Sal had once again gone over the rules and showed him how to keep score, giving him tips then reminding him to watch his language.

Romero thought it was supposed to be just him and her dad but to his surprise and somewhat relief, Charles and her brother, Art were there also. At least it wouldn’t be so one-on-one.

After greeting all of them and making some small talk about the weather, they all made their way on to the course. Romero didn’t even care that he would most likely come in far last as long as he didn’t make a total ass of himself. They all knew he’d never played before. What he didn’t expect was for Art to be worse than he was.

“Maybe you should just watch,” Isabel’s dad said, disgusted, as another chunk of grass flew in the air and Art’s ball rolled off to the side.

Art laughed. “Hey, I’m just here to spend some time with my old man. I couldn’t care less about this stupid game.”

Charles spent more time on his phone than engaging in conversation with them. When he wasn’t talking he was checking his email or texts, then responding.

“I’m told you’re in the security business,” her dad said as Charles set up to take a swing.

Romero nodded. “Yeah. Security and private investigating, background checks—that kind of stuff.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

Romero felt her dad’s eyes sweeping over him, but nothing said he was impressed. He hated feeling like he was being scrutinized. He shook it off and answered as aloofly as possible. “I’ve been doing security for years but I only got the business off the ground this year.”

It was her dad’s turn to putt and as usual, he took his time setting up. Both Charles and Art were on their phones again. Romero stood a few feet from Charles who’d stepped away to answer his call. The entire time he hadn’t paid any attention to any of their phone conversations until he heard a bit of Charles’s current call that caught his attention. “I know, my love. I’ll be done here in about an hour and then I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

Just hearing it brought a foul taste to Romero’s mouth. How could anyone miss Pat? They continued playing and her father continued to grill him casually. “Is your family originally from La Jolla?”

Romero prepared himself to take the shot before answering. He swung and then watched as the ball flew through the air. He was getting pretty good at this. He turned to her dad who was still watching the ball. “Nah, I was born in Calexico, same as my uncles and dad. We moved up here a few years after they opened up their business. Said the schools and area in general were better for raising a kid. I was about four.”

“What kind of business do they run?”

He knew it was coming and even though he always told himself he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. Annoyingly, he was beginning to realize that he did now, and maybe he always had. “A bar.” He glanced at her dad then back at Art, who awkwardly set up for his shot. “The Silver Dollar, over on First Street.”

Romero could tell just by the look her dad gave him, he’d heard of it—maybe even been a patron at one point.

“Never heard of it.”

Romero figured that much. The uptight would-be Mayor was not about to admit to frequenting a topless bar. After shanking another shot, Art turned to Romero. “Your folks own The Silver Dollar?”

“Yeah, my uncles do.”

Art wasn’t judging like Romero had expected. “My buddies took me there for my twenty-first birthday.”

Isabel’s dad ignored Art. “What about your parents? What do they do?”

Romero set up for his next shot. Without looking at any of them he said, “Never met my mom, and my old man’s in jail.”

By the time he took his shot and turned back, he saw he had the attention of all three. Even Charles, who’d hardly looked up from his phone the entire time stared at him. Romero wasn’t giving up anymore information than necessary. “Next hole.” He stuck his club in his bag when he reached the cart.

When it was all over, he’d learned a few things about the men in Isabel’s life. Art was surprisingly down to earth and had a desperate need to impress his father. Having two uncles who made him feel like he was the shits his whole life, even with his sometimes rotten grades, Romero couldn’t relate to that, but he liked the guy so he felt for him.

Charles was a major kiss ass with Isabel’s dad, something he’d never be. Sure, he’d gone out of his way to learn to play golf, but that’s only because he didn’t want to totally humiliate himself out there. And he’d looked up what her dad’s stand was on some of the more major things, but again he just didn’t want to inadvertently say something to open up a can of worms. He’d never cared enough to argue about politics.

But what surprised him most was as sweet and loving as Isabel was, her dad was as cold as a dead fish. Art tried the whole time to tell him about things even Romero was impressed with, like the fact that he was the youngest lawyer being considered as a candidate to run for District Attorney in Los Angeles’s history. Her dad continued golfing as if he’d just been told the sky is blue.

Romero could see he wouldn’t be impressing this man with his little security firm so he wouldn’t even try. As long as her family didn’t get in the way of him and Isabel being together he’d keep his business to himself.

They stopped for a drink at the clubhouse. On his way back from the restroom, Romero caught the tail end of Charles’s phone call as he stood just outside, his back to Romero. “…I know I can’t wait either. I’m almost out of here. I’ll see you in a bit.”