“Want to play some pool?” Tony suggested, gesturing towards the vacant tables.
“Sure.”
We moved to one of the pool tables and racked up. I’ve never been very good at pool. I was a strong proponent of the ‘whack them really hard and hope one of them accidently falls in the pocket’ technique. This tactic wasn’t the most effective other than allowing me to pull off some really fantastic shots once every blue moon. I maintained hope that one day it would miraculously turn me into a brilliant pool player. Tony on the other hand was a very good pool player. He had spent years honing his skills against his brother. We were playing winner stays on which basically resulted in the majority of the matches being Tony versus Greg. Greg had a long running joke that to lose without potting a ball would result in having to run around the pool table with your pants down around your ankles. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not but wasn’t prepared to risk it.
“Well kids, I think that’s it for me tonight,” Greg said after our third game. “I’ve got an early start in the morning.”
“You’re working on a public holiday?” asked Tony.
“Who said anything about working?”
“We’ll hang around for a bit longer, right?” I asked Tony. I wasn’t sure what the convention was.
Even though I was losing I was actually having fun. Maybe it was the mixture of booze and pool that had loosened me up but I was having fun for the first time in ages and wasn’t about to let it go.
“Sure, no worries.” Tony nodded back.
“Try not to wake me when you get home.” Greg waved a mocking finger in front of Tony’s face. “And if there’s a tie on the door…” He winked.
“It’ll mean he’s picked up a businessman on his way home,” I interjected.
“Yeah, right Devon,” Greg chuckled and we said goodbye.
I’m not sure how much we had drunk at this stage. I definitely wasn’t sober but I wasn’t having too much trouble walking and playing pool either. In fact if anything I was getting better. There is a theory that the drunker you get the better your pool playing skills get. There may be some grounds to this as my game had improved dramatically over the past hour. I was now at least giving Tony some competition before he beat me. I’d much rather rack this up to alcohol because it couldn’t have possibly been attributed to the several hours of pool practice I’d just had. That was crazy talk. I was leaning forward over the table with my arms lined forward holding the pool cue like a rifle before me. This shot would determine the game. I gently tapped the white ball carefully towards my desired target and with the most gentle of “thunk” noises my ball gently tilted forward into the pocket. This also knocked one of Tony’s balls out of the way. It couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d planned it. There was no way in a hundred years I’d have normally been able to pull off a shot like that. The only reason now I was even attempting it was because I was snookered everywhere else. Tony stared at me with a quizzical eyebrow slightly raised and a contemplative expression on his face.
“Are you cheating?” he asked, tentatively wiggling his fingers about in a random pattern.
“What? How the hell do you cheat at pool?” I retorted, confused.
“Uh, you know,” he replied, waving his fingers around.
“Oh... umm. No,” I replied, inwardly cursing myself. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
That would have been fantastic. Every jibe Greg had ever directed at us would have been returned in one fell swoop. Let’s see him try to wiggle out of running around the table with his pants down around his ankles.
“Hmm – well, good then,” he replied. “Sorry I asked really.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I would have been if I’d thought of it.” I smiled back.
“… Right, so, too honest to lie, too stupid to cheat,” he continued dryly.
“That’s me.” I nodded as I potted the final ball, winning the game. This was probably the first win I’d had against Tony in years.
“Rack ‘em up,” he grunted.
I felt it was a little uncharitable of him to fail to comment on my uncommon and definitely comment worthy win. Tony didn’t feel the same way. I’m not sure if Tony had something to prove now or was merely trying to make up for lost ground but he absolutely creamed me next game. By the time I had potted my first ball he’d already racked up four. It came to no surprise to anyone when he potted the final ball and won the game.
“Maybe you should start cheating.” He grinned as his last ball slid into the pocket.
“I can if you want; wouldn’t exactly be sporting though now would it?” I said.
“Give me some competition though.” He laughed.
We were halfway through our next game, which of course I was losing, when a gruff voice interrupted us. Tony had just leaned forward to take his shot and was tentatively lining up the white ball with his intended victim.
“Are you two ladies done with this table yet?” the voice demanded.
We both turned to face the newcomer. He was a rough looking tradesman wearing paint covered overalls and sporting a three-day growth. He was leering at us with a beer in one hand and an intimidating smirk on his face.
He was probably in his mid-forties and looked just a little bit worse for the drink. He had that jowly cheeked and bulbous red nose look attributed to people who spend half their lives glued to bar stools.
“There are other tables,” Tony replied calmly, finishing his shot apparently unfazed by the interruption.
“I don’t want to use another table.” He snorted.
You could tell he thought he was being incredibly funny but the amusement never quite reached his eyes. They had the look of a predator swooping down on its prey. Behind him there was another tradesman who was a lot younger, probably the older man’s apprentice. He was about our age or perhaps just a little bit older. He had a stringy, lanky look to him and looked ill at ease in the bar room. He kind of reminded me of myself about two hours ago when I first entered the bar – before the drinks.
“Well, as you can see, this one’s taken,” I said firmly. “We’ll move on when we’re finished, game’s almost done.”
“No rush ladies, I enjoy a good pool game,” he grunted, chuckling to himself at his own humour as he parked himself on a stool overlooking the table.
“Though what you’re doing hardly qualifies,” he finished.
The delicate sound of pool balls clinking together and the satisfying sound as they fell into pocket became a steady rhythm to the rise and fall of the game. The background noise had seemingly disappeared as both Tony and I were more focused on the game. We tried to ignore the lewd and mocking chuckles from our unwelcome onlooker. He would cackle to himself when one of us missed a shot and snort in derision when we did drop a ball. This game seemed to take much longer than the rest of our games.
I was about ready to call it a night when our less-than-welcome observer abruptly got to his feet and grabbed a pool cue from the stand behind us.
“I’ll show you a little something about the game.”
The words “No thanks” were on the tip of my lips when Tony grunted “Sure”, deciding the matter for me. He popped in a couple of coins into the table causing the balls to drop into the catchment. Well there was nothing for it – we were committed now.
I think Tony had reached the point where he’d had enough of snide backhanded comments and wanted the opportunity to take this lout down a peg. I wasn’t sure I was up for this, but after his rude interjections I was kind of looking forward to seeing Tony take him down too. I probably wasn’t going to be able to contribute much towards this goal, but it would be nice to watch nonetheless.
“I’ll break,” the lout announced and moved to the far end of the table as Tony set up the table.
As he broke he grunted slightly, as if the exertion of playing pool was almost too much. It was a good break though, he didn’t pot anything but it was a good, solid break nonetheless.
&nbs
p; Tony took his turn. We had already determined between us that he would go first and quickly potted several balls. I was watching our opponent and his glittering eyes smirked as he watched the play unfold. His face never showed the amusement that twinkled in the light behind his eyes.
His apprentice upon order took the cue next and dutifully potted one ball and narrowly missed a second. He did set it up for an easy pot next round though, and then it was my turn.
I had a choice here. I could take the easy shot – the red ball into the close pocket, or the difficult one, which would put us in a better position for later. I decided the former. Sink the balls available – after all with my limited skills it was probably going to be better to assist in a small way rather than none. A small chuckle escaped our opponent as my white ball gently clinked off my intended target and rolled to a halt, both balls mere inches from the pocket.
“Laugh away,” I grumbled with somewhat poor grace.
“This merely means you’re snookered now,” Tony interjected with some degree of satisfaction.
This outcome was better than my potting a ball, as Tony would make far better use of the two shots he would obtain when my opponent messed up his turn.
“Shows what you know,” the guy grunted.
I’m still not quite sure how he did it but he managed to reflect the white ball off two surfaces to gently knock against one of his balls, grinning mockingly at me he tilted his cue in my direction.
“Nice,” I grudgingly said.
As much as I didn’t like the guy, that was a sweet shot.
“Won’t make much difference though.” Tony smiled and with casual and long honed skill sent another two balls into the depths.
Surprisingly enough, even this didn’t seem to faze him. I’ve always prided myself on being a good judge of character and something was definitely wrong here. For someone who was three balls down in a game he was awfully smug.
His apprentice didn’t fare much better than me. He obviously didn’t have much more skill than I did. That is to say we both had the ability to move balls around the table with reliable frequency to not sink anything. I also had a nagging suspicion that he wasn’t enjoying himself too much either.
After my next shot it had become more obvious that the game was actually only between two players and that didn’t include the apprentice and me.
“Want to make this a little more interesting?” the guy grunted as he stepped up for his next shot, sloshing his beer against the table as he clonked it down.
“What did you have in mind?” Tony smiled back. I’d seen that look in his eyes before and this didn’t bode well.
“Say ten dollars?”
“You’re still down mate, but I’m not going to say no to taking your money though.” Tony grinned back, deciding the matter for both of us.
“Each,” he snapped. He cut off the last word with menace, gesturing towards me.
“Take your shot,” Tony stated as I nodded the affirmative.
Something definitely wasn’t right here. Perhaps my intuition was wrong as over the next few rounds he did indeed pot a few more balls and close the gap. The final round saw him two balls down and us sitting on an easy shot for the black.
“And that would be…” Tony started as he leaned forward. In one fell swoop he adroitly tapped the black, sending it ever so gracefully rolling towards the pocket. “…Game,” he finished as the black dropped gently into the pocket.
There was a stunned silence around the table, partially thanks to Tony’s obvious show boating. I stood offside, watching our opponent and trying to gauge his reaction. He was a cool one though as the smile never left his face. I had expected some form of abusive or insulting outburst; however, he remained quite still, the smile frozen on his face.
His eyes, however, glittered with unexpressed violence.
“Seems you boys can play after all,” he said. “Another game,” he commanded. He wasn’t asking. This was an order.
“Money upfront!” I demanded. “You guys owe us twenty bucks.”
My demand was perhaps delivered somewhat undiplomatically as even Tony turned to give me a strange look.
“Small change boy, we’ll settle up when we’re finished,” he grunted at me, deftly putting more coins into the table and racking up a new table.
“Since you boys obviously know your stuff – let’s make this one count,” he continued, laughing. “See how you handle yourself under some real pressure.”
“What did you have in mind?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow.
I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. This definitely wasn’t going to end well.
“One hundred,” the sot grunted.
“Each?” I balked – if we lost I wouldn’t be able to cover it I only had about fifty dollars on me, which included the ten I was now owed.
“Each,” he confirmed with a nod. “What’s the matter, princess, too rich for you?”
“I can’t cover that,” a soft voice interjected. I turned with interest to note that it was the voice of the apprentice.
“You’re covered,” our opponent interjected, gruffly cutting off whatever the poor guy was going to say next.
Tony looked at me with a quizzical expression and then with a devilish smile that I knew all too well shrugged and smiled. “It’s your money.”
“It’s your break,” the older man grunted.
“You go.” Tony nodded to me.
I’ve never been overly fond of breaking. There’s a smaller chance of actually being able to sink anything as nothing is setup for an easy shot. I didn’t embarrass myself too badly as my shot broke the balls from their formation at the centre of the table into a wide arc. It was a decent break but I didn’t manage to sink anything, which was a little disappointing.
Smiling broadly our opponent stepped up to the table and leaned forward to take his shot, casually potting one ball and setting two others up for an easy sink later in the game.
I breathed in a deep breath and heard Tony mutter under his breath. He took his next shot to set up another two balls into place. He now had four of his balls in positions where they would be easy to sink. It seemed pretty obvious he was trying to go for a trick shot, setting up the shot and then sinking all the balls in one fluid motion.
“Your turn, ladies.” He smiled.
Tony looked somewhere between worried and angry. I wasn’t sure what his finances were like at the moment but I doubt he could afford the hundred dollars any more than I could.
“We’re being sharked,” he hissed into my ear as he passed to take his shot. “The bastard set us up.”
In hindsight it seemed pretty obvious that that’s what he was doing. He had been preying upon a couple of young and obviously inexperienced pool players. He’d been building us up to up the ante.
A cold dread filled my stomach. I didn’t have the money to pay my debt and he didn’t look like the type to extend credit. There was nothing for it, I’d have to cheat. I could see Tony’s eyes narrow with anger as he leaned forward over the table to take his shot. A narrow bead of sweat slowly made its way down his brow. It was obvious that he was nervous.
This would be difficult. I’d never been able to summon my power without some form of hand motion but I didn’t want our opponent to have any idea that something untoward was going on. I’d have to be careful.
I’d heard of a technique called misdirection that stage magicians use to draw the audience’s attention away from what their other hand is doing. I’d have to look into these techniques, but for now I’d have to wing it and hope for the best. I could see the shot Tony was trying to go for. It was a delicate and difficult shot and normally I had faith that Tony could pull it off, but under these circumstances I had my doubts. Fortunately for Tony, however, I had other ideas.
I built up a mana thread and gently intercepted the white ball as Tony took his shot. I’d been forced to keep my back against the bench to keep what I was doing hidden from sight. This had the quite
unintentional effect of looking as if Tony had clipped the white ball rather than hitting it directly on.
This caused a loud guffaw from our opponent who charmingly sprayed beer out of his mouth mid laugh as he watched the event unfold.
“Nice one, sunshine.” He chuckled, moving forward to take his shot watching as the ball took off in a direction other than the one Tony had intended.
Tony had a look of confusion on his face that quickly turned into anger. He must have been sure that he’d hit the white ball dead on. His look of anger turned into one of bewilderment and then shock as the white ball casually careened into another of our balls gently potting it. Tony now had a second shot.
It had taken all my skill to do this and even I was amazed at the results. It hadn’t taken more than gentle pressure to break Tony’s shot and send it in the direction I wanted to go. Timing had been paramount but it was well within my skill level. My only concern was subtlety.
Our opponent stood slack jawed, his eyes glued to the table as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. His pool cue was still in hand as he had moved forward to take his shot.
“You might want to wait to the end of his shot before you make further comments.” I smiled disarmingly back at him.
“Luck!” He cursed back at me, his look turning cold and for once the patronising amusement had finally disappeared from his face.
“Take your shot,” he snarled at Tony.
“Hey, Tony, whack that blue one in at the far end of the table as hard as you can,” I advised.
Tony looked at me quizzically as this type of shot would normally have resulted in one of two things. Either both balls would be knocked out or the opponent’s ball would be knocked in. Neither result was too appealing to Tony. He shook his head briefly as if to disagree but then I winked and he smiled in understanding.
Tony moved to the other end of the table. With what could only be described as exaggerated showmanship he took his shot, sending the white ball off at high speed. This was pretty much what I’d expected and I gently placed a mana thread around my opponent’s ball to steady it and prevent it from being knocked in by the impact.
Mage Catalyst Page 12