Page 61 of Whenever You Call

We were down to the last few balls on the table. I had one blue and white stripe to sink before I moved on to the black. Jerry still had a red and a yellow to get rid of. I lined my cue up and leaned over, ready to make the easy pot, just as the redhead with the curls jumped up onto the edge and let her ass cheeks hang just above the pocket that held my attention.

“Jerry, for fuck’s sake,” I grunted. “C’mon, man.”

He laughed. “All’s fair in love and war.”

“There’s no love at this table anymore,” I said, aware that the girls watched on as intently as Jerry, who now stood opposite me, resting his cue between his hands. My eyes rose to meet his, a sly smile of my own rising before I looked back down at the ball in front of me. “Think it’s about time I wiped that smirk off your face once and for all.”

I took aim, and I shot, sinking the blue and white before I stood up taller and stretched my back.

“It’s almost too easy.”

“It isn’t over until it’s over,” Jerry hit back.

“Bullshit. Get your money out.”

I moved around the table, eyeing up the black ball, when my phone vibrated in my back pocket to tell me someone was calling. Considering the limited number of people I had in my life, there was only one person it could be:

Hannah.

Jerry’s head tilted to the side. “What’s the matter, hotshot? Performance anxiety kicked in?”

The women around him chuckled, and I wanted to roll my eyes, but my attention was mainly on the way my phone stopped buzzing, the call ringing out. I never missed one of her calls, but she wouldn’t have to wait long. I’d sink the black, head outside, and call her back within ten minutes.

At least that had been the plan.

Seconds later, a flurry of texts came through, one after the other, forcing me to hold a finger up to silence Jerry and the women as I pulled the phone out of my pocket.

Hannah: I’m sorry to bother you.

Hannah: If you’re free, can you call me?

Hannah: Please?

Hannah: It’s urgent.

I dropped my cue to the side of the table, and without looking at anybody or even giving a fuck about who was there, I turned my back on all of them and called her back.

She answered instantly.

“Logan…” Her voice was breathless like she’d been running or crying.

“Talk to me, Hannah,” I said, my voice raised over the music of the bar.

“I…” She paused. “Wait. Are you out?”

“Sort of. I’m just at a bar with Jerry, one of the guys from work.”

She sniffed up, and it sounded like she ran a tissue under her nose as the sound around her muffled for a second until her little helpless breaths came out in fits and spurts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be busy.”

That shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but I ignored my stupid butthurt pride that told me even she knew I didn’t have a fucking life.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” she said.

“Not happening. Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s fine, really. It’s… it’s nothing.”

“You said it was urgent.”

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