Written by Stephen F. Moloney
“From there, then?” sighed Ray, after pausing for a moment to collect himself. “Well, to be honest, the rest of the evenin’ kinda becomes a blur. I mean, I know after we finished huggin’ that Byron came over to shake hands with Mustang …”
“Oh, wow, really?!” asked Maggie, getting unashamedly excited at the prospect of such a run-in. “What was that like?!”
“You know what? It was actually kinda cool,” replied Ray, dampening down Maggie’s expectations that perhaps there’d been some drama for her to sink her teeth into. “Byron came over, they shook hands, and he congratulated the kid.”
“Well, that was nice of him,” said Maggie, sounding pleasantly surprised at the notion of Byron being so gracious in defeat.
“Yeah, it was …” agreed Ray, before grinning slyly. “Though, given this is still Byron we’re talkin’ ‘bout, after he’d congratulated Mustang, he quickly followed it up by sayin’ he’d get ‘im the next time they played.”
“To which Mustang replied?” asked Maggie, snickering quietly as that had sounded more like the Byron she’d come to know.
“Well, he looked ‘im dead in the eye, smiled, and said he was lookin’ forward to it!” answered Ray, grinning almost as proudly as he had been whilst describing the moment Mustang’s putt dropped to beat Byron.
“Nice!” laughed Maggie, delighted to hear Mustang had refused to be intimidated. “And how did Byron react to that?”
“Strange as it might seem?” replied Ray, somewhat ponderously aloud. “I think between beatin’ ‘im in the way that he did and then sayin’ that? I think, at that moment – though he, most definitely, still didn’t like ‘im – Byron, at least, respected the kid.”
“Which, realistically, is probably the best anyone can ever really hope to get with Byron,” noted Maggie, after trying to think offhand who might be someone he might genuinely like, but only finding herself able to come with himself and maybe his wife, Amber. “I mean, he’s never exactly been the type of guy who plays well with others, right?”
“No, he has not,” said Ray, knowingly, as he bent stiffly down and grabbed the range ball he’d been using to demonstrate where Mustang had putted from. “So, the way I looked at it?” He stood back up straight, emitting a relieved sigh in the process, having taken the pressure, once more, off of his back. “Chances were that if Mustang stayed playin’, the two of ‘em were probably gonna cross paths again at some point, right? So, even if they’d never be friends, as long as they, at least, had that baseline of mutual respect for one another, I was happy.”
With the ball retrieved and safely stowed away back in his pocket, Ray began to move slowly back across the green in the direction of the steps which led up the bank – it was, obviously, time to go.
“So, after Mustang and Byron had finished speaking,” said Maggie, eager to keep Ray talking as she went about following him across the green. “What happened then?”
“Well …” began Ray, turning his attention back down the fairway to see whereabouts Lola was. “As I said, once the kid had actually won, everythin’ that happened thereafter just all kinda flew by in this … I dunno … like, ‘whirlwind’, you know? I mean, one minute we’re down here celebratin’ with Travis, Bill, and Jeanie; bein’ congratulated by Skip and the likes of Kretschko and Blackridge; then next thing I know we’re bein’ ushered up through the crowd by members of the Tournament Committee and some stewards, gettin’ led into the clubhouse, and then a few minutes later I’m watchin’ Mustang – this kid who I’d met just a fortnight previously – bein’ presented with the Memorial Matchplay trophy by Beau LaFleur, of all people, out on the balcony in front of a sea of people. Like, ‘surreal’ doesn’t do justice to how amazingly bizarre that felt.”
“I can imagine,” replied Maggie, smiling in disbelief as she and Ray began to climb the steps. “And I doubt matters were made to feel any less bizarre by getting your hands on the prize money, right?”
“Yeah, that was definitely one of the stranger moments I’d experienced in my life up until that point,” answered Ray, grinning at the memory. “I mean, it’s not every day you get handed a briefcase with a hundred and sixty grand in it, you know!”
“No, it certainly is not!” laughed Maggie. “And I can, wholeheartedly, say that from my personal experience of … well, never having experienced it!”
Ray laughed as they scaled the final few steps and walked out onto the area behind the clubhouse where he’d parked the UTV. He lifted his fingers up to his mouth and sent a loud, sharp whistle riding on the breeze through the early evening sunshine that was being increasingly put under threat by the growing number of rain-sodden clouds now filling the sky. Hearing she was being summoned, Lola, immediately, pulled herself away from the edge of the lake where she’d been curiously sniffing a less-than-pleased-looking turtle and set off sprinting back up the fairway to join Ray and Maggie at the top of the bank.
“So, was there a big, fancy dinner or anything after all the formalities of handing out the trophy and the money?” asked Maggie, watching Lola reach the green and then carefully skirt her way around the edge of it.
“There was …” replied Ray, matter-of-factly, as Lola bounded effortlessly up the steps and arrived at his feet, eager for an ear scratch. “But me and Mustang weren’t at it.”
“Really? Why not?” probed Maggie, unable to prevent herself from smiling as she saw how much Lola was enjoying the ear scratch Ray had, indeed, started to give her.
“Well, havin’ been at that dinner a few times before in the past, I knew exactly what it was gonna be like, you know?” answered Ray, giving Lola one final rub before standing back up straight. “And that was nothin’ but this big, long, drawn-out thing that only really served as an excuse for the Tournament Committee to spend two or three hours slappin’ themselves on the back. Plus, after seein’ the way not one of ‘em stood up to Denby when he disqualified Mustang for what was, clearly, a load of bull, I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t really find the idea of them then fawnin’ all over the kid and paradin’ him around like they’d somehow had somethin’ to do with him winnin’ all that appealin’ – and that’s exactly what I said to Beau when he asked me if we were gonna go to the dinner.”
“And did he have any problem with you not going?” asked Maggie, smiling as Lola, sensing that she wouldn’t be getting any more ear scratches from Ray, pottered over to her and plonked herself down at her feet in search of some continued attention.
“Naw, Beau was cool,” said Ray, himself smiling a touch at seeing how quickly Lola had deserted him for Maggie, who had already taken to rubbing her under the chin. “Cause he understood where I was comin’ from, you know? What with Mustang bein’ so young and all? He knew I was just tryna’ protect him – which is why when we were lookin’ to actually get outta there, he even went outside to talk the likes of Melvin Burbage and the rest of the media who’d been clamberin’ to interview Mustang so that we could sneak outta the clubhouse, get back up to the workshop, and hightail it outta here without anyone noticin’.”
“Wow, really?” said Maggie, so impressed she took a momentary break from rubbing Lola’s chin. “That was so nice of him.”
“Yeah,” smiled Ray, fondly. “But, as I’d come to learn, that was just the kinda guy Beau was, you know? He’d do anythin’ he could to help ya – and, especially so, when it came to Mustang.”
Though achingly intrigued by what exactly he had meant by that, Maggie just got the feeling from how Ray had, suddenly, gone slightly quiet – as if he almost regretted bringing it up – that she should holster her eagerness and not press him any further. After all, good interviews were about ‘give and take’. And after the day they’d had? And everything he’d given her? Ray had certainly earned some respite.
“So, when you left the Creek,” she said, taking the conversation in an easier direction. “Can you remember what you did then?”
“Uh, well, I asked the kid what he felt like doin’,” replied Ray, quietly grateful that Maggie had changed the topic. “You know, given he was the ‘man of the moment’ – and he said he was hungry. So, I had him call Bill and Jeanie, and told ‘im to invite the pair of ’em to ‘Renée’s’ ‘cause we was goin’ havin’ our own celebration dinner – with me and the kid pickin’ up the cheque, obviously!”
“Well, I should think so, yeah!” laughed Maggie, as Lola, having received a sufficient amount of rubs to tide her over for another while longer, pulled herself back up onto her paws and wandered off in the direction of the clubhouse. “And was it a good night?”
“It was the best, yeah,” said Ray, the smile on his face testament to just how good a night it had been. “I mean, sittin’ down with good friends and good food is always gonna be a recipe for a good time but … just the sense of relief that everythin’ had actually worked out, you know? And that everythin’ was … I dunno … it was like my life had finally clicked into place if that makes sense?”
“It was like you were, finally, right where you needed to be,” suggested Maggie, putting her own spin on what she felt Ray was trying to express.
“Yeah, I guess you could put it like that …” he agreed, after mulling it over for a moment or two. “Yeah, I like that, actually – let’s go with that one.”
Whilst still looking as though he was playing Maggie’s phrasing back in his head, Ray began to take the short few steps necessary to reach the UTV, with Maggie, of course, promptly following suit. Recognizing that Ray seemed to be getting mightily close to reaching that point of ‘question fatigue’ every interviewee, regardless of who they were, inevitably, began to reach, Maggie moved quickly to get the final few pieces she needed for what she now knew would be a story, purely, on how and where Mustang’s journey to becoming the most famous golfer in the world had all begun.
“So, I gotta ask,” she began, arriving next to the UTV as Ray dropped down the small door at the rear of the flatbed. “Cause, again, it’s not like it’s an everyday occurrence: given the pair of you, suddenly, had a cool one hundred and sixty thousand dollars in cash … what did you do with it? Apart from buying everyone dinner, obviously?”
“Well, to be honest, though it was a bad idea on my part, really,” answered Ray, tapping on the door he’d just opened to tell Lola it was time to go. “After the kid had beaten Kretschko and Blackridge on the Saturday, that night I may have allowed myself to do a little thinkin’ ‘bout what I might do if the kid actually won – you know … as a treat.”
“And, let me guess, by a ‘little thinking’,” smiled Maggie, now leaning on the side of the flatbed as Lola jumped up into it. “You, obviously, mean ‘came up with an entire plan’, right?!”
“Perhaps …” said Ray, grinning cheekily and locking the door back into place.
“I knew it!” laughed Maggie, pointing triumphantly at Ray. “So, come on! Out with it!”
“Well …” began Ray, still partially grinning as he leaned against the rear of the UTV. “If Mustang won, right off the bat, fifty of it would be goin’ straight into a savin’s account in his name – as in, job number one. Then, given it was the reason we’d even entered the Memorial at all, Travis would get the ten grand he needed to pay off that snake Greely, plus an extra ten to make sure he wouldn’t be caught short again.”
“Ok, so that has you down to ninety,” noted Maggie, keeping tabs on what was being spent like a talking calculator or persnickety accountant.
“Right, then of that ninety,” continued Ray, building on Maggie’s point. “I was gonna use eighty of it to buy this little place on the edge of town that had been up for sale for God knows how long; renovate it; and then that way the kid would have an actual house to live in, with his own room and everything – even one for Travis if he wanted it.”
“Which would then leave you with the ten you already had,” said Maggie, unable to help herself from being impressed at seeing what Ray had done. “Cause you weren’t gonna take any of the money, were you?”
“No, ma’am,” replied Ray, as if it was the most cut and dry decision he could have made. “Now, obviously, you could say that I still stood to benefit from the money, you know, by movin’ into that house instead of livin’ in a trailer – and that’s a fair point. But from the second I got my hands on that money? My only concern was usin’ it to do right by the kid. So, with that in mind, as we were eatin’ our food that night, I sent Denby a message tellin’ ‘im I was cashin’ in some vacation days I’d built up, and from the very next day we set about puttin’ that plan into action – after I’d run it by Mustang and Travis, obviously.”
“Wow, so you really weren’t messing around, huh?!” said Maggie, finding herself feeling slightly overwhelmed at such life-changing decisions being made over the course of one dinner.
“Well, the way I looked at it,” replied Ray, laying out his case in a very calm, matter-of-fact manner. “The kid was gonna be startin’ school in September – despite his argument that his time would be better served caddyin’ full-time – so, whatever work needed to be done on the house, which, luckily, turned out not to be a whole lot, I wanted it all done and dusted well before then to ensure things were as settled as possible for the kid. And, after a lotta early mornins’ before work and late nights after work, by the time the 4th of July weekend rolled ‘round? Me and the kid were movin’ in. And it was …”
Ray trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat to fill the silence he, himself, had created and idly busied himself with making sure the latches keeping the door at the rear of the flatbed closed were, indeed, locked into place. There was a reason why that, as much as he could, he never allowed himself to really think about Mustang and, in particular, that time in their lives together. It was just too hard.
“Yeah, it was, uh …” he continued, blatantly making a concerted effort to steel his voice. “It was just a really good time, you know? So … yeah.”
“No, yeah, of course,” replied Maggie, treading lightly. “It sounds like it was …”
If there’d been any shred of doubt left in her mind as to whether or not Ray felt like answering any more of her questions, seeing how his mood had now completely changed, Maggie knew it was time to wrap things up.
“So, uh …” she began, turning off her recorder and trying to sound as perky and normal as possible. “I think that should just about do it for any questions I have, so, you’re, officially, free to go!”
“Oh, really?” replied Ray, not responding to Maggie’s joke and, if anything, sounding a little taken by surprise. “So, you have everythin’ you need for your story?”
“Yeah, I think so,” answered Maggie, picking up on Ray’s apparent surprise, but feeling unsure as to how, exactly, to interpret it just yet. “I’ve decided I’m just gonna do it on everythin’ you told me today; like, how you first met him, then him being taken back to Florida, and then the whole entering the Memorial thing to help pay off his grandfather’s loan shark? I think people will really like it.”
“Oh … well, that’s good, I guess,” said Ray, smiling unconvincingly.
“Is that not ok or something?” asked Maggie, now more than a smidge concerned as she hadn’t bought Ray’s smile for a second. “Cause I thought we were both on the same page about what this was all about?”
“No, no, it’s fine, honestly,” answered Ray, now sounding as though he just wanted to change the topic as quickly as possible as he moved briskly around the other side of the UTV in the direction of the driver’s door. “Come on, I’ll drop ya back to your car.”
And that’s when it hit Maggie. She’d been worried Ray was growing weary of being asked questions and having things dredged up from the past that, perhaps, he would have preferred to have seen stay where they were. But, now, as she watched Ray hurriedly try to change the subject and make out that he was perfectly fine, she realized that he wasn’t, suddenly, having cold feet about her using what he’d told her in their interview. It was the fact that the interview itself was over – and that meant she was going to leave.
“Yeah, that would be good, thanks,” said Maggie, an idea, suddenly, popping into her head as she moved towards her own passenger-side door. “But, uh … well, I was wondering if I could run an idea by you real quick?”
Having reached his door, Ray sat down into his seat and looked over at Maggie. “Yeah, sure …” he said, a touch distractedly. “What is it?”
“Well, given it was so prevalent in your story,” said Maggie, innocently, as she, too, sat back into the UTV. “I was thinking of heading to ‘Renée’s’ later? You know, to do some more ‘in-depth research’ … and because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about trying one of those ‘Bayou BBQ Burgers’ since you mentioned them! So, uh, I was just wondering if you wanted to … you know … come with me? I mean, I wouldn’t be going straight away – cause I kinda really wanna grab a shower – so you’d have plenty of time to do whatev-…”
“No.”
Though not raising his voice in the slightest, there was something so definitively final in the curt manner in which Ray had cut across her nervous rambling that Maggie couldn’t help but fall, immediately, silent. Sensing pretty quickly that he shouldn’t have been so abrupt, however, Ray, after a moment or two of awkward silence, spoke up.
“I’m sorry …” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving the steering wheel. “It’s just … I promised Mustang that I’d always be here, you know? Like, always. And I know it’s crazy on my part given how long he’s been gone for, and I know the chances of him actually comin’ back are … slim, to say the least. But … I dunno … it’s just …”
“A promise is a promise,” said Maggie, stepping in to help Ray find the words which had just begun to elude him and, in the process, placing a reassuring hand on his. “It’s ok. I understand.”
Ray looked down at Maggie’s hand on his and then up at her. “Thank you …” he said, his voice barely above that of a whisper and his eyes slightly dewy.
“There’s no need to thank me,” replied Maggie, smiling warmly and squeezing the words past the lump which had, suddenly, appeared in her throat. “But you’re welcome. And, look, I know it’s scant consolation but … well, I know I’ll be heading back to New York, but … I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now.”
After allowing themselves to just sit in the moment for a second or two, Ray, eventually, bristled himself together and, after giving Maggie’s hand a grateful squeeze, went about starting up the UTV.
“Right, well … ahem …” he said, sounding more like himself as he set the engine coughing into life. “Let’s hit the road, huh?”
“Yeah …” smiled Maggie, lifting her hand up to her eye and swiping away a rogue tear that had begun to cascade down her cheek. “Sounds like a plan.”
*
Maggie’s phone began to vibrate against the hard, white plastic surface of the table, drawing her attention away from the very important work she’d been doing of tracking the various rivulets of water streaming down the window alongside her booth and pitting them in imaginary races against one another.
The rain had started not long after getting back to her motel from Crescent Creek, and having, initially, announced its arrival in the quintessential ‘down south’ fashion of a thundery, apocalyptic-style downpour, Maggie had been pleased to see it had since settled into a gentler, but nonetheless incessant, barrage of precipitation as the moisture-laden clouds carrying said rain had decided to settle-in over Marais des Voleurs for the evening.
‘Ray will be happy with that,’ Maggie had thought to herself with a smile when she’d heard the first pattering of drops from inside the tiny bathroom of her motel room, memories of Ray breaking off into disgruntled tangents about the lack of rain the Creek had seen over the previous few weeks whenever they’d come across a patch of scorched-looking grass, immediately, springing to mind.
Of course, those thoughts had then, inevitably, given way to ones of sadness and disappointment that she hadn’t been able to convince Ray to come have dinner with her, even after her last-ditch effort of saying the offer still stood and telling him where she was staying in case he changed his mind once he’d dropped her back to her car. But after waiting around the motel for an extra thirty minutes longer than what she’d previously planned, intermittently peeking out through the miserably thin net curtain covering the window that looked down onto the parking lot on the off chance she’d see Ray magically appear, he never showed – meaning, ‘change his mind’ he, obviously, hadn’t.
So, as planned, Maggie had grabbed her things and gone to ‘Renée’s’. She’d ordered ‘The Bayou BBQ Burger’, as planned. And she’d even managed to snag herself the booth she was fairly certain Ray had described as being the one he and Mustang used to always sit in … as planned. Yet, as she found herself sitting down, drinking in the atmosphere of the diner she’d heard so much about and been so excited to go see, Maggie couldn’t help but feel just a little bit flat – unlike the soda she’d ordered, which was, admittedly, quite nice. The problem was she just couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Ray. Thinking about how she could tell he was trying really hard to be upbeat and chatty for her benefit as he dropped her back to her car. Thinking about the heartbreaking sight of seeing him gradually disappear from her rearview mirror as he waved her off down the road leading out of the Creek. Thinking about how he was probably sitting alone in his cabin right now, eating something nowhere near as nice as what she was about to enjoy. And it was just too much – hence, why Maggie, in a desperate attempt to try and distract herself, had taken to writing an email to her boss back in New York outlining her modified pitch for what she wanted her story on Mustang to be about.
And, as she flipped her phone over and saw that her boss was now attempting to video call her, Maggie knew that she was about to find out whether or not her pitch had been a success.
“Hey, Rosa,” said Maggie, attempting to coax her mouth into forming a convincing-looking smile as she answered the call and her boss’s face promptly popped up on the screen of her phone.
“There she is!” replied Rosa, her ever-energetic voice pumping through the speakers as she navigated her way along a busy New York street. “How’s Louisiana treating my number one writer?!”
“You do know that we all know you say that to each of us, right?!” asked Maggie, her mouth not needing to be coaxed into forming a convincing smile this time around.
“Yeah, but when I say it to you, that’s when I really mean it!” answered Rosa, smiling brazenly, as she darted to the other side of a crosswalk.
“Oh, well in that case …” joked Maggie. “Should I take this call to mean you liked the pitch your ‘number one writer’ sent you then?!”
“Well, I walked myself into that one, didn’t I?!” replied Rosa, her signature raspy laugh cutting through the busy street noise as she hopped up onto a sidewalk where some guy was singing (poorly) with a guitar.
“Pretty much!” said Maggie, now feeling it necessary to turn down the volume on her call after finding herself on the receiving end of a somewhat withering stare from a disgruntled-looking gentleman sitting up at the counter. “Seriously, though, what did you think?”
“Honestly?” said Rosa, now after recomposing herself and returning to ‘boss mode’. “I loved it.”
“Really?!” replied Maggie, excitedly. “You liked it?!”
“Yeah, I really did. I think it’s a winner. I mean, I think a lot of people might have heard about Mustang winning that tournament, but to give them an insight into everything that was going on behind-the-scenes? And how he even came to be there in the first place? I can’t see how people wouldn’t want to read that, you know? Though, you’re sure Thackett is cool with you writing about it?”
“Uh … you mean Ray?” said Maggie, wincing slightly as the mention of his name threw her for something of an unexpected loop. “Yeah, yeah, he’s … uh … he’s fine with it.”
“Alright, Lawson, out with it,” instructed Rosa, frankly, as she stared directly into her camera so that she could make ‘virtual eye contact’ with Maggie.
“What are you talking about?!” replied Maggie, doing a terrible job of trying to pretend she didn’t know what Rosa was referring to. “Out with what?! I’m fine!”
“Don’t try to play me, Maggie,” warned Rosa. “Ok, I’ve just worked a thirteen-hour day and as soon as I get home I’m gonna be spending another hour trying to wrestle an overexcited 4-year old and 2-year old into bed because I know full well my darling husband will have, once again, failed to do exactly that. So, if we could just go ahead and cut right to the chase? That would be great.”
Knowing there was no point continuing to try and feign ignorance in an attempt to avoid talking about what was on her mind – and because as cool as Rosa was, she also knew that she was, indeed, someone you really didn’t want to ‘play’ with – Maggie let out a tired-sounding sigh and bit the bullet.
“Well, remember what we were talking about before I came down here?” she began, lowering her voice a touch in case of being overheard by the gentleman at the counter who, despite having returned to eating his meal, appeared to have taken something of an interest in what Maggie and Rosa were talking about since hearing Ray’s name being mentioned. “You know, in your office?”
“You mean about how it’s always different interviewing someone you have a personal connection with?” said Rosa, phrasing it as a question even though she already knew that’s exactly what Maggie was referring to. “And how that was something I wanted you to prepare yourself for?”
“Yeah … that,” replied Maggie. “Well, unsurprisingly … it turns out you were right.”
“Alright, well, walk me through it,” said Rosa, more than willing to be the pair of ears Maggie, clearly, needed right now. “What happened?”
“Well, it’s not that anything happened, per se,” began Maggie, trying to put words to the complicated way she was feeling. “If anything, the whole day went really well.”
“But …?” said Rosa, giving Maggie a taste of her own medicine.
“But … having seen how cut up he, obviously, still is about Mustang disappearing and … I mean, you know how Ray, essentially, hasn’t been seen since he went missing?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, we were thinking it was because he was so messed up by the whole disappearance that he just didn’t want to be around anyone, right?” explained Maggie, leaning in closer to her phone. “Well, turns out the actual reason he won’t leave is because part of him still thinks that maybe Mustang might come back and therefore he can’t leave the Creek because he promised him that he’d always be there for him – and the reason I know that at all is because I asked him to have dinner with me and it was like I may as well have asked him to give up breathing.”
“Oh, man, the poor guy …” sighed Rosa, sympathetically, her heart strings failing to remain unplucked.
“I know, right?!” said Maggie, glad to hear that her sympathy was, indeed, well-placed and not just borne out of her past connection with Ray. “So, now, I’m left sitting here with this great story he’s given me and, yet, it’s like I feel … guilty or something because when I think about the fact that, yeah, he gave up an entire day, practically, to talk to me and help me out, and then pair that with everything he did for me and my mom after my dad died – like, the money he gave us – all I wanna do is to be able to help him like he’s helped me, but … I just don’t know how I can.”
With her rant over – and feeling all the better for actually getting how she’d been feeling off her chest – Maggie, after letting out something of a cleansing sigh, looked at Rosa and awaited her response. Because she would know what to do. Because Rosa always knew what to do. It’s one of the reasons why, of the four people who’d been up for the job of Editor-in-Chief, Rosa was the one who’d been chosen to take up that hottest of seats.
“Well, I understand how you feel, Maggie – I really do,” she began, now adopting that methodical, reasoned way of speaking she always did when faced with a complex problem. “And while it’s an incredibly noble thing you want to do … I’m afraid there might not be anything that you can do.”
That hadn’t been what Maggie had been expecting to hear – and, if she was being honest, it knocked what little wind she had left clean out of her.
“Ok, and I know that’s not what you wanted to hear – I can see it all over your face that it’s not,” continued Rosa, now stepping onto the stoop outside her brownstone and coming to a stop against the black, metal railing running up along the side of it. “But with someone in Ray’s position, someone who’s hidden themselves away from the world for just over a decade because of this tiny fragment of – I mean, let’s face it – false hope that someone will, for all we know, come back from the dead? That’s not something you can just fix with a dinner invitation. You can let them know you’re there for them, sure. But, when it comes down to it, they themselves have to want to be helped. And, in this case, that means Ray? He has to be the one to take that first step outside that golf course – you can’t make it for him.”
Though she knew deep down that everything Rosa was saying was true, it still didn’t alleviate the intense sense of ‘want’ gnawing away at Maggie’s insides to try and figure out some way that she could help Ray. Because, surely, there had to be something that could be done? Someone she could call in the extensive, encyclopedia-like list of contacts she’d built up in her time as a journalist that could guide her in the right direction? But when the best she could come with off the top of her head was maybe a few sports psychologists she’d interviewed a year or two previously, it began to dawn on Maggie that she didn’t really have any other alternative but to admit defeat – for this trip, at any rate.
“Yeah, you’re right …” she said, letting out a quietly frustrated sigh. “I guess the only thing I can really do is just keep in touch with him and … I dunno … take more trips down here? Maybe even bring mom to see him?”
“Yeah, those sound like good ideas to me,” agreed Rosa, seeing that Maggie needed to hear some positive feedback.
“Yeah …” said Maggie, getting the faintest of breezes back in her sails. “Just show him that there’s a world still out here that wants him to be a part of it, you know? And then, who knows, maybe in time he’ll feel comfortable enough to … uh … oh my God …”
“Maggie? You ok?” asked Rosa, understandably confused at why she had, suddenly, not only trailed off into silence but was now no longer even looking at her phone.
What Rosa’s problem was, however, was that she couldn’t see or hear what Maggie was.
Because out through the window alongside her, cutting through the rain and moody orange glow emanating from the street lights, Maggie’s attention had been drawn to the headlights of a car that had just pulled up outside the diner.
A car whose gently ticking engine belied the growling band of old-school, mechanical horses chomping at the bit under the hood to be unleashed on an open stretch of road.
A car whose yellow and black paint job, one that was now shimmering in the rain and glow from the neon sign above the diner, made it instantly recognizable.
Because it was the paint job that belonged to a certain ‘65 Mustang Fastback.
A ‘65 Mustang Fastback that had belonged to one Mustang Peyton – which could only mean there was one person driving it.
“Hey, can I call you back?” asked Maggie, now turning to look at her phone, a wide, disbelieving smile now stretching the corners of her mouth.
“Yeah, sure …” replied Rosa, pleased to see Maggie smiling again, but still unsure as to what exactly was the cause. “Is everything ok, though?”
“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” confirmed Maggie, her smile getting all-the-wider as she saw that it was, indeed, Ray stepping out of the Mustang and now rushing towards the door of the diner in order to get out of the rain. “It just turns out I might not be having dinner alone after all.”
“Aw, really?!” said Rosa excitedly, knowing full-well what Maggie meant. “Well, say no more, girl, you just go have a nice time, alright? And I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”
“Thanks, Rosa,” replied Maggie, rushing to get off the phone as politely as possible. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
With a quick swipe of her finger across the screen, Maggie hung up on Rosa – leaving her to begin her second job of the evening in wrangling her two kids into their PJs – and placed her phone back down onto the table as she eagerly turned her attention towards the door where Ray had just walked in … or, at least, she was pretty sure it was him, at any rate.
Because even though it was definitely the same guy she’d been speaking to all day, Ray now looked completely different. He’d combed his hair. He’d shaved his beard. He’d even gone to the trouble of getting ‘dressed up’ in a navy sports coat, blue button-down shirt, his cleanest pair of jeans, and some black dress shoes he’d, clearly, even polished just for the occasion. All changes that made him look, instantly, ten years younger. And it was a transformation that wasn’t lost on the few other customers and staff dotted around the diner either. For, as word quickly spread of his arrival, all eyes, suddenly, turned towards Ray as if a ghost had just walked in – and, in a way, there kinda had. Even the chef in the kitchen, who up until now had been busy flipping burgers and tending to people’s orders, couldn’t help but stop and stare out through the hatch at Ray.
“Hey, Maurice,” said Ray, saluting the chef with a quick flick of his hand in the hope it would help break the tension which had now engulfed the diner. “How ya doin’?”
“Yeah, I’m … I’m good, Ray …” stuttered Maurice, still looking as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing as a piece of fried onion plopped harmlessly off the metal spatula in his hand.
“Good … glad to hear it,” replied Ray, nodding his head and smiling somewhat uncomfortably before focusing his attention on where Maggie was sitting.
With a host of eyes tracking his every step – including those of the gentleman at the counter who’d yet to swallow the mouthful of fries he’d been in the middle of chewing when he first walked in – Ray arrived at Maggie’s booth.
“Hey …” he said, a touch sheepishly.
“Hey …” replied Maggie, smiling warmly. “You came.”
“Yeah, well …” began Ray, wringing his hands nervously together. “I was sittin’ at home after you’d left and I was thinkin’ ‘bout what I was gonna have for dinner and … well, it just kinda occurred to me that, on second thoughts … a burger wouldn’t be half-bad. That is, of course … if the invitation still stands?”
“Are you kidding?! Of course, it does!” exclaimed Maggie, gesturing excitedly at the empty side of the booth and grabbing one of the small, laminated menus lying on the end of the table. “Come on, sit down! Here’s a menu!”
“Thanks,” smiled Ray, clearly relieved at seeing Maggie’s reaction as he sat down into his old booth and got himself comfortable. “And, hey, I know you already have the one that you’re gonna do but … well, I can tell you more stories ‘bout Mustang if ya wanna hear ‘em?”
“Yeah, sure,” replied Maggie, still grinning from ear-to-ear that Ray was actually sitting across from her. “You got a particular one in mind?”
With the menu he probably already knew by heart in his hand, Ray paused for a second to scroll through the library of stories he and Mustang had crafted together, searching for just the right one to share.
“Oh, ok,” he began, a good story, suddenly, jumping off one of the shelves in his mind and into his lap. “How ‘bout this one …”
After the pandemic saw the 2020 Players’ Championship (and everything else for that matter) brought to a grinding halt, it left me facing an uncertain future where I wasn’t sure when I’d next have tournaments to preview and then cover live as I’d been doing since 2019. So, to keep myself busy, I said I’d start writing this idea for a story I’d come up with a year and a bit earlier, but wasn’t sure when I’d ever get around to actually doing.
A story about a kid named ‘Mustang’.
Now, exactly a year to the day since that ill-fated 2020 Players’ Championship, I’ve just finished the final chapter of ‘MUSTANG’ (so, the week before you’re reading this) and I still can’t really believe how much all of you have taken to this story. But, what I do know for sure, is how incredibly grateful I am to each and every one of you. So, to everyone who has read this story, enjoyed this story, and, most importantly, shared it around to such an extent that it now has readers on every continent on the planet (well, bar Antarctica, obviously) I just want to say a massive ‘thank you’ – because none of this happens without you.
So, though this is, technically, the end – it’s only the end for now. I’ll be publishing ‘MUSTANG’, both digitally and physically, over the next little while, so any support you’re able to give when that happens would be massively appreciated. And for those of you who’ve asked about merchandise, that, too, will be coming over the next while (both in kids and adult sizes) featuring the below graphics, so make sure to keep an eye out for that either through my social media accounts (which you can find at the top of each chapter) or through posts on here. So, until then, thank you, again, and you’ll be hearing from me again very soon – now, however, I’m off to take a break! – Stephen F. Moloney