Page 17 of Alfie: Part Two

He puffed out a breath and stuck his club back in his bag. “I should’ve had you next to me at the range instead. You’re telling me the opposite of what so many others are saying.”

“I’m telling you what I’ve observed from the pros on the Tour,” I chuckled. “Watch them. They never pull back slowly.”

“Good to know. If only golf weren’t so damn boring to watch.”

I laughed. “It really fucking is.”

We grabbed our carts and started our walk down the fairway, which took us away from nearby members and activity. In other words, I wanted to speak more freely too.

“Alfie promised me manipulation,” I said. “Has it begun?”

He laughed through his nose and side-eyed me. “Not yet. I warned him that I was going to be selfish first.”

“Selfish, how?”

“By actually making it aboutgolf,” he chuckled. “No one in my family shares my interest in the sport, and I’m trying to get back to it with more regularity. I’m two years past a long hiatus,and it would be nice to meet up with someone close to my age for a round or two every week. Kellan offered, but I like my clubs too much.”

I grinned and slowed down as we reached his ball. “Plus, he doesn’t remember a time before the internet?”

He tapped his nose, then grabbed his 7 iron.

This time, he didn’t struggle. His ball landed close to where mine was, and our walk continued.

“I suppose I could begin now,” he mused.

“Just in time for you to fuck up my game.”

He laughed at that.

I smiled and got one of my wedges ready, and I had to admit I was enjoying myself. Shan was fun. More often than not, I played with work associates or friends I had in common with my family, and they were usually older and dreadfully boring. The other times, I just played alone.

The mobster was kind enough to let me take my shot first, and I watched my ball roll closer and closer to the pocket. The green slanted a little to the east right there, so I knew it was going to take another shot, but one under par wasn’t too shabby.

“I hope Alfie told you it’s not a vicious act of manipulation,” Shan said. “It’s more about me telling you things from my perspective. From the inside of our organization.”

I scratched my jaw. “He mentioned wanting to be honest because it’s not going to be a fair approach to win someone back.”

He inclined his head and positioned himself for his next shot. “Our priest used the same tactic when my daughter-in-law was on the fence about my son.”

I felt my eyebrows crawl higher. “An actual priest?”

He concentrated on his play before he nodded and stood straighter. Time for our putters to get some action.

“It’s quite simple, West,” he told me. “Emilia is my son’s heart, much like you are Alfie’s.”

My steps faltered on the green, and I glanced over at him.

“Without his wife around, Finn doesn’t necessarily take on bigger risks, but he does lose his ability to empathize,” he went on. “He becomes colder and less compassionate. He may be the boss of the Sons of Munster, but it’s Emilia’s warmth that makes him the man others respect. If she hadn’t been around, the members would certainly fear him—and, one day, presumably bring him down. As the story always goes with dictators.”

It’s quite simple, West.

None of that sounded simple. In theory, perhaps.

“Now,” he said, “a sane person would argue that it’s up to each individual adult to make their choices—and stand by them. What Alfie does is his choice. But the fact remains, he will likely be more compassionate and empathic with you by his side.”

That truly was an asshole tactic to put on someone’s shoulders.

I grabbed my putter and stepped onto the green, and I shook my head to myself. He was literally telling me that Alfie would be a kinder mobster if I gave us another chance. And if I stuck by my principles and made us both miserable for the rest of our lives, he was likelier to become more ruthless.

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