Belle

He gave me a very evil glare. "I'm not happy, Carl, that business and the design should have been ours."

"They were done in my own time, on my own equipment, in my own home."

"You're on thin ice, Carl. At this firm, we all work together. We try and promote us, not individual components. Let's make sure that we never have this discussion again."

That meeting left a very sour taste in my mouth. I was ready to tell him to shove it, but I needed the money.

That, however, was about to change. The publicity the newspaper article generated meant I received several requests for designs. As I did the sums, I decided, I could do this. I could go out on my own. Ross could actually shove it.

With my heart in my mouth, I gave him my resignation. He looked shocked. I guess I had created such a stir that he was hoping to cash in on my sudden popularity. He did try to convince me to stay on. Even offered me a fairly hefty pay rise, but our earlier conversations, and his stance on me doing private work, meant that I was not going to be distracted from my mission. It was with a heavily beating heart I shook his hand and set forth on my own. All my designs were accompanied with the requirement that I oversee the construction aspects. I was on my way.

Of course, it meant my golf game suffered. I just never got time. It had been months since my last game. Yeah, I followed Belle. She seemed to have hit the wall after the Vancouver Tournament. Since then, she hadn't featured in the top twenty, let alone the top ten. She was probably making more from her endorsements than she was from her game.

Still, I tried to push thoughts of her to the back of my mind. I now had my future in my own hands, and it was going great. With three locked-in builds going ahead, I was flat out. Working long days, my life seemed full: no time for dating or even nights out with friends. I felt myself becoming a hermit.

When you fall into a hole like that, you lose touch with what's going on around you. Pretty much the only news I got was on the car radio as I drove from site to site.

Months later, I got the shock of my life when Thomas walked into my office. He held out his hand. "Hello Carl."

I responded and asked. "What can I do for you Sir?"

"Well, you can stop with the Sir. We have talked about this. I was wondering if you might like to go out for a round of Golf Sunday?"

I wanted to say no. The last thing I wanted was being stuck talking to him, but the words evaporated and I mumbled in resignation. "Yeah, I suppose."

He laughed and shook his head. "Don't sound so excited. Look, I'm busy now. Let's meet up at Tasman, say nine AM?" He walked out leaving me gaping after him.

Ah Christ, I finally got a day off, and I was going to be stuck with him.

It started as we were unloading our clubs. We hadn't even got to the first tee when he got straight into it.

"Son. You know you broke Belle's heart. Why the hell didn't you stay with her after Florida? Damn it she was on such a high."

"I couldn't afford to. That is the honest truth. Plus, I have a life here, a job, a career."

He frowned. "Yeah, well what about that damn cheque? Ripping that up was a downright foolish gesture. She was honestly trying to show you that she was prepared to pay you. That you could be an asset to her."

"Sorry, I didn't see it that way. She was trying to pay me off. The trouble with people with money is they think it fixes everything. I don't want her bloody money."

"Carl, you're a strong-minded young man. I admire your spirit, but another backhanded insult like that, aimed at me, and I assure you it will be the last time we speak."

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to offend."

"Well, I think you should choose your words more carefully in future. I worked damn hard for my money, as has Belle. For your information."

"She didn't have to insult me."

"Carl, she wasn't trying to insult you. She was offering you an opportunity. God knows why but, she has real feelings for you. She cries on her mother's shoulder at least twice a bloody week. Her game is in the toilet, and it seems you're the only one she actually listens to. She is spending a bloody fortune on coaches, who are all not worth shit. She was trying to say she needs you, son."

"I think that ship has sailed. We didn't exactly finish on friendly terms."

"Yes, she told me what happened. As a father, I am asking you to set aside your ego and call her. That's all, just call her, talk to her. Christ, talk about the weather, I don't care, just call her."

"I don't know about that Sir. I think it best if we each went our separate ways. I think our relationship is over."

We walked quietly to the first tee and as we warmed up, he said with some authority, "I have a wager for you; are you up for it?"

"Sir, I haven't played for three months. This is my first day off in god knows how long. All I want is a casual round. I'll be lucky if I can hit the damn ball."

He chuckled. "What if I give you five shots?"

"What handicap are you playing off?" I asked.

He sniggered. "Two, all right, what say I made it eight shots? From memory, you play off an eight, is that right?"

I gave him an anxious nod. "That was a long time ago, as I said, I haven't swung a club in months." As I stared at him, I could see the nervousness on his face as well. To appease him I said, "All right, what's the wager?"

"If I win, I will expect you to ring Belle, and try to mend some fences, just talk to her, rebuild your friendship. Maybe that would be enough. You may think your relationship is over, but she doesn't."

"She will just tell me to piss off. Get Craig to help her."

He frowned. "Who?"

With a sneer, I replied, "Never mind. She doesn't want my help, anyway."

"Then all it will cost you is a two-dollar phone call."

I could see he wasn't going to let it go, so I nodded. "Okay, this wager, what do I get out of it if I win?"

"What about one thousand dollars?"

Grimacing I growled. "What about I tell you to fuck off?"

His face darkened and I expected him to bite back about insulting him, but he swallowed his retort and merely said. "What do you want then? Name your damn price."

"I don't want your bloody money. Tell you what. If I win, you wash my car?"

He sneered. "It's a bet."

I swung hard trying to warm up. Thomas teed off first, and his shot was a very nice shot, straight up the middle. Not a long shot, but straight.

My shot was, as expected, not that good, plenty of distance but off to the left and laying in the rough.

As we walked off, Thomas asked, "I know it's none of my business, but what happened between you two? Why can't you make it work? Hundreds of other professional golfers, both men and women find a way."

"I think it was probably always destined to fail. Long distance romances never work. I do love your daughter, sir. In fact, I love her a lot, we are just in different stages of our lives. She wants to be number one, and I don't want to get in the way of that."

He frowned. "From what Belle said to me, she didn't want it to be long distance. She asked you to stay on and work with her. I can't for the life of me see why you turned her down. I mean, there are a lot of red-blooded men who would die for that chance."

"Nothing would please me more than touring the world with Belle. But I need to do it on my own terms. I like to earn my own money. When I'm in a better financial position and can afford to pay my way, it would be a different story."

He seemed taken aback. "I think if I got it right, she wanted you to be her coach. She was going to pay you."

"That's bullshit, sir, and you know it. That was just her way of getting me to follow her around like some stupid lap-dog. I don't know enough about golf to coach anybody."

My next shot was a shocker. My heart was thrashing about in my chest following our discussion. I ended up on the other side of the fairway, still fifty yards short of the green.

We walked on and Thomas played a lovely shot, right onto the edge of the green. We walked off towards my ball and he carried on. "So all this drama is because you have some sort of aversion to working for your partner?"

"You could put it that way, I suppose."

"You know Elise and I met at work. She worked for me."

I shrugged. "I guess a lot of romances start at work."

"So why was it so inconceivable that you could work for Belle?"

"Honestly, I couldn't deal with being the bit player in the story of her life. Being Mr Belle Bennet isn't where I see my life going. She wouldn't respect me, if she had to pay me. No relationship can survive that"

I played a terrible chip-shot, but at least I was on the green. Thomas played a long putt leaving a pretty easy putt to finish.

"Carl, I don't understand. You mean you weren't prepared to stay on and help her out because you didn't like the idea of being viewed as somehow lesser than her? You couldn't handle her being the boss?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. Everybody would know that she was paying me to hang around like some cheap gigolo. No, I need to be an equal, not an employee."

"God almighty, son, that is so much horseshit. Who cares if she pays you? Coaches are sought after. It actually pays a lot of money. Every great golfer has a caddie or coach they trust standing behind them."

"Yeah, well everybody on the tour would know I am a fraud, and know nothing about the game. Then there would be snide comments about the only reason I am there is to keep her company. I don't see myself as playing a support role."

"So, if she worked for you, that would be all right?"

"Yeah, it would. Look sir, I'm sorry if you can't understand my position, but I'm not going off to be her flunky, holding her car door open for her, polish her clubs and sit on the sidelines and watch watch like some golf groupie."

I was agitated and on a run, adding. "If you think I want to sit around watching every male in the place fall at her feet while she flirts with them. Sorry but I do have some pride."

He gave me a totally confused glare. "Wow, you know what? I think Belle dodged a bullet. You, young man, have some very serious mental health problems."

"If that's how you feel, perhaps we should call this off right now," I snapped caustically.

He glared at me as he reached down to pick his ball out of the cup. "You know what, I think you're right. I will find another way to help her."

He didn't even say goodbye. He angrily shoved his putter into his bag and stormed off. I waited a while, mind in complete turmoil. I couldn't understand why he couldn't see why I wanted to make my own way in the world. Plus, his daughter was a slut. God knows how many men she slept with. Every time I picked up a magazine she was on some other bloke's arm.

Once he was out of sight I walked up to the next tee and tried to tee off, but I couldn't. My heart wasn't in it. "Fuck!" I screamed. My day was ruined. I walked off back to the car park.

Over the next few months, I watched Belle with interest. Her career swung wildly. Good one day, shocking the next. When I watched her on the TV, it infuriated me. Her beautiful swing was gone. Replaced with some god awful ugly looking thing. Angry I paced angrily around my house, slamming doors and growling under my breath. I watched on unbelievingly, how could it happen? Her game was shit.

Christ, if an idiot like me could see it, why couldn't they?

I watched in horror as she completely fell apart on the final day. Why couldn't others see it? Why couldn't Thomas see it? Jesus Christ, I know nothing about the game, but it stood out like dog's balls to me. I felt sorry for her. The whole world watching on as she had a vry public meltdown. Getting grilled by some crazy interviewer, she actually had tears in her eyes.

Okay, armed with that information, what was I going to do? It was pointless to ring her. I knew, firstly, she probably wouldn't answer; secondly, if she did, she wouldn't listen. There really was nothing I could do.

As the day continued to unfold, I became increasingly agitated. Damn it, the girl wasn't even there and she was annoying me.

That night I decided to give her a call. It rang for ages before I heard her pick up. "Hi Belle."

She actually sounded pleased to hear my voice. "Hey there you. God, Carl, it's nice to hear your voice."

"You too. Just thought I would catch up. See how you're going."

"I'm going shit, haven't you been watching?"

"Yeah, I have seen some footage."

"God my game is shit at the moment. I think I have had advice from every hack on the planet."

"Yeah, I have seen some of it in the papers."

"What am I doing wrong Carl? You always seemed to know what the problem is."

"I have my opinion Belle, but I can't explain it over the phone."

"Then come over. You know I'll pay. Just the next tournament."

"I can't Belle, not at the moment. I have just started my own business. I can't afford to walk away at the moment."

She didn't respond immediately so I added. "I just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you. I think the most important thing is, you need to believe in yourself. I believe in you."

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Believe in me?"

"Of course. You have all the tools if you just use them. Your swing, your real swing, is a thing of absolute beauty. I remember the first time I saw you, I thought wow. You were amazing, perfection personified. You were so calm and bloody cocky. If you could get back to that place, focus on the basics and you will be the world beater we all know you are."

I thought I heard her sniffle. "Thank you, Carl. That means a lot. By the way, Dad sent me a copy of the newspaper with your house design. It was wonderful. Congratulations."

"Thanks, Belle, wow, it really is nice to hear your voice. I have missed that cheek."

"Yeah, I have wanted to call so many times. I ed to say sorry for the last time we spoke, and sending you the money was stupid. I did it when I was feeling sorry for myself and drunk, which didn't help."

"You don't have to apologise. I said some nasty shit. That's actually why I didn't call. I feel embarrassed."

"Bloody dick, I deserved it. Please don't stop calling. I love hearing from you."

"I will try to do better. The important thing is you go out and kick some arse. You know you can beat those other girls."

She giggled before I heard her suck in a deep breath. "I will be home for the NZ open. Any chance you could get to Paraparaumu?"

"Shit, Belle, I would love to, but I am flat out. As I said, I started my own company, and I'm not sure I can afford the time off."

With a deep sad resignation, she sighed. "Okay, I get it. Sorry for asking."

"Belle, If I could, I would love nothing more than to catch up. Any chance you could get down to Nelson?"

"I only have a couple of days between tournaments, not enough to get to Nelson."

"Good luck, Belle. I wish you luck. You have my love and support."

There was a certain resigned acceptance in her "Thanks, Carl. Good luck to you, as well."

God, that damn girl, she had my mind in knots. Just hearing her voice and all the nastiness evaporated. I think I did still love her, or maybe it was just a foolish obsession. Who knows?

I followed her performance through her next tournament, and there was a swagger to her walk. Her swing was better, still not the natural smooth thing of beauty I remembered. Still, it was enough for her to finish fourth.

The NZ Open was racing closer, and Belle's face was plastered everywhere. With her form turn-around, there was talk of her winning, even though it was going to be one of the strongest fields that had ever started a NZ Open.

I was at a point where I was really needed on site, but I desperately wanted to go. I got a surprise visitor on the Monday before the Open. I had set up an office in the shed at my home to keep costs down.

I was busy drafting up some plans for a new client when the glass door slid open and Thomas walked in. He stood arrogantly, with his chest puffed out, the only thing separating us was my desk. Looking confident and aloof, he said brusquely, "Hello, Carl."

I resisted rolling my eyes back in my head and replied curtly, "Good morning Sir, how can I help?"

Without further ado; he handed me over a package. Taking it from his outstretched hand, I prised it open. As I ripped it open, the contents spilled out on my desk. Lifting them up, I found, included were air fares, hotel accommodation and tickets for the NZ Open. "What are these for?"

"Carl, don't get all fired up. Belle asked me to deliver them to you. I'm not here because I want to be. She asked me to drop these off. She know's you're busy."

There was a little pause before he added. "This is just in case you are able to move things around, free up some time. She really would like you to attend."

"I'm sorry, but surely you can see how busy I am? I have three builds that are all at critical stages. I can't just walk away from them."

"I'm not an idiot, Carl. I can see you're busy and by the way, I think congratulations are in order. You have started to make a real impression, not just locally either. I saw your design has been featured in House and Garden."

"Thanks, yes it has been a real bonus. It has generated some real interest. Now I have more work than I can actually deal with."

His voice softened as he leaned across my desk. "Carl, this is important to Belle. Surely you can get away for four bloody days. It would mean so much to her."

"I'm not sure that I can. It's not that I don't want to, it's just, well, I'm snowed under."

"That is a shame. Elise and I are going. We are booked on the same flight, she was looking forward to catching up as well."

We stood staring at each other. Eventually, I stuffed the tickets and stuff back into the envelope and handed it back. "I'm sorry, but I can't make it. Give Belle my love. By the way, I don't need charity. If I was going to go, I am perfectly capable of paying my own way."

"For god's sake, man, it's a gift. Belle wanted to offer you something, as a goodwill gesture. She admits she did the wrong thing, and was simply trying to make amends. We all know money must be tight, starting out in a new venture always takes a lot of money."

"I do okay, I do not need her assistance."

"Carl, You're are a bloody fool

"Why? Because she earns so much more than me? Because I am so useless I can't afford to pay my own way? God damn it, why do you think you are so much better than me?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake. I've had enough of this shit. Carl, I am so sick of hearing your whiny god damned shit. I don't know what she sees in you, I really don't. I will leave these here. I hope you change your mind and go."

He turned and strode purposefully out of the room. I snatched up the package and ran after him. He was climbing in his car when I got to him. I wrenched open the passenger door and threw it in. "Shove these where the sun doesn't shine."

I turned and walked back inside, I felt like I was about to explode. I was in a very angry state. I felt like smashing something. I saw his car reverse out the drive way and stop. He got out and shoved the package in my letter box before speeding away in his flashy BMW.

Fucking arsehole. I'll fix you. I stormed out and snatched out the package, and as I walked past my car an idea popped into my head. I grabbed my car keys and sped down town. I pulled into our local radio station and walked in. I found their marketing manager and explained what I had and that I wanted them auctioned off on air, with all the money going to the cancer foundation.

They were, of course, over the moon. VIP tickets, accommodation, air fares and, of course, the added incentive of meeting Belle.

They started the ads straight away. In a small place like Nelson, it soon became big news and there was no hiding from all the media hullabaloo.