Business or Family?

Andrew

I curled my fingers around the golf club, the new gloves Maggie had ordered just for this occasion clinging snugly to the grip. Sinking into my stance, I pulled back, set my eye on the ball, and swung with precision. The club’s head hit the ball with a satisfying smack, sending it flying through the air and onto the grass, about five feet away from the hole.

A booming laugh echoed across the green. “Well done for a man who says he’s rusty.”

I grinned at Paul Nordmeyer, polo shirt stretched tight across a bulging belly and neck red from the sun. “Guess I’m a natural.”

“Beginner’s luck,” he good-naturedly mumbled through his caterpillar mustache. “You’ve been away for so long, you might as well be starting over. How long did you say it’s been?”

I shrugged. “About a year. Used to play all the time, though.”

“All the time” was an exaggeration, but what Paul didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

I stepped to the side, watching as Paul took his turn. The course was close to empty, with the few other people out there probably taking business meetings just like the two of us.

Shit. If only every meeting could be like this.

They couldn’t, though. Only the most important ones I made out-of-office exceptions for. Paul was an important potential client. He owned the second-largest grocery store chain in the United States. That meant he needed to be mine. This afternoon was the chance for me to take his interest in investing with me, dig my claws into it, and get what I needed from him.

“I took a look at those files,” Paul said, bending down to retrieve his ball from the hole.

“Uh-huh.” I nodded to show I was listening.

His mustache wiggled as he scrunched his face. “You know, I’ve been talking to Samson and Walker.”

Just hearing the name of my biggest competition coated my tongue with a bitter taste. “Paul, I can assure you—”

Heavy vibrations against my thigh interrupted me. Gone was the bitterness, replaced instead by a dry tongue. Though I didn’t want to do it, I pulled my phone from my pocket and snuck a peek.

Just as I’d expected. Raven’s school.

Mother fucker.

“You got an important call there, Andrew?” Paul jovially asked—but in that way that made it clear he was really annoyed.

“Uh, it’s just ...” I cleared my throat. “No. Not important.”

Sliding my phone back into my pants, I took my turn, the annoyance running through my veins making me swing too hard. My ball sailed right over the hole, ending up in a bush at least ten yards away. Both Paul and the caddies chuckled.

Face burning and teeth clenching, I mentally ran through every curse I knew. I was in the middle of a meeting with one of the most promising clients I might ever nab, and, once again, Raven was ruining it.

We finished the game, my phone burning a hole into my thigh the entire time. By the time we reached the clubhouse, Paul had given an “I’ll think about it.” Definitely not good enough for me, but at that point, there was a limited amount I could do about it.

“How about dinner this weekend?” I asked as we shook hands at the edge of the parking lot. “My friend just opened this great new steakhouse downtown.”

Paul’s caterpillar mustache did its little dance. That meant he was thinking.

“We’ll see,” he finally said. “It’s going to be a busy one. Good game today.”

“Yeah,” I tensely responded. “Good game.”

I watched him get in his sports car and peel out of the circular drive. Letting out a long breath that was more of a hiss than a regular exhale, I pulled my phone out. One voicemail. But of course.

“Mr. Marx, this is Joyce from the office at South Seattle. I see you signed the note we sent home about Raven’s altercation with another student yesterday. I’m calling because the guidance counselor here would like to meet with you as soon as possible. As I’m sure you’re aware, Raven is treading on thin ice. Expulsion could be in her future. Please give me a call, and we can set up a time. The new counselor is available to meet as early as tomorrow. Thank you.”

The message ended with both a click and buzzing that filled my ears. Raven. Where the hell had I gone wrong?

I’d seen the counselor last year, and she hadn’t been much help, but Joyce had said there was a new one now. Maybe we’d be able to get somewhere with this one.

Hitting the return call button, I called the office and set it up. Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock sharp. Perfect, as I had another meeting that very afternoon that couldn’t be postponed.

But first, a drink.