It was after one o’clock when Frank returned to the main house. He could smell something cooking. Seemed to be more Mexican specialties. He went to the glass doors leading to the pool. The three men were still in the water, empty beer bottles on the tiles alongside three separate lounge chairs.
Bryce Parker was floating on an inflatable raft in the middle of the blue water. He saw Frank and waved him out. Frank went out into the heat and took a seat at a round table with an umbrella over it, having had enough sun for the day.
“Grab yourself a beer, Frank. Lunch should be ready any minute,” Parker said. “Maria is fixing us a batch of carne seca. Ever had it before?”
“Never even heard of it before.”
“It means dried meat, Frank,” Richards said, climbing out of the pool.
“Dried meat?”
“It’s made with beef jerky, you’ll love it,” Parker said. “Maria is a fantastic cook. Nothing dry about it when she gets finished.”
Frank nodded his head. “The huevos rancheros yesterday were excellent.”
Parker rolled off the raft into the water and submerged, surfacing a few seconds later blowing water and pushing his hair out of his eyes.
Larry Richards was stretched out on a yellow chaise. He was tan compared to Frank, but not as dark as the other two.
Clayton Cook climbed out of the water, lifted a beer bottle from the edge of the pool and approached Frank’s table. “Decide if you were going to stay or not, Mr. Frank?”
“Yeah, I think I’ll stay for one more day. Take you up on your offer of dinner.”
“Great,” Cook said. “What about golf?” He executed a golf swing, clicking his tongue to mimic the sound of club striking ball.
“I was thinking maybe that I should caddy. I’ve got some experience with that. My game would be a disaster, slow you guys down waiting for me.”
Cook said, “You want to carry a heavy golf bag in this heat, man? You in need of atonement or something? Fulfilling some purgatorial duty, perhaps? Punishment for deeds unkind?”
He was. But they didn’t need to know that. “I was thinking more along the lines of driving the cart.”
“I suppose we can arrange that. But foursomes are much better than threesomes. On the golf course, anyway. You and I can partner against Bryce and Larry. What’s your handicap?”
“Having to swing the club. I’m horseshit at golf, plain and simple. Baseball—now there’s something I can do.”
“C’mon, man. No pressure, no responsibility, no worries. Right up your alley. We’ll play best ball. That way any bad shots you hit won’t cause us any harm, and if you do catch hold of one, we can make it count. After, we’ll take you to the batting cage.”
Frank figured there’d be gambling. And he couldn’t tolerate losing money to these rich guys. But he didn’t want to admit it; didn’t want to be seen as a piker. “I’ll give it some thought,” he said.
Bryce Parker was toweling off at poolside. “Lunch is served, gentlemen,” he said.
Frank glanced through the glass doors and saw Humberto walking toward the dining room.
(End of Chapter 19)
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