Sure, boss! Ken chirped, his grin wide as he playfully swung his arm around Jaden's shoulders. The shared laughter, a rare and welcome sound in Jaden's usually sterile office, had managed to chip away at the day's heavy gloom, if only for a fleeting moment. As they walked out, the cool evening air was a crisp contrast to the stuffy office. Ken's sleek, charcoal-grey sports car, his prized "wonderful ride," gleamed under the soft glow of the office park's streetlights, reflecting the last hints of twilight.
The drive to the Golf House was a blur of city lights that streaked past the windows and the comfortable, rhythmic hum of Ken's engine. Ken, ever the optimist, filled the silence with his incessant chatter. He was the kind of friend who could always find a silver lining, even in Jaden's darkest clouds, effortlessly shifting between topics. He talked excitedly about a new tech gadget he was eyeing – a smart home system he swore would change his life – then moved on to describing a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine he'd tasted last week, complete with a dramatic recount of its "earthy notes" and "bold finish." He even managed to weave in a few light-hearted jabs about Jaden's "ancient" phone, which still used physical buttons. Jaden mostly listened, offering grunts and nods, but the steady flow of Ken's cheerful voice and the gentle vibration of the car slowly, almost imperceptibly, began to dissolve his earlier agitation. The tightness in his chest from the earlier confrontation with his father seemed to loosen its grip.
The Golf House was more than just a simple driving range; it was an exclusive club, a sprawling complex that served as a haven for the city's elite. Beyond the state-of-the-art bays, it boasted a gourmet restaurant where soft jazz played, a swanky lounge with plush leather armchairs, and even a small pro shop. The moment they stepped inside, Jaden was greeted by the familiar, comforting scent of freshly cut grass mingling with the subtle aroma of expensive wood polish and the distant, savory promise of fine dining. The place buzzed with a low, sophisticated murmur of quiet conversations and the occasional, satisfying thwack of a golf ball being launched from one of the indoor bays.
"Think you can still hit a straight one, old man?" Ken teased, already expertly plucking two pristine clubs from the polished rack, handing one to Jaden.
A rare, genuine smirk touched Jaden's lips. "You underestimate me, Ken." He walked towards an open bay, the turf beneath his feet feeling springy and familiar. The weight of the club in his hands, cool and balanced, was a comforting presence. He adjusted his stance, focusing on the pristine white ball teed up before him. For a brief, precious moment, the worries of work, the nagging stress of his father's relentless matchmaking, and even the irritating memory of the earlier accidental encounter began to recede, pushed to the farthest corners of his mind. It was just him, the perfectly weighted club, and the singular, satisfying thwack of the ball as it soared into the virtual distance on the high-definition screen, a fleeting, perfect arc of white against a simulated sunset.