Abruptly awakened by the ring of the phone, Reid had two immediate thoughts: Where the hell am I? and I don’t remember requesting a wake up call. He climbed out of the recliner and stretched. Ouch, he was stiff. His neck hurt, his back hurt, hell, everything hurt. He needed a massage and then a soak in the hot tub before going out to practice. He called the spa and scheduled a 9 a.m. massage and another one for 6 p.m.

He wanted to focus on his chipping today. He had been driving and putting well yesterday, but his short irons needed work. To win this tournament, everything had to be fine-tuned. His ball placement on the green would be critical.

Reid practiced for two hours before lunch, then another three after. He finished the afternoon feeling ready. Nine out of 10 chips were ending up within three feet of the pin. He could drop three-foot putts with ease. If he could play like this during the tournament, he would be fine. All he needed was a clear mind. He worried that if thoughts of the threats crept into his head during the tournament they could ruin everything.

He swam some late afternoon laps. No racing, no fanfare, just cool refreshing water washing over his muscular body. Then, after a deep muscle massage, he retired to the suite for the evening. Buck joined him for a light dinner from Room Service, then they sat back and watched a comedy on Pay-Per-View. It had the desired effect; not only did Reid laugh out loud from beginning to end, but not another thought entered his mind during the entire film. Afterward, Buck went down to the bar and Reid went to bed. Lying in bed, he replayed the funniest parts of the film in his mind and chuckled quietly as he drifted off to sleep.

When morning came, Reid swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. It was 10 a.m. He had been awake for the past half hour, but after such a long, revitalizing slumber, he was too groggy to get up quickly. Luckily, forgetting to place a wake up call was no problem the day before a tournament. He was at the range by 11:30 a.m., feeling very loose, hitting with each club almost perfectly. Buddy just watched and made sure no one got close enough to interrupt. It was relatively quiet at the course. Most players and fans were over at the 9-hole course for the Par 3 Contest. Reid enjoyed the peace and quiet. After half an hour of hitting balls, Reid said, “Come on, let’s go tee off.”

After six holes, Buddy said, “Man, I haven’t seen you play this well in a long time. I wish this was the real thing instead of a practice round.”

“It’s kind of funny; you know how I’ve been on edge for a while. Well, I haven’t told anyone this, but I recently made a mental commitment to become a better person, you know, like try to grow up, treat people a little nicer, even you.” Buddy looked at Reid, his face scrunched up in doubt. “I mean it. Being a nice guy can’t be that hard, can it?” “For you? Come on.” “Well, I’m going to try. No guarantees, but hopefully I can do it. Look what it’s doing for my game. Maybe it’s just the answer.” Buddy shrugged. “Maybe?” After Reid played one of the best rounds he had played in months, both men smiled. Each knew the other’s thoughts; if Reid continued to play like he did today, the tournament was his.

Reid had been looking forward to his 6 p.m. massage. He had requested Donna, a beautiful masseuse with the lithe body of a Pilates instructor, her other job. Reid chose her because she was extremely talented with her hands and he had already slept with her. As she kneaded his muscles, he thought through every hole at Augusta, playing each perfectly in his head. His thoughts shifted; Green Jacket, Mom, Jennifer, AllSport, e-mail threats. Immediately his body tensed. Donna asked, “Did I hurt you?” “No, just some nagging thoughts.” “Relax,” she said soothingly. “Let’s see if I can help you forget your problems for a while.” She quickly removed her uniform, rolled him over on his back and pulled off his towel. Then with the flair of a gymnast, she hopped up on the table and onto him. She rode him hard and fast into a sexual frenzy. Afterward, she lay on top of him and asked softly between kisses, “Did that help?” “Absolutely,” Reid moaned, weary with satisfied exhaustion. “Good, now go to sleep,” she whispered. She gently climbed off the table, and covered him with a blanket. She dressed, gave him a kiss and quietly left the room.

When Reid awoke it was almost 8 p.m. He went back to the suite, showered and had Buck paged. “Hey, where are you? Did you have dinner yet?”

“No, I’m on the patio,” Buck said. I was waiting for you. How was your day?”

“Excellent. In spite of everything, I was able to get into the zone; no one bothered me at all. I even had time for a massage.” Reid smiled. “Do you want to eat here or out?” “I don’t care. You decide,” Buck said in a relieved tone. Reid knew the tone well. He knew Buck was pleased that the day had gone by without any confrontations. He knew Buck always worried about him the day before a tournament. It was always possible, even probable, that Reid would snap at someone who was just saying hello.

“Why don’t you get us a table in the pub? I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.” “Fine,” Buck said. Reid dressed and headed to the restaurant. The room had the look and feel of an old English pub: dark ceiling, dark wood paneling, worn leather seating in booths around the perimeter. The big difference was the Guiness on tap here was cold. Reid found Buck in a quiet booth in the back, away from the slowly growing bar crowd. Reid sat down and took a gulp of the Diet Coke that Buck had waiting for him. Buck held out a sealed envelope with Reid’s name on it. A picture of an eagle was in the top left corner. “I met with Carl earlier; Eagle’s lawyers are working on the contract and payment terms. He asked me to give you this as a good-faith payment.” Reid took the envelope, slowly opened it, peeked inside and smiled. “Let me see,” Buck said. Reid looked up with a grin and shook his head as he started to put the envelope in his back pocket. “Real funny. Hand it over,” Buck demanded with an annoyed grin. Reid handed him the check. “Two million…nice,” Buck said. They raised their glasses and clinked them. “Yeah, it’s a good start,”

Reid chuckled. During dinner, Reid was grateful that Buck understood his need to focus inward and keep conversation to a minimum. After dinner, Buck said, “Let’s go out to the patio for a cigar.”

Reid ordered Navan cognac for Buck and a Perrier for himself. He told Buck, “I want you to try this cognac. It’s infused with vanilla and goes great with a cigar. I think you’ll like it.”

“Sounds interesting,” Buck said as he put his legs up on a patio chair next to the one he sat in. He was under the awning at the edge of the slate patio. Reid preferred a lounge chair under the brilliant starry sky. He loved to stare at the night sky and spot shooting stars. The vast power and depth of the solar system always awed him. Reid was pleased that, except for Buck and him, the patio was empty. Buck pulled two Fuente Opus X’s out of his black leather cigar holder. They cut and lit their cigars. A few players approached to say hello. Reid was polite but made no small talk. He wished them luck in the tournament while puffing on his stogie. Some took the hint and moved on. One guy asked Reid’s opinion about a specific hole on the course. Reid just shrugged and let a plume of smoke billow from his lips. The guy walked away mumbling, “Arrogant bastard.” Reid meant no harm; he was just getting focused. Veteran players knew to just stay away.

Having drunk half his cognac, Buck commented, “Hey, you were right about this stuff,” he held up the snifter and twirled it, sending the amber liquid into a spin, “it’s excellent. What’s it called again?” “Navan. It’s made by Grand Marnier.” “I’m gonna order another. You want anything?” “No thanks,” Reid said, “I’m heading up to bed; enjoy the rest of the evening.” Buck replied, “I’ll be up in a little while, I need to get to sleep soon, too, so I can head over to the club early. The press will be all over Carl, and I want to control them as much as possible.”