Page 113 of Anyone But Her

"Maybe I don't want it rented out. If it's my house I get to decide what happens to it."

"Okay, then." He nods and laughs to himself. "You know what's funny?"

I don't respond.

"The other day your mom was flipping through the channels and she stopped on that golf channel you always used to watch. They were doing a story on what it takes to be a golfer. How to do what you're trying to do. Make money at it."

"That's not why I'm—"

"Anyway, they went over all these rules. Apparently you can get in big trouble if you don't follow the rules, even if you're just one of them guys that plays but doesn't get money. That's you, right? What's that called?"

"An amateur."

"Amateur. That was it. So after the show I went online and looked up all the rules. Did you know you're not allowed to take money from anyone?"

"Yes, which is why I never have."

"You see, that's where you're wrong. That old man you lived with paid for you to golf until the day he died. Isn't that right?"

I keep quiet.

He comes closer, getting right up in my face. "If I tell the right people that the old man paid your expenses I could ruin any chance you have to play in the big leagues."

My heart is pounding, partly from anger, partly from fear. I know the rules and I was careful not to break them, but what if I did? Albert gave me money for doing chores around the house and I'd use that money for tournaments but does that qualify as breaking the rules? It shouldn't, but what if it did?

What if my dad is right? What if I broke the rules without realizing it?

"Why would you do that?" I ask. "Why would you try to take away what I've worked my whole life for?"

"Listen, kid, I really don't give a shit what you do as long as you pay back your mom and me for all that we've done for you."

I take deep breaths through my nose, a technique I use to calm myself down during tournaments but it's not calming me now. I don't think anything would. Not when my dad's threatening to take it all away. Everything I've worked for.

"If I had the money," I say. "If Albert left me some and I gave it to you, it wouldn't be enough. You'd keep asking for more. It would never end."

"That's how it should be. Your mom and I used our money to raise you and now you turn around and pay us back. You support us during our golden years."

"That's not how it works."

"Well." He gives me a smile. "I'll let you get on with your day. I'm staying with a friend tonight here in town. We're going to one of the casinos. If you want to talk some more, give me a call. Oh, and—" He pulls out a scrap of paper and hands it to me. "There's the number for the lawyer." He gives me a wink, then walks past me. "Good seeing you, son."

I watch as he goes to the other side of the parking lot and gets in his truck. He drives off and I look down at the scrap of paper. There's a name and a number. I call the number but get a voicemail message saying the guy's out of town today and won't be checking messages until tomorrow. I leave a message, asking him to call me.

As I'm driving home my phone rings. It's Taylor.

"Taylor, I'm really sorry. I'm running late."

"It's fine. I was just worried when you didn't show you. Is everything okay?"

"No. It's definitely not okay."

"What happened?"

"I just talked to my dad. He's here in town. He was waiting for me in the parking lot."

"What did he want?"

"Money. That's all he ever wants."

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