Page 36 of His Last Shot
It’s a dream. A fantasy,I remind myself.
I round the table, removing all the balls from the pockets, when footsteps mix with the classic rock playing from my phone. My spider sense tingles as my head whips up. It’s late, ten o’clock, so to say that it’s unusual that someone is at my home is an understatement.
A shadowy figure materializes, its outline indistinct against the dim light, and I can’t discern who it is. My shoulders tense, muscles bunching like coiled springs, as a wave of unease washes over me.
Shielding the glare from the blinding garage light, I focus on the growing sound of approaching footsteps.
“Nice house you have here, Johnny. The construction business must be booming.”
Even before I can process the words, his voice—a familiar blend of rasp and danger—gave away exactly whothis is.
It’s Dexter. Or Dex. Maybe it’s DJ. I don’t give a crap what this weasel’s name is. All I know is that I do not want him at my house at ten pm.
What in the heck does he want?
I lean against my table, crossing my arms over my chest. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Uninvited, he waltzes into my garage. The scent of his aftershave hangs in the air as he scans his surroundings. Including my table. I watch him intently, my gaze never leaving him, like a hawk circling its prey.
He lets out a low whistle. “Nice table.”
“Thank you. Built it with my own two hands.”
He runs his hand along the nap of the blue felt, then picks up the eight ball, tossing it once in his hand. “Centennial balls, I see. The best.”
“Absolutely.” I clear my throat. “What can I help you with …Dex?”
A flinch and a slight frown showcase his dislike for the nickname, his shoulders visibly tense. Therefore, it is the only name I will address him as.
“It’s Dexter, and I was wondering what your intentions were with my niece,” he commands and then clicks his tongue.
Haven’t we already had this conversation?
He pulls a cigarette out and places it between his lips. On impulse, I reach out and grab it out of his mouth. “Don’t smoke in my house.”
He puts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry about that.” He steps into my space, chest puffed out, a silent taunt in the air as he tries to appear taller and more important.
It’s not working.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he challenges.
My head shakes as a soft chuckle rumbles in my chest, a quiet sound in the otherwise still air. The gall of this man to just show up here and demand to know what my feelings are for his niece. A grown woman who is capable of making her own decisions.
In no way, shape, or form does he deserve any explanation from me. But I want to keep the peace on some level. So, I answer him. “Not that it’s any ofyour business, but I like her. I want to date her. I’m sure you are aware of how amazing she is.”
His nostrils flare, not happy with my reply. “She’s seeing someone. His name is Drew.” Dear Lord, he didn’t even agree with me about Rachel.
Chuckling, I gather the pool balls, their smooth surfaces cool against my fingertips, helping me with my rising anger toward this idiot. “Funny, that is not what she told me just a few nights ago at the bar. Run that little scenario past her. Oh, and she told meallabout Drew. He’s a real stand-up guy.”
With a determined step towards me, he’s obviously not happy with my statements. Too bad. His feeble attempts to get in my face are comical, to say the least. He steadies himself and stops. A long pause follows as he wipes his hand down his face. “You should probably know … Rachel is disabled. She has RA. You know, Rheumatoid Arthritis?” He allows me a second to take this not-new-to-me information. I remain unreadable. He coughs. “Anyway, the last thing she needs is someone trying to date her. She should be with people who know her and can give her what she needs.”
I’m shook.
Speechless, I stare at him, my mind reeling from the incredibly private information he had no business sharing. He has no right to tell anyone about Rachel’s medical history. Let alone someone he barely knows. The nerve of this guy. But I’m not about to let him know I know.
“And by this little showy display and unexpected visit, I’m assuming you think the only man worthy of the job is you. Or maybe Drew. But the way I see it … Rachel doesn’t need a man to take care of her. Just stand by her side.”
“I’m her family.”
