Mr Masters: Chapter 5

A trace of a smile crosses my face. “I have no idea who you would be thinking about.”

She sits down on her stool and tips her glass at me. “If you were out on a date tonight…” She rearranges herself and pulls her dress down. “Who would you be thinking about?”

I raise my eyebrows. Where is she going with this? “I would be thinking about the person I was on a date with.”

She narrows her eyes, questioning me. “Really?”

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. “And why are you surprised that I give my full attention to my dates?”

She rests her hand under her chin and smiles up at me playfully. ‘I don’t know,’ she breathes dreamily. ‘I just am.’ Our eyes linger on each other’s just a little too long. She’s soft, beautiful and playful, and I know if I stay here I’m going to do something that I’ll regret later. Something that entails her being naked and bent over the kitchen counter, while I fuck her hard from behind. I would hitch her right leg up to rest on the counter to give me better access.

I get a vision of her bent over, naked and wet.

Open… wide open.

Her big beautiful tits would be free for me to look at.

She hasn’t had sex for twelve months. Imagine how tight she is.

Cut. It. The. Fuck. Out!

I shake my head and clear my throat, disgusted where my thoughts are going. “Miss Brielle.” I stand abruptly, hoping that she doesn’t see the tent in the front of my shorts. “I’m going to bed.”

She jumps up and grabs my hand. “Come on, let’s dance. The night is young.”

‘Go to bed!’ I demand.

“Oh… but I’ll fall down the stairs and break my leg.” She pulls a whiney face. “I’m too tired to walk all that way. Can’t I sleep here on this stool?”

“No. You cannot.”

I grab her hand. “In bed, now, please.” I lead her through the house and down the hall to her bedroom. My heart begins to beat faster and faster with every step closer to her door.

“Julian,” she purrs playfully from behind me.

“Mr. Masters to you,” I snap. This is way too familiar for my liking.

Her hand is small and deliciously soft, just how I imagine her body to be.

For fuck’s sake, rein it in.

“Mr. Masters,” she repeats in a gruff voice, mimicking me.

I open her bedroom door and am greeted with her scent. Sweet smelling perfume fills my nostrils, and I start to hear my heartbeat pump in my ears as my arousal begins to take over.

Get out of here.

Get out of here now!

My cock is now at full length and dripping. Her scent is all around me and I just need to fuck her.

I throw her on the bed, and she laughs freely as she falls back onto the mattress. Her eyes hold mine as she giggles playfully, her arms are up above her head and her long dark hair splayed across her pillow.

“So bossy, Mr. Masters,” she whispers.

I clench my hands into fists as I stand over her. “You have no idea,” I whisper. God, she looks fucking edible.

Leave…

My heart is racing.

I hesitate as I take a moment to control my voice. “Goodnight, Miss Brielle.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Masters,” she breathes sexily.

I leave the room and practically run up the stairs. I tear open the bathroom cabinet and take out the baby oil.

A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.

Pound, pound, pound.

Oh God, my head.

What the fuck happened last night?

I frown as I try to focus around my room, and then down at myself. I’m still in the clothes I wore out last night.

I feel so sick. What the hell was I thinking, drinking all those cocktails?

I can hardly remember anything since I got in the car to come home.

That’s weird. I was fine when I left the club.

I get up, go to the bathroom, and then take a look at myself in the mirror. My hair is wild. My hot, smoky makeup from last night now looks like a half dead racoon. I look like roadkill.

Oh, dear God, my breath.

I squeeze toothpaste on my toothbrush and begin to brush my teeth while I feel sorry for myself, staring at my reflection. And now I have to babysit today while Mr. Masters plays golf.

A fleeting image of myself dancing in the kitchen crosses my mind.

Wait, when was that?

Did I?

I close my eyes as I try to remember what happened last night.

Was he already awake? Did I wake him up?

Oh no.

Fuck.

I spit out the toothpaste with force and quickly wash my face. Then I run into the bedroom and start climbing out of my dress.

Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.

What did I do? What did I do?

I nearly rip the dress as I tear it down, throwing my dressing gown over my underwear before I run out into the hall. I race up the stairs into the main house and find Willow sitting at the breakfast table eating her porridge.

“H-hi, Willow,” I stammer.

She looks up and frowns. “What happened to you?’

“Good question,” I mutter as I look around the house in a panic. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s just about to go golfing, I think he’s in the garage.”

I bite my bottom lip. ‘Okay, thanks. I need to see him about something.’ I run out and down the back steps to the garage. I find Mr. Masters in there cleaning his golf clubs with a rag and what looks like a bottle of oil. He’s looking down and concentrating on the task at hand.

“Good morning.” I smile. Please let this all be a figment of my warped imagination.

His eyes flicker up to me, and then back to his golf clubs.

Shit. He’s pissed.

I twist my fingers together as I watch him, not knowing what to say.

“Is everything okay?” I whisper.

His cold eyes rise to meet mine. “No, everything is not alright,” he says coldly.

My eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t be that obtuse, Miss Brielle.”

My heart starts to beat faster.

He goes back to cleaning his golf clubs.

“Did I wake you last night?” I whisper.

His furious eyes rise to meet mine. “Among other things.”

I scratch my head in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It means your sexual advances are superfluous.” He sneers.

My eyes widen in horror. What the fuck? “S-sexual advances?” I stammer. “Why…what? What do you mean, sir?”

He slams the golf clubs down on the ground with a thud. “You know exactly what I mean.”

I ring my hands together in front of me. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Masters, but I don’t even remember getting home last night. Please tell me what happened.”

He shakes his head in disgust, opens his car, and walks around the side of it. I run after him like a puppy. “What happened? What did I do?” I plead.

Oh God. What did I do?

He throws his clubs into the trunk and slams it shut. ‘And this incongruous behavior is unacceptable,’ he growls.

“I don’t understand.”

“This…” He gestures to my dressing gown. “This has got to stop.”

“What has?”

“You walking around my house in a state of undress. Coming home in the middle of the night and dancing half naked in my kitchen, while being all flirty and suggestive.” He steps closer to me and narrows his eyes. “I can assure you, Miss Brielle, that I am not the kind of man who has sexual relations with his staff.”

My face falls.

“What?” I whisper. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What happened last night?”

“You arrived home, called me, and when I came downstairs you got all excited when you saw me in my…” He air quotes to accentuate his point. “Cutie patootie pyjamas.”

My eyes widen. Oh fuck. I didn’t call his pyjamas cutie patootie. Surely not?

They are anything but cutie patootie. They are smoking hot.

“Then you preceded to dry hump my refrigerator, all while wearing next to nothing.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. This just keeps getting worse. Kill me now.

“You practically went down on a glass of scotch before you started licking your arm in some kind of porn display, and then you insisted on talking about me being a nanny virgin.”

My hands go over my mouth in disbelief. “I came onto you?” I whisper.

He gets into his car, slams the door shut, and winds down the window. “Your impropriety is alarming and will not be tolerated in this house under any watch.”

I drop my head in shame. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, if it isn’t too much trouble, Miss Brielle… do your job and go look after my children. If you are uninterested in performing the position you applied for, go find something else, because I can assure you that the position of being a hooker, on your back, in my bed is unavailable.”

My eyes fill with tears.

He starts the car and I step back, out of his way. I quickly swipe a tear from my eye as it tries to escape, but he doesn’t miss it, and he hesitates as he watches me, as if he’s going to say something more.

Finally, without another hurtful word, he chooses to leave.

I stand alone in the garage and look around at the spotless space as I hear his sports car roar down the driveway. My heart is racing, and my face is hot, flushed with embarrassment.

A heavy sense of regret sits in the pit of my stomach. I’m so ashamed.

I’m a prude; I don’t come onto people. I get annoyed and disgusted when people come onto me.

And he’s my boss.

I put my hands on top of my head as the tears burst through the dam and roll down my face. What must he think of me?

Fuck, this is the worst hangover ever.

I’m slumped on my bed half an hour later, completely defeated.

This job is harder than I thought, but I never imagined that my sense of character would be under scrutiny.

Why the hell didn’t I just stay over at Emerson’s last night? None of this would have happened. It’s a complete disaster, and to be honest, one that I don’t think I can work through. That’s if he even wanted me to.

I’m mortified at my behavior and I want to run to him and tell him he’s got it all wrong, but who am I kidding? He saw it with his own eyes, and he wouldn’t just make this stuff up for fun on a Sunday morning.

His disappointed voice echoes in my mind.

You were dry humping my refrigerator.

Oh, the horror.

I pinch the bridge of my nose in disgust. I’m going to leave. He thinks I’m a skanky ho. Why wouldn’t he? I am. I can’t believe I acted that way. I have no idea what came over me. What in the world would possess me to come home and start dirty dancing in the kitchen?

I dry humped his fridge.

That’s it—the decision has been taken out of my hands. I have to leave. I want Emerson to come over and get me tonight. I can’t pack up all my stuff and do this alone, so I dial her number.

“Oh, hell, I’m dying over here,” she answers roughly.

“Yeah, well, you and me both. Great idea drinking cocktails, Einstein. I need you to come over here tonight and help me move my stuff. I’m resigning.”

She sighs. “What now? I’m too ill for dramatics today.”

“Apparently, I dry humped Mr. Masters’ fucking refrigerator last night when I got home, and I was dancing around like a hooker and coming onto him. The worst part is that I can’t even remember it.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I had a slut brain snap and…” I throw my hands in the air in exasperation. “I don’t know what the hell was going through my thick head.”

She lets out a shocked chuckle. “Are you joking me?”

“I wish.”

“Oh God.” She pauses for a moment. “What the hell did you do?”

I close my eyes, because it’s mortifying to say it out loud. “I told him his pyjamas were cutie patootie pyjamas.”

She bursts out laughing. “What? Cutie Patootie? Who says cutie patootie?”

I find myself smiling. She’s right, this really is unbelievable. “And then I dry humped his fridge and started licking scotch off my fingers or something. After that, I came on to him.”

“Jesus. You must be hanging for it.” She thinks for a moment. “Did you have sex?”

I cringe. “No, idiot! He hates me.”

“Oh, bullshit. He was probably loving every minute of it. There isn’t a man alive who could watch you dry hump a fridge and not get aroused.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Did you ask him to have sex?”

I scowl and wrinkle my nose. What if I did? “I can’t stay here. I’m so embarrassed, you have no idea.”

“Well, what did he say to you?”

“He told me off using all these intelligent words I hardly understood, and then he said that I should stick to the position I applied for because the hooker position in his bed, on my back, isn’t available.”

She stays silent.

“Are you still there?” I snap.

“Yeah, the hooker in his bed bit threw me. That’s a kind of hot thing to say, you know? Do you reckon he has hookers in his bed for real?”

“No!” I shriek. “He’s probably fucking gay. Get me out of here!”

“Calm down. We’ll find you another job. Just hang in there for another week or two. Anyway, doesn’t he go away this week?”

“Yeah, on Wednesday.”

“Well then, you won’t even see him.”

“I wish I went home with those two guys last night. I bet I would feel like less of a slut than I do now.” I sigh.

“If you did go home with those two guys last night, they would have taken turns fucking your ass all night, and we would be in emergency right now getting it sewn back together.”

I wince at the thought. “Oh God. Can you imagine?”

“Just suck it up for a few weeks until we find you another job. Take the kids out today, do something fun and outdoorsy so that he doesn’t think you are staying at home, nursing a hangover.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” I wonder where I could take them.

“Look, he’s been drunk before, surely. Nobody is that perfect.”

“I honestly doubt it. He stays home and studies his thesaurus.”

She giggles. “Just behave yourself until we find you another job.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I shake my head. “But if you ever buy me another cocktail, I’m tipping it over your head.”

She laughs, and I hang up.

I sit for a moment as I process her words, knowing she’s right. I can’t fuck this whole thing up until I get another job.

Which brings me to my next problem: the kids. I march up into the house with renewed determination, and I find them both on the sofa, lazing like sloths with their phones in their faces. “Let’s go out for the day.”

“Pass,” Willow sighs without looking up.

I lift my chin to stare at the ceiling, and I suck in a breath. Please, God, give me the strength to deal with her today. I don’t want to add a murder to my list of misdemeanors.

“It’s a beautiful day, so we’re going outdoors. You can pick the activity,” I announce.

Sammy frowns as he thinks. “We could play golf like Dad does?”

“Hmm. I don’t think your father would appreciate us annoying him.”

“No, Dad has gone far away to play golf. He told me so. We could just play at the country club down the road.”

“We don’t have any golf clubs. What else could we do?” I say.

“We have golf clubs. We can use Dad’s old ones that are in the garage,” Sam replies.

Hmm, I don’t feel like driving around. Unless…

I glance over at the phone constantly attached to Willow’s palm. “Willow, you could drive the golf buggy.”

Her eyes lift to mine. “Really? You would let me drive?”

“Of course, why not?”

She sits up, her excitement stirring.

“I could make us a picnic, we could play some music on our phones, and we could enjoy an afternoon out in the sun.”

Willow bites her bottom lip. She can’t show me she’s excited, that would go against her game plan. “I suppose I could do that… for Sam, I mean,” she eventually agrees. For Sam. Obviously.

I smile and place my hands on my hips. “Well, we just have to wait for a few hours.” I can’t tell them we have to wait until the alcohol has left my system. “But once we’re ready, we’ll go and have fun.”

“Woohoo!” Sammy squeals as he punches the air.

I frown. “What do you wear to play golf in London?”

“Collared shirts,” Willow replies as she takes off upstairs.

I smile. You know, I think they are actually excited.

This could be fun.

I hit the ball off the tee and we watch it fly down the fairway. “How’s your dick?” I ask Spence.

He rolls his eyes as he stands next to me, holding his golf bag. “Recovered. I’m going back tonight.” He looks down the fairway. “I had to psych myself up.” He chews the gum in his mouth as he concentrates on his hit. He lines up and smacks the ball high into the air.

I glance at Seb and raise a brow before I look back at Spence.

“Fuck off. Who the hell has to psych themselves up to fuck two beautiful, kinky women?” I mock as I drag my second ball over to the tee with the back of my club.

He raises his eyebrows at me and tilts his head. “How’s that hot nanny of yours, anyway?” He chews his gum, waiting.

I blow out a breath. “Trouble. She nearly got herself fucked on my kitchen floor last night.”

They both grin, flashing their teeth. “What happened?” Seb asks.

“Came home drunk and horny, waking me up.”

Seb’s eyebrows rise. “And?”

“And nothing.” I take my hit, and we watch the ball fly into the air. “She’s too young. It’s a no go.”

Seb lines his ball up. “How old?”

“Twenty-five.”

‘That’s a perfect age. She’s old enough to know how to fuck, loose enough to fuck hard, but tight enough to drive you wild.’

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, she would drive me fucking wild. I already know that. I’m telling you, I’ve never been so attracted to someone in my life.” I get into the golf buggy. “I have to grit my teeth the whole time I’m talking to her so I don’t get a raging boner.”

They smile as we drive down the fairway.

“You should just do it.”

I shake my head. “I can’t. My kids seem to like her. I have to behave.” I sigh.

“Fuck the kids.” Spence sighs. “This is all about you. The kids don’t pay her fucking wage, do they?” We pull up at the green. “Get your money’s worth, I say.” He smiles cheekily, popping his gum.

“You just worry about that iron snatch that’s going to rip your cock off tonight.” I smirk as I take out my club. “Leave my nanny to me.”

Three hours later, we drive into the swanky looking golf club, and I pull into a parking space.

The sun is out, the birds are chirping, and the day is perfect. This place is very posh indeed. Rolling green hills stretch out as far as the eye can see. There are groups of distinguished-looking people—all being very conservative and quiet—playing golf together.

We sit in the car for a moment as we look around. “God, these people look so bored, don’t they?” I say.

“Truth,” Willow agrees as she looks around.

“Can we please go in?” Sammy pleads. “You promised.”

I exhale. “Yes, we’re here now. Let’s do this.” I climb out of the car and look down at myself. I’m wearing my navy pants and a white cotton shirt. My hair is in a high ponytail, and I have my gold aviator sunglasses on. I look like I don’t belong here, but the kids follow me anyway as we go into the reception area. A good-looking young man and a beautiful girl are standing behind the counter. They look to be around Willow’s age. The young man glances at Willow, and then does a double take. She instantly drops her head and bites her bottom lip.

She’s kind of cute when she gets shy. Shy is a lot more appealing on her than evil.

The beautiful girl smiles warmly. “Hello, can I help you?”

“Yes. We would like to play golf, please?”

Her gaze turns to Willow. “Okay.” She smiles at her, and Willow drops her head… again. Oh, she really is shy.

We need to work on this.

“Can we please hire a golf cart, too?” I ask.

“Sure.” She takes a photocopy of my license and hands over the keys as I pay.

“There are a few rules that you need to adhere to.”

“Such as?” More damn rules.

The handsome young man interrupts the girl as she speaks. “We ask that you don’t cut in front of other players, stay out of the bunkers, and treat the greens with respect.”

“Of course.” I glance over to see Willow is twisting her hands in front of her. This boy is obviously affecting her. How cute.

“This is our first time, but if we like it we will be coming back to learn properly,” I add.

‘Oh.’ The young girl turns to Willow. ‘There are lessons for girls on Wednesday afternoons at 5:00 p.m. if you’re interested?’

Willow smiles awkwardly.

Oh jeez. She’s never getting a boyfriend at this rate.

“Your golf buggy is the one parked to the right. Take it easy if you’ve never driven one before.”

I take the keys from the boy’s hand. “Thanks, we will keep that in mind.” I grin at the kids. “Let’s go hit some balls.”

We walk out, get the clubs from the car, and then we put them into the back of the golf buggy. “You sit in the back, Sammy, and I will drive until they can’t see us. After that, you can drive, Will.”

“Okay.” She bounces her shoulders with excitement.

We all get in and I start the cart. I raise my eyebrows to the kids, and Sammy laughs out loud. “Yes. We are driving.”

I pull out onto the path, and we begin to drive under the stretch of large, green trees. We pass a bunch of golfers and I wave, giving a little toot, toot of our horn.

Willow smiles and shakes her head. I think she’s finally getting to like my goofiness a smidge, even if she doesn’t know it yet. “So, where do we go?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Sammy calls from the back.

“Was there a map in those papers she gave us, Will?”

Willow flicks through the papers.

I glance over at her. “The staff here are quite attractive, don’t you think, Will?”

She smirks and rolls her eyes.

We drive for a bit longer and I see a drink cart. “Oh, we need some roadies,” I say as I pull over.

“Roadies?” Will asks.

“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 nannies 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 clubhouse’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.

“Are you kidding me?”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Oh God, do you live under a rock? Don’t answer that. He’s a rapper. I like his old stuff better than his new.”

We arrive at the first hole. I park and we all climb out. The tee off is on a hill, and the golf green is way, way, down below. I put my hands on my hips as I look into the distance.

Willow takes a golf club and ball out, and then she hands them to me.

“I’m supposed to hit this tiny ball into that tiny hole all the way down there?” I point to the green.

“Yep.”

Sammy and Willow stand beside me with their hands on their hips as we contemplate how we can complete this impossible task.

I lean over, place the ball down, and then wiggle my behind. “White ball in the sand pocket,” I announce.

“Oh God,” Willow moans.

I take a swing and completely miss the ball, which causes them both to laugh. I take another, and another, until finally I connect with the ball and it goes scooting across the ground.

I hit the club on the ground. “I’m completely shit at this.”

“It’s true, you are,” Sammy chuckles.

“Your turn, Will,” I say.

She lines it up and takes a swing, missing the ball completely. “You’re shit, too.” I laugh.

She smiles as she concentrates on hitting it again. This time she connects with the ball and it sails high in the air.

“Wow!” Sammy shouts.

“Yeah, baby!” I call. “Have you ever done this before?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Holy crap. You could be the next Tiger Woods or something.”

“Who’s Tiger Woods?”

I roll my eyes. “You need to read tabloid gossip more, girlfriend.”

She smiles proudly as her ball bounces way down the green.

“Maybe you should do those golf lessons, Will? I can bring you.”

She shrugs and we watch as Sammy takes his turn. He, too, starts off by missing terribly, but finally, he beats my shot.

“You drive now, Will.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” I shrug, “Can’t hurt.” I watch her get behind the steering wheel and I direct her on what to do. When we take off slowly, she laughs out loud.

“Look at me! I’m driving.” She laughs.

I giggle and hit my playlist. The song “Gold Digger” rings out. I turn it up so it’s loud.

“You’re not just driving, baby, you’re driving to ‘Gold Digger.’” I laugh. “This is our aim. Today we are learning all the words to “Gold Digger” and ‘Black Skinhead.’”

She turns to me in disbelief. “You want us to learn rap songs, while we play golf?”

I dance as I mouth the words to her. “Sure do.” I put my hand over to the backseat. “Hit me with some chocolate, Sammy. I need sustenance.”

“Yeah!” he yells, full of excitement. “This is the best day ever!”

It’s 4:00 p.m. and we have laughed our way around every hole.

Kanye has been blaring out and we now know most of the words. Willow has been speeding and trying her best to hit every pothole on the paths. Sammy is beaming with happiness. Come to think of it, so am I.

We got told off twice by boring golfers who told us to turn our music down, which we did for approximately seven minutes each time.

We overtook some slow golfers and missed a hole completely.

We stopped at the shop and bought lunch, because I didn’t feel like eating the shitty jam sandwiches I made for us.

It has been a perfect day.

We have just finished the last hole, and Willow won the game. “I’ll have to drive back to reception, Will, so they don’t see you.”

She pulls the car over and I jump into the driver’s seat. I slowly drive us back down the hill towards reception.

“I’ve had a really great day.” I smile at the kids. “Thank you. That was the most fun I have had in ages.”

“Me, too!” Sammy calls from the back.

Willow smiles.

I point at her. ‘Haha, I got you smiling. Admit it. You had fun,’ I tease, and she rolls her eyes.

We drive down the hill slowly, with our music now off, when Sam calls out to me from the back. “Is that Dad?”

“What? Where?” I gasp.

“Over there, behind the tree.”

I look over and see a man in a navy polo shirt who kind of looks like him. He’s taking a shot with his club.

“Shit, is that him, Will?”

She sits up and narrows her eyes as she studies the man in the distance.

“Look out!” Sammy yells from the back seat.

I snap my attention back to the path to see Mr. Masters standing directly in front of the cart. I swerve, trying my best to avoid him, but it’s too late, and I hit him full force, running him over.

The cart bounces twice as he goes under the wheel.

I screech to a stop.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.