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“Oh, so Billy Jones is a businessman now, huh.”
“Got to feed a kid and pay his nanny somehow, right?”
A single father. So he meant to say he washed that pristine white shirt himself? Super impressed.
Billy scrolled through his phone, then showed me a photo of his son. “Meet William Jones Jr.”
“Now that’s one beautiful and happy toddler. Seems like you got the parenting thing down alright.” And seemed like Billy was just as happy being a dad. Who would have guessed Billy Jones had the paternal instincts in him, huh? Oh, how people change.
“If I knew how much time I’d spend away from my boy, I would have never bought the shop. I spend way too many hours at work. How about you, Lucy? You got kids? A husband, fiancé?”
I raised my left hand to show off my naked fingers. “Nope. No men for me.”
“So you came here fishing for men?”
“Fishing for men? Not when everyone’s peeing and shitting in the pond. Including myself.” I said while pouring yet another tequila.
“Ouf. Is this your poo-y love life that I’m smelling?”
“And what makes you assume the poo is mine?”
“That.” He pointed to my shot glass.
“Billy Jones, you always knew me well.” And I downed my tequila at once.
“I don’t really know you anymore actually. Ben never said where you went or what you’re doing.”
Before I left this town, I had Ben promise not to tell my plan. Yes, I had so much fear of starting my life over that I didn’t want to advertise it in case I failed miserably. Odds weren’t in my favour, you know.
“I’ve been on the other side of town. Well, I just moved to the city now.” If the shame of how much I did actually fail in the city didn’t make me cower away from giving too many details, I might have planted that in his face. I might have boasted that I did it, that I made it to the city, despite how he had laughed at me in the past. But I couldn’t say that, because if I say anything else now, I might just join in with his laughter at me.
Although my words did get him glum either way. “Junior’s mum left me for a guy from the city.”
Ok, maybe he wasn’t glum because he felt remorseful for how little faith he had in me. Not that I wished him any bad, but I called that karma. Same as Toby losing his hair.
Billy finished his beer with one final long gulp. “Hey, you know what? You still owe me a rematch for that snooker game you won with your lucky strike. Years passed but I did not forget, you see. You’re up for that rematch now? For old times’ sake.”
“Sure, why not? But I warned you then and I warn you now. It’s not luck. It’s the player.”
Taking him up to the challenge, I removed the apron from my waist and tossed it on the bar with the confidence of an undefeated champion. Then followed Billy to the snooker table.
If you’d asked me to play the game this morning, I wouldn’t even remember what to do. But the second I chose my pool stick, it all came back at once. Look at me, rubbing the chalk on the stick’s tip like a seasoned pro.
I took the lead and racked the balls in the triangle. When I finished and stood straight at the head of the table, I caught Billy giving me the once-over from across.
“What?” I questioned, knowing fully well he had been ogling me. That bad boy smirk was his tell-tale sign.
“Nothing. I just didn’t realize what was underneath Ben’s shirt from behind the bar before. Juicy Lucy grew up to be even juicier.”
“Oh, that nickname. I hated that one.” Billy used to call me that whenever I wore Daisy Duke shorts or denim mini skirts. “Now, come on, Mister. Are you ready to lose or what?”
“Ladies first.” Billy ceded the privilege of the break-off shot to me.
Completely aware that every male in the bar was now looking at my ass stuck up in the air as I leaned over the table to aim the stick, I kept my focus on the cue ball. Thank you, Tequila, for the boost of confidence.
Although that wasn’t enough to block the intent stare boring into me from across the table. My body recognized that feeling, the kind that only one person was ever able to stir in me. My gaze shifted up from the ball and I was right. It washim. Sam was here.
My sweaty hand slipped from the stick, almost hitting the balls with the tip and ruining the opening shot. I adjusted my posture and refocused my aim before peering back up again.
