"CNN, CMT, TNT, MTV, HBO… We must have a hundred cable channels."
The girls' wish had come true, at least for the summer.
"Consuela and I'll go get groceries," Karen said. "After Maria and I change our diapers."
Bobby had not turned from the television. "CNBC, MSNBC, Hallmark, Cartoon Channel, History Channel, Food Channel… Hey, pick up some beer, okay?"
"But not that light beer," Carlos said. "Man beer."
Karen laughed. "Man beer? Is that on the label? You want man beer, Carlos, you come with us. You can drive."
"Yeah, okay. Mr. Herrin, we get Telemundo? "
"I'm not there yet. Bravo, Disney, Discovery, SciFi… Yep, we got Telemundo."
"Oh, good. I won't miss Dona Barbara."
"Carlos, do you drink man beer while watching soap operas?"
"No. Just baseball and Dancing with the Stars. That Julianne girl, she is hot."
Scott felt as if he were starring in a reality show: Survivor-Galveston Island. A lawyer defends his ex-wife accused of murdering the star pro golfer she left him for. Who in Hollywood could dream that up? Who would dare? And the case would surely make the TV and tabloids. Scott Fenney might well end up the butt of jokes on Letterman- The Top 10 Reasons a Lawyer Would Defend His Ex-Wife — or at the annual state bar convention's gossip sessions. But if he didn't represent her, Rebecca Fenney would surely end up a prison inmate. He would blame himself, and one day, Boo would also blame him. He could not allow that day to come.
"Man," Bobby said, "we get all the sports channels-FSN, ESPN, Golf-"
Scott was standing at the open glass doors and staring out at a solitary seagull struggling against the wind when he realized the room behind him had fallen silent. He turned back. Everyone now stood frozen in place and focused on the TV. On the screen was the image of Trey Rawlins, shirtless and sweating-the man who had had sex with Scott's wife while she was still his wife-and who was now dead. He held up a glass of chocolate milk and in a smooth Texas drawl said, "Golfers are athletes too, even if you do ride in an electric cart. So after your round, you need a recovery drink-and the best recovery drink is all-natural chocolate milk, just like your mama used to give you after school." He gulped down the milk in one continuous drink and emerged with a brown upper lip and a big smile. "Got chocolate milk? Then get some."
The screen cut to the announcer: "That was Trey's final commercial."
Behind the announcer was a view of a green golf course; a byline read "Houston Classic." The pro golf tour was in Houston that week.
The announcer: "Trey Rawlins was coming off a big win at the California Challenge the week before and was even odds to win the Open in New York next week. His murder shocked the sports world and his fellow tour players."
"I'm stunned," a tanned golfer in a golf visor said. "Trey was like a brother to me."
"I can't believe he's dead," another golfer said. "I'm really gonna miss him."
"I wish I had his swing," a third golfer said.
The Trey Rawlins golf swing now filled the screen in slow-motion. It was a long, fluid, powerful swing-a thing of beauty. They were both things of beauty, Trey and his swing. Even if you didn't follow golf, you knew of Trey Rawlins. His face was everywhere; he endorsed golf equipment, golf apparel, sports drinks, and chocolate milk. He was clean-cut and handsome, young and vital; his hair was blond, his face tan, and his eyes a brilliant blue. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
"He had it all," the announcer said. "The swing, the putting stroke, the movie-star looks. Could he have been the next Tiger? Who knows? But in less than two years on tour, he had won four times, finished second seven times, and earned nine million dollars. His future was as bright as his smile. Trey Rawlins was the all-American boy."
Video played of Trey signing autographs for kids, teaching kids at junior golf clinics, visiting sick kids at a hospital, and announcing the establishment of the Trey Rawlins Foundation for Kids while surrounded by kids. He looked like Robert Redford in that scene from The Natural.
The announcer: "Trey cared deeply about giving back to the community."
That was followed by more testimonials, first from Trey's sports agent: "He wasn't just my client. He was my best friend."
And from his equipment sponsor: "We were honored to have Trey endorse our golf products, which he honestly felt were the best on the market. I loved the guy."
And finally from a tour officiaclass="underline" "The fans have lost a great golfer and an even greater young man, and we have lost a brother, a member of the tour family."
The screen lingered on the image of Trey Rawlins with the sick kids.
Scott had never paid much attention to Trey when he had worked at the Highland Park Country Club: Trey Rawlins had been one of the young assistant pros who came and went with the seasons; A. Scott Fenney had been a member in good standing at the most exclusive country club in Dallas. They had not occupied the same social stratum. But then Rebecca Fenney had fled Dallas with the assistant pro who soon became a star on the pro golf tour; and A. Scott Fenney had soon lost his membership, his mansion, and his Ferrari-as well as his wife. But he had never blamed Trey. He had taken Scott's wife, but he couldn't take someone who wasn't there for the taking. So while Trey's death had brought Scott's wife back to him, it had brought him no solace.
When the broadcast resumed, the announcer said, "Trey is survived by his twin sister, Terri Rawlins. Funeral services will be held Thursday in Galveston, where we now go live to Renee Ramirez for an update on the criminal investigation."
The picture cut to a beautiful young Latina reporter standing in front of a low-slung building with “Galveston County Jail” over the entrance doors.
"Trey Rawlins, the fifth-ranked professional golfer in the world, was found brutally murdered in the bedroom of his multimillion-dollar Galveston beach house early Friday morning. He was only twenty-eight years old."
A video showed workers wearing white jumpsuits with "Galveston County Medical Examiner" printed on the back removing a body from a white beach house.
Back to the reporter: "Galveston Police Detective Chuck Wilson gave a statement to the media Friday morning outside the murder scene."
A clip from the interview played. The detective was middle-aged and tall and stood before a dozen microphones clumped together on a podium under a palm tree with the surf breaking behind him. He wore sunglasses and looked like Dirty Harry.
"At approximately three-fifty this morning police were called to the residence of Trey Rawlins, the professional golfer. Mr. Rawlins was found in his bed, deceased. He had been stabbed. Police found Rebecca Fenney, age thirty-five, in the residence with his blood on her body and clothing. We questioned Ms. Fenney, and at approximately eight this morning, we placed Ms. Fenney under arrest for the murder of Trey Rawlins. She is currently being held at the county jail."
An image of Rebecca and Trey in happier times appeared on the screen. The reporter said, "Rebecca Fenney was Trey Rawlins' longtime companion on tour. She now stands accused of his murder. She's being held without bail pending her indictment by the grand jury, but she has denied killing Trey. I've learned that her ex-husband, a Dallas lawyer, has notified police that he is representing her. He is expected to arrive in town today, so I've been waiting here hoping to get a word with him. Back to you, Hal."