Eight Ball
Eddy knew everyone down at the bar. So, when the stranger walked in, Eddy was on his case. The newcomer was tall, his face outlined with a five-day beard, a halo of cheap vinyl and stale cigarette smoke. The stranger strode up to the counter.
"Blue Ribbon. A large one," he declared. "I got to wash the taste of that car out my mouth." He took the beer, and half-drained it with a single swallow. "I needed that." The stranger pointed at the bartender. "Pour me another."
The bartender must have muttered something, because the stranger glared at him. "Of course I got the money," the stranger said. "Or I will have."
Eddy had been practicing his game: lining up balls on the table and pocketing them, click-clack-clunk. But he had interrupted this to keep an eye on the stranger. It was enough to attract the newcomer's attention.
"Howdy." The stranger put out a hand. "Just passing through. The name's Nick."
"Eddy."
"Please to meet you, Eddy. You play pool?"
Eddy's suspicions were aroused. "A little."
"I got a proposition," Nick began.
Eddy interrupted him. "We don't play for money round here. We're friendly folk."
Nick laughed and raised his hands. "Caught. But you wouldn't begrudge a hustler a little entertainment, would you? You're friendly folk, right?"
"We are." Eddy straightened up and began to collect the balls.
"What we playing?"
"Eight ball. Standard rules." Eddy gestured with his cue stick towards a tin plaque on the wall beside the bar.
Nick squinted at the plaque, his lips moving slightly. "Mind if I use my own cue?"
Eddy shrugged. "Be my guest."
Nick assembled his cue while Eddy set up the table. Then they set to their game. The break went to Nick, and he sent the balls bumping up and down the table. Eddy sunk two of them straightaway - easy shots into the corner pockets - and finished with a safety. "Your shot," Eddy said.
"Reckon it is."
Nick and Eddy played hard. at first they matched each other ball for ball, lining up shots and racking up the points. As the game went on, its tempo changed. The game became slower, more cunning. Both layers knew everything would come down to -
A mistake! There was the unmistakeable clink of a miscue, and the cue ball went off at a tangent. It stopped, on a line that ran through the 8-ball and into the centre pocket.
Nick shook his head. "Damn. Looks like it's your game. If you think you can sink that one."
Eddy grinned. "I'd stake my life on it." Cold fingers caressed his heart.
"If you say so," Nick whispered.
Eddy's guts turned to water. He stared down the cue at the 8-ball, then stroked his cue.
"Good shot," Nick said. From outside came the blaring of a car horn. "Well, there's my ride." He took Eddy's shaking hand and pumped it. "Who knows what you might have won if you'd taken me up on my offer."
And then he left.
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