“Don’t know how good he is, can’t risk him being able to pot out.” I shrugged, thinking nothing of it. If I were in a competition at the hotel, they wouldn’t give me a chance to play.
It was nothing to me; a win is a win. Why would I allow him to get on the table and get a chance to knock me out?
We watched as the last few played, and the next round started.
“Maxine, Dodger.” The Prez called out.
“Who goes first?” Dodger asked, looking hopefully to the Prez.
“Maxine’s name was pulled out first, she breaks.” Dodger put his pool cue away and went to sit at the bar, already conceding that I wouldn’t let him at the table, and he was right. If the break was a good one, I could pot out every time.
I won, to the cheers of the girls, and the guy who was looking after the betting, crossed off more names.
“Prez, I think we were scammed; only the girls bet on Maxine.” I heard it being whispered.
“All the girls bet on each other, nothing wrong with that. The fact that none of the guys bet on one girl shows you a lack of judgment, not a scam. If they had scammed us, it was about time. How many times have we taken advantage of women? About time, they had someone to compete against you men. I think this has been an eye-opener to all the club members, not to underestimate the girls in the future.” Prez looked over at me and winked; he knew but wasn’t going to call us out on it. Sticks would have mentioned it to him as the names were being placed in the bag.
The night got late, and I was tired and ready for bed, but it wasn’t over yet. Tank was still in the running, and I hoped I would not go against him. Relieved when his name was called and not against me, we were down to the last four. We each stood at a table, and as my name was called second, I could be out now, if this guy could pot out.
Lucky for me, he had been drinking. After he managed to pot half his balls, he missed his shot, and I was at the table, taking my time, to clear the table. He shook my hand when the black went down and patted me on the back.
*Like to give you another game, when I am not so drunk.” He chuckled as he staggered away.
Tank lost his game because he was too busy watching mine to concentrate on his.
The last game was challenging. I thought it was over. The guy broke and cleared all but one ball, his ball hit one of mine, which was hovering close to the pocket, sending my ball in.
‘Game over, buddy.” One of the cheer squads called out, and she was right, give me an in, and it was over. I am beatable, I do miss the ball sometimes. But not today, too much was at stake, and I was on fire.
Tank POV
That game was good.
The skills were high, as the guys weren’t completely drunk yet.
The guys’ morale was rising as the game progressed, which was what we needed after that meeting, which left a sour feeling in my stomach.
I managed to get through most of the rounds without playing at the same time as Max, so I could watch her, shaking her booty, like a professional. I knew what she was doing, and I bet the other guys did too, but we still looked at the show and enjoyed it.
I don’t mind agreeing with most of the guys that she was good, and I was proud of her, she was not giving an inch in this competition. If she broke, the challenger wouldn’t have to step up to the table. I can’t say I have ever seen a person manage to clear the table so many times in a row.
I was in the semi-final, and was relieved I wasn’t playing against Max. I doubt I would be able to concentrate for long. Every time she leaned over to shoot the ball, I got hard. It was something I had little control over, my shaft had a mind of its own.
I was down to my last ball, and I heard a cheer. I missed my shot, sending it to the pocket, but it failed to drop in. I turned to look at Max. She was at the table after the guy missed a shot, and by the way, he put his cue away and grabbed a beer; I guess he’d already accepted defeat.
The guy cleaned up the rest of his ball in my game and patted me on the shoulder.
“That girl cost you the game, buddy, got to get a hold of those emotions when you play.” He slurred, but I don’t think he was as drunk as he portrayed himself to be. Maybe trying to lure Max into thinking he was too drunk to play.
Max was up, and at each ball she sank, the crowd cheered, loud and encouragingly. Someone had been keeping score on how many balls she had hit in a row and not missed. It was a lot. Think she broke the record we set years ago, and no one has matched it since.
I rushed over and scooped her up, twirling her in a circle, when she sank the last ball, and won.
Then I watched the reactions of three ladies and the rush to claim their winnings. Even Max had bet on herself, and that she would share the pot for winning with those three ladies, right in front of us all.
Counting out the money on the table, in piles of four. To the envy of those who hadn’t bet on Max. The other ladies also looked miffed; they, too, hadn’t put their money on Max. I guess they had no clue, or didn’t think she could last to the end.
“We were scammed.” One of the guys called out.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.