Belle

"I like her. She's opinionated and aloof, but she pays well, and as you said earlier, there is some joy in caddying for the best. It's a good seat in the house. I love golf, so it's not bad, but some days. Holy shit, some days I would happily just walk away and flip burgers at Mc Donald's."

That conversation reinforced my feelings. I think it would be worse if you loved the person. Living and working together, might not be the best scenario. If, it's just a job, then you can walk away, how do you walk away when it is your whole life?

I nodded slowly as I stared across at Belle, totally surrounded by the other women and her group of hangers-on. I could see she was in her element. She loved being in the limelight, accepting all the plaudits and congratulations. I noted also that her caddie was nowhere to be seen.

I walked outside and gazed across at the driving range. There were a lot of people slamming balls. I decided to hire some clubs and got a couple of buckets. I was well into my second bucket when I heard Belle behind me. "So this is where you skived off to. Bloody hell, I've been looking everywhere for you."

I turned and leaned on my driver. "Surprised you even noticed I was gone."

She bit her bottom lip guiltily. "Sorry, babe, I guess I got carried away. It's been so long since I've had positive stuff to talk about. Don't be grumpy, and possessive."

I shrugged. "It's okay, I understand. Why don't you go back to your entourage and soak it up?"

"Because I wanted you to be with me. All the girls have been asking about you."

"Really? You never even introduced me to them."

Her head dropped, and she looked ashamed. "Shit... I'm sorry, you're right. I apologise. Come back to the table. I will introduce you to everybody."

"Nah, I'm going to finish up here. You go back and soak it up."

She wandered off and I took out my frustrations on the balls. There was another twenty yards on my drives, even if they were all sliced wickedly. Fuck her...

I walked back in later and most of her friends were gone. She was seated at the table talking to a very well-dressed good-looking guy. They were deep in conversation when I walked up. She saw me and waved for me to sit. "Carl, this is Craig, he is on the men's tour. Craig, this is my friend Carl."

We shook hands I and was about to sit down when she said, "Could you get us a drink please?"

I shrugged, "Yeah no worries." I was walking away when Craig called out. "I'll have a whisky and soda, thanks. Put them all on my tab."

"Fuck you," I thought to myself. I leaned on the bar watching them talk. They were obviously more than friends. Their conversation was very intimate. I paid for the drinks, just about emptying my wallet to do so, and carried them back to the table.

Belle, gazed up warmly. "Thanks, babe."

Craig acknowledged me with a curt nod. "Thanks, dude, hope you put them on my tab."

"I paid for them myself, no need."

He shrugged and Belle gave me a funny glare. They started talking about some tournament, motels and stuff I knew nothing about. I finished my drink and said, "I'm off, Belle, maybe we can catch up before I fly back home."

She looked startled. "What? I'm not finished with my drink yet. Don't be in such a rush."

"No, you two have things to talk about. I will leave you to it." I reached to shake Craigs hand and he said, "See you around, Bro. Nice to meet you."

I walked off and was just opening the door of my hire car when Belle snatched at my shoulder. "What the hell is going on? What the fuck was that all about? You made a complete fool of yourself, and me."

"Look, Belle, this isn't going to work. Not for me anyway. You and Craig are obviously more than friends. I wasn't going to sit there watching you flirt with him, like I didn't even exist."

"What? You can't be serious. Okay, Craig and I are old friends, there was no need to carry on like that."

"Bloody hell Belle, all you did was flirt with him for fucks sake."

She sighed. "Yeah, okay, I don't know what to say. What am I supposed to do? Just ignore my friends when you're around?"

"No, but it would have been nice to be included in your conversations. I didn't know any of those people, or what the hell you were talking about. I felt like a dick."

She clutched my arm tightly. "Yes, you're right. Okay, I'm sorry, I got carried away alright. I forgot you don't know anybody. Shit. Now I feel terrible."

"Belle, I like you, I like you a lot, but this was a mistake. I don't fit in with your crowd."

"You would if you stayed on. Carl, I told you how I feel about you. I don't just like you. I love you. I have never felt this way before. Please, cut me some slack babe. I need to learn about this, how to deal with it. I have never been in a proper relationship."

Wow, that blew my socks off. Hearing those words, caused minor heart palpitations.

I could see little tears building up in the corner of her eyes. "Think about it, please. How will we ever find out if you go back home. Please, stay with me. I don't know how or why, but just having you around makes me feel better. You found my swing, you did help me."

"You would have found it yourself. You don't need me. Poor old Craig is probably in there waiting for you."

"Christ, don't play the jealous boyfriend. We were just talking."

"No, he wanted more than conversation. Even I could see that."

"Maybe he did, but he wasn't getting it. We are old friends, big deal. There's nothing between us."

"Nothing between you. I call bullshit on that one. You have slept with him? Haven't you?"

She shrugged. "Yes, we have been together, I have never lied to you. I have never hidden from the fact that I date, and occasionally those dates include sex."

I stood there like a fool, I kicked a couple of stubborn pebbles, as I tried to figure out what to say.

She beat me to it. "Carl, when you are by my side, I don't need anybody else. I date because I am lonely, alone in a foreign land. If you were here with me all the time, there would be nobody else."

God her words shocked me, the tears in her eyes tugged at my soul, but I still couldn't do it. I had to go home. "Belle, I have to fly home, I'll be gone soon. Maybe you should go back to Craig before he finds somebody else."

"Fuck Craig, I don't care about him, I want you. Just wait while I go and get my bag."

That night was explosive. We made love like crazy wanton lovers. Over and over, we rode the passionate waves.

I had one more day before I flew home. Belle dragged me out onto the course for the day. When we arrived, she was swamped by some fans and it was hard to find some space. A little crowd gathered as we teed-off.

As she was getting ready, I whispered "Stay loose, remember. Stop squaring off your shoulders. And for heaven's sake, bend a little as you swing."

She practised a couple of shots before approaching the ball properly. She nailed the lay-up shot perfectly. She smiled nodding appreciatively. "Thanks, Carl. Damn it, see, this is why I need you."

"Bullshit. Remember, you're a strong woman, you've got this."

We played on, not really playing, but walking and talking. We hit the ball, but neither of us was really into it.

The afternoon passed pleasantly, we drove around and played sightseers. Had dinner at a wonderful restaurant, which we fought over who was paying for. Then we sank into each other's body. We made love knowing it would be our last time together for a while at least. Maybe ever.

The morning was tough. I was flying out at eleven. On the drive to the airport, Belle looked devastated. "Carl, I'm begging you, please don't go. Don't leave me again. I love you, I want you here by my side."

"Belle, you're going to be okay."

"Fuck Carl, didn't the last couple of nights mean anything too you?"

Pulling up at traffic lights I grabbed her, held her tightly in my arms, and said, "Of course they did. Belle, I love you. I have always loved you. I have tried to hide from that, but I can't. I do love you. I want to be with you, but I can't do that unless we are equals. I can't be Mr. Belle Bennet. I need to know that I have some value. I can't just live off your fame."

She looked totally frustrated, trying to find words. "Fuck. Why can't you see you would be helping me, making me better? I pay my coach a lot of money for nothing. You have done more for me here in a couple of days than he has done in six months. Stay, be my coach."

"Coach? You're being ridiculous. I don't know enough about the game. I could destroy your career in an hour of bullshit."

"That's not true, you must realise how much you've helped me. I will pay you what I pay my coach, it's probably more than you can make at home in your shitty architect's job."

Her words bit hard, like a slap in the face. "Shitty job."

She saw the look of horror on my face and quickly stopped herself. "I didn't mean it like that, it just came out wrong. I know how much you love being an architect."

"I don't think you do, or you wouldn't have said that."

"Shit, it was just me being silly. All I was trying to say is, I pay my coach a lot of money that could be yours. My accommodation is always paid for on tour. If we travelled together, yours would be covered, as well. That way all the money I pay you would be yours."

She always found new ways to make me feel like shit. Maybe not intentionally, but her words hurt. "No thanks, Belle. I think I'll go back to my shitty little house, and my shitty insignificant job. You don't need me."

"Jesus Christ, you're so thin skinned. I admit, it came out wrong, but you know what I meant."

"Belle, I'm not sure of anything anymore. I have ambitions as well as you. I have things I want to do, even if by comparison to yours mine are shitty and insignificant."

"I'm not saying your ambitions are worth less than mine. All I am asking is that you let me ride this wave. You can chase your dreams later. Bloody hell, you can draw houses anywhere, anytime."

"Yeah, that's right, not very important is it, I guess I could sketch up some plans on the loo roll on the plane."

"Oh fuck Carl, don't take my words out of context. I'm sorry, I'm fucking this up. Stay with me, that's all I ask."

There were lots of tears from both of us when I walked through the departure gate. I was going to miss her.

Back in Nelson, I sat at my kitchen table trying to assess my life. The one thing that Belle had made me reassess, was my job. I did love being an architect. I loved designing people's homes, but I wanted more than that. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted the homes I designed to be better for the environment: sustainable homes, made from recoverable resources, more efficient, safer.

I went back to work, and my boss was pretty good about the trip and being away. He admitted he saw some footage of me at the tournament with Belle.

The next weekend I was glued to the TV, watching Belle playing in Hawaii. She played all right, but, finished in seventeenth place, well off the pace.

I got a call late Monday night. "Well, did you see it?"

"Yeah, Belle, I watched some of it."

"I was shit, I played like crap. Damn you, Carl, why did you have to run off and abandon me?"

"Look, Belle, you just lost focus, you need to keep your mind clear and keep your eye on the damn ball."

"Yeah well, if you were here, you could have helped, talked to me."

"Belle, you're a big girl, you don't need me for that, you already know it."

"Yes I do, I miss you. Don't you even care?"

"Of course I care, but you're being silly."

"Fuck you, Carl, just fuck you." She hung up, leaving my ears ringing. She was drunk and angry. Never a good mix.

Her next tournament was in California.

She actually played pretty well, finishing in tenth place. Not a win, but at least a top ten finish. There was no drunken phone call this time, although her Facebook page was full of photos of her at some fancy restaurant arm in arm with some very sexy woman, and they were obviously more than just friends.

I tried to push her out of my mind, but that was easier said than done. Her picture seemed to be on every magazine cover. In the news, everywhere.

The trip to Florida and her bitchy comments about my job, did one thing for me. It reinforced my real desire. To have my own business. It had always been my dream, up until now it had been just that a dream. Her comments helped galvanise my thinking. Some years earlier I had started developing a business plan.

I had always wanted to design environmentally friendly houses. I did tons of research and decided I needed to dip my toes in the water. As it was with most small businesses, it was a friend's request that gave me the kick in the bum. He and his wife wanted to build a new home, being short of funds. He asked me if I would design it for him. I wasn't stupid. I realised his request was driven by the fact he couldn't afford to pay an architect for real. He was after a favour, but I didn't actually care. It would be my very first private job, and the money he offered would pay off my credit card blow out from the Florida trip.

It was a cash job, rather than through the firm. It saved him ten to fifteen grand, it was going to be a win for both of us. Especially since I offered to do the project management, which was going to save him even more money.

I used all the principles: natural airflow for cooling, making the most of the natural light. It took me a month to come up with something workable, and it meant lots of nights at his empty plot of land, walking it out, visualising the lay, the sunlight, the shaded cold side of the house.

In the end, I had something I was pretty proud of, and when I presented it, he was blown away.

The day construction started, I got a phone call out of the blue. "Hey, Carl, do you have a minute?"

"Yeah, Belle, what is it?"

"Did you watch me at the Open?"

"No, sorry, I've been pretty busy. How did it go?"

She sounded disconsolate. "Not bad, but not good. Something is wrong. I was hoping you might have seen it, been able to help."

"How? I'm not sure what you were expecting."

Fuck, I had been trying to clear my mind of her memories, but now her voice was in my ear, soft, pleading, sensual.

"Carl, I hoped that you might have picked up on something, something that was different, anything. You know the stuff you would pick up on if you were here."

"I'm sorry Belle. The answer is no. I haven't seen it, and we talked about why I can't be there." Hoping to soften the blow I suggested. "Why not come home after the tournament and we could catch up. Spend some time together. I would love to have you here."

"There's no way. I have no time between tournaments at the moment. Fuck Carl. Please just come. I will send you tickets and money if that's the problem."

"Don't you bloody dare. I will be insulted if you did that."

It went back and forth as always. When she gets an idea in her head, it's impossible to shift. In the end it built into a very angry expletive ridden argument. In the end she disconnected leaving me fuming. Who the fuck did she think she was? I wasn't about to drop everything and run to her to be by her side. Stand around while she flirts and carries on with other blokes.

Working as the project manager on John's build, as well as doing my normal nine to five job meant late nights

Lately the local media had seemingly fallen in love with Belle again. Flicking on the radio one morning as I prepared breakfast. The news was all about Belle and how well she was doing in her most recent tournament. She had carded a five under in difficult conditions, and was in a tie for sixth place.

Work was taking its toll on me, with construction started on John's new build I started to rack up the long hours. It meant being on site during lunch breaks, and then after finishing at the firm to check work progress and make sure the brief was being followed. Weekends were a thing of the past, this project meant being on site Saturdays and helping John on Sundays.

The money, though, was really good, with the money from the design and the extra for project managing meant I was making good money.

I guess the tournament was a bit of a landmark for Belle: she finished in third place. The media in NZ blew up as it always did when a Kiwi does well overseas. We really are a nationalistic mob.

It was a week later when I received the biggest shock of my life. I didn't recognise the envelope. I ripped it open to find a cheque for ten grand and air fares to Vancouver. Talk about knock me down with a feather. I was flabbergasted.

There was a small note inside saying, 'Carl, please come. I know money is tight for you, but I would love you to come to Vancouver with me. The tournament is important. And I really would like you to come. Pretty please.'

It was pretty shocking, but even more, it was insulting, a real kick in the teeth. Fuck her, who did she think she was? With the work on John's place progressing well, I felt like I was on top of the world. Making great headway on what I hoped would be a start to building my own company, my own business. She wanted me to drop everything and rush off to be by her side at the drop of a hat. Fuck, she didn't even call me.

I ripped it to shreds, found another envelope and posted it to her with a short note explaining how I felt, in very colourful language.

She thought just because she had money and was famous, she could just buy me? Fuck that.

I heard nothing from her for days. Then one night I got a drunken call. "Fuck you, arsehole. I was trying to do something nice for you." No hello, kiss my arse or anything, just straight into the vitriolic snarling barrage of shit.

"Yeah, well, fuck you too, bitch. You think because you're rich and famous that I can put my life on hold and come running after you. Fuck you. Why do you have to sully our relationship with fucking money? Why couldn't you just ring me up and ask, if I could go? No, you had to play the big shot and rub your money in my face. Well guess what bitch, you can stick it up your arse."

I disconnected as she sailed into some expletive ridden riposte.

It must have been long, because ten minutes later she rang again. "You obnoxious prick, did you hang up on me?"

I disconnected again and this time turned my phone off.

John's house was finally finished and as I hoped it got rave reviews.

The fact that it got such positive publicity was both good and bad. The house was featured in the and plastered across the front page of the housing section of the weekend newspaper.

It was highly acclaimed for its use of sustainable products and its environmentally soft design concepts

The bad bit came from an interview with a reporter, which which was boldly highlighted.

It was bad because my boss saw it and wasn't so happy. Monday morning, he called me into his office and lambasted me. "Carl, being part of a firm like this has some strings attached. We all receive requests for private work, but we are expected to bring them into the firm. We could have still offered your friend a discount."

"Sorry, Ross, but they couldn't afford it."

"Carl, I am going to put this simply. That behaviour is unacceptable. This firm expects any work requested by anyone, is brought into the firm. This is going to be included in your personnel file, as a written warning. If you step out of line one more time, I will have no other option apart from letting you go."

"Understood."

He nodded. "Good, I am glad we have an understanding. Now, with that out of the way, congratulations are in order. Well done. Secondly, we would like to use that design here at the firm."

That shocked me. "Thanks for the compliment. However, no I drew those plans for my friend and they are a one-off. I'm sorry Ross. I made that guarantee when I designed it."