Chapter 4

The limo drove up the, and after an exit they soon rode through the center of. Simon drank a little more than usual, and Stewart rolled a joint and smoked it in the back seat. Stewart wore a pair of dark aviator sunglasses, and the sunshine and scenes of the quaint town reflected off of them. Stewart had a place not far from the center of town, and Simon thought he must have felt at home in Greenwich, considering he had family living in the area and also old friends from Princeton doing nothing else but lounging around their pools and traveling from place to place when the seasons changed. Stewart remained contemplative on the ride up. The pot made him that way. Simon didn’t want to interrupt whatever turned in his head.

A narrow, curving road from the center of town led to a country club with magnificent, verdant lawns and stately club houses. The limousine pulled into a guarded gate and proceeded along a driveway lined with thickly-knotted trees yellowing with end-of-season foliage. Inside the clubhouse they met a couple of traders who worked with a prominent securities firm in. Simon had never met these people before, but Stewart had known them well, judging by the jovial way he hugged them. Apparently, they too were grads, just a little younger, a class after them. They all shook hands, and Stewart did most of the talking on the course.

Simon never liked golf much. He found it too frustrating a game. He never had formal instruction but tried learning it on his own. Unfortunately, he lacked the talent to get the damned ball onto the green. Golf for him was a lot like billiards – some people were just better at it, even though he knew how to play. Although he enjoyed some of the social aspects of the game, he never really liked the game itself. The ball always sliced or landed in the sand pits or in one of the many man-made ponds that they stocked with fish every spring.

Stewart, on the other hand, loved the game, and he partnered with Simon against the traders. It seemed a bit odd that Stu didn’t talk much about his father’s campaign. Even though they were coming up on a major Presidential fundraiser, Stewart didn’t mention it. Simon did some of the talking, even though he didn’t agree with Stewart, but when the conversation veered into personal financial matters, Simon kept his mouth shut, and Stewart became enthusiastic. They walked towards the next hole, four caddies following them.

“That stock shot through the roof,” exclaimed Stewart, getting a beer from one of them.