“To the practice area.”
Oh.“Isn’t it closed?”
The Englishman gave a quick look at his watch—an Ademars Piguet, Reggie noticed with a little envy.
“It closes in twenty minutes or so. That will be enough time to show you what I want to.”
Reggie felt even more agitated. And also stoked, verystoked. Everything was so magical: he felt like a bum transformed into someone else as if by magic. Eliza Doolittle with a golf club.
Okay, he was a young man, not a charming lady, but the scenario was the same, more or less…
They reached the practice area in a few minutes. Russell parked across the green and jumped out. Reggie followed without ever looking away from him.
“Hey, Joe,” the Englishman called to the man at reception, who had a mustache that would make Wyatt Earp envious.
“Good evening, Mr. Lee,” Joe answered.
For real, everybody knows him, Reggie thought, smiling.
“Can we hit a couple of putts?” Russell asked, heading for the putting green without waiting for an answer.