Betsy - Reawakened Ch. 15

Chris stepped out of the shack. "The nine o'clock group has the tee. Master Thomas, you have the honor."

Neil deferred to Joel, who said, "You get to tee off first, buddy."

Neil nodded and marched up to the set of markers closest to the green. Most courses designated them the ladies tees, but Darren had always made a point to say they were the ladies and junior tees. Neil understood. In truth, he didn't really care. He knew he couldn't hit the ball as far yet. His father had always made a point to show him how the game was set up so golfers of all levels could play at the same time and still enjoy themselves.

He placed the tee into the soft turf of the tee box, readjusting it several times to make sure he got it the right height. The ball fell off twice from his hand shaking. He was more nervous than he thought he'd be. Taking two practice swings, he stopped himself, recalling the phone conversation he'd had with Gene earlier that morning. Closing his eyes, he pictured in his head the shot he wanted to hit. He took another practice swing, and then a deep breath before addressing the ball.

THWACK!

The ball launched a bit higher than he expected, but it went straight, with the slightest bend from left to right. It landed on the right side of the fairway, taking several bounces before rolling to a stop.

Behind him, both Joel and Chris were clapping.

"Well done, Master Thomas!" Chris announced.

"Great shot, Neil! Just like we've practiced," Joel added.

"Thanks," he said as he started to walk, before stopping to retrieve his tee. Pocketing it, he walked to the back of the area to where Joel was going to hit.

He waited as he watched his playing partner for the day. Joel hit a long iron off the short par four. It was a hole that put a premium on strategy versus length off the tee. Joel hit a high draw, but it started out too far right and

didn't quite bend enough. It was at the right angle to approach the elevated green to the left, but it ended up in the short rough.

"You're in a better spot than me, Neil," he chuckled.

"Good luck! Have a great round," Chris waved.

"Thank you Mr. Concord."

"Thanks a million, Chris," Joel said, knowing his colleague had done more than he ever would for a normal group teeing off. He made it seem like Neil had just started the first round of a professional tournament.

They got in the cart, and Joel made sure Neil was set before pulling away. He patted him on the back and said, "We're off."

The sound of the gas powered cart fired up. They were a quarter way down the fairway to Neil's ball when he said, "Mr. Sampson?"

"Neil... we're out on the course now. Out here, I want you to call me Joel. We're playing partners. Okay?"

"Okay... Joel," he grinned.

"So, what's up?"

"Thank you for having Mr. Concord do that. I know he doesn't do that for everyone."

"You do?"

"I played once with my dad. No one even came out of that building."

"Well sometimes we don't have anyone in there. Only during our busier times."

"I still know he did that for me. And I know you asked him to. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Neil. You're very welcome."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Betsy was basking in the morning sun, the warm rays washing over her sexy body as say lay back on the lounger by the pool. The air was thick with the intoxicating mix of chlorine and suntan oil. Her body was covered with the latter, her slick skin glimmering like the water some twenty feet away.

Her mind tried not to focus on her afternoon plans. She was trying to concentrate on what Neil was doing, hoping he was having the time of his life. But in truth she couldn't get past the minor altercation she'd had with Margaret inside the clubhouse. She'd never had an issue with her before, their social interactions having always been cordial. She recognized the suggested dress code of the course, but it was never strictly enforced. She knew of plenty of men that didn't wear collared shirts. In reality, there were several times she seen some playing shirtless during the week. It was a country club, but the members often took liberties.

The more she thought about her reason for being there in the clubhouse with Neil, and how innocent it really was, the angrier she became. She was trying to make sure Neil's first real experience on a golf course with someone besides his family was special. It was the kind of needless meddling that could have overshadowed his day.

Thankfully, Neil handled it with a maturity that should have surprised her, but didn't. He really was a remarkable kid in that regard. Yet that didn't stop Betsy's internal turmoil over what happened.

"That fucking bitch," she muttered behind closed eyes and her glasses.

"Ha! I prefer to think of myself as a slut like you instead of a bitch. But you got the fucking part right!"

Betsy raised her glasses, opening just one eye so as to not be totally blinded by the sun. "Oh. Hi Diane. I didn't know you were there."

Her new best friend spread out her beach towel on the adjoining lounger. "Well, that disappoints me. I was thinking my reputation was finally starting to proceed me."

"Funny."

Diane sat down, bending forward to slip off her sandals, her heavy breasts barely contained by the black bikini she was sporting. Betsy honed in on the three huge hickeys marring her perfect olive skin; one on each side of her neck at the base of her collar bone, the other front and center, looking like a large pendant dangling from a nonexistent necklace.

It was the first time they'd seen each other since the previous Sunday morning when the Edmonsons left their house. The dark, lust-induced bruises looked fresh instead of five days old.

"Has Keith been doing to you what Darren did to me?"

"I have no idea what Darren's been doing to you, love. But if you mean fucking my brains out the past week, then yes, he has."

"No. I mean the hickeys. When Sam gave me a few dozen the weekend I was with him, Darren went over each one of them, making them bigger. Basically making them his. He kept doing it. I've still got this one one my neck, although it's almost faded now," she said, pointing at the blemish.

"Well then, no. Keith hasn't been retracing any steps. These are all from your husband, I'm afraid. Although I'm actually pretty happy about them now... he wanted to mark me for bridge night. Looks like he's going to get his wish."

"Yeah, but my God. He really did a number on you."

"Yeah. And not just my neck. Holy shit, Betsy... I could barely walk Monday. That man of yours. He is gifted."

"So is yours, Di. Holy fuck that was a good time."

"So who is the bad time?"

"Pardon?"

"Well someone is a fucking bitch, and apparently it's not me. So who is it?" she asked as she settled into the lounger, just six inches from her friend so the could gossip in relative privacy.

"Margaret."

"Margaret Cooper?"

"Yes."

"Really? She's always been nice to me."

"Apparently you've never worn a bikini into the clubhouse."

"What?"

Betsy recounted what happened inside. She tried to be as fair and balanced as she could, hoping to give an accurate portrayal. She wanted to get an outside perspective of the exchange. Because neither of them had ever had a negative interaction with Margaret before, Betsy wondered if she may have just overreacted, particularly because she'd been so oversexed during the past week. It was entirely possible she was so clouded by the excitement and stimulation that she wasn't thinking about her actions and how they might be viewed by others.

Diane listened intently, occasionally asking questions to make sure she understood clearly. She could tell from the way Betsy was acting that it was bothering her. But she also wasn't the kind of friend that would just agree with her side. They'd been friends for a while, and had become best friends through the erotic adventures they'd shared the past few weeks. They were becoming partners in crime, and the trust they were building was based on honesty and communication. Simply telling each other only what they wanted to hear wouldn't do anything to solidify their relationship.

Betsy got to the end, and sighed. "So, am I crazy to be upset?"

"Did Neil really say that to her?"

"Verbatim. He said he didn't mean she wasn't supposed to wear bikini because of some arbitrary rule... which I'm not sure is really a rule, to be honest. Then he said he actually meant she wouldn't look good in one. I... I have to admit, I actually snorted. It caught me off guard."

"Well, there's your answer right there."

"That I thought what he said was funny?"

"No. You said it yourself. He said something about her because she said something about you. He's still a kid, Betsy. He's in the trenches of middle school. He recognizes bullying when he sees it. The remarkable thing is he called her on it."

"Yeah. I felt bad. I played the 'if you can't say anything nice' card."

"Aw. You didn't."

"Yep. But he trumped it. He said what you just said. She was mean, so he didn't feel obligated to say anything nice."

"Playground rules, Betsy. A bully got put in their place. That's all that happened."

"I know. That's why I thanked him for defending me. I had to. He actually said he'd do the same thing again because he was right."

"And you're upset this happened why? You just confirmed your son is incredible. My goodness. He's not afraid to call out an adult on their behavior. Imagine how he'll defend a friend. Or a girlfriend. Or his wife someday. Integrity is everything we want for our kids. It's the biggest gift we can give them besides unconditional love. This is the best story I've heard in ages."

"So I'm not crazy."

"No. You're a narcissist for trying to make this about you," she laughed. "Your son just became a man today. That's the headline here."

Betsy nodded. "Good. Not crazy."

"You're such a bitch," she giggled.

"I'm a slut, thank you very much."

"You are. I bet you're wet thinking about what you're going to be doing in a couple of hours."

"Yeah, I don't want to talk about that."

"Nervous?"

"No. I just don't want to get my hopes up. I have no idea how busy the course will be. There are a lot of variables I can't account for. We might not be able to do anything at all. I've been thinking about this for so long. Obsessing about it really, if I'm being honest. I have to accept that nothing might happen."

"Okay. Scratch that. What would you rather talk about? It better be sex related."

"Your mind is in the same place mine's been?"

"Well no shit. I cannot believe we haven't talked to each other since Sunday. I was worried you were upset. You didn't call. But then I didn't call you because you didn't call. And then I thought you might not be calling me because I didn't call first. What's the protocol? Are we not supposed to discuss what we did?"

Betsy laughed. "I've been busy, but I haven't been avoiding you."

"So I should have called."

"If you really wanted to talk about it, you have to pick up a phone. I thought we communicated better than that. We don't have trouble making plans for bridge night."

"I know. So, what are your thoughts?"

"About bridge night?"

"Bridge night? Why are you talking about bridge night?"

"Because that was the antecedent."

"What's an antecedent?"

"The previous event mentioned in the conversation. Never mind. The bottom line is I'm dreading going to bridge night tomorrow."

"You are too?"

"Jesus Di! I can't think of a duller way to spend an evening anymore. Not after the things I've experienced the last month. I can't believe you don't feel the same way."

"Well, yeah. I just said I am too. But there's not much we can do."

"Sure there is. If I'm going to get someone to watch Neil overnight like I do for it every month, I would much rather spend that time fucking Keith while you fuck Darren. I'd even let you look at him this time," she winked.

"Are you serious? You want to do that with us again?"

"Hell, Diane, we want to do that with you as often as we can. That was incredible. Did you really think we wouldn't want to?"

"Well, you know, we hadn't talked. I guess I just was worried for some reason. Kind of like you today. There are some things I can't control, so I didn't want to get my hopes up."

"Well we're on board, so don't worry about that anymore. Worry that I'm going to die of boredom tomorrow night."

"You're getting a sitter?"

"No. My friend Justine watches Neil every time we have bridge night. He spends the night on her and Vito's farm with his buddy Brendan. We watch Brendan a couple weekends later. It's been a way that we could always guarantee some adult fun whenever Darren's home."

"So, why should tomorrow night be any different? You'd just be adding two more adults."

"Because we have to go play the stupid fucking card game. How are you not following that?"

"I am. You're not. We go play stupid fucking cards, and then you come to our place and spend the night playing 'stupid fucking each other's husband.' Anthony's going out of town with his girlfriend, Vivian."

"Oohhhh! I love that idea. But that doesn't change the fact that we're going to waste at least four hours we could be having real fun, pretending to have fun."

"If you're as daring as I think you are, I think I might have a solution for that too."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Betsy couldn't believe how tranquil Neil was as he ate the second of his two chili dogs, a side of onion rings next it. She was the one that was eating the grilled burger this time with the order of fries. Diane had joined them, a burger and fries of her own in front of her.

Neil was sitting across from them at a picnic table, but he wasn't talking much. His behavior befuddled his mother, who couldn't figure out how he played. Or if he played.

She leaned to her right and whispered, "Jeez, Di, he's going to be an incredible poker player."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't get a read on him. He's been amped up for today all week, and it's like he never played at all."

She shrugged and said, "It's probably me."

Wanting to find out if that theory held water, she tried to get his attention. "Neil?"

He looked up and replied, "Yes, mom?"

"How did it go today?"

"Okay," he shrugged.

"That's it? Just okay?"

"I had fun."

"Well that's good." He nodded and took another bite of his chili dog. Betsy still didn't understand. "Sweetie, did you not play well?"

"No. I played okay."

Diane smiled and asked, "Do you not want to say anything because I'm here, Neil?"

"No. I just can't."

Betsy shook her head and said, "What do you mean you can't?"

He looked at Diane out of the corner of his eye, and then he leaned in his mother's direction and whispered too loudly, "Because you told me I'm not supposed to brag in front of others."

Diane let out a cackle, and Betsy belly laughed. "Oh my goodness, Neil. Just tell us. How did you play?"

His excitement rose as he was given the green light to boast a bit. "I shot a 58! I only had two really bad holes. But I had another par... this time on hole three! Joel said he thinks I can break 50 by the end of the summer if I keep practicing."

"Joel?"

"I'm sorry. Mr. Sampson. He said I could call him that while it was just the two of us on the course because we were playing partners. I forgot we weren't anymore."

"Well as long as he gave you permission, then it's okay."

"Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"Can I still call Gene tonight?"

"Absolutely!" she grinned.

He was just polishing off his Nehi grape soda when they were interrupted unexpectedly by the loudspeaker.

NEIL THOMAS, YOU HAVE A PHONE CALL. NEIL... THOMAS."

"Is that me?" he wondered, almost freaking out.

"Ha! That's what I named you. Go to snack bar. And don't run."

He scampered away, walking as fast as he could without breaking the pool rules. He approached the counter, going to the side away from where you would order and pick up.

"I'm Neil."

One of the cute teenage girls working behind the counter handed him the receiver, smiling, "Here you go, handsome."

"Thanks... Hello?"

"Hey Tiger? How'd it go?"

"DAD!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Darren hung up the new phone, which was very similar to the one upstairs in the kitchen. He'd just got done installing it, hanging it on the wall behind the bar. It had an extremely long, curly cord between the base and the handset to allow you to move around, actually stretching out thirty feet to reach the sitting area in front of the television.

He'd been promising Betsy he'd do it for a year, but he put it off selfishly. He'd already invested a lot of money in the basement. He didn't want to spend any more. Not until the zoning vote went through and it would guarantee they'd be staying put.

That was behind him. He'd gone into the office early that morning, gathered his files and notes, stuffing them and anything else he thought he'd need into his briefcase. He headed downtown before eight, and was actually in the gallery area of the council board room before anyone else.

Tim showed up five minutes later and took the first seat on the left. He opened his briefcase and got all his things out, setting up shop quickly so it would make it difficult to make a case for him to move. The next several council members that showed up sat in their usual places, yet said nothing. A few did shoot him odd looks, however none of them had the wherewithal to ask about the change.

The only person that questioned the switch was the person that came in last, which it turned out was the one person that had been the most vocal for not altering the current zoning plan. He ended up having to sit in the empty seat at the farthest end to the right.

The meeting was called to order, and Amos, the gentleman opposed, tried to start by calling for an open floor for community statements. He had at least a dozen people in the gallery prepared to weigh in on their opinion. Tim had two, and saw the tactic, playing the result out in his head like a grand chess master. It didn't take that level of intelligence to see what was about to happen.

He spoke up, saying, "Mr. Chairman, we've been over this for months. We agreed the vote would be today."

"We'll vote today, Tim," Amos said. "But I think because these people came all this way, we should hear them out."

"Where were they during the other twenty meetings, Amos? Why today?"

"Gentleman, decorum. We have an obligation, Tim," Gabriel, the chairman replied.

"C'mon Gabe. This is ridiculous. Let's vote."

"There are opinions we should probably hear."

"Those will be all identical opinions. I guarantee it. How about Amos picks one, and I pick one, and then we go to an immediate vote afterward?"

Gabriel thought for a moment and said, "Approved. Amos, pick one please."

"One?"

"Yes. One."

"Well I don't actually know all of them."

"Then how about you pick one you do know."

He scanned, looking for a face he could actually put a name with. He knew what they wanted as far as the zoning regulations, but he didn't know most of them personally.

"Umm... Gladys Dortmund."

A middle-aged woman made her way to the podium microphone with a pile of papers in her hand. She put on her glasses, and was about to read the prepared statement when Gabriel broke the mold again.

"Thank you for coming today. Amos, your question for Mrs. Dortmund."

"What?"

"You and Tim have been on the opposite ends of this from day one. You each get one question for each person that speaks. Your question."

"That seems a bit unfair."

"I'm sorry if you feel that way, but Tim's right. We've had at least twenty meetings on this. All of us up here were looking forward to a quick meeting today. And today of all days you line up a parade to the podium? I'm not going to let this drag out any longer. Ask your question, please."