clubhead until it was an inch from my face.
“460 ccs,” he said.
I nodded.
“Big Bertha. Titanium. Graphite shaft.”
“Very nice,” I said.
He leaned down, put a ball on top a rubber tee and turned his body toward Lake St. Clair. We stood on a little raised platform at the back of the house. It had a patch of Astroturf about nine square yards and Teddy had his golf bag and clubs leaning against a little wooden rack.
Teddy addressed the ball and I said, “Keep your head down.”
He turned his granite slab of a body and brought the club back in a swift, fluid motion. His body pivoted and the club bent nearly in half before it sped down with astonishing speed. The ball rocketed off the platform and flew in a direct line out until it made a tiny little splash about three hundred yards away.
“Nice shot,” I said. “I think you nailed a muskie. And you didn’t even call fore.”
“You’re funny,” he said without even cracking a smile. He lined up another ball and repeated the same effort.
“Got a perch that time,” I said. “Do you have someone go out and dive for all those balls?”
“Cheaper just to buy more balls.”
“Are golf balls considered pollution?”
In response, he pointed the handle of the club at me and said, “Wanna give it a shot?”
“I’ve modeled my golf game after Nancy Lopez,” I said and took the club. I put a ball on the tee, set down my beer and took a mighty swing. I barely nicked the little pill and I watched it run off the platform, down to the water’s edge until it sat there like a little lake stone.
“Now if we were on the course and that didn’t make it past the women’s tee,” Teddy said, “You’d have to pull your pants down when you walked up to the ball.”
“Insult to injury,” I noted.
“Why don’t you give me that back before you hurt somebody with it,” he said.
He took the club and rested it on his boulder of a shoulder. “So what are you doing here, John? Besides disgracing the game of golf?”
“Did you know Larry Grasso?” I said.
“I don’t interact with scum,” he said. He was bouncing the giant driver off his shoulder. He looked like he was ready to hit me with it. Knock my head into the lake. I’m sure the impression was intended.
“Did you know the scum was killed?”
“I did hear but I don’t care.”
Shannon’s assistant, Molly, appeared behind me. Had Teddy somehow summoned her?
“Did Shannon still keep in touch with him?”
He laughed. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
He shook his head. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Stay away from Shannon. Stay away from me. But even more importantly, stay away from the game of golf, okay?”
He tilted his chin toward Molly. “See Mr. Rockne to the door,” he said.
I turned to little Molly and saw that she was now flanked by Erma and Freda.
I glanced back at Teddy. He was in the middle of his backswing. “Thanks for taking the time to bullshit me,” I said. His swing caught and he shanked one about fifty yards to the right. His face turned red.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he said.
The Hefty Girls moved up on either side of me and I lifted my hands up.
“Easy, girls. I’m going. Don’t get those gigantic undies of yours in a bundle.”
Molly led the way back through the party I found myself back at my car.
“Just so you know, I’ve been told to schedule no more conversations with Shannon for you,” Molly said. Her tone was curt and clipped. She extended a hand.
“This will be the last time we talk,” she said. Erma and Freda stood behind her, their faces showing all the emotion of rubber caulk.
I shook Molly’s hand and felt the soft scrape of paper in my palm.
• • •
Lakeshore Drive was deserted as always. The lake was choppy, stirred up no doubt by the constant plopping of Teddy Armbruster’s Titleist Pro Vs. What an arrogant prick. A guy used to having the world at his feet. A guy living off the natural talent of Shannon Sparrow. A wheeler and a dealer and a 15% cut of, what, fifteen or twenty million a year? Not bad.
Something told me that Teddy was the kind of guy who could burn a few million bucks a year without batting an eye.
The piece of paper Molly had shoved into my hand now sat on the passenger seat. Subterfuge was surprising