Zac suddenly felt his face grow red hot as he turned to grab a fresh bucket of balls. 'Yes. Right. Sorry.' Grabbing a random club from the bag, he took a ball and placed it on the green. With considerable effort, he carefully lined up his shot, found a rhythm, then swung with all his might-- missing the ball entirely and nearly hitting himself in the head. Lucky for Zac, Mac's back was turned, meaning he missed the epic failure, entirely.
Shaking off the ridiculous swing, Zac cleared his throat, ready to try again. 'So, golf and business, huh? It's like he was breeding you specifically to be a CFO.'
Mac laughed, hitting a perfect drive dead centre. 'Close. I think I could actually hear his heart crack when I told him I wouldn't be applying to his firm. I just couldn't bear the idea of working for him.'
'I can understand that. Love my Da, but I wouldn't have wanted him for my boss. Where does he work, anyway?'
'Angel Corps.' Another perfect drive.
Zac drove the club directly into the green. 'He-- what?!'
Mac chuckled. 'Yeah. He's probably the one who undermined the deal.'
Zac's mind was reeling so much he didn't realise that he was openly staring at Mac. 'Your father-- your own father-- just royally screwed you and you're... just fine with that?'
Mac laughed, turning to his friend with a large smile on his face. 'What would you have me do? Go running to Daddy and beg him to give me the deal back? It's business! It happens. Besides, I'm sure it's just payback for the Westbridge deal.'
The man remained open-mouthed for a solid second before realising who he was talking to and laughing. 'Somehow... your entire relationship with your father now makes perfect sense.'
The CFO grinned, sending another ball powering down the lane. 'Don't get me wrong: I love my father. He's a brilliant man who, like me, is very caring when he wants to be.' Zac shot him a look that Mac ignored completely. 'But one of the first lessons he ever taught me was “business first, family second.” And yes, I am aware that is bloody messed up.'
Zac drove a few more hits into the green before finally hitting the ball-- all of three feet.
As he dropped another ball, Zac took a moment to look around the course. At first glance, one might think that no one else was crazy enough to come out on such a crisp November day. Yet, four lanes down, several more golfers were practicing their skills. As he watched, a man started to head their direction, clearly aiming for a stall just feet from him. However, as if on cue, the attendant redirected the man to another stall, keeping the ones next to them completely clear. It wasn't hard for Zac to miss the purposeful gaze the man gave Mac as he sent another small white victim to its fate.
Zac had a hard time suppressing a grin. 'Come here often?'
'A bit, yeah. It used to be a lot less. Every month or so. But lately, it's about twice a week. Maybe more.'
'Why the change?'
Mac went quiet for a moment, clearly giving his answer careful consideration. 'I'm trying new strategies. Drinking myself stupid wasn't working, so I thought this might help.'
'And, is it?'
'Seems to be, yeah.'
Zac finally struck the ball but somehow ended up hooking it, sending it straight into Mac's stall. After a bewildered assessment of what exactly had just happened, Mac looked at his friend with a smirk. 'Well, there's your problem, mate. You're using a putter!'
Zac flushed as his boss stepped over into his lane. Mac smiled as he handed him a driver. 'I take it golf isn't really your thing, then. More of a cricket guy, are you?'
'Uh, yeah, actually. How did you know?'
Mac cleared his throat a bit too forcefully, Zac thought. 'The way you’re holding the club; looks more like a bat. Here, watch me.' He stood next to Zac, holding his club in example.
After several moments of the silent lesson, Zac gave it another swing-- throwing the club ten feet onto the green.
Doubling over with laughter, Mac tried to speak as Zac retrieved the ill-fated club. 'I never thought I'd see anyone worse than Ally at golf, but you take the cake!'
'Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, playboy.' Zac couldn't help but grin as he returned to the lane. 'You know, if you wanted to talk about it, I wouldn't blame you.'
'Talk about what? How bad you and Alastair Crawley are at golf?'
'No. About the break up. It hasn't been that long. If you wanted to talk, I wouldn't blame you.'
A scoff came from behind Zac as he lined up his next shot. 'I'm not a girl, mate. I don't need to talk about my “feelings”.'
Zac shot a look at Mac which said very clearly how full of shite he actually was. With a sigh, Mac leaned on his club, looking as though he was thinking very carefully about his next words. 'I phoned him. Last week.'
'Really? Why? If you don't mind me asking.'
Mac chuckled, sadly. 'I believe it's what Americans would call a “booty call”. But nothing came of it. He's dating someone, apparently.'
It was Zac's turn to scoff. 'Not surprised. But, why a booty call? You don't exactly seem the type.'
'I know, I'm just-- I don't know. It sounds so pathetic to say that I'm lonely, but I guess, in a way, I am. I tried joining that dating app you recommended, but it didn't really work out in my favour.'
Suddenly, Zac was very glad that his back was turned as he felt his face flush, darkly. 'Oh? See anyone of interest?'
There was a very long, pointed pause from behind him before Mac answered. 'I spoke to one guy a few times. But it didn’t go further than that.'
Zac's nerves got the better of him in the next swing, causing him to not only miss the ball but also nearly brain himself for the second time that afternoon.
'Oh, for all that's holy, Higgins,’ Mac said with clear exasperation. ‘Here, let me.'
He stepped forward, moving opposite of Zac. Forcefully placing his hands on Zac's, he moved them into a better position. The touch was far from gentle and lasted a matter of seconds, but it was still enough to send sparks up Zac's arms.
His instructor, however, seemed entirely unaffected by the encounter. 'Now-- bend your knees, put your weight on this leg, and pivot with your hips, not your arms. Give it a go.'
Using all of his brain power to steady his nerves, Zac followed the guidelines and, finally, sent the ball flying to land about twenty-five feet away.
Mac beamed proudly, patting his friend on the back. 'Now, you've got it! We'll make a proper golfer out of you, yet!'
Several moments passed as the two men started to finish off the last bucket of balls, Zac's skills growing stronger as he went. 'I can see how this could be relaxing. ’Course, you could always try what Da taught me.'
'I take it that wasn't business and golf.'
Zac smiled. 'Cricket game and a pint. But I always just had a milk. Being only nine, and all.'
Mac paused mid stroke. 'Right. I'm sorry. I'd forgotten you lost him that young.'
Zac merely shrugged. 'It's fine. He still had time to teach me plenty by example. Hard work, self-sacrifice, family first. Closing a door is really opening a window. The usual. He worked for the same factory from the time he was fifteen years old. Twenty-two years of service, then laid off without notice. But, that didn't stop him from finding a brand new job the very next day. Didn't skip a beat. The day he lost his job I just sat on the step, crying. I thought it was my fault. He had been late to work that day to help me with a school project. But he said something I’ll never forget; “Sometimes you can do everything right and still fail, anyway. That’s just life”.’
Mac leaned on the club, staring at his fellow. 'What kind of a heartless company would layoff an employee that loyal?'
'Hamilton Inc.'
Mac’s face screwed into a look of confusion. 'That place was bought out years ago. By--'
'Angel Corps. And when they purchased it, they cut two hundred jobs. One of which was my Da.'
'So what you're saying is; my father sacked your father.'
Zac paused his swing, turning to his friend. 'Funny ol’ world, innit?' After a moment of looking at each other, the two men broke into laughter.
Mac shook his head. 'Never ceases to amaze. Such different lives, leading to the same place.'
It wasn't long before the two had finished off the last of the buckets. As they headed back to the car, Zac had a thought. 'You know, that Newcastle deal was huge. Absolutely massive. Would have been all we could have handled and more.'
Mac scoffed. 'Yes, thank you for that reminder just as I'd started to get over it.'
'No, just-- listen. If we'd taken that deal, we would have had to cancel other accounts just to fill it. And Angel isn't that much larger than we are--'
'So, if they're about to cancel dozens of smaller accounts like we would have-- And taking them on wouldn't affect our workload. We could take them and not have to drop anyone else!'
'It won't be hard to guess which they're going to cancel. It's a simple process of making a list, logically determining who'll get the boot, and poaching them before they have a chance to even look at other companies!'
Mac looked as though he was jumping out of his skin with excitement. 'Zac, I could k--' but the next words seemed to die on his lips as he looked at his friend and colleague. Instead, he opted for rapping on the hood of the car. 'We can get started tonight! You call the team and--'
'It's after five, already. They've all gone home.'
'Call them back in, we can't wait--'
'No.'
Mac looked as though he'd never before heard that word so definitively spoken. '”No”?'
Zac took a very deep breath. Even after being promoted, he'd never once questioned Mac this way. But this was too important an opportunity to pass up. 'We can do the leg work ourselves tonight. We'll get some takeaway, do the research and work out the numbers. Then, in the morning, we can have the team make the calls.'
Mac sighed, throwing the clubs into the boot and shutting the lid. 'I haven't done legwork in years.'
'I think it's about time you started, then, MacIntire.'
Mac looked back at Zac as if considering him before letting a small smirk slip. 'Fine. How about a Chinese? And you're buying, Higgins.'
Zac smiled broadly as they both climbed into the car. 'Only fair.'
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