Warning: This chapter has a sex scene, boy on boy, nothing graphic. Pretty mild, certainly. You've been forewarned.
The eighteenth green, the last day of the Masters tournament.
Everything had gone according to plan thus far. Chas was studying a seventeen foot putt for the win, and Dextera had finished already, one stroke behind.
If Chas made this putt, he'd win outright. He knew if it were any other competition, any other circumstances, he'd make this putt no problem. He knew this green like the back of his hand; fairly fast, a slight break to the right.
But he'd made John a promise.
He looked up from the line of the putt and met John's gaze. Chas smirked.
As Chas stood up to take the putt, Dextera pushed through the crowd to the front line, having changed into a suit. It didn't bother Chas; he took a few practice swipes, then stood up and swiped at the ball, arching his swing forward at the tail end of the swing.
It worked. The ball rolled faster and faster, the crowd began to murmur, and at the last second the ball rolled five inches to the right of the cup.
To anyone else, it looked like he's simply had a case of nerves and slightly miscalculated the break. As the crowd groaned, Chas smiled and tapped in.
Tied. Just as planned, he'd pulled Balthazar into a playoff. The crowd was disappointed, but Chas wasn't worried.
He looked up at John, and had the overwhelming urge to just run up and kiss him. But the applause around him and Dextera's smug stare reminded him that it simply couldn't happen.
"Good job," Kenya said, taking his putter and putting it back in his golf bag.
"You too. I should just keep you as my caddy all the time," Chas said, hugging her and taking the bag back to carry it for her back to the clubhouse. There was a party for the players, caddies, and invited guests to celebrate the end of the official tournament- and, this year, to pep everyone up for the upcoming playoff.
John caught up with them after a few moments, and Chas barely caught himself, avoiding the urge to lean in for a kiss.
"You played well," John said, and Chas smiled.
"Obviously not well enough," he said, his tone teasing. "What a horrible, horrible shame."
John smirked and gave Chas a playful nudge with his elbow. Kenya rolled her eyes and held open the door for them, and Chas set his golf bag in a separate room before heading in to the party.
Within an hour of the party beginning, most people had a nice buzz going from champagne and wine. Chas and John were no exception. Sitting beside each other at the table, they were hardly able to keep their hands off each other. Legs touched, hands roamed, all under the tablecloth, and the other people at the table were oblivious to Chas's flushed face and John's mischievous smirk.
During a particularly dry spell of conversation, Chas looked over and met John's gaze. John licked his lips.
"I'm not feeling so good. I think I'm gonna head home," John said to the table, and no one took any notice other than to tell him to 'get better before the playoff'. John gave Chas one last look, then stood up and headed out the door.
Chas could barely stand the wait. He waited ten minutes, and then excused himself from the table to go mingle with other players.
He headed for the door, and the moment he got outside, John grabbed his sleeve and dragged him toward the nearby parking lot. Silently, they made sure no one was around, and then Chas fumbled to get the back door to his limousine open.
John pushed Chas in first and then took one last look around before sliding inside after him, and the moment the limo door slammed shut clothing was flying in every direction. It was as if they hadn't touched each other in years; everything was desperate and fast, the moans harsh and the movements rough, Chas pushing John down on the seat and taking charge.
Anyone who caught sight of the limo would certainly know something was going on, but neither party inside cared about the fact that the whole vehicle was rocking and that their muffled moans and cries could be heard from the outside. Chas had never been a quiet lover, and now was no different.
Bodies rocked and thrust in time, skin tingled, hands roamed and gripped with bruising strength; Chas was in absolute ecstasy, his toes curling, his hands gripping at John's shoulders.
He arched his back, gasping, muscles tensing and spasming, nerves firing at random. John groaned, a few more sharp thrusts, and Chas's nails dug in, breaking the skin on John's shoulders. Soon movements became more frantic, less rhythmic, and both reached their peak, shuddering, Chas throwing back his head and letting out a final, uncontrolled groan before collapsing on top of John.
John gently kissed Chas's neck as they both came down from their high, and Chas closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He felt John's hand run through his hair, and he hummed appreciatively.
"Love you," he said breathlessly, too exhausted to move. He felt and heard John chuckle beneath him.
"Love you too."
The Next Morning
Once again, the frenzy of the press was coming down on Chas. Press conferences were the least favorite part of his career, with the reporters asking constant annoying questions. It baffled Chas as to why they would schedule one the morning of a playoff, but he was used to it. Used to most of it, anyway.
"Mr. Kramer, why do you think you missed the putt at eighteen yesterday?" One reporter asked, and Chas smiled.
"A simple matter of misjudging a break, ma'am. You might say I wasn't quite myself yesterday."
A few scattered chuckles, and another reporter raised his pen in the air to get Chas's attention.
"What do you have to say about the scattered reports of your activities at the party last night?"
Chas leaned forward, quirking an eyebrow. "I hadn't heard these 'scattered reports'," he said, holding up a hand to fend of Ferguson, who obviously wanted to shut the reporter up before he said anything possibly incriminating. Chas wanted to hear this one.
"I've heard from two reputable sources about some quite interesting noises coming from your limo after you left the party," the reporter explained, sending a murmur through the other reporters.
Ferguson paled by about ten shades. However, Chas wasn't fazed by the comment; rather, it amused him to no end.
"I'm not going to deny the rumors," Chas said, fueling an interesting reaction from his listeners and a yelp of protest from Ferguson. "Although I wish my private life was just that- private- I doubt you'll leave me alone until I tell you that much."
Questions were flying all over the place, and Chas took a few moments to calm Ferguson down before taking the next question.
"Who's the lucky girl?"
Chas had been expecting that one too. "I'm sure most of you know Kenya stayed in that party late, so I'd appreciate her if you don't harass her with questions when it quite obviously wasn't her. But I'm afraid that I can't answer your question more than that."
Another burst of question. One voice called out, "Why does she want to remain anonymous?"
Chas smiled, ignoring Ferguson kicking him under the table, trying to get him to shut up. "My fame bothers my partner. I can't blame h-…them, since I know how nosy all of you can be."
That gained a laugh, since Chas had found most reporters to be quite willing to laugh at themselves. Slowly he and Ferguson managed to direct the conference back to the subject of golf, although the crowd was much more spirited after the news of the morning.
Chas Kramer had finally admitted to having a 'girlfriend'. A lover. This would no doubt be heartbreaking and yet giddying news for fans all over the US.
As soon as the press conference was over, Ferguson dragged Chas into a side room in the clubhouse and slammed the door.
"Do you realize what you've done?" he asked harshly, grabbing onto Chas's arm. "You've just put yourself on display as a whore out there!"
Chas felt a flare of anger. "I'll have you know I am not a whore. As opposed to you going through three wives in the past five years, I've been with the same person all along."
"This person whom I've never met, never even heard her name! I'm your agent, Chas, your manager, you're supposed to trust me and tell me these things!"
"I just don't think it's a good idea."
Ferguson practically growled. "It's not a matter of what you think, it's a matter of what the public is going to think."
"Well, he doesn't want the public to know yet, okay?"
Utter silence. Chas's hand flew to his mouth, and Ferguson's eyes widened.
"He? He? Please tell me you didn't just say that Chas, please," Ferguson said, his voice tense and harsh. Chas didn't say anything, stuttering helplessly in the face of his slip.
"Well, no fucking wonder you wouldn't tell me a damn thing. You're a damn fag."
Chas looked up, his expression shifting into fury. "Don't call me that."
"That's exactly what it is, Chas! Do you realize what's going to happen when this hits the press? Do you realize-"
"Nobody knows. Nobody has to know."
"Somebody's going to find out when you're fucking him in a public parking lot! Who is it, anyway?"
"That's it," Chas said, shaking his head. "That's it. You're fucking fired."
Ferguson's jaw dropped. "You can't fire me! I'm the one that made you famous!"
Chas sneered, reached over to his golf bag, and grabbed his seven iron out of it. He advanced on Ferguson, the club in his hands, and the nervous man took a few steps back.
"You didn't make me famous. This made me famous. Not you, not my age, not my personality…it was the fact that I could pick this up and stick the ball to any green within reach. And the fact that I'm gay won't change the fact that I can outdrive you by two hundred yards and you're still bitter about it."
Ferguson cowered, his eyes locked on the club in Chas's hands as a tense silence fell between the two. Chas stared him down a few moments longer.
"You're fired. Now get your ass out of my sight," he said, lowering the club. Ferguson scampered off as fast as his feet would carry him. Chas sighed, shoving the golf club back into the bag.
His own words were going to plague him the rest of that day, or so he guessed.
The Match – Hole Sixteen
The lead had been trading off all morning, but it was at hole sixteen when the power shifted.
Dextera, doing his usual power act of completely ignoring his competitor, tried his best to clear a fairway bunker that most people would hit short of, just to be on the safe side. But the half breed made a poor club choice to do the task, and soon he found himself in the sand.
Chas decided not to follow Dextera's faulty example. He'd been laying up short of the sand trap all week, it worked best that way on a dog leg like this, so he saw no reason to change. He was on the green in two.
Balthazar was not so lucky. It took his two hits to get out of the sand, and then he was obviously flustered- he three-putted the green, giving Chas a three stroke lead.
Three strokes up with two holes to play- even the crowd knew this one was in the bag.
Chas caught up with Dextera to walk beside him on the way to the seventeenth, and Kenya did the same, staying close enough so that their little plan would work.
"Looks like your little kidnapping plot didn't quite work," Chas said, knowing that they were walking far enough from the crowd that no one could overhear except Kenya. Dextera looked at Chas, then at Kenya, a self-possessed smile on his face.
"Yes, well, you know what they say about getting a job done right."
"I doubt you would've done it yourself anyway."
"And deal with your smart-ass attitude for that long?" Dextera asked with a laugh, faking a smile for the crowd. "I think hired help is better in that case. I may have killed you anyway."
"They were going to if John hadn't shown up."
"All the better. At least they knew how to follow orders."
The conversation ended there. Chas was satisfied-they'd gotten what they needed from him, and Dextera blew him off at that point to go speak with his caddy.
Coming to the eighteenth green, most people in Dextera's position at five strokes down would've conceded the match. But Balthazar wasn't like most people- he wanted it played out to the end.
Chas wasn't thinking about the match anymore. He was thinking about John, thinking about that night when John asked him about going public with their relationship. It wasn't like John to say such things, so obviously it was important to him.
Chas knew that if they went public, he would lose his sponsors. His income would be based solely on other publicity, public appearances, and of course, his winnings.
Chas watched Dextera putt out, looking furious and defeated.
You're already a millionaire, Chas. You're set for life. What are you so afraid of?
Chas stepped up, lined up his putt, and looked up at John. John smiled. Chas smiled back.
He stepped to the ball, took a practice swipe, and then scooted forward and hit the ball. A simple four foot putt, and it dropped into the hole with a hollow clatter.
It's now or never.
Without waiting for the crowd's reaction to his victory, he strode over to the edge of the green, grabbed John by the back of his neck, and pulled him into a hungry, passionate kiss.
John seemed surprised at first, but as soon as he realized what Chas was doing, he reacted by returning the kiss and wrapping one arm around the young man's waist. Chas's putter dropped from his hand onto the green as he wrapped his arms around John's neck.
Most of the crowd was flabbergasted, but Kenya stepped forward at that point and got the crowd's attention with a loud whistle. It took a few moments for them to settle down, but they did so as she pulled a small tape recorder out of her pocket.
"Since Chas is otherwise occupied, I'll do the honors," she said, turning the volume on the recorder to the maximum and holding it up as she pressed the play button.
Dextera's façade of calmness slipped when a playback began of their conversation between the 16th and 17th holes, the conversation in which he not only admitted guilt, but basically threatened Chas. People shushed each other, shocked at what they were hearing, and Chas and John finally broke off the kiss, oblivious.
"I love you," Chas said to John, ignoring the pandemonium around them. The two were locked in their own little world, a place where nothing and no one could touch them.
The weird thing is, Chas thought, I feel more safe and happy now than I ever did when this was all a secret.
He smiled, kissing John again, just a quick and gentle kiss. John murmured an 'I love you' in return, his heart pounding in his chest at the feeling of finally being able to express this anywhere, anytime.
Chas never regretted what he did that day.
Thanks to all my reviewers! Hope you guys and gals liked the story.