Out of Bounds Read online

Bradford had “honors” and selected 5-wood. The third hole was a severe dogleg left with tall pine trees bordering both sides of the fairway. A tee shot between 180 –220 yards would leave a short iron into a small green. Anything longer or hooked left or short of the dogleg, is dead. The third hole is all about accuracy and little about length. He tried to cut the corner in his last practice round and caught a tree, and was forced to pitch out to get a view of the green. Today he overcompensated and barely caught the right side of the fairway leaving a 175 yard second shot into the green.

  Buzz split the middle of the fairway with a 4-iron and rolled just inside the 150-yard marker. “I’m glad I didn’t use a 5-wood, it would have been way too much club.” Buzz spoke to no one in particular, but his message was clear.

  Dave thought of what Ken would be telling him if he were here. “Play within yourself. Your opponent is the golf course, not Buzz.” Good advice, but difficult to remember sometimes.

  Dave’s 4-iron barely made the front of the green. Buzz’s 8-iron was pin high, seven feet from the hole; advantage Buzz. Dave’s 35-foot uphill putt came to rest about three feet from the hole. He was tempted to putt out before he had a chance to get nervous, but decided to mark and put pressure on Buzz to make birdie.

  As Buzz lined up his putt, Bradford thought back again to that first night at the club.

  Dave and Mary followed Buzz to his table where he made the introductions. “Everybody, I would like you to meet a new member, Dave Bradford, and his friend, Mary Cadence. What’s it been, Dave, six months or so since you joined?” Dave nodded and Buzz went on with the introduction.

  “This is my good friend, Jill. Mary, you might have seen Jill on the tennis courts. The women greeted each other warmly. “To Jill’s left are Mario and Gigi Hernandez from Miami; Fred and Judy Shelton who own a few restaurants in the area; and Bill and Ginny Martin. Bill and his wife Ginny happen to own this fine establishment. Grab a couple chairs and let’s get you a drink.

  Dave and Mary squeezed in between Buzz and Judy Shelton, ordered a beer and a KJ chardonnay. It was a gregarious group and they made the newcomers feel welcome. With ten people, there were usually at least two or three conversations going on simultaneously. The men were talking football with Mario trying to defend the Miami Dolphins against Buzz and Bill who were Tampa Bucs season ticket holders. It was comical.

  Buzz: “Tampa has the best defense in football, bar none. Defensive line, linebacker, defensive backs; name one weakness.”

  Mario: “The defense needs to be good, because the offense never scores. The best you can hope for is a zero-zero tie. Besides, Miami’s stats are much better; points allowed, defense against the run, you name it. What did the Eagles call them after they wiped them in the playoffs last year; ‘paper champions’? They remind me of consultants; they keep telling us how good it’s going to be but never deliver. Everyone is a pre-season all pro but you never get past the first round of the playoffs.”

  Bill: “At least our quarterback doesn’t throw five interceptions.”

  Mario: “Your best quarterback was color blind. He never threw an interception; he just threw to the wrong jersey and never knew it.”

  Bill: “Let’s can the Testaverde jokes. He’s with the Jets. Good riddance.”

  “What do you think Dave,” Fred asked? “Are you a Bucs fan?”

  Dave was on the spot and he knew it. Being from Wisconsin, it didn’t take a genius to figure where his heart was. Green Bay Packer fans are as loyal as they come. Not only was there the Packer tradition, Brett Favre was the best quarterback in football and the most fun to watch. He drives you crazy with his interceptions, but no Packer fan would trade him for any other. Dave decided to side step the question if possible; “I’m a new Buc fan and are hoping to see a few games this year. My company has thought about using them to entertain clients, but tickets are hard to come by. Does anybody know where we could pick up some decent seats?”

  “Call me Monday” Fred offered. “I might know where you could get some tickets, or better yet, you could beg Bill for an invitation. I heard he has a luxury box, although I have never been invited, so it might just be a rumor.”

  “I invited you three times and you always have some lame excuse, like you had plans to go fishing. With all the grouper and bass you claim to have caught, I have never been offered any. I’m still eating salmon from Publix.”

  “You let me know when you want to go and I will hand deliver your invitation. That goes for you too, Dave; just let me know and I will get you an invite. In fact, I know we have at least four tickets available for the Rams a week from Sunday. What do you say, Fred? Dave? Are you game?”

  “You can count me in,” Dave replied. “Sounds great.”

  “Fred, how about you?”

  “I’m not sure we can make it, Bill. I think Ginny’s rose garden club is getting together that day. Besides, are the Rams any good this year? I heard their offense is hurting. It sounds like a pretty boring game. May I bring a book?”

  Bill was getting upset, until Buzz piped in; “Fred, you are so full of it. You had us going until you asked to bring a book. Everyone knows that all you ever read are menus or wine lists. You haven’t read a book in 20 years.”

  Fred, who was a little portly, burst out laughing, holding his ample waist line to reduce the jiggling. “Bill. I thought you were going to cry. Tell you what; it’s a great offer, Judy and I would be glad to come on one condition. Let me cater the halftime buffet from one of my Shells restaurants. I will put on a seafood spread that will make your mouth water just looking at it.”

  “It’s a deal, Fred. It looks like this is as close as I’ll get to tasting fresh seafood. Just let my secretary know what you need in the way of set-ups. All the beverages are already there.”

  “How about if I bring the wine?” Bradford asked. “I just joined this new wine club and it would be fun to select a few whites and light reds to compliment the menu.”

  Bill wouldn’t hear of it. “You are our guests, and besides, I’ve been to Fred’s restaurant and his seafood is so good that it will taste good after six beers. I can testify to that.”

  “Dave; You mentioned entertaining clients. What is it you do?” Mario piped in unexpectedly.

  Bradford was surprised by the abrupt change of direction in the conversation and was about to reply when Mary interjected; “Dave is in charge of new business development in Florida for a well-known government agency,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. Dave had no idea what she was talking about, but by her smile and giggle he knew it was Kendall-Jackson doing the talking. He decided to stay out of it and let her have her fun.

  Mario took the bait and asked; “which agency, Mary and how does Dave identify business prospects?”

  “Mario, it’s supposed to be a secret, but we are all friends here so I can tell you. Dave is with the IRS. Has he asked you for your business card, Mario?”

  Bradford almost died with embarrassment and so did Mario. Bill, Fred and Buzz just looked at Mary and then Dave. Nobody knew what to say.

  Mary wasn’t finished and started to talk about how hard it was for Dave to keep friends and that he always needed to move, when Judy burst out laughing and was immediately joined by Jill and Ginny. Mario realized that he had been had, and erupted in laughter. He laughed so hard his face turned red, before admitting; “Lady, I haven’t been set up like that since, I can’t remember. That was beautiful, and I don’t think I was the only one that fell for it.”

  Judy looked at Fred. “You guys were so wrapped up in your macho football talk, that you haven’t said a word to us in 30 minutes. Mary said she knew how to get your attention, but we never dreamed it would be that much fun. I thought you all had swallowed poison the way you reacted. Fred, do we have that much to hide?”

  Dave decided to answer Mario’s question before the ribbing went any further. “Mario, we are in the money business, but what we do is a lot less exciting than what
Mary described. We basically raise money for commercial clients; mortgages, equipment leases, project financing, business loans and that type of thing. Nothing fancy, but it’s a way to make a living and a lot safer than being a recruiter for the IRS.”

  Before anyone could reply, the lights were turned on, a subtle clue that the club was closing.

  We thanked everyone for their hospitality and said our goodbyes. Bill suggested Dave call his secretary to get instructions on how to get into the Bucs game next Sunday. Buzz suggested stopping at a local club for a nightcap. The others were interested but Mary and Dave decided to call it an evening. The “party” broke up soon after.

  Bradford’s mind shifted back to the problem at hand as he watched Buzz’ birdie putt stop two inches short, dead center. Nothing bothers a golfer more than leaving a birdie putt short. Buzz was no exception. Before Bradford could concede the putt, Buzz walked up and swatted it across the green towards his golf bag.

  Dave was tempted to tell Buzz he was still away and make him putt out, but decided to let it go. No sense it having two poor sports. Instead, he calmly lined up his 3-foot par putt and watched as it hit the side of the hole, did a 360, and dropped in.

  “Good all around putt,” Buzz said without smiling. “I guess that proves that it’s better to be lucky than good.”

  “What a prick!”

  “Try it again, Sam. I’m sure we are at the right spot. I double-checked the coordinates. The bags have to be right here.” The sport fishing boat had left Naples just before dawn outfitted with the latest gear. It was grouper and kingfish season and the “Bonefish” was just one of a dozen boats that made this trip daily. Most were charters with four to eight tourists paying $500 per half day. The “Bonefish” just hauled the two of them, and it was not kingfish they were after. Although they had two lines out, baited with live shad, they were confident they had a sure catch. They were wrong.

  Sam replaced the batteries for the 2nd time and checked the frequency again. Everything looked okay on this end. They just were not picking up the signal.

  “Ron, let’s do a test. Attach one of the backup transponders I carry to that buoy, and drop it overboard. Make sure it’s set to the same frequency. Let’s see if we pick up the signal underwater.”

  The “beeping” was loud and clear as they gradually increased the distance from the buoy. At 500 yards, the sound was weak but discernable. Either all 16 of the devices were malfunctioning or they had the wrong pickup coordinates. As a precaution, two transmitters were attached to each bag making it almost impossible to lose the bags; at least that was the procedure that was supposed to have been followed.

  Sam refused to consider the third option.

  “Ron let’s do a grid search using the buoy as the center. The water is pretty clear; maybe we can see the bags. Add some weights on the lines so they drag about 10 feet below the surface. Maybe we can snag them. I don’t want to go back empty without trying everything.”

  For two hours they trolled back and forth, for 500 yards each direction; nothing. An hour later they recognized defeat.

  “Let’s pull in the lines and head for home, Ron. We might as well face the music. He won’t be happy. I just hope he doesn’t shoot the messenger.”

  Then it happened. One of the lines snagged on something bent in half until the tip was below the water line. Ron’s heart jumped and his hopes soared. For just a moment Ron believed he had lucked out. He stopped the boat and grabbed the pole, but the line kept running out. It was clear they had hooked a king or some other game fish.

  Ron was fighting the fish and bringing it to the surface. All of a sudden it soared 10 feet above the waves in magnificent splendor. It was a tarpon, upwards of 90 lbs. What a sight! What a fish!

  The pole was rigged with a 25-pound test monofilament with a 2-foot, 80-pound test shock leader. The gear was enough to handle the tarpon’s weight and strength. It took Ron 30 minutes before he brought it close enough to the boat to net. By then, both Ron and the fish were near exhaustion, but the tarpon was still struggling. Tarpon were in season, although a $50 permit is required. Most Florida game fish are caught and released, after the posing for the obligatory photo. As Sam watched Ron fight the fish he was struck with the irony.

  They weren’t even fishing and landed a prize trophy fish. Half the charter boats would return empty and he knew the boat captains would be envious. Sam also knew they couldn’t keep it. There was no doubt in Sam’s mind that he and Ron would take the tarpon’s place in the Gulf of Mexico if they came home with a 90 lb fish instead of 320 kilos of heroin. Sam cut the line and watched the fish disappear into the warm waters of the Gulf.

  Chapter 4

  Par 3 185 Yards

  The Equipment Leasing Business