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The curve of her ass juts out along the side of the table as she lines up her first shot. She is going for the gusto, attempting to bank the ball off the side, ricocheting it into the pocket behind it. She's offensive and fuck if it doesn’t excite me in more ways than one.
I have to scrape my jaw off the soft green velvet when she sinks the shot, taunting me with a smirk and a raise of her eyebrows as she backs away from the table. So it’s like that? She wants to play, but the game she’s playing isn’t pool. Carter is on a power trip thinking that beating me at this game somehow brings her status up in other aspects.
Photography and pool aren’t comparable and I am beginning to regret starting this with an audience of my peers. Arguably, not even my peers, but rather subordinates depending on your perspective. Carter included. But fuck if she doesn’t make me want to throw all the workplace bullshit rules out the window.
I analyze the table for a moment, taking the time to try and anticipate the next few moves. I line up my cue with the pale ball, knowing all eyes are on me. Most, hell more like all, of them have never seen this playful and relaxed side of me. If I am being honest, I haven’t seen this side of myself in a long time either. I rarely give myself the space to let loose even if only for an hour.
Everything is about being the best, the success pulling me through life with blinders on. Stay focused, don’t let outsiders push you from your path, and keep fighting to get where you want to go. I see some of that reflected in Carter’s eyes, the need to find success in the one thing you love in the world.
Before you know it, your life has gone by and you were barely even there for it. Do you know that Adam Sandler movie with the remote control? He skips through one thing and before he knows it, he has missed watching his kids grow up and lost them in the process. Autopilot, just like the fast-forward button. I don’t want that feeling someday, the feeling of being alone in a world you built but don’t recognize.
The cue ball knocks at just the right angle, sending my striped ball in a slow roll toward the pocket I was hoping for. I sink my shot too and now it clicks for both of us that this is so much more than a power struggle. This is both of us trying to prevent an unfortunate outcome. Her becoming more intoxicated and me having to wear a fucking ridiculous outfit to work like some kind of casual Friday bullshit.
We continue in our assault on each other by way of sticks and balls on a battlefield of green velvet. The crowd of patrons around us watches in silence, some letting out mini gasps and whispering to predictions for what will happen next. I keep my focus on the game, on winning. This will put Carter back in her place and hopefully stop the challenges she keeps throwing at me on set. We need to find common ground. Being a united front will make things run smoother.
The fire in her eyes doesn’t appear to be from alcohol but rather her drive to kick my ass. It all comes down to the eight ball at the end, the midnight orb holding all the power.
“This is it, old man,” she taunts.
“Old man? Is that how you justify losing? That you were going easy on a poor helpless old man? Trust me, darling, I’m not old and I’m sure as hell not helpless. Plus, I’m about to win.”
It’s her turn and I know what is at stake. We have come this far, danced around long enough, and now it’s time to put the final nail in her coffin. I am already planning my touchdown dance for when she scratches like I know she will. No matter how many times you tell a woman to go easy on the balls, she will underestimate how gentle you need to be.
She doesn’t disappoint as she lines up her shot, taps the cue a smidge too hard and two balls roll toward the pocket. Yin and yang twirling and settling in the corner, dropping into the pocket together.
Scratch.
I win.
Crapcrapcrap.
How could I get so cocky and let BK win! I was so in my head about seeing him rocking those bright neons that I forgot to secure my win. Don’t get me wrong, I played well up until the very end. A scratch? Seriously! Ugh.
BK looks over at me, the slightest smile hidden in his beard but I can see the joy in his eyes. Alright, it could be worse. A few shots aren’t embarrassing or dangerous by any means. I can get through this, go home, sleep it off, and show up bright-eyed for work like it didn’t even phase me.
No wallowing over yourself Carter, this will be fine. You wanted to boost his already oversized ego. Plus, as the loser, you get sympathy from everyone on set because they knew you tried your best.
“Great game, boss. You won fair and square. I’ll take those free shots now,” I say with my head held high.
“Don’t go anywhere, I am going to grab them from the bar. Anything goes right?” I can hear the undertone that says this isn’t over yet.
“I can handle my alcohol. Winners choice, that was the rule,” I reply with a smile.
While he goes to the bar, I put my pool cue back in the wall rack. Joe, the lighting guy, comes over and gives me a sympathetic pat on the back, the underdog votes already rolling in. As I finish racking the balls back into their perfect triangle, BK places three shot glasses down on the high top behind me.
One is a deep red color, almost like cherry cough medicine. The middle one is a soft brown color with a swirl of whipped cream on top. The last one looks like the gamma radiation that turned Bruce Banner into the Hulk.
“Here you go, darling. I suggest the green one first but you’re welcome to pick your poison. Losers choice now,” he snarks. My defiance is coming out strong tonight, my ego not sitting well with losing.
I pick up the red one first, the sweet smell caressing my nose.
“That one first?” He questions, knowing I am going against what he suggested.
“Red is first in the rainbow, it makes sense it goes first,” my alcohol logic explains.
I push the smooth glass against my lips before shooting it down easily. It has a familiar, berry aftertaste clinging to my tongue.
“How was your first red-headed slut?” He says with a smile, even pulling some giggles from those around us.
