CHAPTER FIVE
Ronin
“I feel guilty.” I teed up on the eighth hole of the Aspen Golf Club. “Evie has the day off. She’s been begging me to take some time off, maybe take a vacation. Yet here I am, playing hooky this morning for eighteen holes with you. These four hours will cost my bank account a solid week in Orlando, wearing Mickey ears and shopping for princess dresses.”
“You’re living the fucking dream, man.” Graham pulled out his driver after I landed one straight down the fairway. “I’ve made so many mistakes. Missed so many opportunities.” He took a practice swing. “I became the man I said I’d never become—my father.” Graham out drove me, as usual. But I out skied him. That shouldn’t have mattered, but it did to me.
“Your dad was never in politics, was he?” I asked.
“No.”
We returned our clubs to our bags and hopped into the golf cart, followed by two of his security detail in the golf cart behind us.
“But he sold his soul to live up to the family name. He married a woman who didn’t know the first thing about raising a family, so they hired other people to do it. He fucked around on her, and she turned a blind eye to it.” Spinning the tires at first, we sped off down the fairway. Graham ignored the cart path and the club rules to stay on it.
“Please tell me you’re not fucking around on Lila.”
He shot me a side glance and a smirk. “No. She’s much too accommodating for me to feel the need to wander.”
His answer soured my expression, so I turned away to hide it. I knew all about guys being guys. Talking the talk in front of other guys, then going home to a wife who pussy whipped them. I wasn’t sure if Graham was one of those guys. For some reason, I doubted it.
“Evie thinks Lila will be a great mom. So even if you think you’ve turned into your father, Lila is definitely not your mother.”
“Yeah, well, just between us, I think Lila has some health issues in that department. I can’t seem to knock her up. And trust me, it’s not for lack of trying, and it has nothing to do with my swimmers. But don’t say anything to Evelyn. Lila’s still in denial. Until she comes around on her own, it’s best to not broach the subject.”
I climbed out and plucked my iron from my bag. “I won’t say a word. Knowing Evie, she’d offer to be a surrogate.”
“Wouldn’t my screwing your wife make things awkward between us?”
I stopped, halfway to my ball, and glanced over my shoulder.
Graham grinned. “I’m just fucking with you. We don’t need a surrogate. The politically correct thing to do would be adoption. People love that shit.”
If I bought into Evelyn’s belief in parallel universes and their connection to lies, then in some other universe Graham was fucking my wife. I wasn’t stupid. He looked at her like he owned a piece of her. I wasn’t sure if it stemmed from their close friendship, all the things his family had done for her and her family, or that nauseating fact that he managed to get into her pants in college.
“Fuck …” My ball landed in the sand trap.
“Lila mentioned Evelyn’s desire to take a trip or do something together. I can take some time off around the Fourth. Have you ever been to the Hamptons? The kids would love playing on the beach and swimming in the pool. There’s golf, tennis, ATVs … and shopping for the women.”
I returned my iron and waited for Graham to take his next stroke, a good twenty yards ahead of me.
After another perfect placement, he sauntered toward me, not gloating one bit. An interesting thing about Graham Porter … he could play golf with anyone, but he liked playing with me. Why? I didn’t know. I was an average golfer on my very best day. Graham played like he could have walked onto the PGA tour but chose politics instead. However, he never gloated about his game. In fact, he often offered helpful tips with my swing or my grip on the club.
“Evie mentioned doing something together. I guess I assumed she meant dinner sometime, not a family vacation.”
“Four to five days at the most. The kids will love the fireworks there. Won’t cost you a dime. We fly out on my jet. No hotels to pay for. Plenty of food and entertainment. How can you say no?”
Easily. N-O. Probably not so easily said, once I ran it by Evie, unless Lila already told her. I didn’t want to be rich like the Porters. Our three-bedroom, two-bathroom log cabin filled with two kids, my beautiful wife, and five years of memories left me content. Not wanting for anything. Yet, I always wondered if Evie envied the fancy stuff. The posh party Graham threw her for her birthday, the private jets, the all-expenses-paid trips with her two best friends … my ski patrol salary didn’t come close to giving her that life. When I chose to be a paramedic and then work for ski patrol, it never occurred to me that I would have any great need to make a lot of money. Simplicity suited me just fine.