Description: With wads of time on their hands at the sleazy Hotel Bexley, Glenn Sabine focuses on winning Augusta National with his greatly improved putting skills. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. Who in the world would dare interrupt the most important game of his life?
Eve Goes to New York. PART 11.
The night had dragged on and on. For Glenn Sabine, what else was there to do but focus on his game? The last thing he wanted to do was to engage in a conversation with his half-witted assistant. Plus, his putting skill was showing minor improvement. In fact, he had almost even made one in the glass. Once he had dinged the rim and he was about to jump for joy until the blasted buzzard rolled off to the side and he almost lost his faculties.
Just as he was about to toss the bleeding golf club through the dingy glass window, he stopped himself. He fixed his hair, swiping the greasy crop across his forehead, as he took a deep breath. It wasn’t worth giving up. Not now. He had already putted 256 times at that little glass and missed each one. He was damned if he was going to blow his last four attempts. Just one more … This would be the game changer. The difference between Arnold Palmer and Glenn Sabine. Lining it up… steady now…
Just then, there was a knock at the door. It couldn’t be room service. He had already maxed out his tab from the front desk.
“Get it, will you, Pike?” he said, looking that golf ball square in the eye.
“Yeah,” mumbled Pike as he opened the door.
No one in the whole wide world was going to distract him from this putt. It was like the entire course at Augusta National had gone silent, the spectators holding their breath, and even the birds pausing to watch … and wait.
“Well!” Pike cried out cheerfully. “Fancy meeting the likes of you in a dump like this.”
Sabine was vaguely interested in who Pike was talking so buoyantly with. It certainly couldn’t have been room service.
“Who is it?” Sabine asked with intense concentration on his putt.
When he turned his head, he was immediately struck with a combination of awe and embarrassment. It was Eve’s sister! Juliet Jones! The mayor! And here? No, she couldn’t be here now…
“Oh!” Sabine half-choked down his saliva. “Miss Jones! Well, please come in! Pike, pull up a chair for Ms. Jones.”
“And what for you, Master?” Pike asked with an air of contemptuous sarcasm. “The decanter of smelling salts?”
Seriously, Glenn would never get this guy’s sense of humor in a hundred years.
