The Crash of Hennington

—You don’t water every morning? Pre-dawn watering is generally considered par for the course, if you’ll excuse the—

—Every pre-dawn except Thursday, when we water at this time.

—What on earth for?

—Drink up, Mr Odom. It’s free.

—Whew. Strong one.

—That’s the way we like them here at Hennington Hills. Now. Mr Odom.

—Could I get another one of these?

—Of course. Tracy? Have you met Tracy?

—It’s a pleasure.

—Interesting you should put it that way, Mr Odom.

—I beg your pardon?

Thomas paused. Was nothing ever easy? But then, easy wasn’t fun, was it?

—Surely you’ve heard one or two stories regarding all that we have to offer here at Hennington Hills.

—Oh, yes, it’s a beautiful course, and I hear the others are just as nice. The grounds are quite something.

—But you must have heard, I don’t know, a story or two? Regarding the facilities?

Tracy placed another drink in front of Odom. Thomas could tell by the small amount of blue at the bottom that this one was nearly pure alcohol. Good girl.

—I’m not following you.

—About the things we can also provide besides those things that are only, how can one put it, apparent on the surface.

—I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

—You didn’t just come to me for a round of golf and a country club membership, Mr Odom.

—What else would I have come for?

Odom took another long draft from his cocktail schooner, set it down on the countertop, and looked Thomas straight in the eye. He didn’t say another word. You’ll pay for this, Thomas thought. Literally, in amounts you’ll barely be able to afford but will somehow be unable to keep yourself from spending. I will take you down, and I will do it in the worst possible way, by making you beg me for it.

—We offer our members amenities not available at your run-of-the-mill country club. We are also expert providers in the more, shall we say, sensual areas of relaxation that the modern businessperson is so often in desperate need of.

—Uh-huh. And what would those be?

Enough.

—It matters very little if you’re taping this, Mr Odom. I’ve investigated your background, and I already have some interesting tidbits that would keep you from using any recording against me. So if you’re working undercover to take care of some past ugliness, why not turn it over to me rather than let the soiled hands of law enforcement make you a puppet? And if you’re recording this for your own protection at a later date, I can assure you from experience that such protection is both unnecessary and irrelevant.

Odom’s face went ashen. Gotcha, fucker, and on a guess, no less. Odom took another drink and remained silent.

—I can’t think of any reason why your entry into Hennington Hills should be anything other than a pleasant, worry-free experience for both of us. Come. Give me the tape.

Odom drank again, then slowly reached in his pocket and pulled out a micro-recorder.

—How did you know?

—It’s not uncommon. Trying to get me to say the first questionable thing and so forth.

—It was for the second reason, by the way, my own protection. I’m not undercover or anything.

—I know.

—How?

—Is it really important? What’s important is that you’re here, that we’ve gotten past these awkward formalities, and that you begin to learn all the wonderful things we can offer you at Hennington Hills.

—So what they say is true?

—Where have you been, my good man? I thought I’d at least gotten past the level of mere hearsay.

—And I can join?

—Mr Odom, I wouldn’t think of letting you leave without joining.

Thomas smiled as Tracy set down an already-completed application form in front of Mr Odom.

—You’ll see the membership fees are a bit steep, but we think they’re worth it. I’m sure you’ll agree.

Odom took the pen lying next to the application and signed it without another word. He set down the pen and took another drink.

—I’m sorry about the tape.

—Already forgotten.

—It’s just, you see—

—Say no more, Mr Odom. You were merely protecting yourself. It was admirable.

—So … I’m in?

—Irretrievably.

—When can I start?