(All persons depicted in this story are over 18 years of age. Any similarities to real life are purely coincidental)
***
Having just missed qualifying for the 2019, California Men's Amateur Golf Championship, I knew that this summer, the summer before my senior year at San Diego State, would be critical in my development as a golfer. It would be ideal if I could find a way to play golf all summer and earn a little cash at the same time. Too much to ask? Fortunately, my parents were very supportive of my blossoming golf career and put the word out through their vast network of friends.
As I sat in my last final exam, head pounding from trying to remember which calculus formula applied to the problem I was agonizing over, I felt my phone buzz in my book bag under my desk. The incoming text would have to wait. And then, it buzzed again. And yet again. Unable to concentrate, but not wanting to have the TA administering the final think I was cheating, I went to the front of the class and explained that my phone was buzzing and I needed to shut it off. With permission, I retrieved my phone from my bag and went to power it off.
"Call me."
"Seriously. Call me soon."
"You're going to love this. Call me."
As if this calculus final wasn't hard enough, now I had to try to derive intelligent answers while at least 75% of my mind was thinking about what my dad needed so badly to talk to me about. I finally finished the test and, as I turned it in with one hand, my other hand was already powering my iPhone back to life.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. "You have reached the cell phone number of Tom Kinder, I am unable to take your call, please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
"Dad, its John. What the hell? Now you don't answer your phone? I was in my calculus final. Call me as soon as you get this. I am dying to know what news you have."
Just as I started to bike across campus to my dorm, my phone rang to life.
"Hey dad. What's the big news?"
"Sorry I couldn't answer. I was on another call. How'd your finals go? How do you think you did?"
"Dad, cut the shit. What the hell made you text me more than you have probably ever texted me in your life," I asked laughing?
"How would you like to spend the summer playing golf on some of the nicest courses in California?"
"Seriously? Tell me more!"
"A college friend of mine, who lives in Chicago, has a place near Palm Springs on a top-rated golf course and it is too damn hot for them that time of year. They only use it in the winter. If you'll pay for the increased utility costs over what they normally pay, you can use it. And,..."
I cut him off, "Holy shit. That would be amazing. But what about a job to make a little cash? It is too late now to score something out there for the summer."
"Hold on John! Jesus. I was getting to that. This guy has connections with the management of the place where they have their house and he said they are looking for security guards to check people in and out of the front gate. He said if you want it the job it's yours."
"Do I want it? A little bit like I want to play on the PGA Tour someday. What's my next move?"
"Call him. I'll text you his number," my dad added.
If it was possible to hang up from a call, read a text, and make the next call simultaneously, I would have done it. I called Mr. Williams as soon as my dad's text with his number hit my phone.
"Ken Williams, can I help you," he answered?
"Mr. Williams, this is John. John Kinder. Tom's son."
"Of course John. I have followed your golf career through your dad. Remind me to never bet against you. How are you?"
"I couldn't be better. My dad explained some of the details of your offer. I, I, I don't know how to thank you."
"Get me VIP tickets to The Masters someday when you play in it," he laughed.
Mr. Williams went on to explain to me all the details about the house. It was in the PGA West area of La Quinta and was within walking distance of the clubhouse at the Jack Nicklaus Course. He said they were already holding the security job for me on his recommendation and I just needed to email the manager some details to get that set up. The house was mine to use, as was the car and private golf cart they kept at the home.
Not having to return to northern California to snag a car from my parents to use that summer, I packed up my things in my dorm room and headed to the desert the next day on a bus. While travelling by Greyhound isn't how most 21 year old college seniors want to kick off their summer, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face looking forward to the summer that was ahead of me. Golf. A little cash. Golf. A place to myself. Golf. It would be perfect. "Does it get any better than this?"
Palm tree lined streets. A perfectly manicured golf course on every corner. Golf carts in everyone's front yard. Swimming pools. And then, the bus pulled into the Palm Springs station. As I exited it was a balmy 100 degrees. It is a dry heat I tried to remind myself. Grabbing my clubs and suitcase, I dug out the piece of paper with the address on it and punched it into my Lyft app.
As my driver approached the front security gate, I rolled down the window and started to explain who I was and why I was there to the older gentlemen at the guard house.
"Wait. John Kinder," the man asked?
"Yes. Yes. That's me. I am staying this summer at the Williams' home on Eagle Court," I explained.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Frank Jamison. You talked to me about the security job. I'll be your manager."
"Oh wow. That's great timing. I just got into town."
"Fantastic," Frank said, "Come by on Monday about 3pm and we'll get you set up.
You'll be working the late afternoon and night shift. Until then, have a great weekend."
"Does it get any better than this," I thought as the driver dropped me off at the house? I could golf in the morning, before the daytime high reached the asphalt-melting point, and work in the afternoon/evening. I retrieved the key from the security box they told me about and let myself into the home. The house was fucking amazing. A sprawling 3 bedroom, 3 bath house. Full bar. 80" TV with incredible surround sound. A Jacuzzi tub in the master suite bathroom and, the car I'd be driving all summer, a 2017 Cadillac Escalade. Oh and one more thing, the house was immediately next door to the swimming pool.
After unpacking and a trip to the grocery store to stock up, I figured I would cap off my Friday afternoon with a swim. The opportunity to catch some sun would soon be gone as evening came, but with the temps still in the 90's, the weather was still perfect for an ice-cold beer and a swim. As I dropped my towel on a lounger, I could feel someone across the pool looking my way. I peeled off my shirt and glanced over at the woman I had barely noticed before and caught her glancing back at me. At 6' 1", 190lbs, I wasn't built like an NFL player, but I was in tight shape and proud of my 6-pack abs.
The woman lounging across the pool from me started to get up. I glanced her way and my first reaction was, "Oh shit John. Get a hold of yourself. This is retirement country."
Ignoring my pool deck companion while she walked my way was easy until she sauntered right up to my chair.
"Hello. I'm Amy," she said as she stretched out her hand.
I glanced up confidently and did what I hoped was not an obvious double-take. "Well hello. I'm John. Nice to meet you," I replied shaking her hand.
I don't give a damn how old she was. She was a fucking hot babe. She was about 5' 6" tall, very tan, and wearing a see-through cover up, still open in the front, that offered me a view of her amazing body. My eyes were focused on what I guessed was a gorgeous 36D rack bulging out of a white bikini. Looking away from her tits for a minute, I swear you could see a bit of darker colored mound that must be a full pussy bush. Shaking off the visual undressing I was giving her, I smiled and stood up to greet her genuine smile and long, dark hair.
