Page 2 of His Last Shot
She stalls, her eyes catching mine briefly before darting away. I stare as a subtle smile plays on her lips, her attention settling back on the older men. Pivoting to another customer, she falters mid-swivel while giving me another lingering look.
She noticed me. Cool. I love it.
My throat is going completely dry, like sandpaper. I swallow hard.
The high-energy atmosphere of the bar dissolves around me, replaced by the heavy pounding of my heart as I watch her. She’s the only person I see; her face is the only one I can make out, all else is a blur. I’m disoriented and drunk on attraction as something like fog fills the surrounding air. I watch her effortlessly glide behind the bar, avoiding the two other bartenders as her gaze flicks to me every so often.
Mine? Focused only on her.
“Okay, they killed the design of those bathrooms. They are amazing. And super clean, too.” Scott’s words cause the buzz of the bar to return, and I shake my head of the lust haze it was just in.
Lord. What just happened?
I clear my throat, trying my best to compose myself. “I wondered what took you so long. Did you reapply your lipstick, too?”
He sits and takes a lazy pull of his beer. “Cute.”
Refocusing on the table, I line up my next shot, but not before flicking my gaze to the bar. She’s still there. Still cute, still smiling. Taking in a much-needed calming inhale, I refocus my attention on the table and call the last shot of this game. “Two ball, side pocket.”
The blue ball glides into the pocket, leaving the eight ball all alone on the table and sealing my cousin’s fate. And making him fifty bucks poorer.
He whips out his wallet and fishes out the money, slapping it on the rail. I walk around the table, the scent of stale beer lingering in the air, gathering the last of the balls from the pockets. “Wanna go again?” I ask as I pocket the fifty.
“Are you kidding me? Laura will kill me. I need to get home. She already thinks I’m crazy playing for money against you.”
“Your wife has always been smartandbeautiful.”
“As much as I would love to be humiliated again, I need to get home,” Scott says as he unscrews his pool cue. He grabs his case, sliding the cue inside while checking his phone. “My Lyft should be here soon.” Scott always grabs Lyfts when he plays with me. A few years ago, when his kids were infants, he and I went to a different pool hall with me driving. It was an amazingtime, so we stayed and played for three hours longer than he felt was necessary. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy, and neither was Laura. So now he finds his own way home.
I’ll admit, Scott is a decent player. He can hold his own against guys and gals who believe they know a thing or two about the game.
But he’s only beaten me once. A huge chunk of my savings account I owe to him.
Actually, I owe a lot to him. We have been each other’s ride-or-die our whole lives. Growing up an only child, I was close with Scott. Everything we did, we did it together. Honestly, now that we are older, nothing has changed. His family is my family.
He finishes his beer, sits it down, and glances around the newest addition to Dexter’s. An addition our construction company spearheaded.
Givens Construction.
Scott and I started this company together. It’s grown quickly. We have both worked extremely hard at it to become successful. It’s supported his family and has given me purpose and something in my life to be proud of.
I slap him on the back. “Thanks for meeting me here to check this place out. It’s nice to see it all put together with the tables.”
“A far cry from what it looked like before, that’s for sure,” Scott says with an amused chuckle.
Prior to the renovation, the bar was literally falling apart at the seams. It was last renovated in the seventies, and it showed. Now, the rustic cowboy feel this place has is infectious. The dance floor is bigger, the bar is longer, and the massive new addition houses two rows of pool tables. Ten tables on each side.
When Dexter Jr. approached us about a reno and an addition to this place, we were skeptical. Dexter’s dad, Dexter Sr., had a reputation in our area for being a shady businessman. Since this is the most popular bar on this side of town, it makes one wonder what Dex Sr. did with his money because he didn’t put it back into this place.
Now, it’s the stuff of bar dreams. After his dad’s death, Dex Jr. took over, and the rest is history.
We kept it all above books, demanding documentation of everything to cover our own butts. On the outside, Dexter Jr. seems more trustworthy than his dad. But the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
One of his motivations for the remodel, besides that it desperately needed it, was that Dexter is also the president of the local pool league. The Billiards and Pool Association, or the BPA. Naturally, he wants to have tournaments here.
My first meeting with him was brief. Immediately, I got a vibe that he didn’t like me. Spend just five minutes with the guy, and you get a sense that he likes to appear intimidating. And fails at it.
Me? With my height and overall jolly don’t-give-a-crap attitude, I’ve been told I can come across as cocky. Whatever. With Scott being the professional one of our little duo, it makes sense that I would rub Dexter the wrong way. After our initial meeting, Scott even picked up on it.
