Wren looked up and saw Marcus walking towards the caddy facility and wondered why he always got here so damn early. The other caddies would show up five minutes before they were scheduled and that was on a good day. In his 10 years in the caddie business he had never had a caddie that actually followed every rule. In only a week Marcus has one of the most anal and irritating members, John Erickson, request that Marcus be his caddy for every round he played on property. The weird thing is that Marcus looked excited when Wren broke the news to him. Marcus said that Erickson was a generous tipper, not knowing he had never so much as thanked much less tipped another caddy since Wren had started managing here around 2 years ago. Wren guessed it was because Marcus understands the game better than a pro, never gives unsolicited advice, and when he gives advice it is always right on the money. The thing is no one knows if he even plays the game. Marcus’ build resembles that of a football player or special forces agent rather than a golfer, and he never even asked what the playing benefits of the job were, which was usually one of the first questions out of the mouth’s of potential caddies. In fact during Marcus’ interview last week Wren kept wondering what the catch was, but decides to enjoy the spoils while they last as he hears Marcus open the squeaky door to the caddy office.
“Morning Wren” says Marcus in a soft but firm tone.
“Morning Aurelius” replies Wren, using what he thinks is a clever nickname, even though he has no idea who Marcus Aurelius is or was, panics inside his head and hopes it’s not the name of a porn star.
