he was saying – she knew he was right there in the driver's seat, sitting twelve inches away from her, but in her head it sounded like he was all the way across a room.

“I can't do this tonight,” she interrupted, feeling the familiar sensation of a panic attack coming quickly. “I'm sorry. Can you take me home?”

“Take you home? Adeline, it's only dinner. I think we can manage dinner together.”

“I can't do it. Take me home, please. My apartment is actually right around this corner, a couple blocks away.”

“I'm not taking you home,” he said.

“Please, I just need to go home!”

Both of them sat stunned. She hadn't meant to scream at him, but she couldn't help it. The experience of feeling her lungs shutting down, the tears building, and every part of her brain yelling at her to run away was overwhelming. This wasn't the first time. It had happened before, and she couldn't believe it was happening again.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “I'll take you home.”

She wanted to apologize – she wanted to scream at him that she was sorry and beg him to forgive her and take her out to dinner anyway. Things had been so good, and he had tried so hard to be friendly to her today. The simple gesture of taking her out to dinner was so nice and could be the turning point in her work relationship with him.

And she was ruining it. Her body wasn't capable of handling this and she had to run.

She could hardly handle pointing out her apartment building when he turned onto her street, and as soon as he put the car into park at her curb she grabbed her purse and opened the door, stepping out as quickly as she could.

“What about your car?” he asked.

“I'll take a cab to get it tomorrow morning.”

“Do you want me to come up?” he said. “You don't look so good, Adeline.”

“No,” she said, struggling to breathe. “You can't come up. I can't explain, I just need to be alone. I'll see you tomorrow morning.”

She shut the car door and ran to the building as fast as she could manage, stopping inside to lean against the glass doors. She watched him as she tried to catch her breath, and watched him sit inside the car for a few seconds. She could tell he was confused and hurt, and for no other reason than he had asked a few questions, and she still couldn't handle it.

After she watched him drive away from her curb, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh, feeling tears finally run down her cheeks.

“I'm sorry...”