And that’s pretty much how it had gone shot for shot for both players so far. Pot, snooker, pot, snooker…Now they were both left with two balls each, and the black, which was tight against the bottom right-hand pocket’s knuckle – an easy pot for the bloke who got there first.
Chris took his shot, managing to pot one of his remaining two. The white finished behind his last, which was spelling the end for Rigs. Slamming his last dotted ball home, Chris winked at Rigs, as the white nestled at the rear of the black.
“Cocky motherfucker,” Rigs said under his breath. The dream of buying a new truck for the business was gone. Sunk. Just like the 8-ball will be in the next few seconds, Rigs thought. “Damn it. Never mind, Iain is still in. He’ll…” his thoughts derailed, as he watched the black ball get swallowed by the pocket.
“Yes!” Chris yelled, but it was a short-lived victory, as the white ball shot across the table and dropped into the middle pocket, instantly handing the win to Rigs. “No!” Chris said, his face twisted into a portrait of rage, horror and misery. He began to pout, just like Tommy had.
“You semi-pro guys really don’t like losing, do you?!” Rigs said, returning the cocky wink.
Throwing his cue to one side, Chris picked up his jacket and stalked off. “I’m fucking out of here!” he said, his bottom lip drooping. His tantrum resembled that of a four-year-old having a tantrum in a supermarket.
“Not that door, sir,” Porky said, trying hard to keep the smile off his face. “That door over there,” he said, pointing at the one the previous losers had gone through.
“Get that smile off your face, before I knock it off!” Chris told Porky.
“Please, sir, don’t threaten me with violence.”
“Yeah? What the fuck are you going to do about it fat… Oooo,” Chris suddenly squealed in agony, as Porky gripped the man by his testes.
Titters escaped the crowd on seeing the scene before them unfold. “Now, what I run here is my tradition, sir. I told you at the start. Any nonsense would be met by harsh treatment. Now, I’m prepared to give you one last warning.”
“Please, let go of me!” Chris pleaded, forcing Porky to tighten his grip. “I’m going to be sick!”
“Best shut up and listen then, sir. Now, you can either walk out of here with or without your balls attached to your person. Which would you like?” Porky asked, gripping at the man’s bollocks the hardest he could.
“Yes, attached,” Chris squeaked, before nodding frantically.
“Good,” Porky said, giving the man’s face a few gentle slaps with his free hand, before releasing his privates. “Now get out of here. I’m starting to lose my patience.”
This action from Porky shocked Rigs. He’d taken the landlord to be a placid man, not someone who could be violent or stand-up for himself in such a manner. He was unsure whether he liked it or not. Did this man have a hidden persona? Was there someone or something much deeper and darker behind his mask? Was the nicey-nicey-nice guy just a façade? A red herring?
He’d be keeping his eye on the man over the next hour or two.
Chris scuttled through the crowd, holding his balls and jacket. “You fucking bastard,” he said over his shoulder, which was aimed at Porky. Then he tripped over Diesel’s boot, who’d stuck it out on purpose.
“I believe he told you to fuck. Off,” he told the downed man, then stamped on his face one, twice, three times, cracking the man’s nose. “I won’t ask so nicely,” Diesel said, dragging Chris from the floor and placing a solid knee to his guts.
Chris doubled over, as the air whooshed out of him. Slamming him against the wall, Diesel buried his forehead in Chris’ face, instantly puffing his left eye. Then, with a brutal grip, Diesel escorted the man to the exit by the scruff. Opening it, he threw Chris through it. “Get. Fucking. Out!” he screamed at him, and then slammed the door shut.
“Who’s playing next?” he said, turning to face a stunned crowd.
“Was that really called for, big man?!” Iain wanted to know. “Try that with me, and I’ll bust your skull apart.”
“What the fuck did you say?!” Diesel asked.
“Wash the spuds out of your ears, dickhead. I’m not repeating myself.”
“You got some fucking nuts on you, talking to me like that in front of my crew.”
“Then bring it, lady. I ain’t got all evening, you know,” Iain said, draining the last of his beer.
“Oh, I’ll bring it, granddad. You just wait until we get out of here.”
Rigs stepped between the warring men, who were almost nose-to-nose once again.
“Settle down, settle down. We’re here to play, not fight,” Rigs said.
“Since when did you become a fucking diplomat?” Iain asked Rigs, smiling.
“Since you couldn’t keep your half-cut gob shut,” Rigs told him, grabbing Iain by the shoulder, and turning him around. “Cool it, mate. You ain’t sure what those crazy fuckers are capable of. They could have us buried in a fucking gravel pit by sunrise. Please, just try and keep calm. Stay focused. There’s a lot of money at stake here, and we just got a step closer!” Rigs said, laughing.
“Okay,” Iain said, walking off and giving Mandy’s arse a hard crack. “Fancy a drink?” he asked her, a silly, half-crooked smile on his face.
The look on her face was a picture, Rigs thought, thinking he was going to keel over from laughter. But her face of thunder turned to that of calm and serene. She gave him a cheeky smile and wink, before accepting his offer. “Aye, go on then.”
This seemed to annoy Charlie somewhat, as it would appear he’d been trying to crack that safe all evening. “You snooze, you lose,” Rigs said under his breath. “You snooze you lose? What am I? Twelve!” he scolded himself, before laughing.
Leaving Iain to it with Mandy, he crossed to Grace. “Who have you got?” he asked her.
“Charlie,” she said, giggling, as she caught Charlie looking over at her. “I think he’s scared he’s going to lose to a girl…Nice win, by the way,” she told Rigs, who blushed. He couldn’t believe it. She made him feel like an awkward fifteen-year-old. He liked it.
“Cheers. Let’s hope we don’t have to play each other, hey? I sure wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” he bantered.
“With your cue skills, you’re only likely to shame yourself, mister!” she pushed back, bumping her rump against his. He smiled, even though some of his beer sloshed over the rim of his glass and spattered his dirty work jeans. The beer stains were lost among the oil patches and grime.
“Where are you heading, anyway?” Rigs asked.
“We’re meeting friends at Cardiff.”
“Oh?” Rigs pushed.
“Yeah. We’re off to see Whitesnake at the Motorpoint Arena, man,” she said, playfulness danced in her eyes, as she flashed him a smile. Grace seemed younger than Rigs, but not by much. Two or three years, maybe.
“Slicks plays Gutbust,” Porky announced, to which Grace and Rigs ignored.
“Are you a Welsh girl? I don’t detect any dialect,” Rigs asked her.
The sound of the balls breaking threw a hush over the room, but the pair continued to talk in whispers.
“I was born in Wales, Caerphilly, but my parents moved back to the north, as that’s where my dad’s from. I have a brother living in Swansea, but that’s about it. You?”
“Valleys lad, born and bred. Iain, too.”
“You guys work together?”
“Yeah. Got our own hauling firm. Well, one lorry and a tonne of passion. We ain’t Eddie Stobbart, but we do well.
Grace giggled, then apologised.
“Sorry for what?” Rigs wanted to know.
“I didn’t want you thinking I was laughing at your endeavours,” she said, a coy look on her face.
He snorted a laugh, “Don’t be silly. We rip the shit out of ourselves constantly,” Rigs said.
“Oh,” she mustered, the rouge fading from her cheeks. “Have you known Iain long?”
&n
bsp; “All my life. We’re brothers more than friends. We’d do anything for each other. I’d take a bullet for him,” Rigs said. “I love him.” The look on his face changed from that of a silly-smile, to a sombre one. “In a platonic way, you understand?!”
The sound of potting balls deadened all other noise in the room, but Rigs still managed to catch that golden giggle of Grace’s, which he absorbed into a deep part of his heart. What was going on here? He hardly knew the girl.
“I see. Mandy and me are a bit the same. I’ve probably not known her as long as you’ve known Iain, but we’re very tight. I’d pretty much do anything for her, too.”
“It’s good to know you’ve got someone like that at your back, ain’t it?”
“Most definitely. I’d have it no other way.”
He swallowed hard, thought fuck it, and asked. “Do you guys need a lift the rest of the way?” He could feel the heat scorch his face. “I…I…You know…Just thought it…Erm, you know…”
Putting a hand to his forearm to stop him talking gibberish, Grace smiled. “We’d love to. We’ll, I’d love to. Can’t really speak for Mandy, but I’m sure she’d be grateful of a lift. Thanks.”
“No problems. I mean, we’re heading that way anyway, so you may as well tag along. You ain’t got a couple of spare tickets for the gig have you? I ain’t seen Whitesnake in years,” he joked, not expecting it to go any further.
“As it happens, I do have one spare ticket.”
Rigs’ smile faded, his heart quickened. “I…”
“No, seriously, you should come. Iain, too.”
“I thought you only had one ticket spare?”
“Bah, we’ll soon get another. There’s bound to be people selling them outside. Unless, of course, you…”
“No, no,” he said, beaming. “We’d love to come. Iain’s also a bit of a rock freak, so he’d love that. Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” she said, winking at him.
“It’ll be…” Rigs started, but his chain of thought was broken. He was interrupted by a commotion at the pool table – another player had lost his chance at getting their hands on the money.
“Ah, balls!” Gutbust said, as he punched Slicks in the arm, who laughed it off.
“Best go join Roadblock in the Losers Lounge,” he told his biker brethren.
“Fuck you, man!” Gutbust said, smiling all the while. But, without a fuss, much like others before him, the man picked his beer up and left right away.
“Danny plays Shogun,” Porky announced.
After the departure of the biker, and the breaking off between the two new players, Rigs and Grace went back to chatting; to ‘getting to know each other’, which seemed the best thing to do, since they would be spending the following day on the road together. Maybe a gig, too.
“What were you going to say?” she asked him.
“Erm, I can’t remember!”
“That’ll be old age,” she told him.
“Thanks!” he said, smiling.
“Something about the gig, I’m sure?!”
“Yeah, that’s right. I was just going to say it should be a laugh.”
“That it will,” Grace said, taking a sip from her drink. “Oh shit, looks like trouble!”
Looking over at the table, they saw Danny and Shogun face-to-face. Both men had hold of the other’s tops and were yelling into one another’s faces. Porky was trying to pry the men apart, aided by Shogun’s friends.
“I demand a fucking re-rack,” Shogun yelled and spat into Danny’s face.
“No fucking way, scumbag. It’s not my fault you took a fucking wonky break-off shot!”
“I’m going to rip your mother-fucking-loving eyeballs out. Cunt!”
Danny clamped his teeth on the bridge of the biker’s nose and bit hard. The sound of crunching bone satisfied him, but it did nothing to stop the raging Boa, who planted his knee firmly in Danny’s crotch.
“Awww, you dirty bastard!” Danny said, coming back with a head-butt.
Both men broke their hold on each other.
Grabbing Shogun by the arm, Porky escorted him over to the exit. “Get the hell out of here!” he told the bloodied man. “I’m sick of you sore losers!”
After throwing Shogun out, Porky turned on the rest of them, seeing Danny in a tangle with the remaining Boas. “If you lot don’t pack it in, right this second, then I’m calling the whole thing off!”
Puffing hard and glowing red, Porky looked a deranged sight to the others. “I bloody well mean it,” he said, stamping his foot. “No more of this nonsense. In all my years of running this prestigious tournament, never have I witnessed such barbaric and somewhat childish behaviour from players.”
The whole room fell quiet – shocked by yet another outburst from a landlord who’d been pegged as timid by everyone.
“Well?” he asked. “Are we all going to start acting like grown-ups around here? Because if you don’t…”
“Yes!” Diesel said. “We get you. Fuck! It’s just a bit of healthy competition…”
Walking right up to the Boas’ leader, Porky got in his face. “It ain’t healthy, when it’s wrecking my pub, idiot!”
Rigs sniggered. It was like the man was being told off by his mother. All that was missing was the slap around the head.
“Okay, okay. We’re sorry, right, guys?” Diesel said, turning to his remaining gang members, who all nodded in unison.
“Good. Then let’s crack on,” Porky said, calling Mandy and Smith forward for the next round.
“Go get ‘em,” Iain told Mandy, as she walked off and picked up a cue to play Smith. “Me and you, final game,” he said.
“Hey, shouldn’t that be you and me?” Rigs called over to Iain, who looked around.
“Sorry, mate, but she’s better looking than you!”
“Charming! Well, as long as you win, and bring that lovely cash home with you, then that’s fine by me,” Rigs said.
“You got it, amigo,” Iain said.
“I reckon it’ll be you and me, anyway,” Grace told Rigs, again bumping her rump against his.
“I think that too, Grace, I just don’t want to go saying that to Iain, and hurting his feelings. He’s like a big Jesse at times,” he said, then winked at her.
“I heard that,” Iain stated.
“Good, at least we know now not to buy you a hearing aid out of the winnings.”
“Oh, funny. You’re killing me over here,” Iain said, while holding and jiggling his gut, as though he was belly-laughing.
Having no more to say, they all watched the game unfold between Mandy and Smith. Mandy, who circled the table like a bird-of-prey, looked confident, as she played like a pro – potting everything in sight and wrapping the game up within minutes of breaking off.
She hardly broke a sweat, Rigs thought, watching the black disappear down a middle pocket.
“Mandy wins!” Porky announced, as Smith picked his drink up and walked out the door.
“Another one for Loser Lounge!” Diesel exclaimed. “Not many of us left now. I can almost feel the grands in my hands,” he told the others.
“Next, Grace plays Charlie,” Porky called.
“The best of British luck,” Rigs told Grace.
She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he told her, wanting desperately to draw her into his arms. To kiss her. To feel her body pressed tight against his. To soak up her heat. She smells amazing, Rigs thought, as he watched her make her way over to the pool table. Cracking arse, too!
Going over to Iain, who now had his arm around Mandy’s waist, Rigs spoke with him. “I’m fancying our chances, mate, I have to admit, what with both of us through to the next round.”
“Don’t go counting your chickens just yet, my little chickadee,” Mandy told Rigs, giving his cheek a few gentle slaps.
Iain laughed.
“Oh, is that right?” Rigs asked, smiling.
“Uh-huh,” she sai
d, taking a gulp from her bottle of lager. “Gracey and I are taking you all to the cleaners!”
“We’ll see about that,” Rigs continued to rib. He knew Mandy was good, and that she would take some beating, but he’d played and beaten some tough players in his time.
The crowd watched in awe as the game between Grace and Charlie went to the wire. It came down to a dogged fight over the black ball, with both players missing their chance to pot the elusive number 8 three times. Finally, Grace potted the black, by running it the length of the left cushion. Had she missed, it would have meant certain victory for Charlie.
“Winner – Grace!” Porky confirmed. Mandy, Rigs and Iain all whooped and clapped their hands for her, as Charlie walked off with a scowl on his face.
Pushing past a few of the others, Charlie walked up to Mandy. “I guess you’ve made your choice?!” he said to her, eyeing Iain up and down. “Classy,” he told her.
“Want a nightcap?!” Iain asked the man, while staring at him intently.
“Pft, moron,” Charlie said, leaving through the door the others had used before Iain could retaliate.
“What a douche!” Rigs said. Facing front again, he noticed Grace heading his way. “Well done,” he told her, giving her a hug.
“Thanks, beaut,” she said, giving his bum a cheeky squeeze.
Once the final game had been played and won by Sheila, Porky called an end to play. He had an announcement to make.
“Right, ladies and gentlemen. We have our remaining eight. The draw for the quarter-final will take place in twenty minutes’ time. Time to get a drink, maybe use the loo? Time also, to bask in your first round win. When the bell rings, please be back here for me to tell you all who you will be playing in the next round.”
Chapter 15
Clang, clang, clang, clang…
“Everyone at the table,” Porky called. “Time for round two.”
A few titters filled the room along with low whispers and conversations. “Settle down, please,” Porky asked. “I shall now draw the names…First two out – Diesel plays Mandy.”
Both of them looked at each other with Mandy scowling at the outlaw. She watched as he put his fingers to his mouth and mocked oral sex. “You pig,” she scoffed.
The Rack & Cue Page 14