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Hart chuckled, and Jase clapped me on the shoulder. “So, tell us more about Joy,” Jase coaxed. “I didn’t get to see much that day at Miss Laverne’s.”
“There’s not a lot to tell,” I answered.
“He’s lying,” Hart told the group.
I watched as Roan lined up the only shot he had available and missed. “You’re up,” he groused.
I had an easy one, and I purposely blocked everybody out so I could sink my shot. Then I looked over the table and saw that my next shot was ugly.
Before I could tune everybody out, Hart started talking. “I met Joy a while back when I was picking up Roxie. She’s cute as a button. She brought in snickerdoodle cookies for the people at the clinic and the customers. There was only one left for me.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Roan exclaimed. “Is that who’s baking all those cookies and brownies that you bring into Onyx and Thatcher’s?” he asked me.
Shit, I was never going to be able to make my shot with all their talking. “Yeah,” I muttered as I bent over the table.
“She’s a keeper,” Jase grinned. “Just like my Bonnie.”
He was right. Not only was she freakin’ beautiful, but she talked about her charges at the clinic like they were real people. She loved them. Then there was the way she was with Miss Laverne. The older lady had definitely gotten a new kind of energy, like she was fifteen years younger. Joy was a miracle worker.
“Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to take your shot?” Roan asked.
“Shut up, all of you,” I ordered.
“She has hair down to her waist. Golden, blonde hair,” Hart rhapsodized.
I missed the cue ball, and everyone laughed.
“Thanks, Graham, you left me with a great shot,” Roan crowed.
I watched as he sank two solids. Shit, when did he start getting good?
“Now I just have to sink the eight ball, and I win twenty dollars.”
I pulled out my wallet. “Here’s another twenty dollars that says you miss, and I win the game.” Roan always cracked under pressure when he was playing pool. However, when it really counted, he never cracked. We could always depend on our man.
“You’re on!” Roan grinned. Then he looked at the table and frowned.
“Everybody quiet,” I called out to the room at large. It was mean to add on the pressure, but at the same time, it was fun.
As Roan leaned over the table, I saw perspiration breaking out on his forehead.
“You’ve got this,” I encouraged.
He pulled back his stick, then let ‘er rip.
Yep, the eight ball missed the pocket by a mile.
“Motherfucker!”
“My turn,” I smiled.
I walked up to the table, bent over, and tapped in the last stripe, then easily sank the eight ball.
“Game over. Forty dollars to Graham. Let’s hope he has as much luck convincing Joy to go out with him a second time,” Hart cackled.
Great.
Now I was the one feeling the pressure.
