Tiffany and Coach Kowalski found seats at the main table of the board room near where Jericho Parr was standing and waiting for the staff to settle down before starting the meeting. Bag boys, waitstaff, and other club employees sat in chairs around the table or on the floor, and a few stood and leaned against the walls.
Jericho Parr had made a pretty speech to the membership outside about all of his big plans for Newcastle Golf Club, but as his plans had become bigger and bigger, Tiffany’s suspicions had grown.
Jericho talked about re-digging the bunkers and filling them with fresh, high-grade sand.
Fluffy, he’d said.
He pointed to the roof of the clubhouse as he talked about maintenance that had been deferred but would now be completed.
He talked about formal dinners and white-tie balls for members and other exclusive benefits that would expand their membership rolls.
All that sounded like it would cost a lot of money, and Newcastle Golf Club didn’t have any money.
Jericho Parr did emphasize, however, that their bounced paychecks would be covered by the end of the day, at which point the entire staff breathed a sigh of relief and calmed down.
Tiffany was not calm.
If Tiffany got any more worked up, she was going to find herself clinging to the ceiling by her fingernails and screeching at him.
She must’ve been grinding her teeth or something because Coach Kowalski patted her fingers clenched into a fist around the arms of her chair and surreptitiously whispered as he pretended to look behind them and said, “It’ll be okay.”
After the meeting ended, Jericho stood by the door and shook hands with the staff as they filed out.
Tiffany stuck out her hand and shook his firmly like her military daddy had taught her to do while looking him straight in the eye. “I’d like to discuss your plans for the club in more detail.”
His hand swallowed hers.
Tiffany was not a tiny little woman like her cousin Asia was. Men’s hands didn’t usually engulf her hand like that.
But she didn’t usually have to look up quite so far to make eye contact with a guy, either.
“I would appreciate your insight on my plans,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “How about we play a round?”
Her jaw dropped again. “I am not that type of—”
Coach Kowalski stepped forward. “Now, you see here, young man. Just because—”
“I mean golf,” Jericho said, chuckling and squeezing his eyes shut like he was embarrassed. “I mean, would you like to play a round of golf tomorrow on the course to discuss your insights for the club?”
“Oh,” Coach Kowalski said.
“Oh.” Tiffany’s mind had immediately gone to maybe playing around with Jericho. Maybe she was the one with inappropriate ideas. “I’ll arrange tee times for tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock?”
“Perfect,” Jericho said, and his mischievous smile was back.