Read Online The Feathery by Bill Flynn - Free Book Online

stroked putts from fifteen feet with each of the putters. His stroke with one of the putters was rolling the golf ball in the cup consistently.
     
    They bought the putter, and stayed on the practice green for two hours trying putts from various distances and contours. Most dropped in the cup, and Scott’s confidence started back up the road to restoration.
     
    Back at the motel, they ordered submarine sandwiches and tackled another problem.

Scott was putting into a drinking glass set down on the carpet ten feet away with his new putter when he said, "I’m almost broke. Just enough to get us to San Diego and regroup. I can’t make expenses for the next tour stop."

"Whoa." Matt took a bite from his sub and chewed it slowly while he mind-counted his assets. "I’ve got enough dough to get us through the tournament at the TPC in Maryland week after next and a little more if we need it. We’re off next week, anyway, since we’re out of the US Open."

Scott sat down on the bed and reached for his sandwich. "Thanks. I’ll pay you back with interest soon as I can. Any suggestions on where we go next week before Maryland?"

Matt took a long swig from a Pepsi can. "Bray and his caddie, Claudio Spencer, are out of the Open because Bray’s wife is due to have a baby and he wants to be with her. Claudio invited me to stay at his place on Long Island, and it has room for you. You can practice at a course nearby."

"That’ll work. I’ve got to win something in Maryland."

When Scott said that, Matt noticed the expression on his friend’s face. It showed his desperation over finances. Matt stood up to face Scott sitting on his bed. "You can’t stay under the financial gun any longer, like needing to make a check in Maryland to stay on tour. The pressure of earning enough for our expenses is screwing up your concentration. You need a good checking account balance to ease that worry."

"How do I get that kind of dough?"

Matt gave his friend a hard look. "If you don’t want any sponsors, you’ve got to sell the golf antiques Sandy left you."

Scott was quiet for a few seconds before slowly nodding his head in reluctant agreement.
     
     
     
     
    The next day they were on Long Island, New York, when Matt asked Claudio Spencer, "Do you know anyone around here who can tell us about selling golf antiques?"
     
    They’d just finished playing a round at a course on Long Island, and Matt and Claudio were having a beer in the clubhouse. Scott went straight to the practice green from the course even though he’d made seven birdies and shot a 66 using his new putter.
     
    Matt looked across the table at Claudio while waiting for an answer. He saw his friend with swarthy skin and large dark eyes run his fingers through his curly jet-black hair as he thought about someone to help with the antique golf stuff. Finally, he touched his Roman nose with an index finger and his face brightened with an idea.
     
    "Yeah, my Uncle Anthony has all kinds of connections in the New York area."
     
    "In golf antiques, Claudio?"
     
    "In all things. He’s my mother’s brother, and they came here from Sicily before I was born. I’ll give him a call." Claudio reached for his cell phone and touched some numbers, hesitating before entering the last one. "Where are these antiques?"
    "On the way to your apartment from San Diego by UPS. They’ll be here tomorrow morning."

Claudio greeted his uncle and made small phone talk before mentioning the antiques. "Matt, my uncle wants a friend to see them."

Matt thought it would be okay with Scott and said, "sure, when?"

Claudio asked his uncle. "He said tomorrow evening at seven…my place."
     
     
     
     
    T wo men accompanied Anthony Imperato to Claudio’s apartment. One was dressed like Claudio’s uncle in an Armani suit with a black silk shirt and a wide-white necktie of the same material. Uncle Anthony’s friend’s wavy white hair was a vivid contrast to the dark skin of his face. He was introduced