Betsy - Reawakened Ch. 15

"Uh, okay. Gladys, why don't you want the zoning change?"

"I like things the way they are here. We don't need to change. It's perfect the way it is."

Gabriel smiled at her. "Is that it? That's your answer?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay. Tim, your question for Mrs. Dortmund?"

"Very well. Mrs. Dortmund, do you own a business?"

"No sir."

That was it. Two questions. Two quick, to the point answers.

Gabriel excused her and said, "Okay... Tim, who is your designated speaker?"

"Darren Thomas."

Darren approached, leaving all his things in his briefcase. He knew brevity was going to be key. Standing up straight, he took a deep breath and awaited his questions.

Gabe smiled again. "Thanks for coming Mr. Thomas. Tim, your question."

"Darren, if this doesn't pass today, what are you personally going to do?"

He didn't blink an eye. "I'll put my house on the market tomorrow and start looking for a place farther north near where the interstate is going to be."

The room gasped, but it was exactly what Tim thought he'd say. Betsy had been right.

Gabriel was stunned as well, but respected the answer. "Amos. You're turn."

"Why would anyone sell their house?"

Darren took the way he'd phrased that and jumped on his soapbox.

"Because there would be no future here. I have a family to provide for. If the interstate goes north, so does the new warehouse I'm going to have constructed for my company. If that goes, my house goes on the market, along with the houses of my eight employees. Why? Because they'll need their jobs, and there won't be any coming to this town. I'm one business that's already in town. This isn't just about attracting new businesses. It's about keeping the ones you already have. Wherever the interstate goes, that's where my warehouse goes. My division is growing. I'll be adding four more drivers in the next two years. I'm not about to hire them and then ask them to move. So, they likely won't be from town like I'd envisioned. The fact is there is no such thing as the nirvana Mrs. Dortmund is suggesting. Change will happen here, one way or the other. It will not stay the same, no matter how this vote comes out. What you're really deciding today with this vote is, if the interstate goes north, will there be much of a town left, and how will you possibly support it as your tax base moves away."

"I vote in favor," Tim said before there was even a call to vote. The person to his right voted in favor almost as quickly as he had. By the time the vote got to Amos, it was a landslide. He was the lone against, the final tally coming out 8 to 1.

Tim was sitting at Darren's bar two hours later, a nearly empty bottle of Budweiser in his hand. He'd come over to celebrate the zoning change going through. Like Darren, he was taking the rest of the day off. He'd even helped his neighbor run the phone line and did some splicing to make the project go faster. With that job now complete as well, they could relax. He found it fantastic that the first call Darren placed with the new phone was to the club, having Neil paged.

"How'd he do?"

"The kid shot a 58. He said he had two really bad holes. But he had another par."

"Which hole?"

"Number three. He hit driver, and seven iron, and then sank a long putt."

"Wow. That's a long, hard par three. I can't remember the last time I parred it."

"I'm proud of him, Tim. He's going to be a really good player."

"As good as his old man?"

"I actually think he can be better than Gene. But that's a long way off. I'm just glad he had fun. I owe Joel one."

"Besides what you're wife is about to do with him?" he laughed.

"Damn... I forgot you and Elaine know all about us," he chuckled.

"I know about Betsy. You know about Elaine. And from what I understand, that's how they want it to be."

"Are you okay with this?"

"I'm better than okay. You just made sure today that you're not moving. I'm not sure how I'd explain that to my wife after what you did to her yesterday!"

"I didn't vote. You did."

"Yes. But that short speech you gave was for the ages. Eight, Darren. We got eight votes. That was impressive."

"I think the key thing you said there was 'we'. We did it together. I'm so glad I don't have to tell Betsy we have to move, either. How did you know about that, by the way?"

He winked. "She told me. I don't think you know just how incredible your wife is. Or perceptive. The case she made last night to get me to vote her way was compelling."

"The sex?" he laughed.

"No. The case. You have no idea. She knew her stuff. She'd done research. Her hypothesis was spot on, and she didn't have benefit of seeing the economic impact studies that I'd had done. It was remarkable, really. Just another reason I'm thrilled the way things turned out."

"Me too. Want another beer?"

"One more. Then I'm going home and taking a nap. I'm so damn tired."

"Me too. Yesterday wore me out," he said as he slid him the beer. Taking his own, they clinked the bottles together. "To our wives!"

Tim grinned. "Can't wait to fuck yours again!"

"Ditto, neighbor! I know Betsy was going to talk with Elaine this morning. I'm hoping they came up with a plan."

"As detailed as Betsy seems to be, I can only imagine how she'd approach a subject she loves."

"You mean sex?" he laughed again.

"Yes, this time I mean sex. If she was that prepared for a meeting about zoning, hard to believe she hasn't already come up with a way for some naughty neighborly fun."

"Yeah, that's the thing. Her actual strength is making things up as she goes," he chuckled.

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

Betsy walked into the clubhouse, still clad in her bright orange bikini. She slid past the front desk, heading downstairs to the locker rooms where she intended to change. Opening her members locker, she went to retrieve the sexy outfit she planned to wear that day, but her eyes caught sight of the club membership manual tucked on the top shelf. Every locker had one inside. Intrigued, she opened it, checking the contents page.

She was a speed reader, able to glean an incredible amount of information just by skimming. Checking twice, she nodded her head, an almost evil laugh escaping her chest.

"I knew it," she said as she grabbed her clothes, not bothering to put them on. Instead she sat and put on her short socks and golf shoes. She used one of the towels she brought with her to wipe all the suntan oil off her body. She didn't want to shower, but she didn't want to feel oily while playing golf... and the other games she had in mind.

She wrapped that towel around her waist, grabbed the clean towel and her clothes, and went upstairs to the sign-in counter. She was writing her name on the list for her tee time when Margaret came around the corner. She saw Betsy, and started to turn around and scurry off again.

"Margaret, could you come here please?" she asked, catching her out of the corner of her eye.

"Yes, Betsy," she replied nervously as she approached.

"I just wanted you to know I talked to my son about what he said to you this morning."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, you might want to hold onto that appreciation."

"Pardon?"

"I used the old saying, you know... 'if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all'. Anyway, he said he'd do it again in a heartbeat. When I asked him to explain why, I have to say, I agreed with him."

"What!? You have to be kidding me. You're going to condone that behavior?"

"I'm going to condone whoever's behavior should be condoned. I don't automatically take the side of the adult. I listen, and then I make the judgement that should be made. In this case, he was right. You were being a bitch. My word, not his."

"Oh my! I have never in my life -"

"Sure you have. The word he did use is hypocritical, because other people wear swimsuits inside here."

"Yes, but as I explained, that's a bikini."

"You might want to read this," she said, holding up the book with it opened to the appropriate page. "It clearly states that swimwear is allowed in the clubhouse. Its not my fault that this hasn't been updated for thirty years."

"Betsy, it's just common sense."

"No. It's a busybody who is arbitrarily enforcing her own moral dress code onto others. We're living in a new world now, Margaret. One I happen to embrace. You should probably soften your stance going forward. Either way, I can promise, you picked the wrong person to fuck with on this."

"Your language!"

"My language was only heard by you. My son was right. You were singling me out, trying to make me feel bad about myself. That's why he defended me. He said you were being mean, so he called you on it. He's eleven. He sees that kind of crap on the playground every day. You were being a bully and he stood up to you. I'm proud of him for that. Oh, and by the way, there's nothing in this member book that pertains to what I can wear on the golf course either. Only the men."

"Again, it's common sense!"

"No, it's sexist. That book was written before women were ever allowed to play golf here. The fact that no one thought to update it is not my fault. It's actually pretty telling about how out of touch this place is. I'll put on my skirt, because I believe in decorum as much as the next person. But I'm wearing this bikini top with it."

"Well, I'll be working on changing that book as soon as possible."

"You do that. And when you do, make sure you include that men have to wear a shirt."

"What? That's already in there. Men must wear a collared golf shirt. See?"

"Really? Then how come Larry Milhouse, an obese, three hundred pound guy I should add, golfs shirtless. Don't tell me you haven't seen him. You can't not see him! He's huge! Is it because he's on the board?"

"Well, I can't enforce everything, Betsy."

"I suppose I could understand that. But what you're really saying is you're not enforcing a rule that actually exists on a male board member, and yet you're trying to enforce one on a female club member that doesn't exist at all. It makes me wonder what our lawyer would think of that kind of sexist double-standard? You know, I think I'll give her a call on Monday. Darren has a copy of that manual at the house. I can promise you she's going to go over it with a litigious eye. Oh, and I'm certain without even looking that there's nothing in there that says the manager of the clubhouse has the authority to change anything in it. That was a bullshit threat, meant to try to intimidate me. In case you haven't figured it out yet, that won't work. You have a great afternoon, Margaret. I've got to go. I don't want to be late for my tee time."

She wasn't going to be late, but she also wasn't going to give Margaret a chance to rebut any more. The threat of alerting a lawyer was enough to make her happy. That and defending her son for defending her.

She grabbed her clubs out of her car, throwing her shirt inside so she wouldn't be tempted to put it on. She kept her skirt in her hand, knowing she was hopefully going to be teasing Joel mercilessly during the beginning of the round.

"Hello, Mr. Sampson," she said sexily as she approached in her bikini top, still wearing the towel below. She unwrapped herself as she spoke to him, showing off the rest of her outfit.

He nearly fell over from his mouth dropping open. "Hello, Mrs. Thomas," he said quietly.

"Are you ready to play with me?"

His eyes darted toward the starter shack, and she grinned, knowing he was nervous about how she was already acting. Not wanting to put her fun on the course in jeopardy, she checked herself. Chris walked out, grinning from ear to ear himself when he saw how Betsy was dressed.

"Well hello, Mrs. Thomas."

"Hello Christopher. How are you this fine afternoon?"

"I'm a lot better now, I can tell you that," he winked.

"See. For some reason Margaret doesn't think this is proper golf attire for a woman. I happen to disagree."

"Me too," he chuckled.

"Me three," Joel added, raising his hand to be counted.

Betsy thanked them both, but said, "Well, I still think it's best that I compromise with her, so I'm going to put on my skirt. I'm wearing this as my top though."

She gave Joel her bag to put on the cart. Putting the clean towel in the basket behind the seats, she put the other on the seat she'd be sitting in. She sat on the edge of the seat and stepped through the pleated miniskirt. It was a tartan pattern, predominantly royal blue with black as the secondary color. It set off perfectly against the bright orange of her bikini. She stood, fitting it in place on her hips before zipping up the back. The bottom came down just a couple of inches below her crotch line, showing most if her long, sexy legs.

"So, what do you boys think?" she said as she did a quick little pirouette, making the skirt rise up to show the bikini bottom underneath.

"Fabulous," Chris quickly said.

"I have to agree," Joel nodded.

"Okay. Wardrobe approved. Give me the rundown, Christopher."

He looked at his clipboard, checking the time sheet. "Well, it looks like for the second time today we have a Thomas and Sampson twosome. You're tee time is in just a few minutes. There's a foursome that should be teeing off on four right about now. The next group after you will tee off at... wow, not until 3:10. We're slow today. Looks like thing pick up a lot after that though. Carts on the paths around the greens. Please rake the traps, replace your divots and repair your ball marks. You'll have a better chance of catching up to that foursome than you'll have to worry anyone catching you, unless someone without a tee time shows up. But that rarely happens on a Friday. On the off chance, let faster groups play through. That's about it. Mrs. Thomas, you have the honor."

"It's my honor to give you this," she said as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you for what you did for my son this morning, Christopher. I know you helped make his day."

"It was my pleasure, Betsy. You should be really proud of him."

"I'm proud of both my boys. Gene's coming home soon. He's going to win the club championship this year."

"You sound confident."

"I am. He would have won it last year if not for the shenanigans of a certain someone."

Both Chris and Joel knew what she was talking about. Gene had gotten into an altercation the previous year with Bill Courtney, the elected club chairman. Bill was a car salesman by trade, who had come into office at the club the beginning of the previous year with the support of a group of guys that campaigned hard for him.

Gene had spent a lot of that year working on his tennis game. It was a strategic decision on his part, based on something he'd read. The idea was to focus on two sports that utilized different core muscle groups. In this case, tennis would help his body turn, which would increase his torque, and ultimately add length to his golf game. It was a work in progress, but the early results had been somewhat promising.

He and his friend Dan had spent the better part of an hour and a half pushing the squeegees to get water from an overnight rain off the court nearest the putting green just outside the fence. However, they hadn't taken the time to properly reserve that court on the signup sheet in the clubhouse.

Bill saw them busting their ass, yet he recognized their error. Taking advantage, he put his name on it for the time they finished, and then told them he had it reserved.

Gene pitched a fit, accusing him of abusing his power as the elected chairman. Bill simply pulled rank citing the rules, and Gene recognized it was a fight he wasn't going to win. Instead he left, but not before taking the hose for the sprinkler to the putting green, and spraying water on the court from the other side of the fence while Bill and his cronies were playing doubles.

Bill reacted by racing around the fence and shoving Gene with both hands. Gene was about to go at him, but thought better of it. That is until Bill clenched a fist. He was able to duck out of the way of the wild haymaker thrown his direction, and he responded with an quick uppercut to Bill's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him as he slumped to the ground.

Knowing it was the word of four adults against two nineteen year olds, Dan took off, calling Darren from the clubhouse to give him a heads up of what was going on. As he recovered, Bill not only threatened to have Gene and his entire family banned from the club, he said he was going to have assault charges filed.

The only saving grace was a woman named Jan Martin. She'd heard Bill bragging in the clubhouse about how he was going to get his friends the court, and she decided it was the perfect time to practice on the putting green. She wasn't a fan of Bill, and she happened to be the sister with one of the wives of a guy playing with him. She confronted Bill and her brother-in-law, shaming them both right there in the clubhouse after they came inside to call the sheriff's department.

When Darren got there and found out from Jan what really happened, he confronted Bill in the locker room. He told him if he ever touched one of his kids in the future, he'd be dealing with him personally, and it wouldn't end pretty.

While the altercation was over, it had a negative impact on Gene. The club championship started the next day, and he let it effect his game. While he recovered the second day of the two-day tournament, he had too much ground to make up. The eventual champion ended up being Bill. Betsy didn't believe that was a coincidence.

In her mind, the entire thing seemed to be deliberate to throw Gene off his game. While that may have been a stretch, her distaste for the man and what he did to her son had lasted since then. It was one of the reasons she'd put out the idea of contacting a lawyer over how she'd been treated by Margaret. She was certain the confrontation was going to be taken directly to Bill. She intended to beat her to the punch.

Chris nodded appreciatively and said, "Well I hope he does. I've got no love lost for Bill Courtney, I can tell you that. He rubs an awful lot of people the wrong way."

Joel agreed. "He sure as hell makes my job harder. We've lost quite a few members because of him."

"Glad to know I'm not alone in my hatred for the man," she said as she grabbed her driver from her bag. "Makes me wonder why the other members of the board aren't taking that seriously. You'd think losing members would be a consideration for using the removal process built into the bylaws. You're on the board, aren't you Chris?"

"Yes," he nodded. "There's a removal process?"

"Right there in the manual. You know what isn't in there? Anything that says I can't wear a bikini on the course. You know what is? A collared shirt rule for men. I had Neil wear one today, even though he's a kid. I guess it's a good thing Larry Milhouse wasn't out here when he played. Otherwise one of you would have to explain to him how that's not hypocritical. And trust me, he understands the meaning of the word. He's the one that called Margaret on it when she tried to say I couldn't wear my bikini in the clubhouse when the manual clearly says swimwear is allowed."

"Sounds like there was more to your conversation with Margaret than just your choice of wardrobe," Chris ascertained.

"You could say that. I guess what I'm wondering is what kind of country club does this one want to be? Darren and I love it here, but if we're not welcome... "

"What would make you say that?"

"Gene's altercation with Courtney last year. Mine with Margaret this morning... in front of Neil, on a day he's been looking forward to for weeks? Joel, be honest, has Neil been anything other than serious during your lessons?"