“What do you think? Do we have this table?” Her eyebrows went up and down, making Graham laugh.
His Rennie was back.
Graham glanced at the table and nodded slightly. “I think you can actually take both of them yourself.”
She chuckled. “Should we let them play for a bit or just send the message early?”
Rennie hustled. It was what made her stand out over everyone else. However, if they showed their cards too soon, the night could be boring. On the other side of the coin, if the bar filled, they could have to wait awhile to play again.
“Your wheels are spinning.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Me too. I say we lose the first, but barely. Send a message we’re a formidable foe.” Graham reached across the table and offered a fist bump to his pool partner.
Their plate of fully loaded nachos arrived at the same time the other couple told them their game was over. The man informed Rennie and Graham he would break. The way he spoke rubbed Graham the wrong way. He also didn’t care for the way the guy stared at Rennie.
Graham stood and introduced himself to the guy, who said his name was Jon. They shook hands, and Graham ran his hand along the felt of the pool table, feeling for any bumps and gathering any loose pillings.
“You a pro or something?” Jon asked.
“Nah, just like a clean table.” Graham was far from a pro, but he could play a mean game of pool. He motioned for Rennie, who downed her margarita and came over to him. “Pick your cue. You should go first.”
“Wife know how to play?”
Graham smirked. “She’s all right. Sometimes I have to help her.”
Rennie started coughing, and Graham knew it was her response to his joke. She was better than Graham, but Jon and his lady friend did not need to know that quite yet.
True to his word, Jon broke and couldn’t knock any balls down. Graham and Rennie walked around the table, and he pretended to show her shots as they spoke to each other in hushed tones. Graham nodded a lot; rested his hand on his chin, as if he was thinking; and pointed a few times until Rennie decided where she would strike first. Their goal: knock in one, maybe two “lucky” shots before missing one, and let the other couple think they had the upper hand.
By the end of the game, more people had gathered. A couple teams had put their quarters down, calling for next game. As it was, Graham and Rennie would sit out two games, and then they’d start running the table on people.
Their plan went off without a hitch, and as Graham lined up the cue to hit the eight ball, he purposely tapped the balls together lightly, leaving the black ball on the edge of the pocket.
Jon rubbed his hands together before he reached for his cue. He added chalk to the end, which Graham thought was overkill. He had set the guy up nicely. All he had to do was tap it in. It almost pained Graham to watch, but he stood next to Rennie and focused on the table. He found himself holding his breath, wishing the eight ball wouldn’t drop. But when it did, Jon and the woman he was with, who never introduced herself, jumped up and down, hooting and hollering. Being gracious losers, Rennie and Graham went to their high-top, continued eating their nachos, and ordered another pitcher of margaritas and more food.
“Probably not how you thought you’d spend your New Year’s Eve, huh?” Graham asked Rennie.
She reached across the table and linked her fingers with his. “This is exactly where I want to be, Graham.”
With her was where he wanted to be as well. The only difference between his and Rennie’s sentiments was how he’d felt when Jon referred to Rennie as Graham’s wife. He wished he had asked her a long time ago to marry him.
TWENTY-FIVE
Rennie was having fun. If someone had told her she would be spending her New Year’s Eve in a bar in some small island town off the coast of Washington, and not in the mountains of Canada, she would have laughed and walked away. None of her colleagues would appreciate a place like this. Theo would turn up his nose and ask her if she were feeling all right. She was magnificent, happy, and at peace. The person she was when Brooklyn, Bowie, and Graham were around was who she wanted to be. Not stuffy, worried about work, stressed over whether an invite to the social gathering of the year was going to arrive, or always wondering if the man she was with would actually show up at her place as planned. She knew the answer—no, he wouldn’t, because he was married.
She sat on the stool, sipped her margarita, and watched Graham play darts with a few of the other guys in the bar, and every so often she would walk over to him and place her hand on his back or his waist and stake her claim. And each time she did, Graham would put his arm around her and kiss her forehead. There were nine or so people gathered in their area, and a few of the women were near Rennie. Everyone was chatting; they were friendly, asking her questions about where she and her husband were from and why they chose Friday Harbor to celebrate New Year’s. Answers fell from her tongue easily—some lies, but mostly truths. She never corrected any of them when they referred to Graham as her husband, and when asked what she did for work, she told them she was in private practice and that they owned a bar in Cape Harbor, and Rennie invited them to come and visit the next time they were in town.