Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

“Yes, you know… drinks to take on the road. You call them roadies.”

“Oh.”

I hand Sam some money. “Can you go and get us three cans of Coke, Sammy, please, and some crisps and chocolate.”

He holds the money in his hand and looks at me.

“What?” I ask.

“We aren’t allowed to drink Coke.”

“Says who?”

“Dad.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I’m not going to tell him. Are you?”

He smiles cheekily and goes to the cart.

“God, don’t tell your father I’m letting you drive this golf buggy. He will have a conniption.”

“What’s new, that’s all he does.”

I watch her for a moment as she looks out over the green. Her dark hair is in two plaits. She’s wearing a black cap, and she has her usual grungy-style clothing on. Her skin is porcelain clear and she has the prettiest eyes. She’s actually very attractive underneath all her witch wear. Poor kid. She has this straight-laced father, and I’m pretty sure all of her nanny’s have been as boring as batshit.

Has she ever had someone in her life to have fun with?

Sammy returns, jumping in the back, and we crack open our cans of Coke. I hold mine up in the air.

"Cheers. A Coca-Cola toast."

They both put their cans up to mine.

“To crazy fun on the golf course today.” I widen my eyes. “With no rules.”

Sammy laughs, and I see excitement dancing in Willow’s eyes as we hit our cans together.

“Anyone know where the first hole is?” I ask as I pull out onto the path.

Willow points to the left. “Up over the hill.”

I grin mischievously. “Hold on, everybody.”

I floor it and we go flying. Sammy squeals in delight, and even Willow cracks a smile. “Let’s show these boring golfers how it’s done.”

I drive like a maniac, and as soon as we are out of the club house’s view, I start to zigzag. The kids both laugh out loud as I try to tip them out.

“We need some tunes.” I glance over at Will. “Can you get my phone and hit Spotify, please.”

She frowns and swipes through the options on the screen.

Hmm, I think for a moment. “I think this day calls for Kanye.”

Willow raises her eyebrow. “Kanye?”

“Yeah. Kanye. Hit the Kanye West playlist.”

“Who’s Kanye West?” she asks.