Page 25 of Dare You to See Me
“Do you want to break?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “No. You go ahead. I don’t think I’m strong enough.”
“It’s not about strength so much as angle and force. I’ll show you how with the next game.” She smiles with a small nod and I lean over the table to study my shot.
I connect with the one ball, striking it just to the right and it sends the balls scattering. Three dump into pockets and I have my choice of play.
“You take solid since two went in.” She shrugs in agreement and I set about my shots.
I sink the nine and fifteen while the ten sits in the pocket having gone first. My next clearest shot is the twelve, but it’s a tricky one. I do the whole one eye closed, checking my angle, guesstimating where it may end, then line up. I miss and scratch when the cue ball goes in instead.
“You’re up. Need any advice?”
She hops off the high stool and walks over to the table as I retrieve the cue ball and hand it to her.
“I think I remember. Gene, my deceased husband, gave me a few tips when we were in college. I’ll hope my memory serves me.”
She begins slowly walking around the table, tilting her head side to side, trying to figure out how and where to place the ball. She finally sees an easy shot and places it down before setting herself up. She fumbles with her grip a bit, but then finds a good position. She slides it back and forth a couple of times, then strikes.
The cue ball connects and ricochets, knocking the one in. But what happens next shocks me. The cue ball flies across the table and hits the four at a perfect angle, sending it into a pocket as well.
“Oh my gosh,” she gasps. “What a lucky shot.” She smiles, struts to a new spot, then fires.
One after the other, each ball glides right in with intentional speed. I see this woman transform in front of my eyes and I realize that she totally hustled me. She has the swagger of a skilled player, the ease of a seasoned professional, and the concentration of a brain surgeon.
When only mine and the eight ball remain, she calls out, “Eight ball side pocket,” and taps the table, pointing her stick at the exact one.
The ball sits close by to the pocket she intends to sink it in, but she can’t possibly make it. It’d be a feat to hit the pocket point at the exact speed and spot to not scratch. The stick strikes the cue and I hear the loud smack of it connecting with the eight ball. The eight spins, accelerating towards the side pocket while the cue ball spins like a top and slows, never touching the pocket.
The eight ball rolls into the side pocket like a magnet draws it in, and I stand there with my jaw hanging open. She stands at the opposite end, leaning against her stick and a cunning smile.
“Oops. I meantGenegot a few pointers from me. I’m kind of good at pool.”
“Kind of?” I finally choke out.
“I guess you can say I’m a bit of an amateur player. Oh and also, I’m a member of the APA,” she pauses. “And I won a few tournaments back in college.”
Her face lights up and the smirk she carries is magnetizing. She draws me and it feels like I’m floating as I make my way to her.
“You cheeky little sneak. Here I was thinking I was going to go easy on you, and you schooled me.” She bites her lip and her eyes sparkle. “Care to make a little wager on the next round?”
Her lips twist up and her eyes squint as she ponders my offer. “Hmm. I don’t know.”
I tap her cute little nose with a wink. “I promise to be a very worthy competitor.”
With our eyes locked, she reaches around me and picks up the blue diamond chalk. Her fingers grip the cube as she places it on the end of the stick and spins it, coating the tip. She places the chalk on my stick that I hold just as she does hers, then takes two steps back.
“What are the stakes?” She leans her hand on the edge of the table and crosses one foot over the other.
“Loser buys drinks.”
“No fair. You own the bar. You won’t have to pay anyhow.”
“You’re a funny lady. Fine. Loser buys breakfast,” I counter.
“Breakfast? But it’s only ten.”
“Do you have a curfew?” She shakes her head no, a curiousness in her eyes.
