Providence Noir by Ann Hood

Author:Ann Hood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2015-04-05T16:00:00+00:00

$1,000 NASSAU

BY THOMAS COBB

Triggs Memorial Golf Course

He was on the third tee at Triggs Memorial when he slid his left thumb to the right side of the grip, strengthening it. He swung hard, a little harder than usual, and watched the ball come off the tee, sailing upward and out before it started to draw to the left as he wanted, then turn harder, through the trees and over the chain-link fence and onto College Road. “Shit.”

“Your little draw grew up, didn’t it?” Victor said. “And looks like it ran away from home.”

He shook his head slowly. “It does that sometimes.”

“Looks like it wanted to go to college,” Don said. “Can’t blame it. Lots of pretty girls over there.”

Bobby took another Titleist from his pocket, teed it up, regripped the club, sliding his thumb back to the center of the grip, and sent the ball down the right side of the fairway, drawing back to the middle. “Why didn’t I do that the first time?” he said, anticipating the likely response. He walked off the tee and watched Don and Victor send shots down the middle, Don’s twenty yards short of his, Victor’s back another ten or twenty yards. “Good shots,” he said. “All of us.”

“Except we’re lying one and you’re lying three.”

“That’s okay,” Bobby said. “I’m all right.”

“You all right to increase the bet?” Don asked.

“I don’t know if I feel that good.”

“You think he’s playing, us, Vic?”

“First bad shot he’s hit, Don.”

Don went to his bag, took out a cigar case, extracted a cigar, already unwrapped, clipped the end, and lit it, expertly toasting it to get an even light.

“That smells good.”

“Because it is good. Montecristo No. 2. Straight from Havana, Cuba.”

“Nice,” Bobby said. “Hard to come by.”

“Nothing’s hard to come by if you have the right connections. I have the right connections. You want one?”

Bobby hesitated, tempted. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Don nodded. “On the bet too?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“A thousand.”

Bobby paused, waiting to make sure the hook was set. He had been on the practice green for over an hour when Don and Victor showed up. They were older guys, well dressed, good equipment. He figured a grand each for the outfits and shoes, more than that in the bags. He had watched them chip and putt as he did too, for about fifteen minutes, before he went into the clubhouse to see if he could be sent out with them.

He had been through a rough couple of weeks, blocking tee shots for some reason he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He had been playing in Connecticut and Massachusetts. A fellow at a course in Massachusetts had told him about Triggs in western Providence, a Donald Ross course, once the Providence Country Club, now a public course with a lot of old money and a lot of old egos.

He was broke and he needed a score, and Triggs Memorial seemed like the place. He had played it three times earlier in the week, his swing gradually straightening out, and figured he knew the course well enough to make a play.

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