Lanie's Stallion

Andrew

Me and five of my companions hit the golf course at eight the next morning. It was looking to be a beautiful day, so we passed on the golf carts and walked our clubs to each new tee. Bob was there, dressed in argyle socks, khaki shorts, and a green polo. His golf hat was perched atop his head, and he looked the part of a golfer who had retired to Florida, rather than a man who was playing a friendly game of golf amongst his peers, each of which was probably worth around a billion dollars.

I was sick over Lanie leaving, but I didn’t have time to figure out what the fuck the problem was. She was young. Too young for me. Maybe I’d made a torrential mistake giving her a ring. It hurt me to even think it.

Damon and Matthew Bryant were there, Damon being the one Bob had pulled in on the deal. Matt was Erica’s boyfriend, Lanie’s best friend. I liked Matthew right off the bat the first time I met him. He insisted on being called Matt, and his sense of humor cut the awkward tension imme