All of Me

Diana hung up and glanced at her phone. She’d heard it pinging while talking but hadn’t looked at it. Marty was playing golf with some friends, so she hadn’t worried it was him. She frowned and rolled her eyes when she saw Ronaldo’s name on the notification.

            RONALDO: Hey, girl. Been thinking about you since we talked yesterday.

Fu*k. She deleted the text like she had the ones from the day before. Marty had probably been right; it was time to change her number. She needed a new phone anyway.

*****

DIANA: Just so you know, Ronaldo texted me again. I deleted it. Time to get a new number. I don’t want him contacted me again.

Marty read the text and gritted his teeth against the curse words that wanted to spew from his mouth. Motherfu*ker needs to leave my fiance alone, he grumbled internally as he reached for his driver. His buddy, probably best friend, Marcus, waited on the tee box for him. He stomped up the green and set his tee and ball where he planned to hit from. He rolled his shoulders and prepared his shot, but he cursed and stepped back.

Marcus stared at him curiously as he leaned carefully on his driver. “Problem?” he asked in his slow, calm voice.

Marty rolled his shoulders again to release the tension. “Diana’s ex-boyfriend is trying to get back into her life. He texted her yesterday, she told him to leave her alone, but he texted her again today.”

“Your lady is straight-laced, man,” Marcus said after a moment of thought. “You don’t have to worry about her.”

“I know I don’t have to worry about Diana,” Marty huffed, his brow furrowed. “But he knows she’s engaged and he’s still texting her. What kind of man does that?”

“The kind who can’t find his own woman,” Marcus nodded sagely. Marty grunted his agreement but didn’t speak. “You’re marrying her. Let it go.”

“I’m getting Diana a new phone with a new number tomorrow,” Marty finally blurted. “That will ease my mind and hers.”

“A good idea,” Marcus agreed with a small smile. He looked at Marty’s ball, waiting patiently on the tee, then up at Marty, who stared at the ground. “Are you watching the grass grow?”

Marty started and shook his head. “Sorry, man. Just thinking.”

“Stop thinking and hit your ball,” Marcus ordered jovially. “You’ve figured out how to handle the problem. Tomorrow is soon enough. Time to play golf.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Marty stepped up to hit his ball. He shifted his hips until he found the proper stance, swung the club back, and hit the little white ball as hard as he could. It shanked to the left. “Dammit!”

“Don’t break the club, man,” Marcus said steadily as he watched the ball bounce not even a hundred yards up the fairway. “Your mind is too occupied for good golf.”

“Fu*k. You’re right, but I will finish the game, even if I’m fifty strokes over,” Marty grouched, glaring at the club as if it had caused the flub.

Marcus watched him stalk back to the golf cart. He had hit his shot while waiting for Marty to check his phone. As he followed Marty, he called, “You shouldn’t let this dude ruin your afternoon.”

“I know, I know,” Marty murmured as he jabbed his driver into his golf bag. “But it bothers her. So it bothers me.”

“It should bother you. But like I said, you’re handling it.”

Marty nodded, shrugged his shoulders, and rolled his neck to ease the tension. “I’ve got to answer her. Then I’ll put it away.”

“And I’ll hail the cart girl and get us a six pack,” Marcus offered as he put his fingers to his lips and let out an echoing whistle and waved his hand to get the cart girl’s attention.

“Good idea,” Marty laughed as the girl sped over in her drink and food filled cart. He grabbed his phone as Marcus sauntered over to the attractive girl. He watched their exchange, smirking. The cart girls were usually pretty and college-aged, and all of them knew how to increase their tips for the day: wear tight shorts, skimpy shirts, and flirt with the old men playing golf. The brunette giggled loudly at something Marcus said, and Marty shook his head as a twenty, way more than the cost of a six pack, disappeared into the girl’s apron pocket.

            MARTY: I will get you a new phone and number tomorrow. Want me to text the guy?

DIANA: No, babe. I think the new number will fix it. No need to get worked up. He’s a douche.

MARTY: Ok. The iPhone 7 is out.

DIANA: YES! You spoil me and I love it!

MARTY: I’ll have it when I get home tomorrow night. Love you.

DIANA: I love you.

Marty felt much better after their discussion. He hoped a new number would end the contact. Diana had blocked him on all social media, so all should be well. He frowned as a sneaky bad feeling hit him. He remembered Ronaldo, had met him once, had heard many stories about him from Diana. The man was relentless when he wanted something, if Marty had read between the lines correctly.

Marcus popped the top on a beer and handed it to him. “Get the sh*t out of your mind. Drink.”

Marty laughed and shook himself. He didn’t believe in bad feelings or omens. He lifted his beer, a can, and clunked it against Marcus’s. “The sh*t is gone. Let’s play golf and get drunk!”

*****

Diana sipped her mimosa, relishing the sweet tang of orange juice and the bubbly bitterness of champagne. She smiled as the waiter refilled her glass with the delicious liquid. She looked at Rena across from her, giggling as she lifted the flute to her lips. “I love twelve dollar, unlimited mimosas!”

“Me too,” Rena replied, smacking her lips. “I’m not even sure I’m going to eat.”

“Oh I am!” Diana exclaimed as she reopened the menu to read about the delicious breakfast the café offered. After some debating, she announced, “I think I’ll walk over to the omelet bar and have one made special order.”

“Hmmm,” Rena hummed as she perused the menu. “I’m having the spinach and mushroom quiche.”

“Blech,” Diana opined with a wink. The waiter appeared again, and she smiled up at him.

“How are we doing, ladies?” he asked, smiling smarmily at them.

Rena made a subtle face at her. “We are just fine.”