Page 111 of All In
“Haven’t been here in a while,” Oscar said toward the end of the game. He twisted a blue cube of chalk over the tip of his cue stick. “Since UNLV, right? Before Jonah went to Carnegie.”
“Sounds right,” I said. “Beer?”
“Why not?”
I signaled the bartender for two while Oscar bent over the table, lined up his shot, his cue sliding back and forth in the cleft of his thumb. He lanced the stick forward and sunk the yellow two with a powerful crack.
“Nice shot,” I said.
“You remember that one night?” Oscar said, lining up his next shot. “Jonah hit the cue ball so hard on his eight-ball shot, it jumped to the next table and sanktheireight?” He chuckled. “That was fucking epic.”
“Then he said it counted, because he called it,” I said, laughing.
“Yeah, he did.” Oscar eyed his next shot, then his eyes flickered to me. He backed off the table with a sigh. “I’m sorry, man. All that shit I said to you. It was uncalled for.”
I felt a knot of tension ease in my gut. “It’s cool. I know why you said it.”
“For Jonah,” he said. “I didn’t know Kacey all that well, except to see her with him. In my mind…she was it. She was there for him. I know it’s unfair to her—and you—but he was so fucking happy, you know.” Oscar looked at me. “But nowyou’resofucking happy.” He shot me his signature smile. “It’s almost embarrassing.”
“That so?”
“I’d be an asshole to stay pissed, right?”
“The biggest.”
Oscar snorted a laugh and came around the table. We half-hugged, half-clapped each other on the back.
“I love you, man,” Oscar said.
“You too,” I said, taking a seat at one of the small round tables against the wall.
He went back the table, eyed the eight ball near the right corner pocket. The white cue was in the middle of the table, a clear, easy shot. “I’m going to sink this little bastard for the win.”
“So, we’re good, man?” I asked.
Oscar leaned over the table, the cue resting on the bridge of his hand. “Yeah, we’re good.”
He started to take his shot.
“You sure about that?” I said loudly.
He shot me a look. “I said I was. You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you.”
“Then shut up and let me take this shot.”
He drew back the cue stick and just as he let it fly, I said, “Kacey’s pregnant.”
The stick scraped along the felt and knocked the cue ball sideways, straight into the side pocket.
“Scratch,” I said, and sipped my beer to hide my smile. “That’s game.”
Oscar’s eyes widened in shock, then, to my utter amazement, they began to shine with tears.
“Whoa, hey, don’t get all soft on me,” I said, tossing a cocktail napkin at him.
“You bastard,” he said, wiping his eyes, and then laughing. “You want to know if I’m sure? NowIknow I’m sure. I’m so fucking happy for you, I’mcrying.”
