Page 86 of His Last Shot
I could do it. Right here, right now. I could throw the match, miss the nine ball, and give Dexter what he wants. But I know that won’t be the end. Dexter would own me. He would have this one secret and hold it over me and use it to get what he wants or needs. Who knows for how long? By throwing this match, I am no better than Dexter. I would be a cheat and a liar. There is no way I could live with myself.
That’s not the man Rachel fell in love with. That’s not the man I want to be for her.
I have no clue what happens next or what the consequences will be.
I only know that I have to do the right thing.
The temperature in this bar just rose about twenty degrees. A collective stillness hovers over the crowd, broken only by the occasional nervous cough as they anticipate, watching.
Watching me.
I stand over the table, resting my hand on the cool wood of the rail. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting myself live in a world where Rachel is mine. She belongs to me. We belong to each other. A world before Dexter threatened me and my family. A world where I walk into a bar my company remodeled and see her for the first time. A world where I’m washing her hair, then kissing her. A world where I’m wearing a cheerleading uniform, cheering for her success. Literally. Aworld where we are in my family’s living room, sharing pizza, laughing, being a family.
A world that includes us.
Because as soon as I sink this nine ball, our world will be different. I don’t know how or why.
But different.
I open my eyes and look at Drew. He smirks.
I turn and take in Rachel. She mouths, ‘I love you.’
Leaning over this table for the last time, I bridge my hand, hold my cue, and line up. But before I pull back, I make eye contact with Dexter.
He shakes his head in warning.
“Nine ball, corner pocket.”
I hit the white, chalk-smudged ball. It connects with the nine ball … perfectly.
The crowd gasps.
Number nine rolls with a gentle, satisfying hum along the rail. It catches the corner of the side pocket, oscillates, then it stills as it teeters on the edge. A hush falls over the bar as everyone holds their breath, leaning forward, anticipating. Some in the bleachers stand to get a better look. Then…
Plop.
Dexter drops his head as the crowd erupts in hysterics.
Rachel’s squeals are all I hear as I throw my cue onto the table and run straight for my love. I reach her, lift her up, and spin her around, peppering her face with kisses. My team rushes over, and the entire bar is now encircling us.
Spectator after spectator offers their congratulations.
My arm never leaves Rachel’s shoulder as I glance one last time over at Dexter.
But he’s gone.
25
That Was a Little Overdramatic
Johnny
Pulling into my driveway, I can’t erase the massive grin on my face. It’s been there ever since the yellow-striped ball did its job landing in the pocket, and I scooped Rachel in my arms.
The celebration didn’t stop after.
There was the trophy presentation, then pictures, then the usual recounting with my team of the whole match. We made plans for Vegas. For a few hours, we felt like kings, basking in the glory of our imaginary kingdom, recounting tales of our conquests.
