I’d run my brother around the table once, and I meant to give Margaret a taste of her own medicine if I could. It’d been a while, but as long as I got a good break, I could make it happen, assuming the break didn’t bust me and create a bad setup for a run.
A little competition and a lot of motivation did me a world of good when playing pool, and I’d played enough I could goose serious players who underestimated me. Running the table took a lot of skill, and I’d spent a few too many hours trying to learn the trick of it so I could put my brother in his place in front of his friends if he got too uppity.
The break favored me, and if I played the table just right, I’d only have to do one damned jump draw to run the table. Damn it. I’d learned jumps to spite my brother and his billiards buddies, but I’d never tried it in a serious game before. I did a walk around the table and turned to the bartender. “Hey. Do you allow jumps on your tables?”
Instead of replying, he bent over and retrieved a new cue from below the bar and walked it over. “Try not to damage the felt. These are the only tables we allow trick shots, as we replace the felt every other month. There’s no jumps on the upstairs tables unless you’re cleared by the boss and have the right cue.”
Sweet. Life was looking good, and I accepted the jump cue, setting it aside until I needed it. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
I toasted Margaret, took a drink, and set my Cosmo aside, giving myself a good shake before I took my time and went to work.
As I’d planned, the jump draw happened at the end of my run, and if I did it just right, my cue ball would be in position for a light tap of the eight to win me the game. If I did it beyond perfection and called it, I might even be able to finish right off the draw. While I played, my real estate agent watched, her brows raised right up to her hairline.
Hell. I only lived once, and it was better to fail than to not try at all. “Jump to the six corner pocket and draw to the eight side pocket,” I announced, tapping the intended pockets. The damned obstacle course of striped balls could easily make a mess of my attempt, but fate and geometry had decreed if I wanted to finish in one fell swoop, I’d have to make the jump for better or worse.
“If you make that shot, I’m taking you out to dinner and introducing you to the operator of my league.”
“You play league?”
“Yeah. I’m a member of the American Pool Association. I play the amateur circuits, but I’ve had an invite to pro.”
“Well, I’d hope you’d be invited to play pro with your ability to run the table.”
“Maybe you should be the one who is invited to play pro. You’re skunking me.”
I laughed at that. “Unless the stars align and the universe pays me back in karma for spraining my ankle in a bathroom-kitchen nightmare apartment, I’m going to miss this shot.”
“Hope, you’re trying the shot. This is the sort of play that professionals use during trick-shot demonstrations. If you get anywhere near making the shot, I’m calling it your victory. You even knew to ask if they allowed jumps on the table.”
Well, that was something. “Missing could wreck the felt, and it looks like good felt.”
“It’s due to be replaced next week, so don’t be shy,” the bartender called out. “And if you make that shot, I’m buying you a drink myself.”
Apparently, I could be bribed with alcoholic drinks. “You can even record my miss if you’d like as proof I’d tried.”
The bartender grabbed his phone and took me up on my offer. “I’m Luke. Can I just say I hope I see more of you around here? We could always use another good player around.”
“I see how it is. No pressure at all. All right, cue. Don’t fail me now. I have a drink to win. I’m going to need alcohol to sign over six thousand a month.”
My real estate agent laughed. “I know your salary figures. You can afford the six thousand a month. Your base salary fits your zone of comfort for