Page 84 of Some Kinda Romance

41

DASH

At a hole in the wall bar in a part of LA I’d never spent much time in, I took another gulp of whiskey and relished the smooth burn of it on its way down. Richard was with me, chatting to the bartender with a jovial air about him, his hands animated as he shared some story I doubted the poor guy gave a shit about.

I knew I didn’t give a shit about it. I’d had the worst two weeks trying to get in touch with Serenity and being ignored at every turn, so I just wasn’t in the mood for this. I didn’t even ask Richard what he was up to when we sat down near the pool tables and he looked like he was casing the place.

“This place is great, isn’t it?” he said conversationally even as his gaze darted from side to side. “I love it here.”

I leaned back in my chair, taking another look around the darkened, dingy bar. There was absolutely nothing special about it—except perhaps for how much bacteria was growing in the threadbare carpets and between the cracks in the walls.

“Sure,” I said flatly. “It’s great. What are we doing here?”

“You needed a fun distraction.” Before I even had a chance to respond, he got up again and threw our names in the ring to challenge another two guys who were racking up the pool table.

He beckoned me over. I sighed, my head shaking. He widened his eyes at me, insisting that I join him. Bringing my tumbler back to my lips, I chugged the rest of the whiskey before I finally got up and sauntered over to him.

“I’m as good at pool as I am at golf,” I muttered in warning as I took the pool cue he handed over. “I hope you’re okay with losing.”

Richard laughed, patting me on the back as he winked at me. “It’s just for fun.”

Turning away from me, he held his cue casually in one hand as he checked out the tatted-up guys he’d just challenged. “I bet you one hundred dollars that I’ll win.”

One of the guys snorted and exchanged a glance with his friend. Both of them looked pretty darn confident as the other guy came over to shake Richard’s hand. “You’re on, old man. It’s just for fun, right?”

“Right,” Richard agreed, back to being jovial. He grinned at the guy while he smacked his palm into his outstretched hand. “We’re going to have tons of fun, boys.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything to contradict him. If he thought losing a hundred bucks was fun, then he and I had very different definitions of the word. Losing wasn’t fun to me. Not ever. Not even when we were playing for such a nominal amount.

Losing the girl, however, that’s even less fun.I grunted as the thought flew into my head. Then I motioned for the bartender to bring me another whiskey. When he arrived, I muttered, “Keep ‘em coming.”

He nodded and I turned back to my future stepfather and the tatted-up guys who were about to mop the floor with him—with us. I would’ve felt bad for him, but I figured he’d literally asked for it. Snickering as he stepped aside, the first guy waved at the table.

“You break,” he said to Richard.

He smiled sweetly at them. “Thank you, gentlemen. How very gracious of you.”

The guys exchanged another look, but Richard ignored them, humming under his breath. He got the game started with a weak break, barely scattering the balls. As the game continued, I was sure that we were playing the most terrible game of pool that had ever been played.

The guys thrashed us. To my surprise, Richard grinned happily at them after they’d won. “Oh, dear. I need an opportunity to redeem myself. How about we play for two hundred this time?”

Snickering some more, they agreed, smug smirks on their faces. Their team broke this time. The game was just as awful though, with Richard missing more shots than before and seemingly getting more flustered.

I groaned, wishing I could have the glass surgically attached to my hand at this point. Thankfully, the bartender made sure to top me off every so often. We lost again, but Richard swiped a hand over his face and then grinned some more.

“This really isn’t going well for us. Three hundred on the next game?”

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. What the fuck is he doing? Does he have a gambling problem?

The thought made my heart stutter in my chest, and when he went back for game number four, betting an extra hundred dollars on it, my jaw clenched. He’s definitely got a problem.

The stakes were high now, but I was willing to take the hit. It still wasn’t that much money and simply handing it to them was what we’d been doing all day anyway. I was about to tell Richard it was time for us to leave when the strangest thing happened. No longer bumbling his way around the table, his entire demeanor changed and he pulled off some masterful moves, surprising the shit out of me and out of our opponents.

Watching them closely, I suspected they realized at about the same time I did that he’d been hustling them. My mother’s soon-to-be husband suddenly turned into one heck of a player, clearing the table in no time at all and leaving the rest of us gaping at him.

When the game was done, the guys scowled but handed over the cash, and I grabbed Richard’s arm, paying the bartender as we rushed out. Both of us were laughing like idiots as we got into the car and I peeled out of the parking lot like we’d just robbed the joint.

“What was that?” I asked as exhilaration flowed through me. “You were a maniac back there. Where’d you learn to play pool like that?”