Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [97]
Billy Jack told Carolyn she was insufferable. He told her she had not paid any attention to his advice about the water hazard and he informed her that in general she had a great deal yet to learn about the game, as well as about common courtesy. In his years at Mission he had encountered plenty of temperamental golfers. He did not intend to be pushed around by this one.
Carolyn was too astounded to speak. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that, so she did not know how to react; she glowered helplessly as Billy Jack and his student walked on down the path to the course.
But as the minutes and the hours went by she began to know how she felt; what she wanted more than anything on earth was to have Billy Jack fired. She wanted the head of Billy Jack Andrews on a platter. His flayed skin she would nail to the wall just as her brother once wanted to nail a squirrel to the wall, and his reputation she would grind into the dust. And because she did not have the power to accomplish this she went to her father, who had been a member of the club for a long time, who had paid dues for years, who surely would be in a position to destroy the pro. She argued her case and waited, confident that he would rise up in a rage. But for some reason he did not. She was puzzled because he appeared to be thinking it over.
Mr. Bridge was acquainted with the pro. Years before, he had taken a few lessons with the idea of getting some exercise, but a round of golf used up half the day—which seemed wasteful—so he had quit. Since then he had run into Billy Jack now and then at the club, and the pro remembered him, which was a bit flattering. Mr. Bridge liked Billy Jack.
Carolyn tried every device she had used on her father in the past. Nothing worked. He told her that even if her resentment was justifiable, which he doubted, he did not think that a single incident was sufficient cause to demand that the pro be dismissed. He inquired if other golfers were complaining about Billy Jack. Carolyn replied that everybody was complaining; but as soon as she had said this she realized her father would ask for the names of people who had complained and he would call them up, so she went on quickly: “Don’t you care if an employee of the club insults me?”
Mr. Bridge understood that nobody else had complained and he understood that she was attempting to divert him. He replied that perhaps she deserved what she got.
Carolyn’s hands trembled as though she was about to seize something and throw it. The freckles on her face stood out like measles.
“You listen here, young lady,” he said in a warning voice, “you simmer down.”
It might be true that the professional had spoken out of turn, and it was true that despite his status, which caused him to be treated by the members as an equal, he was, after all, one of the employees. Nonetheless, Carolyn’s arrogance could not be tolerated. He told her that she was not to adopt a superior attitude toward Billy Jack nor toward any other employee of the club, nor toward anybody else, for that matter, anywhere, at any time, under any circumstances. If she did, she was going to find herself in hot water. Was this clear? And to emphasize the seriousness of this message he dropped his forefinger on the desk—in the silence of the study it sounded like the tap of a bird’s beak against the window.
Carolyn gave him a sudden, stark look and retreated. Her eyes told him all he needed to know: she would behave more considerately from now on. Or, if she did not, at least she would be aware of what she was doing.
102 Peggy
Another employee of the club that summer was a cheerful little waitress with heavy breasts and a mole on the tip of her nose, who carried trays of sandwiches and cold drinks from the coffee shop to the swimming pool. About a week after she started to work Douglas was observed to be quite friendly with her, a fact which Carolyn reported at home. Nothing was said about this until a second report suggested that Douglas and the waitress were seeing each other elsewhere.
Mrs. Bridge