Chapter 23

Saturday night was low-key and comfortable in the RV. We all sprawled around the big front room, each of us at ease, doing whatever felt right to us as individuals. Kim suggested a game of chess, and we played two, but, as always, she beat me so quickly, and with such consummate ease, that we both soon lost interest.

I buried my nose, thereafter, in a book, while Tess was surfing the 'Net. Kim read the "Fri-Sat-Sun" edition of USA Today, which, at that point in time, was already 36 hours old. Oh, well.

I thought maybe Tess would bring up the promised recital of her history -- her theory of what caused her exhibitionist streak. Maybe she was waiting for me to ask her to continue the story.

I still felt that it would be better to let Tess do the deciding, about when the time was right.

"I found out who the photographer is, who did the pictures for that 'Jockettes' calendar last year," Tess said. "It's a woman. Her name is Phillipa Ramsey."

"Is she famous, or something?" I asked.

"No, I don't think so. But I think she's awfully good! These pictures? They're really well-composed, don't you think? I mean, they're not overly graphic, or anything, but despite the restraint, they're lively and sexy. I think she's really first-rate!"

I knew that Tess was almost certain to agree to pose for the Kalendar Krafts project. At my behest, she was already having the company checked into, for purposes of assuring its basic legitimacy. Among other things, Tess wanted to determine whether it was true that a "portion" of the calendar's proceeds was donated to charities.

"You need to find out if this photographer you like is going to be working on the next calendar," I told Tess. "There's no guarantee that she will be."

Kim had gone into the back of the bus, probably to the bathroom, when Tess elaborated to me further. "I need to find out whether this photographer has some professional ethics, too," Tess said. "Because, if she can be trusted, I'd like to hire her for some... extra photos."

"You mean, you want her to do the more explicit pictures you talked about?"

"Right. Maybe we could even make an arrangement where she would take the shots for the calendar, and then just go on from there -- maybe, for starters, using the same costumes and backdrops."

"That all might get kind-of expensive," I warned.

"It's something I really want to do," Tess said. "I could get it all done for free, if I were willing to pose for Fresh or some other men's magazine. But I realize that would be going too far, with my being on the Tour, and all. To me, the next-best thing would be to contract for my own photo shoot."

"Put your lawyer on it, Tess," I said. "Get him to put together a contract that will tie up your photographer, legally, and assure your exclusive right to the photographs. I know you don't intend to publish them, but you need to make certain nobody else does, either."

"This is going to be expensive!" Tess said. "I'll bet the photographer will be expensive, and now, a lawyer, too?"

"If you're going to do this, for God's sake, do it right."

Kim had come back. "How about you, Kim?" Tess said. "You want to get in on this?"

Kim laughed. "No, thanks. Don't get me wrong -- I wouldn't mind having a few sexy photos of myself to hide in a little box under the bed. But the ones I have in mind can be taken by an amateur. You, or Will, could do it with a digital camera. No professional participation would be required."

"That sounds like fun, don't you think, Will-ard?" Tess said. "How about lets take some of Kimmy, right now?"

"No, no, and no," Kim said. "Not tonight. But, sometime, when we've all had a few drinks and are feeling frisky, then, fine, I'd be willing to do it. We could both do it!... Who knows, Tess, maybe Will's photography will be so good, you'll decide you don't need to hire a professional."

"No," Tess said thoughtfully. "Amateur shots would be fun, but I don't think they'd be enough to suit me."

We watched the clock, and drifted off to bed reasonably early. Starting times for the final round at Pine Needles on Sunday would be quite late for Kim, and very late for Tess. As always, the waiting period was difficult to fill with useful activity.

As soon as we could assure that a decent night's sleep wouldn't involve us all being awake again before six a.m., we were off to bed.

I worried about Tess on Sunday morning. It seemed to me that she was a little off her feed. Not that she was sick, or anything -- she just wasn't as keyed up about being tied for first as I thought she would normally be.

"You all right?" I asked, finally.

"I'm very calm," she said.

"Yeah! I know. It seems like maybe you're too calm! Where's the spark, Kid?"

"I don't know," Tess replied. "I've kind-of been this way for the last couple of days. It's pretty weird. This is a major event; it's being played in Carolina. I've got a shot at winning my first tournament on the LPGA, and it's a big one, and I just feel kind-of -- blah!"

"Were you feeling blah yesterday? You played awfully well."

"Yeah, I did." She laughed. "... Maybe it's a good blah."

"The good news," I told her, "is that you're going to be right there, all day, with your nearest competition right in front of you. You can play them both, head-to-head. Sure, some fourth woman could come up and catch you, but it's not likely to happen. If it does, you'll get the word about it. So, today, if you can just keep up with Sorenstam and this Sarah Kim woman, you'll know all is well."

Tess looked all serious and hopeful. "If I win," she asked me, "are you going to let me suck your cock, again?"

"Well, I guess so," I agreed, "... but only if you brush your teeth, first."

Tess was wearing another of those shorty outfits that reminded me of tennis garb, but today (I checked -- carefully) she was in regulation undergarments designed to keep the important stuff covered, and unlikely to cause a riot, even if she bent over.

No Commando. No borrowed Carolina Blue men's jockeys.

All three of the tournament leaders went out in par on the first, second, and third holes. Sarah Kim, known on the Tour especially for her short game, hadn't managed to birdie the first par three. Tess, with her very long drives off the tee, hadn't gotten her bird on the par five. Everybody was just hanging tough.

The heat was still pretty intense, but not as bad as on Saturday, and Tess seemed physically comfortable. On the fourth fairway, I asked her whether she was feeling any more into the match than she had at the outset.

"Maybe a little," she said. "But what I am feeling is, that I'm playing well, and that maybe intensity is overrated. Maybe this is the way to win -- just by stone-cold grinding."

"I doubt if there's always just one best way to win," I told her. "I think that sometimes you grind, and sometimes, you gotta get all fiery and work up a little blood!"

"You think I'm still too... too calm? Today?"

"Who knows, Babe? I mean, like you said, you're right in there. You haven't hit any bad shots. You're still in a tie for the lead."

"Somebody's gonna crack, pretty soon," Tess said. "It probably won't be Annika. That means it'll either be me or this Kim girl. Look at her. She looks tight. I'm betting she's the one who's gonna crack."

I was uncertain whether that kind of speculation, on Tess' part, was productive. "You absolutely certain you want to use an eight-iron on this shot?"

"Are you trying to plant seeds of doubt about my club selection?" she said, smiling.

"Just asking."

"Gimmie the fucking eight iron."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Well, that hadn't sounded all that laid back.

She hit it to within six feet of the cup and Tess suddenly found herself with the best chance any of the leaders had yet had to pick up a birdie. I took back the eight and handed her the putter while we were still on the fairway. "You sure the eight-iron was the best club, for that shot?" I asked her.

"Did you treat Grandma Hoop this way, too?" she asked me.

Sarah Kim's second shot hadn't made it to the putting surface, and her third shot, a pitch of about 80 feet, went haywire, too. Although she was finally on the green, she was still away, and hitting her fourth.

Her putt stopped way short of the hole, leaving her a challenging (and embarrassing) eight-footer still to go. Although her ball was now at least inside of Annika's, so Sarah Kim had avoided the humiliation of having to still be away, and to hit next again, Tess' ball, lying two, was still inside hers.

Annika Sorenstam holed out her putt from 18 feet, giving her a bird. Sarah Kim missed, still-again, giving her a double-bogey six on the par-four hole. I figured she was pretty much done for the day.

Then, damned if Tess didn't miss her relatively easy birdie putt. The three-way tie was, at least for the moment, history. Annika was now seven under, Tess still at six under, and Sarah Kim fallen back to four under and seemingly in free-fall mode.

As the round wore on, Sarah Kim wore out. Her nerves failed her and she fell far behind, almost surely sacrificing even third-place money in the process.

When the trio reached the 14^th tee, it was a near-certainty that either Sorenstam or Tess was going to win this thing. The veteran Swedish star still held on to a one-shot lead.

"When do we get to the fun part?" Tess asked me.

"I think that's in that little building there, off eighteen," I said, "when you turn in your card."

"I've got ice in my veins!" Tess said. "... Isn't that what the sportswriters say? Isn't that the right cliché'?"

"Ice, huh?... You think that's a good thing, or a bad thing?" I asked her.

"I don't know if I'd want to feel like this every week -- every tournament," Tess said. "But it feels like it's a good thing, right now."

"Only one more par five ahead," I reminded her. "That's going to be your best chance for making up that stroke."

"Annika isn't exactly a punch-and-Judy hitter," Tess said. "She's capable of a bird on any hole."

"So are you," I reminded her. "You can have all the ice in your veins that you want, but you need to get aggressive, from here to the end. You're unlikely to blow second place by getting bolder, even if you fuck up. You've got three strokes, now, on the rest of the field. Go for it, Tess, take some chances!"

Tess did listen to me. She got aggressive as all get out. There may have been ice in her veins, but she had a little fire, now, in her eye.

She didn't pick up the stroke on the par five, but she birdied seventeen and was finally all square with Sorenstam going to the final hole -- another par four.

"Put her away!" I urged. "You've got this!"

Well, Tess did her best. Her tee shot was good-but-not-great, and her approach was on the green in regulation, but it rolled back, sickeningly, away from the pin.

Still, she gutted it out, holing a long putt on eighteen for an unlikely par.

Unfortunately, Annika, the veteran champion, birdied the 18^th, winning the U.S. Open -- and $575,000 -- by one stroke. It was Sorenstam's second consecutive U.S. Open victory.

Tess' second-place money would total $350,000 -- I was pretty sure that was the biggest runner-up purse in LPGA history.

It would be three more hours before we would be able to escape the press and officialdom at Pine Needles course and head for the RV park.

Kim had finished in an eighth place tie, winning $62,400.

I was a little surprised to find that Tess' near-miss didn't seem to be causing her any pain at all. "I feel great!" she told me, privately, as soon as we had a moment alone. "Maybe I didn't win, but, jeez, I played great. I could have won! I will win -- sometime. Soon, too! The important thing is, I know I belong here. I know I can play with anybody. Who could ask for more than that?"

It was late, but we decided to pack up and head out, anyway. We only had to drive the short distance to Chapel Hill. Why not go on home, stow the RV, and sleep in a bed in Henderson Manor tonight?

A smaller bed, maybe -- but, still...

The Henderson household was joyous at the second-place finish Tess had accomplished at Pine Needles. They all seemed to share her view that losing to Sorenstam by one stroke over four days wasn't exactly the stuff of tragedy.

And $350,000 was real money, even by Henderson standards. Kim pointed out, a little ruefully, that Tess' second-place money at Southern Pines was more than Kim's first-place money had been, at the McDonald's.

"Well," Tess said, "I guess there are majors, and then there are majors!"

We stayed up late, talking, laughing it up, feeling relief at having completed a milestone on the Tour. The next day would be July 2. Neither Tess nor Kim planned to play competitively again until the World Match Play Championship, starting July 19 in New Rochelle, New York. Both my golfers had easily made the 64-player qualifying field for that event, although Kim was a lower seed and would likely encounter some tough match-ups, right from the start, with some of the world's best players.

We were planning a good long break -- even from practice. Sometimes, long breaks in the tour schedule induced tension. This one just felt right.

As usual, honoring Henderson family sensibilities, real or imagined, Kim slept alone in her assigned guest room, while Tess and I shared her room. Also as usual, my guest-room bed would be left undisturbed. We were all going to be staying at The Manor for more than a week.

Presumably, at some point during the week, I would be invited to sneak into Kim's room in the dead of night, instead of -- somewhat openly -- sharing Tess' bedroom regularly. Or maybe Kim would sneak into Tess' room for a threesome. There would be less chance, that way, of leaving incriminating evidence for the maids to find. They were accustomed, by now, to a highly disheveled bed in Tess' room.

But late in the afternoon on our first full day back in Chapel Hill, all three of us were outside, by the pool, and alone.

"You guys really want to hear this story?" Tess asked, "... what me -- and my ex-shrink -- think about why I act the way I do?"