“I don’t know how to play.”
He hands me a cue and chalk. “The goal is to score more points than your opponent. You can go first and break the balls, but don’t try to spread too many of them all over the table the way you would in pool. Because if you do and you miss, you give me more balls to sink.”
I do as he instructs and dislodge three red balls, but my mind is only partially on the game.
“Red balls are worth one point each,” he tells me, “and you have to sink a red one before you can attempt a colored ball worth more points.”
Sierra giggles loudly. I feel isolated with Tony in our corner of the room. Well, we’re just playing a billiard game. Nothing dangerous about that. I aim t
he cue ball at a red ball closest to a pocket.
“Hold the cue further back.” He takes my hand and repositions it closer to the bottom. “You’ll have more control and extension holding it back here.”
“Thanks,” I say. His touch sends flutters through me, either because I’m nervous or because I’m back to being a teenage girl crushing for the first time. I force myself to focus on the game and surprise myself when the target ball falls into the pocket.
“Now you can aim for the yellow ball, which is worth two points.”
I walk over to the other side of the table where the cue ball has come to rest and lean down to view the target. He walks over and, placing his hand on my back, presses me lower. My breath skitters.
“Try to sight the ball at the level of the table,” he advises, his hand resting on my back longer than necessary. “And make sure you follow through on your shot.”
I nod and surprise myself again when the yellow ball rolls into the pocket. Only the cue ball does, too.
“Too much top spin,” he explains, retrieving the yellow ball and placing it back in its original spot.
“I didn’t mean to give it top spin,” I say as he takes out the cue ball. “That didn’t happen the first time.”
“Your cue struck the ball above center.”
He sets the cue ball on the table, aims for a red ball and sinks it. The cue ball comes to a rest perfectly in line for him to sink the green ball, which he does, followed by another red ball.
“I think I know who’s going to win this game,” I say.
From the corners of my eyes, I see Eric pull down Sierra’s bra cup and put a shot of Jell-o over her nipple. With his mouth, he envelopes the shot and her nipple.
The brown ball misses the pocket by less than an inch, and it’s my turn again. I select the red ball I think is the easiest target and lower myself over the table.
“So I should avoid hitting it too high if I don’t want it to spin forward?” I ask.
Tony leans his cue against the table. Hovering over me, he puts each of his hands on one of mine. I feel his chest against my back, his body heat wrapping me. How the heck am I supposed to concentrate now?
“Make sure your bridge doesn’t move,” he says, pressing my left hand firmly to the table. With his other hand over my right, he manipulates the cue, putting the tip at different parts of the cue ball. “Hit below and you’ll get back spin. Hit here and the cue ball will spin right after striking the target. This side will take it left. And if you wanted top spin, you would hit the ball higher.”
He backs away to let me take the shot. Although his nearness excites me, it’s better that he doesn’t discompose me. I hit the cue ball the way I want, and the red ball rolls into the pocket. I glance at Tony with a smile. He returns my smile, looking relaxed. In that moment, he doesn’t seem nefarious at all. He killed a man in self-defense. If that wasn’t true, he’d be in jail right now. I don’t know why I question any of it. I look over the table for my next target.
“Survey the entire table,” Tony tells me. “You’ll get a better sense of the possibilities that way.”
After looking over my options, I choose to go for the blue ball. I miss terribly because just as I move the cue, Sierra emits a shriek and giggle. Eric is lapping bits of broken Jell-o off her breast.
Now it’s Tony’s turn, and he knocks off six balls in a row. In the meantime, Eric and Sierra have started making out.
“You ever think about becoming a professional snooker player?” I ask.
He shakes his head and successfully sinks another red ball.
“What else do you enjoy doing?”
He applies more chalk to his cue. “I think you have a sense of what else I enjoy doing.”