Mystery Entrant II
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 Posted February 9th, 2010 11:36 AM IP   
-Scotty-
Early February, 2010
Night
Scott’s hands trembled by his side, and he found himself clenching them into fists, trying to fight their nervous shake. Reaching out and knocking two quick times, he prayed that Leon wouldn’t just shoot him through the door.
A moment went by before his prayers were answered.
"Scott." Leon Gibbs stared down his old high school classmate.
"Nice place, Leon. How many NCAA games did you have to fix to buy this one?"
"If you’re gonna show up on my doorstep at this hour and insult an old friend… you better have the god damn money you owe me."
"You oughta know by now I don’t ever have any money. And when I do, it tends to wind up at a Blackjack table. Or in the possession of Phil Ivey. Guys good."
"You’ve got about thirty seconds before I go get my gun and shoot you right on my fucking porch."
"Listen, Leon. I’ve got some good news. My brother is going back to PWE. Full-time." Scotty watched as Leon’s attention focused, and thoughts of shooting anyone on anybody’s porch faded. "If you want to expand your little empire, I think you’re gonna have the chance to fix all the matches you want."
-Strangers-
A While Ago
A life on the road was tough to deal with. Sometimes it seemed like there were a hundred days gone for every one spent at together, till sooner or later, things changed. The million miles of asphalt went from tedium to home. The separation went from suffocating to normal, and then the normal went from frustrating to fixable.
Normal had led to this bar with shoddy lighting and the pool table with torn felt and a cracked eleven ball.
"Nice shot, ma’am"
"Thanks." She dug the end of her cue into the dirty floor and wrapped it in her arms, holding it like she wanted to dance. "Table’s not even. Gotta little lean to the left for anything cross table."
"Sound like a girl who knows her Nine-ball."
"I’ve had some practice."
For the first time since he’d spoken to her, the man stepped towards the pool table, and the lights above the tattered green felt revealed his rugged looks.
"You wanna play a game?"
"Nah, always quit while you’re ahead." She crossed the room and placed the one good cue back on its rack amongst the battered and broken. "But I could go for a beer."
"Sounds good to me." The two strangers headed towards the crowded bar. Throwing a hand in the air, the man flagged down one of the bartenders. "Miller Lite and…" he looked back over his shoulder at her plain, but attractive, features.
"The black stuff"
"Miller Lite and a Guinness."
The bartender retrieved the drinks, wedging the necks of the bottles between her fingers. Reaching across the drunken heads in front of him, the man exchanged the beers for a ten, then turned back towards the woman who had already headed for a small table by a dusty window.
"Guinness girl, huh?"
"Spent a semester of college in Ireland. It’s better over there, but this’ll do."
"I like my beer American and cheap." He paused for a moment as he took a seat across from her and slid the black bottle her way. "Not that I’m cheap or anything."
"Nice recovery."
"Really? I think yer bein’ generous."
"Maybe a little." She smiled as she brought the bottle to her lips. His nervousness was cute and she noticed that he seemed uncomfortable… like he’d never done this before. And though uncertain why, she felt at ease, like she knew this situation better than she did the pool table. Blame it on the beer, she thought, all two of ‘em.
"So given your impressive billiard skills… you come here often?"
"Only when I’m lonely." She saw his brow furrow and she laughed, making a recovery of her own as she nodded toward the table. "This is the first time. I just catch on quick."
"Really?"
"Promise. Got a pool table at home."
"So why come to the bar to play? No Guinness in the fridge at home?"
"Come for the company, I s’pose." She winked, though she didn’t realize she was doing it.
"Either yer friends with the staff or I should take that as a compliment."
"Compliment."
"So what’s a girl like you do for a living?"
"Little bit of this, little bit of that over the years. Mostly, I write, though its’ been awhile since I’ve sat down in front of a computer and churned out anything of note. I mean, I stay busy."
"How ‘bout that? Sittin’ at the bar with a genuine author." Staring across the table, he was surprised how at the warmth of her smile. Her eyes seemed tired, frustrated over something that she couldn’t change or didn’t know how. But the smile was something else entirely, like she didn’t have a care in the world, and it made him feel like he shouldn’t do what he wanted to. "Guess I probably shouldn’t tell ya I’m more of a movie guy than a bookworm."
"Haha. Nothing wrong a good popcorn flick."
"No there ain’t."
"What about you? You a nine-to-fiver?"
"I travel for a living."
"Oh." She lowered her head and rolled the bottle of Guinness between her hands, listening to the rocket clank against the sides. "Life on the road, huh?"
"Yeah. It’s got its ups and downs.
"Probably get to see a lot of great places." Through the dust and the scratches, she stared out the window, looking across the parking lot, towards the horizon. It was later than she’d thought. The sun had melted into the earth during the course of their conversation, and now, the sky was as dark as her beer.
"Yeah, I do. Listen… hows about you and I…" His words trailed off, leaving only the sounds of the Marshall Tucker Band battling a hundred drunken voices. "I just realized, didn’t even get each other’s names. Or should I quit while I’m ahead?"
She turned her gaze back his way and smiled, then sat her beer on the table and jumped up.
"C’mon, lets get the hell outta here."
Struggling to keep up, he pushed his seat back and headed for the exit, weaving past the patrons of the bar. "Name’s not important or somethin’?"
"Nope. " She stopped and waited for him to catch up, then reached out and grabbed him by the hand. "Everybody’s got one."
-Trent-
January 24th, 2010
He plucked a slice of radish from its green surroundings and devoured it in one bite. By the time he had moved in for his second steal, she was on to him.
"Stop it." Angel slapped her husband’s hand as it made another move toward the salad bowl. "Dinner will be ready in less than ten minutes. You’re not got starve."
"You don’t know that."
"Well, if you die of starvation in the next few minutes, I’ll call the cops on myself after I finish dinner."
"Good to know I’m loved." With a smile, Trent grabbed another diced vegetable from the sald.
"It’s gonna be nothing but lettuce if you don’t stop."
"I been thinkin’," Trent finished chewing as he got himself a drink of water, "the whole No Limit thing got me wonderin’ if it might not be worth it to have one last dance in PWE."
"I knew this was coming."
"I know I know. But I’ve been all nostalgic lately and I… I just think it’d be worth it. I could make a nice chunk of change and Marie’s getting old enough that she could watch her dad on TV."
"Don’t make this about the money. We’re fine financially."
"Yeah, but ya never know. Some extra money sure wouldn’t hurt."
"You’re just on the road so much." Angel opened the oven and pulled out a dish of lemon herb chicken. "I don’t like being home alone all that time."
"But things are different now. I can do a few less house shows. And with Marie and Hunter, you’ll have a lot on your plate. Probably won’t even miss me."
"Don’t say that."
"You know what I’m sayin." Trent crossed the kitchen and wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist and kissed her on the top of her head. "I mean, you’ll stay busy."
His words jolted her, froze her in her steps, and she nearly dropped the chicken she was holding. Spinning on her heels, Angel sat the dish on the bar.
"Let’s eat."
She needed something to get the foul taste out of her mouth.
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