Page 21 of King's Barber
5
Barber
I tiltedmy head to stretch out my neck and grinned, excitement making me bounce off my toes. Quain Beaumont had been giving me hell for months and months, and now I was going to take his money. He had no idea what he was in for, and I almost felt bad, but I wasn’t that type of guy. He’d called the building owner on me more times than I could count, so if I had the chance to steal that hundred bucks from him, I’d take it.
“Do you know how to play?” I asked after we arrived at the table, and I took another long sip of my beer.
He frowned at the pool sticks jammed into the stand beside a wall and shook his head. “No, can you explain?”
Placing the beer bottle on the edge of the table, I walked over to the stand and grabbed two sticks, passing one to Quain when I got back. “It’s real simple. I’ll go first. See that white ball? It’s called the cue ball. You hit that ball and try to get any of the others, except the black eight ball, into the holes. When you get your first one in there, that’s your color, and for the rest of the game you try to get those colored balls into the holes. There’s either solid colors or the white-striped colors. I do the same for the opposite. When you put all your balls away, then you attempt to get the eight into a hole, and whoever does that first, wins.”
“There are penalties, too, honey,” Destiny piped up. He’d dragged Bishop to his feet, and they took a seat closer to the pool table. He had his long blond hair tied up in a loose bun at the back of his head, and tonight he didn’t have any makeup on, which was unusual for him. Even natural, though, he was beautiful. Bishop was a lucky man. “Tell him about them.”
“This isn’t hockey, they’re called fouls.” I snorted out a laugh. “Couple of different types. If you get a foul your turn stops, and I can put the cue ball wherever I want on the table. The fouls are”—I counted them off on my fingers—“if you hit a ball off the table, pocket the cue ball, you hit a ball with your stick before the balls stop moving, you touch any of the balls with your hand—”
“I like touching balls,” Destiny whispered loud enough for the guys close to him to hear. Some of the boys erupted in laughter, me included, and Bishop grinned.
“—or you don’t hit any of the balls with the cue ball. Does that make sense?”
Quain peered at the triangle rack of balls in the center of the table and nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
I grinned. This was going to be easy. “Good. I’ll break.”
Clutching my stick in one hand, I took the rack off and threw it in Bishop and Destiny’s direction with a careless toss. I shifted to the end of the table and leaned my elbow on the bumper, careful not to put too much weight on it. After a fucking session between who fucking knew, one of the legs had fallen off. Tinker, a club brother who’d died in the Warriors attack, and I had fixed it. I was surprised it hadn’t been destroyed in the shootout.
I closed one of my eyes, lined the cue ball up, and hit it with the tip. The ball collided with the others and they split in different directions, spreading out across the bed of the table. None of them went into any of the holes, though.
“Your turn,” I said with a grin to Quain.
He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he stared at the mess on the blue felt before he nodded and moved around the table to get into a good position. He lined the tip of his stick to the cue ball and shifted slightly. I grinned, my cock twitching at the thought of what I was about to do next. Moving, I got in close beside him.
“Do you want me to give you a pointer on how to shoot?”
Bishop made a noise behind us. “It’s not obviousat allwhat he’s trying to do. I bet that’s not the only type of shooting he wants to teach the hairstylist.”
The guys around him chuckled, although Destiny’s was more of a giggle, and he slapped Bishop on the chest.
Quain either didn’t hear him or pretended not to. He nodded at me with pursed lips. Grabbing his hips, I moved them into the right position and gently pushed his upper body over the table. I got in close behind him, my hardening cock brushing against his asscheek as I slid my hand down his arm to grip the back of his.
“Nice and gently,” I whispered into his ear. Together we moved and the tip of the stick hit the cue ball, which then smacked into the maroon seven, knocking it into the left corner. “There we are. Lucky shot. If you hit a ball in, you get another turn.” I didn’t move until he gave me an expectant look. Laughing, I stepped away and winked at Bishop, who shook his head at my antics. Destiny clapped his hands and gave me a winning smile.
Quain moved again, and this time he sunk a ball all on his own. And another. And another. I watched, spine stiffening, the feeling I’d been duped sinking into my belly. He smiled at me and shrugged aloofly. “Beginner’s luck?”
I doubted that, and my brothers were laughing behind me, raucous and wild. I had a feeling I was about to lose that hundred bucks I’d been positive I’d win. Eyes narrowed on Quain, I crossed my arms. “Have you done this before?”
“No.” He grinned, and I knew in that moment I was fucked. The balls were pocketed one after another, as easy to him as walking, and the eight ball went down straight after he sunk his six. Smirking when he was done, he turned to me and held out his hand. “Pay up, please.”
“You played me,” I grumbled as I shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled out my wallet. I yanked out two fifties and passed them to him.
“Do I look like the sort of person to do that? I have morals, Luke.”
“You keep saying,” I muttered as I shoved my wallet back into my jeans. The guys around me hadn’t stopped laughing, and I glared at them. “Shut the fuck up.”
Quain’s face softened, and there was something ethereal about him when he wasn’t strung tight. He looked younger. Happiness suited him. “I should leave. I have work in the morning. Do you want to come and get your bike?”
I nodded and gave Bishop, who was laughing the loudest, a finger point as I followed Quain out the front door of the clubhouse. We headed to KC’s truck and he unlatched the tailgate and let it down. He yanked out a thin ramp, which he laid against the truck’s bed and the ground.
“Thanks for this. Tell the kid I owe him.”
