The Pink Caddy
an excerpt

Chapter 1

Being there on the highway, Wild Cats Strip Club to my right, and my dad steering the wheel to Hill River Country Club, I knew hell was near.

I truly felt my skin burning and the unnatural squish as I stepped on dead frogs. However, it was not hell fire I felt. It was the sun raining down on my too pale skin. The dead frogs were a combined affect of a bad swing with a five iron and whatever chemicals they put on the turf to make it look an alien green.

As my dad handed the Porsche keys to the valet, a young guy with a yuppie haircut, who I am sure stuck my head in the toilet the other Tuesday at school, I thought to myself that I might prefer hell. I bet James Dean would be there and Jim Morrison would sing in those tight leather pants of his.

“Dad, I will like never, ever forgive you if you make me go in there,” I whisper-yelled, as he grabbed me by my shoulder, forcing me into the exclusive country club.

“Jude, I never asked for anything,” he whisper-yelled back, as he dragged me through the entrance, which lead towards the locker room. “I never asked you to date a girl, never asked you to get a job, and never asked you to not flounce around like a fucking Fairy God Mother.”

He stopped in a corridor near the men's bathroom, looking around to make sure we were actually alone before he continued his speech. “All I ask you, no, I beg you; don't embarrass me.”

“How do you propose I do that, father dearest?” I grounded out in anger. “Does that mean that I can't jerk off John Henderson's son on the ninth, while you get a bear and chicken salad sandwich, or should I wait until we go into the bathroom?”

“At this point, I don't care if you have to pretend the putter is a jock's cock,” he hissed at me. “You could make believe that with every puff of those expensive Cuban cigars you're sucking Mike Benjamin, and every time Ron, Jr. is taking a swing, you could stare at his ass. Just get it done!”

I looked up at my dad with a raised eyebrow. There was no way I could top that, but there was no way in hell I was going to take it. So, with a smile of pure innocence and a voice sugary sweet, I said, “Don't worry, I'll get it done. I just need to go to the bathroom.” With that, I slipped into the men's room, hurriedly, and locked the door behind me.

Chapter 2

I didn't even remember parking my car. Fucking hell, I didn't know how I was even walking after that party. Doubling over in the gazebo window, I placed my head under the water cooler. With a press of the blue tab, I let the water run down my sweaty head and neck.

“Thank you, God,” I moaned obscenely. “Through my journey in the desert, you have led me to water.”

“Get your fucking head away from the tap before you contaminate the water.” I whipped my head up, and splashed water on a very angry Indian, who was still cursing, “Oh, for fuck sake. Jesús, you’re still drunk, aren't you?”

The sun chose that moment to torture me with its full glory, so through half lidded eyes, I shook my head. “No, man, I'm just hung over like a son-of-a-bitch,” I groaned, rubbing at my abused temples.
“Rishi, I think I'm gonna die.”

“Then go home and sleep it off. Come back tomorrow and stop bothering me,” Rishi whined, trying to pretend he was getting back to work, like he had anything to do besides kiss rich guys' asses.

“I can't go anywhere. I need money; I need some loops.” I shrugged, trying to wake myself up. I looked around, and tried to spot the good golf bags that weren't taken yet.

“Dude, it's already eight. We're having a father-son tournament. There is no way in hell you’re getting anything today.” Rishi tried reprimanding me like I was a fucking child.

“Come on, Caddy Master. Do a favor for an old pal, amigo, compadre,” I singsong, and tried not to be bitter. Rishi was only a few years older than me, and last year he had been a caddy himself. Now he strutted around treating the rest of us like his butt boys. I hate begging.

He eyed me for half a minute before he yelled out for one of the little caddy girls. I watched as four of the girls, who were already perched on the fence cleaning the clubs in their bags, all came over like ducks in a row.

Rishi had only called one of them, but they were all part of the Michael Anchor Scholarship and we were all competing for the same Duke Hudson Caddy Scholarship for college. They were like a fucking union, those MAS girls.

“Blanca, are you still feeling sick?” Rishi asked her, and with her nod he went on. “Okay, Jesús is going to take your golfer. You could wait in the caddy shack.”

“He doesn't have on a white shirt, dude. How is he going to caddy, without a shirt?” One of the girls asked and I looked down at my black “Sex Is Good” shirt. Fuck, why didn't I remember to get a white fucking shirt?

There was a good two minute awkward silence as we looked around. Almost like bulls to red, we all looked at Blanca. She had on an overly large, white uniform shirt. She didn't need it, since she wasn't caddying but fuck if I was going to say anything. It took me only a few seconds to figure out I didn't have to.

“Blanca, take off your shirt,” the same girl, I think her name was Maria, said. A golfer passed by at that moment and looked at us weirdly, before walking away in fast steps.

It only took Rishi a second to respond after that. “Okay, get the hell away from my gazebo,” he ordered. “Get back to the freaking fence.”

As the girls walked back, each with a curse under their breath, I looked at Rishi, forlorn as shit.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” I asked in exasperation, and with a whine coming from the back of my throat, I continued, “I can't go back to my house. That's ten fucking miles away.”

“Stop bitching and get in here,” Rishi barked out, looking around before going to a dark corner in the gazebo.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” I whispered, confused, as I came in and watched Rishi take off his shirt.
“Shut up and take off your shirt,” he commanded, and the only thing that went through my mind as I took off my shirt was, “This is so wrong!”

He threw his loose shirt at my head and I caught it, while throwing my own shirt at Rishi.

“Yeah, baby, take it off,” I snapped my head to the side, realizing the fucking MAS girls had been watching for God knows how long. Now they were giggling, catcalling, whistling, and this is when I new the humiliation had only begun.

“Get back to the fence or none of you are getting a loop,” Rishi yelled, his face beat red. He then turned back to me. “You so fucking owe me for this.”

“And I will so pay you back somehow,” I pledged, while putting on his shirt. “Dude, a little advise from one guy to another: stay away from the AXE.”

I was expecting some kind of comeback, but as I looked at his dark face, smiling at me a bit too nicely, I became worried.

“Rishi, who am I caddying for?” I asked, my suspicion rising.

“Crawford,” he said, hurriedly, and then let out a giggle, a true fucking girlish giggle. This was not good.

“You mean senior Crawford?” I asked, but I could fucking already tell the omen was in the air.

“Nope, it’s Crawford, Jr.” He said, and then gave the most evil grin. He rolled his eyes and delicately bit his lip before fucking lisping out, “I hear he's fabulous.”

With that, he threw me out of the gazebo, laughing like a fucking maniac.” Just my fucking luck,” I thought. I have to caddy for a prancing little fairy that probably has a swing worth shit. My hangover was so not leaving anytime soon.