I took the opportunity to escape to the bathroom to peel off the extra layer I’d put on. The temperate inside was about the same as last night, much warmer than at home, there weren’t any open doors to let in some cool air. Crazy how a girl who never seemed to get enough heat suddenly had a sweaty upper lip. Was there no happy compromise?
Getting rid of the jeans helped, but the sweater was still too warm. Taking off the sweater left me in the V-neck shirt and the leggings. The clothes were comfortable, but I wasn’t sure I was comfortable in them. The leggings did what they were supposed to do. They clung to me. The V-neck was a little longer, but didn’t go past my waist. Like the leggings, it hugged my curves giving me a ‘going to the gym’ appearance instead looking like I wanted to hang out at a friend’s house.
Morik’s comment about dressing for myself rang in my ears and I quickly switched the leggings for the jeans. I joined the others after leaving my extra clothes in the basement living room.
When I walked into the other half of the room, Morik eyed my change in clothes before turning back to Jay who still dominated the conversation. Brad good-naturedly harassed Tommy about winning the first game as they switched ends of the table. Beatriz, bored now that she no longer quizzed Morik, hopped down from her stool and dragged me toward the pool table.
“I suck at playing pool, but,” she dropped her voice, “it’s better than listening to mechanics.”
I smiled saying nothing about their conversation. Morik needed a regular conversation. I wondered if he’d ever had one before. He’d hinted that every interaction had been because of a deal. Even his interactions with me were due to one deal or another.
“I’ve never played before,” I said eyeing the table. “So I doubt it will be much fun for you.”
“It’s easy,” she assured me with a quick grin.
She racked the balls and then grabbed us each cue sticks. At my blank look, she proceeded to show me how to hold the butt of the cue and how to make a bridge with my hand. None of it felt natural or as easy for me as it appeared for her. Then she explained how I should use the cue tip to hit the cue ball to knock the other balls into the pockets located around the table.
I watched closely as she broke the triangle formation of the balls she’d racked. They scattered nicely leaving me plenty of openings and options. One of the striped balls came to a stop very near a pocket. I moved around the table and tried to mimic her bent-over stance feeling a little self-conscious when she giggled. She outright laughed when I tried doing the bridge she’d shown me.
Standing, I pointed the cue at her with a pretend scowl. “Play nice.”
Nodding, she came over and attempted to show me again how to stand and how to use my hand to create a bridge. As I listened to her, I noticed that the conversation and fun taunting in the room had come to a stop.
Beatriz noticed the same thing because she turned and glared at her brother. “What? I’m showing her something wrong, aren’t I?” She said the last as an angry statement, not a question.
Brad laughingly held up his hands. “Not going to interfere. Just watching.”
“Back to your own game.”
She stood with her arms crossed waiting for them to comply. When they did, she leaned close to me, showing me what to do. “I’m probably showing you wrong,” she whispered. “Just try to hit the white ball without tearing the cloth and it’ll be a good try.”
I nodded while she moved away and tried again, looking up at her for confirmation that I was doing it right. She smiled widely, clearly amused by my efforts, but nodded anyway.
Using my right hand, I firmly gripped the butt of the cue and jabbed it forward in a parody of what she’d shown me. The tip missed the cue ball completely, but it also missed the cloth. She encouraged me to try again. Patiently, I kept trying until I made contact. The ball the cue ball hit didn’t go far, which was good since I accidentally hit it further from the pocket.
Beatriz expertly studied the table before moving into position. She sunk her targeted ball into a side pocket.
Counting the number of balls on the table and estimating how long each turn took me, I decided our pool game would take forever.
Tommy swore and Brad laughed, interrupting my concentration. “Morik. Jay. Your turn,” Brad said setting the mallet down. Tommy moved behind the bar to get himself a soda while Brad took a seat to watch both games.
I paused in my turn to watch Morik and Jay begin. Jay watched Morik closely. Morik watched the puck. He unerringly caught it and sent it sailing back to Jay’s goal without hesitating. Jay deflected, but to me, it’s looked like luck more than skill. Morik caught the rebounding puck and immediately shot it back to Jay’s goal.
Suddenly playing pool with Beatriz didn’t seem so bad… or as competitive. Looking at the table, I spotted another ball close to a pocket and bent down to take aim.
“Nope, not that one,” Beatriz said standing near the table, leaning on her cue watching me. “The first kind of ball you sink is the one you aim for the rest of the game. I have solids. You have stripes.”