Garcia whacked the cue ball. It cracked into the last remaining ball and sent it cleanly into the pocket.
"Good shooting," his opponent admitted. "Looks like you've really smoked me."
Garcia nodded. "Well, you put a good fight, Terry. Good game."
Terry had only been coming to the bar for about a week. He was a good pool player but had been hitting the whiskey shots as often as the billiard balls. Garcia had switched to ginger ale early and kept his wits about him. Still, Terry was not easily beaten.
Garcia picked up the small pile of cash placed on the side. He usually played just for drinks but Terry suggested sweetening the pot with a few extra dollars. With a paycheck in his pocket he was confident he could risk a dollar or two.
The two men stood amiably at the bar having a friendly drink. "How about one more game?" Terry suggested. "Make it a little more interesting..." and he laid out several large bills on the table.
Someone in the bar let out a whistle. "Go for it," another said.
Garcia looked over his opponent carefully. He thought of the money in his pocket and imagined it doubled. With the extra money he could put some money aside for college, maybe pay off the car. He could take this guy.
The balls were racked and the money placed on the table. Garcia chalked up his pool stick eagerly in anticipation of his coming riches.
Minutes later he stood in slack-jawed amazement as Terry cleared off the table.
Jessie bounced down the hospital hallway. Another day clowning around - another day of smiles everywhere. But she noticed one face that looked awfully long.
"Hey Big G! You ain't loving yer mop today. Whatz up?"
Garcia looked up and briefly smiled. At only five foot six he was one of the smallest members of the janitorial staff. "Oh hi, Jessie. I've just got a lot on my mind."
"Well ye look pretty glum. How's about telling yer troubles to Jessie-girl?" She sat on a nearby chair and patted the one next to her. "Sometimes jest talking about it helps."
He sighed and sat. "I'm afraid talking about it won't help. I bet my paycheck on pool - and lost it all. That means out short on both rent and food. Marlene is really pissed at me for being so stupid. I'm really in the dog house now."
"Ah understand where that's at." She shuffled her feet. "Ye need a few bucks to tide ya over?"
"I can't take money from you." Again he shook his head. "My own damn fault. Should've known the guy was a pool shark."
"Ye got hustled?" She looked disgusted. "Damn. Can't let that slide."
"Jessie, don't get in trouble for my sake. These people can be dangerous."
"Hey, so can Ah."
Garcia laughed. "You? You're the least threatening person I know."
"Trust me! Just tell ol' Jes all about this guy."
"You be careful."
"Don't ye worry," the Garou said with a smile. "I gots friends."
The technician looked at the patch of raw skin and pursed his lips. "Sorry, Sammy, that's about the best we can do. We're going to have to let your new skin integrate with your old from here. No heavy lifting for an hour or so. And try to stay away from Nephandi with atomic flame throwers for a while."
"The circuits are willing but the flesh is weak," Sammy intoned.
The tech sighed. "A philosophical HITMark. What will they think of next? Oh, you have a visitor. She says she's your mother."
A smile passed over the HITMark's face. "Ah. Jessie Smiles-of-Sunshine. She thinks herself quite the humorist."
The tech looked panicked. "A Garou? Here?" He moved behind Sammy.
"Don't worry; I'll take care of it."
The HITMark walked confidently out the door to find Jessie slouched against the wall.
"Good day, 'mother'."
The Garou straightened herself and bounced towards him. "Hey there, sonny. Doin' good?"
His lips quirked into a grin. "Affirmative."
"Affirmative, my ass. Ah heard what ye did. Healin' okay?"
"Certainly. The techs here do excellent work; the only damage left is cosmetic."
She rolled her eyes. "Right; so Ah'll get ye some eyeliner. Ye up fer a little R & R?"
"What do you have in mind?"
"What do ye know about pool?"
"It is a place to immerse oneself for recreational purposes." He regarded her blandly. "I am not well-designed for swimming."
"Ah mean pocket billiards." She held up her hand. "Ah know the definition. Do ye know how to play it?"
He furrowed his brows as if he were thinking about the question. "I have not played the game. But it appears to be a matter of simple mathematics."
He managed a sidelong look. "I am good at mathematics."
She gave him a broad, sideways grin in return. "That's mah boy! How about you and me go fish up a pool shark named Terry? He ripped off a friend of mine and Ah want to teach him a lesson."
"Affirmative."
Jessie rolled into the bar with Sammy looming behind her. She waved to the barkeep. "Hey Matty! Table available?"
The barkeep nodded to the empty pool table. "Like you asked. Of course, we don't get a lot of people Sunday afternoons." He gave Sammy an inquiring look. "So who's this?"
"Matty, this is mah boy, Sammy."
"Pleased to meet you, sir," Sammy said gravely. They shook hands.
"Nice grip," Matty said. He shot Jessie an inquiring look.
"He's okay," Jessie said. "He's sort of adopted. It's both simple and complex."
Matty raised an eyebrow at the Ragabash. "I won't ask."
"Thank ye. Now Sammy, check out this pool table." She gave the battered table a caress. "It ain't professional, smooth, gently-used slate. It's old; its bumpers have seen better days and its felt's gettin' thin. This is the kinda table we'll have to work with. Go ahead, give the table a stroke. "
Sammy gave her a puzzled look; it looked more studied than natural. "I can already detect the flawed areas."
Jessie put a hand to her head. "Ack... no, no. It's a tactile thing. Remember... you're trying to look like people. Let me show ya." She strolled around the table stroking the bumpers and the faded green felt. "Ya gotta look like you know what yer doing. Real serious pool shooters might be able to scope out the table jest by sight - but we ain't supposed to know all that. We gotta look like we know jest enough to be half-assed good but not great."
"Subterfuge," Sammy said.
"Affirmative. Now give the table some touch."
Sammy walked around the table, probing it at regular intervals. He looked up and read her face. "You're not pleased."
She sighed. "We ain't doing scientific research - we're shooting pool. Let's start with that walk. Put a little English in yer step. Slllllide a little, bob a little, move them shoulders a bit."
He executed a slow, graceful, dance-move down the table. "Is this better?"
She stared agog. "Er... a little floral. Where'd ye learn that?"
"From the movie 'Singing in the Rain'. You told me to learn from the best, and my research shows that Gene Kelly was in that category."
She scratched her head. "That Ah did."
"Would you prefer me to study some Michael Jackson videos?"
"That might be fun. Let's rack up the balls and shoot a few balls."
Sammy set up the table. Jessie grabbed some cue sticks. "Now watch me as Ah check out the stick."
She sighted down the stick then gave it a twirl. "When ya play, ya can mess with the stick and spin it a little and carry it under yer arm and stuff. But don't do it too good. We're no experts. Or ye can jest lean a little on the stick." She handed him a pool cue.
He examined the crooked stick. "This cue is flawed."
"Ya have ta work with the local resources. Why don't ya break and shoot a few balls."
*clack-clack-clack* Sammy's break sent several balls into the pockets. With each stroke he sank multiple balls.
Jessie blinked as he dropped the last ball. "Yer sure ye haven't played this before?"
"Certain."
"Huh. Well, we really got ta work on yer game. Yer too damn good. With moves like that ye'll scare away our mark."
He leaned on his pool cue and nodded. "I am optimized to do my best. It is against my nature to do less well than I am able."
"Ah, but our purpose is ta be tasty bait and hook ourselves a shark."
"I understand," he nodded again. "Playing more poorly than my best is integral to our deception. I can do that."
"An' once we git yer playin' straightened out," Jessie added, "We'z got ta work on the way ya talk."
Sammy walked over to the table, racked the balls and started again.
Terry watched the couple carefully. He'd been observing them for quite a while. The big man had nursed a ginger ale most of the night but the small woman drank enough for the both of them. He seemed focused on his pool game while she was content to cheer him on.
He sank the last ball and the woman hooted and pumped her fists. He squiggled his shoulders and started doing the chicken dance. "Woot!" he cried out.
Terry had to admit that the man was good at his game.
"Belly up to the bar!" the woman cried out.
And the woman had cash.
She had bought rounds for the house more than once. She didn't dress like she had money but his shirts and slacks were pretty nice. Obviously, she was spending his money. They didn't act like lovers but he could sense a real affection the woman had for the man. Him, he couldn't quite figure out.
But it didn't matter. They had too much money and he was just the man to relieve them of it.
"Nice game," Terry said to the man. "Play for drinks?"
The man shrugged. "Sure."
Terry played the game carefully and lost to the other man narrowly. "You got me." He stuck out his hand. "Name's Terry."
"Sam." They shook hands.
"Good grip. Work out?"
"A bit. I need to; I work with computers all day."
The woman slapped Sam on the back. "He's really inta them there computers."
"Terry, this is my friend Julie," Sam explained.
"More like cousin, but hey! who's counting!" She drained her drink and waggled it at him. "My glass is empty here, bro."
"You drink too much," he said quietly.
"Yer no fun," she replied with a pout. Then a toothy grin spread across her face. "How about a sandwich? I'm hungry."
He chuckled. "That sounds good."
"Play you for the price of the sandwich?" Terry suggested.
Sam smiled and gave his stick a twirl. "Sure. If you want to lose another bet." He slipped and almost dropped the cue.
This game Terry beat Sam. Sam's nostrils flared a little. "Lucky shot."
"Damn straight!" Julie responded. "Bet ye could whip him again."
Sam nodded, cool and calm. "Bet I could."
Terry smiled to himself. This fish was on the hook. "Well, we could play another game..."
Terry made sure the games were close so he could keep pushing the bets higher. He had to admit that Sam was a cool character - even in the tightest shots he never broke a sweat. His girlfriend was rather the opposite - she bounced in her chair and hooted encouragement as she watched the games.
Finally, when Terry judged he'd rung enough out of this particular mark he let loose and cleared the table of balls. "Let's call it a night, shall we?" he said as he reached for the stack of money.
"Oh man! Sam!" Julie bitched. "Are ye gonna let this punk whip your butt like that? Ah thought ye had some balls on ye."
Sam looked at her calmly and turned to him. "Give me one last chance to get my own back." He unbuttoned his shirt, dug out a money belt, and extracted several large bills. "How 'bout it?"
"Hot damn!" Julie shouted. "Ye gonna whip him this time?"
Sam looked at Terry then back at her. "For you, baby, I can do it. I know I can."
A fool and his money, Terry thought. "Very well. One last game."
Minutes later he stood slack-jawed as Sam easily cleared the table. Sam smiled at him and spun around on his heels. "Gotcha."
Julie giggled like a school girl. "Gotcha! Ye'd best hurry yer sorry ass out of town 'cause we got yer number." Her smile became feral. "Pool shark."
"We gots friends in high and low places," she added. "So you better clean up yer act and don't pull that shit no more. We're gonna keep an eye on you. Now git!"
Sam loomed over Terry. "You should listen to her," he said blandly.
Terry looked into Sam's eyes. They were cold, calculating and utterly merciless. He quickly left the bar.
"Hey! Big G! Gotta talk ta ya!"
Garcia paused in his cleaning and looked up at Jessie. "What's up?"
She grinned brightly at him. "Found yer pool shark. Pitted him against another pool shark. Ah tell ya, there's nothin' sweeter than out-witting a cheat." She pulled an envelope out of her jacket. "Let's jest say we got yer money back."
His eyes popped out and his jaw dropped. "You... swindled him?"
She giggled happily. "Yep! Sure did! Told him to get out of town too! So he won't be botherin' nobody again." She waggled her eyebrows. "Ah got connections."
Hesitantly, he took the money. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? His type has friends in low places."
Her grin grew larger. Garcia felt a shiver run up his spine. "Don't ye worry none," she said. "Ah'z gots friends in low places too." She winked. "And high places."
Terry went to his apartment and packed quickly and efficiently. Like any good con man he was always ready to move on a moment's notice. Shoes, shirts, pants vanished from his dresser to his suitcase in no time flat.
He wasn't in a big rush, not really. He was just being cautious after being uncovered by a better shark. Time to move on - maybe Chicago...
A knock on the door caused him to pause. He could ignore it, slip down the fire escape, or answer it.
"OPEN UP! IT'S THE POLICE!"
Fire escape. He went to open the window but jumped back when he saw a burly man squatting on the landing. The man outside grinned wolfishly and waggled his fingers at him as if to say 'no way out'.
The door opened with a crash and Boston's finest walked in. "Terry Andrews alias Terry Williams alias John Terry Baker, you're under arrest for fraud, extortion and blackmail. You have the right to remain silent..."
Jessie looked up from her full tray of food and her eyes popped out. "Sammy!"
Sammy threaded his way around the hospital cafeteria tables. "I thought I'd come see you. It's much more personal than a phone call."
"Darn right. Gimme a hug, Sonny."
He hugged her gently; just enough pressure to express affection. They sat across from each other. He smiled almost as if he were pleased with himself. "I thought I'd give you the news about our little pool shark: we tracked his history and send the information to the local law enforcement authorities. It seems he's been a very naughty boy and they've arrested him."
She put down her fork and stared at him. "And ye didn't tell me? Shoot, Sammy! Ah wanted to be there for the take down!"
His face formed a good representation of puzzlement. "It is not in your jurisdiction."
"That don't matter. Ah jest wanted to see it. Maybe take pictures fer mementoes or something." She rubbed her wrist. "Can't have his watch but Ah could have had a photograph of him bein' led away in handcuffs."
"I'll remember that next time."
"You'd better.... Next time?"
"Affirmative." He smiled. "Next time."
"That's mah boy."
- END -