Sheriff's Choice - Jacki James Page 0,3
into the parking lot, and the place looked packed. “Wow, I didn’t expect it to be so busy.”
“It’s mostly because this is their opening weekend. I don’t think it’ll be this crazy normally.”
“I don’t know if we’ll find a place to sit or not,” I said. I’d been looking forward to hanging out with my new friends, and I was disappointed at the thought of having to put an early end to the night.
“Cap and Frankie are already here and got us a table, so we’re good. The only question is, for how many. I know Landon is coming. You know him. And Miller, you’ve met him, right?” Ripley asked.
“I have. He helped me with the purchase of the shop.”
“Cruz had a hot date in the city, so he won’t be coming,” Reed pointed out.
“I know,” Ripley whined. “And I don’t like it ‘cause he won’t tell me with who.”
We spotted Cap and Frankie at a table near the pool tables. We took out seats, and I said, “This is great. I love to play pool.”
“You any good?” Cap asked.
“Just okay, until I have a few to drink, then I think I’m great. Think being the operative word there.” We ordered some appetizers and a couple of pitchers of beer. I’d never lived in a small town, and the experience was different. The guys knew the waitress, and all through the evening, people came over to say hi.
After about an hour, I said, “So do you guys know everyone in town or what?”
“They pretty much do,” Frankie assured me. “And even the ones they don’t know, know them. Cap, they know from when he was in high school and they won the state championship. And Reed, over here, from his Rodeo days. You, my friend, are in the presence of greatness.”
“Hell,” Miller chimed in, “I’m shocked they haven’t put a statue of you guys on the courthouse lawn. Of course, they’ve talked about renaming the football field Robert’s Field, so there is that.”
“Shut the fuck up, they ain’t naming no field after me. But I do think they’re gonna hang up a big banner at the rodeo grounds that says, River Gorge: home of World Champion Team Ropers, Reed Warner and Cruz Coben.”
Reed shrugged and said, “I’ll let ‘em.” And everyone cracked up laughing.
We played a few games of darts, drank our beer, and ate what turned out to be damn good bar food. A mix of people were in tonight, some couples but mostly single guys. Most of the people were either friendly toward our little group, or they politely ignored us. There were a few that didn’t seem overly thrilled to have a bunch of gay guys hanging out in here, but no one said anything.
After a few more beers, I was feeling tipsy, and by tipsy, I meant trashed. I switched over to mixed drinks, and our waitress kept them coming, and after a while, I decided it was time to show these guys how good I was at pool. I tossed out a challenge to the table, and Miller took me up on it. I stalked over to the pool table and slapped a couple of quarters down. “Next game.”
“Shh,” Miller said, laughing. “I think they know what the quarters mean.”
“We’re leaving when we’re done with this one, so it’s all yours,” one of the men said.
“Awesome, ‘cause I don’t wanna play the winner. Like I don’t wanna to play you”—I motioned toward one of them—“or you.” I motioned at the other. “I want to play you”—I pointed at Miller—“‘cause I’m gonna beat your ass and take your twenty bucks.” I grabbed a pool cue, and then I realized there was something wrong with what I said. I turned back around. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you guys, that’s not why I want you to leave. I’m just gonna beat his ass and take his cash.”
One of the guys chuckled and said, “No worries, dude.”
“I’m gonna grab another drink while we wait.” I made my way to our table; thank goodness it wasn’t far. Our waitress hadn’t filled my drink up, so I decided to go with a beer since there was a pitcher. I called over my shoulder, “Miller. You want one?”
“Sure.”
I carefully poured one for me and one for him from the pitcher, and when I managed to fill them both to the rim without spilling it, I looked up triumphantly. And there he was, standing by the bar, watching me. “What’s big