Truth or Dare

By the time the impromptu foursome made it to the green, the tension was tighter than a Delta blues combo in a New Orleans dive bar. Masie missed her birdie putt on purpose so that Ben could ask Josh for a truth instead of her. After Josh sank his bogey, she said, “Why don’t you ride with Marty and let Ben ride with me? Otherwise, I’ll walk the course.”

Ben smiled and said, “Watch out, I may steal her from you.”

“I’m not his to steal,” Masie replied. “And it’s rumored that I can handle myself.”

“Tell me more, tell me more.” Ben mimicked the “Summer Nights” chorus from Grease and hopped into the cart with Josh. “You heard the lady. Saddle up with Marty before we have to let someone play through.”

Two carts pulled up on the green before they left for the second tee, chanting, “Phi Alpha! Alicazee! Phi Alpha! Alicazee! Rah! Rah! Rah! SAE!

Masie rolled her eyes so hard she saw some of her brain cells die. “Great, the same assholes everywhere are here. No way in hell are they playing through.”

“Careful,” Ben responded. “Marty was an SAE at Carolina.”

Masie rolled her eyes again. “Figures. Talk about par for the fucking course.”

Ben took a swig of his beer and watched Marty exchange secret handshakes and raised an eyebrow at Masie. “Hmmm, Chi O? There’s no way you could tolerate a house full of Tri Delts.”

“As if,” Masie replied. “I completed my formal studies when I graduated from high school, unless you want to count that art class I took in Florence when I was bumming around the continent.”

Marty and Josh accepted the bottle of Jack passed to them, Marty taking a respectful sip before Josh took a healthy swig and said, “The brothers of Delta Tau Delta thank you for sharing libations with the enemy, but y’all can’t play through. Besides, you’ll enjoy watching Masie line up her putts.”

A few gauzy cumulus clouds began to form over the tree line, and cicadas and gulls shrieked in the distance.

“There’s our cue,” Marty said as Masie and Ben drove away in Josh’s cart. “We’ll see you fellas on the next green.”

On the second tee, Ben said, “All right, Josh. Time for some truth. What do you put in that chicken marinade that Marty’s been raving about for five years?”

Masie jumped in. “He’s not at liberty to disclose that information.” She turned to Josh. “Unless you have some new recipe and don’t use mine anymore.”

Josh turned several shades of red while Marty observed like he would be tested on it later that weekend.

“Garlic and a blend of secret ingredients,” he replied.

Ben burst out laughing and raised his beer to Josh. “You ever think about a career in politics? If you can handle reporters like that, you should run for the Senate when you’re old enough.”

Masie laughed with him, then whispered, “I have an idea.”

They walked back to the cart, and Masie said, “How about we let Marty win this one? I’m curious to see what kind of dare he’ll give Josh. If you do this for me, I’ll let you up the ante on the par threes.”

When Masie teed up, Josh said, “What happened to the ladies’ tee?”

“I got a feel for these clubs on the first hole—they remind me of the set I rented at Pebble, which I’ll mention in my review. Besides, I’m not giving any of you ammunition for whining when I finish taking you to school on the short bus.”

She approached the tee and knocked the ball into the sky without a warm up swing, holding her form for three Mississippis.

Josh didn’t slice this time, and when they drove down the fairway, all four balls were positioned well in close range of each other. Masie pulled the seven iron out of her bag while the men placed their markers on the sunny fairway.

When she approached her ball, Josh cocked his head at her. “Since when do you play it safe?”

Masie gestured left and right. “The beach is the only place I want to get in sand and water, but go ahead and pull your three, hotshot.”

“Don’t let her intimidate you, Josh. Overshooting this one ain’t easy to recover from.”

“Ben’s right, Josh. You’re in better position undershooting this one. You’ll see when we get on the green.

They all shot with seven irons for easy layups on the green, but when they reached it in their carts, only three balls were there. Masie winked at Ben and set off for the left bunker. The fraternity carts, Carolina banners blazing, coasted down the fairway and stopped. The boys got out and marked their balls, then drove up to the green in time to see Masie chip out of the bunker onto the far edge of the green. She knelt to place her marker and a chorus of wolf whistles announced the SAEs’ presence on the green. She shook her head and walked over to Ben, who discreetly elbowed her and said, “I’m impressed,” out of the corner of his mouth.

“You think Marty can birdie this?” He continued , “He’ll be suspicious if I bogey.”

“If he can’t, we can decide then how to handle a tie—two winners or a tie breaker. Go ahead and par it, but don’t birdie.”

“What if he bogeys and Josh birdies?”

Masie smiled slowly under her ball cap. “That might be even more interesting, come to think of it.”