18th hole

A short story • 5 min | Malik whips his club through the air, each swing more vicious than the last

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Malik whips his club through the air, each swing more vicious than the last. Andy scans the fairway, shielding his eyes. A golf ball rests at the front of the tee box.

“You might hit the group ahead again,” Andy says.

“Just keeping my rhythm,” Malik says. 

“I think we got some time.”

Malik grounds his club. “We’re losing daylight.”

Their shadows stretch across the grass, as they watch golfers’ errant shots in the fairway ahead.

Image generated by DALL-E

“They cling to the old way of doing things. We could take over,” Andy says.

“It’s not a no. I got the itch to do something. It could work,” Malik says.

“Like that lucky putt back there.”

“Lucky is better than good. Last hole and we’re tied.” Malik takes a deep breath. “Be ready to pay up soon.”

“I still have honors.”

Malik steps back, holding out an open palm.

Andy steps up. “Looks like we can swing away.” He tees up his ball at the other edge of the box. “Think about it, Malik.” He steps back, takes one practice swing, and approaches the ball. He hits it high and far.

“Nice shot,” Malik says.

Andy watches his ball land in the middle of the fairway. “It’s a great chance to come on board, make some noise.”

Malik resumes his practice routine. He aims his club forward, lashes through the air a few times, and approaches his ball. He hits a low bullet, rolling just past Andy’s ball.

“There we go,” Malik says. “Where’s that been all day?”

They put their clubs back into their bags. A breeze blows from behind, rustling fallen leaves scattered across the course.

“I appreciate the opportunity,” Malik says, both arms extended above his head.

“By the way, they didn’t hassle you did they?”

“Nah, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Cool,” Andy says.

They walk towards their balls. Crows caw in the trees above.

“With your background,” Andy says, “I know we could grow fast. We start with young people and novices. They crave something to break through the minefield of gatekeepers and how-to articles.”

“They want to get paid,” Malik says.

“Don’t we all?” Andy says.

“A podcast could work.”

“One of my speeches went viral last year, still gets views. We can piggyback off that.”

Malik taps his chin with his fingers. “We’d have a good dynamic, entertaining. Different perspectives. ”

“I can interview guests from my network,” Andy says. 

“What do we call it? Something like ‘Pocket Talk’?” Malik says.

“Catchier, like, ‘Show Me the Money’”

"'Show Me the Money,' with Malik and Andy. This could blow up. Branch out to merch, videos. We can create a new breakout brand.”

Andy holds out his hand. “First, we leverage my name. There’s traction, an existing audience. We build a strong foundation around that.”

Malik looks away at the trees lining the course. “Sure.”

They reach Andy’s ball. Malik walks to his ball a few yards away.

Andy grabs an iron from his bag. “I’m just going to lay up.”

Malik grabs the same club he used on his first shot. “The green is clear. Do your thing. I’m going for it.”

Andy grips his club, waggles, and punches his ball down the fairway. It rests a few yards from the green.

Malik goes through his pre-shot routine again and steps to his ball. He winds up, swings, and launches the ball high, curving to the right. “Damn, lost it. It’s getting dark.”

“I see it,” Andy says, “rolled into that bunker by the green.”

“High risk, high reward.” Malik grins. “That’s alright. Par five, extra stroke.”

“Have you ever tried those yellow balls? Easier to see.”

Malik waves his hand. “Distraction. I’ll be fine up there. I’ll find it.”

They put away their clubs and grab jackets from their bags. As they continue down the fairway, the sun hides beneath the orange hue of the horizon.

“The new platforms today allow you to think much bigger,” Malik says. “We could approach it like an umbrella media brand. Feels pretty straightforward.”

Andy rubs the back of his neck. “Totally agree on the brand potential.”

“Right! It’s fascinating how this stuff works. Kind of simple when you think about it.”

“Eh, it’s hard work,” Andy says. “Some relationships are necessary. I’ve learned that much.”

“Really? It seems like we could build it from the ground up.” 

“We need to line up some up front discussions, focus on good guests to generate some buzz.”

“That feels unnecessarily slow. We could just whip it up this weekend and go for it.”

Andy grabs a new club from his bag. He brushes dirt off the club and wipes it with a towel.

“What do you think?” Malik says.

“You should take a look at the blueprint I put together,” Andy says. “We cement my brand and connections instead of spreading too thin. Imagine the team we can form around that foundation.”

“Yeah. I got you.”

“Alright, time to focus on my shot here. I’ll see you on the green.”

Malik shuffles into the large sand trap to find his ball.

Andy chips his ball onto the green. It rolls past the hole by a few feet.

“Watch out, Malik! I’ve been playing this game a long time.” Andy pulls out his putter and waits.

Malik digs his cleats into the sand. He rears back and pounds the ground behind his ball. It sails high, trailed by a wall of dispersed sand, stopping a few feet from the hole.

Malik rakes the sand in the bunker. “I don’t think I heard you, bro. It feels like I’m always closer to the hole.”   

“Drive for show, putt for dough,” Andy says.

Malik goes to his ball on the green. “Your money belongs in my pocket. Thank you in advance for my drink in the clubhouse.”

Andy surveys the contours of the green. “We’ll see.”

Malik squats behind his ball. 

Andy counts the strides between his ball and the hole. He straddles the grass, swaying side to side.

Malik rises. He waits with one hand in his pocket, the other leaned on his putter. He taps his foot.

Andy stands behind his ball. He looks back and forth a few times between the ball and the hole.

Malik checks his watch.

Andy addresses his ball, and hits it to the hole. The ball stops a foot short.

“Dammit!” Andy says. He lifts the cap from his head.

Malik addresses his ball, looks up and down, and hits his ball a foot past the hole.

Andy lets out a breath and whistles, placing the cap back on his head.

“Good, good?” Malik says.

“Sure.” 

They pocket their balls and walk off the green.

“Grab a beer?” Malik says.

“I got to head back, take care of a few things. We’ll talk.”

“Yeah.”

They pack up their separate cars and drive out of the parking lot.

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