Guiding Hands by Jamie Phillips

Note: This novel was previously published on Discipline and Desire. It is available in the long term members' area under its Author's story page.

“We could invite Bill and Laurie to be our partners at the Four-Person Team Scramble,” Uma McKay said to her husband, Cam, one July evening after work. This was their first summer in the local golf club, and they played surprisingly well for two people who weren’t athletic and hadn’t played any sports since leaving high school fifteen years before.

Uma felt the club’s new tournament, designed to encourage beginners to the sport and members to the club, would be a good place to show how well they could do. Bill, Cam’s old school buddy, would be a real asset. He was always schmoozing with his clients at the club and, very modestly of course, crowing of his success as a financial consultant and golfer to his friends after. And Uma’s friend, Laurie, had been a child golf prodigy but was a more contentious choice for the team – as Uma knew.

“You must be mad,” was Cam’s predictable response. “They fought like cat and dog the few times we had them round.”

“It’s just the way they are,” Uma countered. “If they got to know each other better, they’d be the perfect couple.”

“Well, I’m not babysitting them while they get to know each other better,” Cam said stubbornly, “I’d rather miss the tournament than play with those two together.”

Uma frowned. Generally, Cam was an easy-going guy who was happy to go along with her wishes, but she wasn’t dismayed. She’d expected some difficulty. Part of Cam’s easy-going-ness included a desire to avoid unpleasant scenes and confrontation. With Laurie and Bill on the team, she had no doubt there’d be both.

“We joined the golf club to raise our visibility in town,” Uma reminded him. “Bill’s position as financial advisor to half the local councilors will do that for us. And,” she added, “with him on the team, we’ll do well in the tournament, which will also get us noticed.” Uma had started a business over the winter and was diligently building a customer base. She saw herself as a future star of the Chamber of Commerce and, eventually, of the town council. At present, she saw Cam standing in her way on that road to a glorious future. Sterner measures were needed.

“I’ll invite Bill,” Cam replied, “if you find a different woman to make up the couple. That way, there’s a chance we’ll enjoy the weekend, provided you can also stop snapping Bill’s head off every time he speaks.”

“I don’t snap his head off,” Uma protested uncomfortably, for she knew she did.

“Well, somebody who looks like you does. Why he still accepts my invitations, I’ll never know.”

“Because he hasn’t actually got any friends but you,” Uma said sarcastically.

“I’ll invite him,” Cam repeated, “even though I know that, despite these years of objecting to having him round to the house, you now want to use him for your own ends. But you have to find a different female partner. Agreed?”

Uma nodded and uttered a strangled, “Okay.” She couldn’t tell Cam she’d already invited Laurie and had been accepted. Laurie had even accepted believing Bill would be the other member of the team, which had surprised Uma a little. When Bill was onboard, she’d tell Cam she could only get Laurie. He’d be angry but Cam’s anger was of no account – ‘a little sound and fury, signifying nothing,’ to paraphrase Shakespeare.

Bill accepted Cam’s invitation so readily that only knowing Uma was finding a different female partner made Cam feel less of a jerk. He didn’t like to impose on a friend this way, particularly when he knew Bill wasn’t great with people unless they were potential clients. Bill’s cheerful sales act even set Cam’s teeth on edge in social settings, and it was only his knowing Bill was okay that kept them friends. Bill wasn’t any better with women; he alternated between fatherly and oily, and consequently the nearest he came to family life was at his parents’ home.

“Bill’s on board,” Cam told Uma, whose obvious relief reconciled Cam to the part he was playing. He understood where Uma was coming from. He helped with the bookkeeping and her company needed all the help it could get, but in Cam’s mind, honorable failure and dishonorable success were running neck-and-neck, and he couldn’t decide which he preferred.

“Great,” Uma said brightly, hoping she could put off the inevitable admission of guilt for a day or so. She didn’t want Cam doing anything stupid before the tournament, which was only days away. “I’ll sign us up.”

“Not yet,” Uma replied, “but I will. It has to be someone who can play.”

“So shouldn’t you wait to sign up? It’s a lot of money to lose if we can’t get someone.”

“You said you’d get someone else,” Cam said grimly, when, with only a day to go, Uma told him Laurie would be the fourth member of the team.

Uma tried not to look guilty but found it difficult to meet Cam’s angry glare. She clenched her fists and straightened her back defiantly before replying, “I tried, but the ones who play are away or already booked. There was only Laurie.”

Cam stalked out of the room, not trusting himself to speak. He couldn’t decide what was worse, Uma playing him for a fool, Uma lying to him, or the weekend ahead with Laurie and Uma openly abusing his friend while he stood impotently by, unable to prevent them. He could only hope Uma’s need for Bill’s success to rub off on her business would keep the women from their worst excesses.

“So who’s the competition?” Bill asked, surveying the team list as they awaited their turn to tee-off.

“That’s the best bit,” Uma replied. “Serious golfers haven’t signed up. I guess they think this sort of thing is beneath them.”

“Or maybe they know blowing guests and beginners out of the water won’t win the club new members,” Cam suggested.

“Right,” Uma confirmed, “provided Cam stays focused and plays his part.”

“I’m focused,” Cam said firmly, returning the three accusing stares with a bold face. The truth was he’d rather be anywhere but here right now. His teammates’ need to win would soon turn to frustration and then anger once the game got going, and a lot of it would be directed at him.

“Okay, we’re up,” Uma said, seeing the signal from the Marshal. “Let’s kick some ass.”

Cam rolled his eyes derisively but followed the others out to the tee. As the perceived weak link in the team, he saw the tournament stretching out before him like a trackless, scorching desert – and he was setting off without a water bottle. His feeling of doom deepened as the others hit good shots and watched him prepare to take his.

“So, Cam,” Bill said, “are you going to do better than us? Show us how it’s done?”

“No,” Cam replied, uncomfortably aware they were all critiquing his stance, his grip, and his generally amateur attempts at a golf swing. But the ball, when he hit it, flew true. It landed short of Bill’s but well ahead of Uma and Laurie’s and equally well-placed.

“Not bad,” Laurie said grudgingly. Then she added, “In fact, as we have to use at least two balls from everyone, I vote we use Cam’s shot as our best ball on this hole, ‘cause with his technique, he’ll be lucky to make another one like that.”

Despite the ungracious presentation of the vote, Cam was relieved when the group agreed. He didn’t like golf, took no pleasure in it, and had only showed up because Uma insisted it was how you got on in business in their small town. As he and Bill walked to the ball, letting Uma drive Laurie in the cart, he caught up on Bill’s news.

“You know me, Cam,” Bill replied. “I could sell fridges to Eskimos. Sure, it’s good. When times are hard, people want advice on keeping their money safe. When times are good, they want advice on how to get more money. You can’t help but make a living advising people about money; it’s what they live for. How’re you and Uma doing?”

“Uma’s business,” Cam said firmly, “is finally getting off the ground. It’s been a struggle.” One of the things that drove Uma mad about Bill was his subconscious belief that her business was really Cam’s business, and she was just the hired help. Bill just didn’t seem to see women as businesspeople.

“That’s great,” Bill replied. “I’m happy for you. Being part of this event’s sponsorship was a good move, lots of local publicity.”

“Uma thought so,” Cam said, “and she was right. So far, she’s been interviewed by the TV and radio stations. There’s only the paper to do, and she’ll have a clean sweep.”

Before Bill could answer, they’d arrived at Cam’s ball and joined the women, who were waiting impatiently on the cart.

“Your balls, ladies,” Bill said, handing Laurie and Uma the ones he and Cam had collected as they walked, “If you’ll pardon the expression.”

Laurie grimaced. It was just the dumb sort of thing they’d expected from Bill. Uma had even predicted they could expect an afternoon of weak jokes about balls as they’d driven sedately along the track. Any moment now, there’d be a comment about women drivers.

“Your turn,” Bill said, turning away from watching his shot bounce only a few yards short of the green.

Laurie grimly set her ball down and prepared to swing. This was only the first hole and already the pressure she felt was unbelievably intense. She had to do as well as Bill. To have him commiserate on a poor shot would be beyond her endurance. She adjusted her stance and gazed along the fairway, visualizing the ball’s flight as she’d learned to do as a kid. Golf was her game. It had gotten her through college on a scholarship but these past years, after her divorce, she hadn’t played much. Today was a treat she’d promised herself, and Bill wasn’t going to spoil it for her.

She took a practice swing. Feeling the tightness in her shoulders, she paused and forced herself to relax. Although the others were behind her, she could ‘see’ their expressions in her mind as clearly as if she were facing them. Cam’s expression was amiably unconcerned at her or anyone else’s performance. Uma was willing her not to fail, her hungry eyes and bitten fingernails a constant outward expression of her inner need for success. Bill’s round face pinched in concentration, his expression one of curiosity as if amazed that a mere woman could do anything at all, let alone golf or manage a life. That thought sent her blood pressure soaring.

Laurie returned her mind to the job in hand, drew a deep breath, adjusted her feet, swung the club back and then downward in a smooth arc. It sent the ball whistling along the path she’d imagined only a few moments before. It was a good shot and she turned to the others confidently before the ball had even landed.

Laurie gritted her teeth. Of course it was a good shot, she thought bitterly. I was playing this game when you were still climbing trees and flicking spitballs for entertainment, you jerk. She remembered practicing with her father as a kid and smiled ruefully. The old man had had such high hopes for her, ‘youngest WPGA Champion’ at the very least.

Cam sliced his shot into the trees and shrugged, his expression bland, not giving away the disappointment he felt.

Uma approached her shot with caution. Cam’s wild effort relieved some of the pressure but a poor shot by her would set Bill up to be kind again and she couldn’t bear that. For a moment, she wondered whether having Bill on the team came at too high a price.

She rubbed her palms on her shorts. The day was hot but Uma knew that wasn’t why she was sweating. She took a practice swing or two to get the feel. Golf was more than a strategy for becoming a force to be reckoned, it was also a great stress reliever – usually. Laurie had introduced her to the game in the days when they’d had money to spend, before divorce, in Laurie’s case, and before quitting her job and starting the business, in Uma’s case. Uma had become hooked. Her business couldn’t really afford the club fees but Uma had persuaded Cam it was an investment, not an expense.

Squaring her shoulders, Uma returned to the ball and took her shot. Golf was a stress-reliever because she was good at it. Not good like Bill or Laurie, just good. She rarely hooked or sliced the ball off the fairway like Cam, and this time was no exception. She hit it cleanly, if unspectacularly down the center. It fell short of Laurie’s ball, and way short of Bill’s but it was a good shot nevertheless.

Uma couldn’t answer that pleasantly, so she said, “We’ll walk this time. You guys can drive the cart.”

“Well, not yours,” Uma snapped, pleased to be able to take her irritation out on somebody.

“We have to use men’s and women’s shots equally,” Uma responded. “It might be better to use your shot.” Laurie was out of shape, working at two jobs and not eating or sleeping well. She’d wilt in the heat as the game went on. Better to get the best from her early, Uma thought dispassionately.

“Laurie’s it is,” Bill confirmed enthusiastically, determined to be the perfect team player for everyone’s sake. His salesman’s antenna could feel the underlying tension in the two women, and even though he couldn’t understand why it was, he knew he had to ameliorate it to make a sale. When the women had loaded their bags on the cart, Bill took the driver’s seat and started up the cart. “See ya,” he called as they left the women behind.

“I don’t think I’m going to last eighteen holes without exploding,” Laurie said as the cart drew out of earshot.

“Me, neither,” Uma replied. “I’m sure he’s trying to be on his best behavior but everything he says rubs me the wrong way.”

Laurie nodded agreement. “I had a lecturer once who said you had to get past the delivery and listen to the message. Every time I meet Bill, I remember that – and every time, I find I can’t do it.”

“Isn’t there a phrase, the medium is the message?” Uma asked, adding, “Seems to me that if it sounds like a duck, it probably is a duck.”

“I don’t think Cam would like him if he was as shallow as he sounds, though. Cam’s a pretty good judge of character.”

“Cam’s such an easy-going dolt, he’d fall for any sales line,” Uma snapped. “Trust me; he doesn’t see anything in people. He just takes them as they are.”

Laurie didn’t reply. Uma was obviously irritated by Cam today and an argument on the first hole would spoil their game on the remaining seventeen. But it was Cam’s ability to see past people’s mannerisms and foibles and get to the core of them that made her doubt her own attitude toward Bill. The people Cam made time for were good, pleasant people.

“The TV interview went well,” Laurie said, hoping a change of subject would unwind her companion. Uma was even more edgy today than usual.

“I thought I answered well,” Uma answered slowly, “but I also thought I sounded a bit nervous. Did you?”

“I thought the radio interview went better. I’m hoping that one plays, and they use someone else on the TV news.”

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Uma said. “You know, Cam complains I kick and punch him when I’m asleep.”

“That’s probably because you can’t when you’re awake,” Laurie said, laughing.

“True enough. He’s so calm and understanding, there are times I could wring his neck.”

“Pity Eddie hadn’t had some of Cam’s understanding,” Laurie said bitterly. Eddie had been Laurie’s husband for five fractious years, until he left her for a woman from out of town. “It got so I couldn’t say anything without him taking offence.”

“You and Eddie just weren’t suited,” Uma responded mechanically. It was the answer she always gave when the topic arose but sometimes she longed to tell it as she saw it. Uma could never quite decide if Laurie genuinely believed she’d been the victim of Eddie’s unreasonable criticism, or if she was looking for someone to contradict her so she could have a fight. What Uma remembered was Laurie taking offence at anything Eddie said and yelling at him on every public occasion.

“Obviously,” Laurie said, “or he wouldn’t have walked off with such a dog.”

Uma took the opportunity of searching for her ball to think about her response. Eddie’s new partner wasn’t as striking as Laurie, that was for sure, but she was attractive, kind and non-judgmental. The perfect antidote to the woman Laurie had become.

“Forget Eddie,” she said at last, “there are plenty of others for someone who looks as good as you.”

“I’m not going through all that again,” Laurie snorted. “From now on, it’s just me.”

“Good plan,” Uma agreed with a wry smile. She wasn’t convinced by Laurie’s statement but was pretty sure it was her friend’s best hope of a comfortable life.

They joined the men at Laurie’s ball before the conversation could grow any more awkward, from Uma’s point of view.

Uma ground her teeth and was pretty sure Laurie winced. Bill was kidding but they all knew it was true. She could only hope Laurie would also hit the green.

Bill’s shot looked so casual, it was as if he was deliberately not trying. It landed on the green, bounced once and rolled to a halt as though commanded.

Now Uma was sure she heard Laurie wince – and her teeth grinding in frustration. They all knew they’d be using Bill’s shots as often as they were allowed under the rules but the first one was going to be difficult.

Laurie’s shot was good, falling only yards short of the green. Cam’s overshot the green and Uma’s was also short.

“No pressure, ladies,” Cam said. “We need one of you to sink that putt to keep our male-female ratios good.” He was rather enjoying the sight of Uma and Laurie trying to be outwardly good while inwardly seething with resentment they daren’t show. At least, Uma daren’t show, if she hoped to have Bill open doors for her. Laurie might yet explode.

They all climbed on the cart and Uma drove them silently to the green. Even Bill, not generally the most sensitive of men, seemed to understand this was not a moment for a joke.

Laurie wiped her palms again. No pressure, she thought, no pressure. She drew deep breaths to slow her heart, which was racing under the intense scrutiny of three pairs of eyes. For Uma’s sake, and for her own pride, she had to sink this putt. She should have let Uma do it, was her thought as the ball rolled quickly, too quickly, off to the side. She’d misjudged the slope; she was sure she had. The ball began to curl back and she felt her fingernails driving deep into her palms, willing the ball to keep turning. Then it teetered, momentarily, on the edge of the hole and she thought she would die. When it fell out of sight, tears of joy pricked her eyes. She blinked them away rapidly.

Still pumped up by success, Laurie teed off first on the second hole. It was not a good shot. Her excitement got in the way of her preparation and the shot was short and way off center.

“Shit,” she exclaimed angrily. She glared at Bill, daring him to comment. When he didn’t, her anger spilled over.

Bill, who wasn’t aware he was even smiling, let alone grinning, protested, “I’m not grinning.”

Uma, realizing that Bill making a perfect shot right after could lead to actual bodily harm, said, “Cam, you’re up.”

Cam shrugged and placed his tee. He felt Uma was getting exactly what she deserved for organizing such a mad team and, worse, making him take part in it. Out of a sheer desire for mischief, he resolved to make this his best shot of the day. He prepared carefully and was delighted to see his desire fulfilled. The ball flew high and long, stopping beautifully on the fairway. Bill would hit it longer but not straighter, Cam felt.

Uma, thwarted in her intent of making Cam the scapegoat, was now placed in the awkward position of having to better Laurie’s shot to ensure the team had the option of a good ‘female’ ball. Unfortunately, her anxiety translated into a poor shot, too, and the two women were forced to endure a pitying silence as neither of the men was willing to offer commiseration.

Bill’s shot was, as always, excellent and after a brief discussion, his was chosen over Cam’s. Cam playing two good shots seemed to suggest they’d have more opportunities to use his later.

“We’re not waiting for you,” Uma said shortly. “We’ll all go on the cart.”

The journey was an uncomfortable one. Laurie’s expression was thunderous, Uma’s anxious, Bill’s perplexed, and Cam leaned back against the seat, smiling broadly. This couldn’t last and they still had sixteen holes to go.

Uma fumed in frustration, unable to vent her growing rage. She just knew Cam was planning some smartass way of saying ‘I told you so’.

“How do they know the teams are playing fair when it comes to best ball,” Bill asked.

“It’s a little thing called honesty, Bill,” Laurie snapped. “As a salesman, you won’t understand the term but in the wider world, it’s quite common.”

“We call ourselves ‘consultants’ in the financial world,” Bill said, reddening even as he tried to keep his cool, “and if we weren’t honest, folks wouldn’t keep coming back. It just seemed to me, the system is open to abuse. Nobody is checking our cards, for example.”

“So you think we should use only your shots now,” Laurie countered. “Is this what it’s all about?”

“Forget I asked,” Bill said evenly as Cam stopped the cart and they climbed out. “It was just conversation.”

“A very pointed question, I’d say,” Laurie continued, striding up to Bill and jabbing him hard in the chest with her finger. “We make a couple of weak shots and you want to dump us?”

“I never said anything of the sort,” Bill replied angrily. This was ridiculous; Laurie’s face was practically pressed against his and not in a nice way. He stepped back, only to come up against the cart.

Laurie followed, still jabbing her finger into his ribs. “So why now, huh? Why the question now?” she demanded, curiously aware, and triumphantly pleased, that her ‘esses’ were sprinkling Bill’s face with her spittle.

“Don’t give me orders,” Laurie practically screamed. “You may be a big shot in the financial world but you’re nothing here.” She pressed even closer until Bill pushed her away. That did it – all her pent up emotion erupted in a wide, ringing smack on the side of his face.

She was so wound up, she barely felt Bill’s hand grasp her upper arm and swing her around. She did, however, feel the flat of his hand landing on the seat of her shorts...

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