Free AD-versaries by Jake Ainsworth

exec.”
     
    “That she is.  I’m just a little surprised that she would sell out.”
     
    “Oh…Well…”
     
    A woman’s voice came over the intercom: Niroki twosome, you’re up on the first hole.  
     
    “You heard the lady.  Mr. Niroki, would you do the honors?”
     
    Niroki, still eyeing Neville, placed his ball on the tee and smacked it with his driver.  Neville’s eyes widened as the shot flew straight and true, landing dead center in the fairway.  Neville enjoyed golf, but he was no pro, and he just got the unmistakable feeling that he was playing way out of his league.  Still undeterred, he teed up and gave it a swing.  His ball didn’t go as straight as Niroki’s, nor as far, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. 
     
    Such were the events of the first nine holes.  Niroki didn’t seem to be able to make a bad shot.  His poise was unshakable.  Every tee shot landed in the fairway, far beyond Neville’s.  Although he must have been irritated at having to wait for Neville to shoot twice for every one of his own, Mr. Niroki showed the patience of a teacher gently waiting for his pupil to catch up. 
     
    Neville was much more talented at golf than he was able to show on that day.  It wasn’t his nerves or that fact that he hardly took a breath between shots as he talked non-stop about the benefits of advertising with him and Victoria .  But his conscience was stabbing at his brain, injecting doses of guilt that threatened to completely undo him.  It was not an extraordinarily hot day, but Neville sweat through his under-shirt and designer polo, looking more like he had just finished swimming laps fully clothed instead of playing a round of golf.
     
    As Mr. Niroki gently tapped in his final put on the ninth hole, he stepped aside as Neville’s ball soared through the air and landed with a gentle thud on the short green grass surrounding the hole.  Seconds later, he ran up the gentle slope, his bag slung over his shoulder.  He trotted all the way over to Mr. Niroki and tossed his bags down, doubling over; he put his hands on his hips and tried to catch his breath. 
     
    “Are you ok, Mr. Pearson?”
     
    “Yeah…Great…Just getting…A good workout.”
     
    “Perhaps we should be done now.”
     
    “No, no.  Just let me knock this putt in.  Give me two seconds.  I’ll be right back.”
     
    He pulled his putter from his bag and headed over to his ball.  His strokes were no smooth and well-calculated, but jerky and hurried.  As a result, where three putts would have sufficed, he put it in the hole in five. 
     
    “Alright.  Now we can go.  After you, Mr. Niroki.”
     
    Mr. Niroki led the way while Neville followed a few steps behind, trying desperately to find his breathe once again.  The trip up to the clubhouse and parking lot was a short one from the flag on the ninth, and as soon as he arrived, Mr. Niroki went to his car and opened the trunk.  Neville came up behind him to try and close the deal, to save the disaster that was his day.  As Mr. Niroki bent over to remove his golfing shoes, a figure appeared at the entrance to the parking lot and then stops and stares at the scene in front of her.  Neville sees her and stops in his tracks. 
     
    Victoria looked as if she was carried away by a pterodactyl and had to crawl her way out of the monster’s nest.  Her hair was matted with sweat and a couple of twigs protruded from her head.  The walk from the city was a long, hot one, and it had clearly taken its toll on Victoria.  But it wasn’t the dirt on her face or the shabby way her shirt hung down over her ill-advised knickers that disturbed Neville the most.  It was the look of shock and disappointment that crossed her face.  She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
     
    Neville knew he had to go and smooth things out.  Forgetting all about Niroki, he started over to where she was.  But it was too late.  A tear rolled down her cheek as she