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Saturday, June 3, 2006
"Shit!" Vicente Vasquez hated golf with a vengeance.
Trying to mutter the curses under his breath so his father wouldn’t hear, he followed the damn ball into the small wooded area to the right of the seventh hole. He’d never understand why the hell they made golf courses so huge and the stupid balls so tiny. Why grown men wasted their weekends playing the game, calling it a good business networking opportunity, also eluded him. And the worst thing? The fact they’d been here this morning for a seven-thirty tee-off. Sleeping in hadn’t even been an option.
"You got it?" His father sounded impatient as he threw anxious glances at the two older business contacts he was trying to impress.