Be My Bad Boy

I walked with him to a bar so dark and dingy, it took a while for my eyes to adjust after the glare outside. He strode over to the bar and ordered us both beers.
"I'll get it. You know, to say thank you." I didn't want to make eye contact with him so watched the woman behind the bar. It wouldn't take much to believe she had a bat hidden away in case of trouble and it would take nothing at all to imagine her using it.

"I'll get this one, you can get the next round. Let's play pool."
He punched me on the arm as though I were his best buddy. The happy part of me struggled with the part that waited for this all to fall apart.
"You know how to play?"
I shook my head. "No idea. Where would I have learnt to play pool?"
"Just watch me and learn."
He put his money in the slot and the balls plonked down. Then he got the triangle and set them up. “I'll break."
I nodded and sipped my beer.

He took his shot and potted a big ball then took another and missed. He thought he was so good.
"Why don't we have a bet on the game?" I asked. "Isn't that what people do? In movies and stuff?"
"It wouldn't be fair to bet with a beginner."
"It's okay. Just something friendly-like, to make it more interesting." I put my head on the side and smiled at him, all innocent and beguiling.

"Okay. If I win, you tell me the truth about why you’re managing the band."
I drew my lips into a tight line and looked away from him.
"I guess that's okay, but you have to tell me why such a bad boy rock star lives in that apartment –"
"It's a shithole old warehouse."
"It's worth a bomb. I know real estate and that place can’t be cheap. And that car of yours, it's not within the means of a rocker playing dive bars either."
He shrugged and looked away but his little subterfuge didn't work on me. There was money there somewhere and you couldn't hide it.

"Fine. Loser spills the beans." He drained his beer.
I grabbed the cue, gripping it tightly and walked around the table, deciding where to shoot from. I finally settled on a spot and leaned over the table, propping the cue on one hand while gripping it in my right.
"Wait, let me show how to hold it. Otherwise this'll be like taking candy from a baby."
He unpeeled my fingers from the end of the cue and adjusted them then leaned over me to correct my other hand. The heat of his body rubbed against mine and I could smell that same citrusy scent I'd noticed when I'd woken up in his bed. With his arms around me like that, I could barely think. I was sure the beating of my heart ricocheted right through him. I ordered it to stop. I would not react to his closeness to me. I didn't feel a thing, he could rub against me all he liked, he could leave his hand lingering on my mine and his lips just millimetres from my ear. It did nothing whatsoever.

I squirmed away from him.
"I think I can manage on my own," I said, my voice choking.
I hit out, sending the balls flying. My red ball stopped just near the far pocket.
"Oopsies," I said. "I really thought that would go in."
"Better luck next time."
I went to the bar to get more beers while he took his shot.
He'd sunk a couple of balls while I'd gone but had done no real damage.
A few shots later and he'd sunk most of his balls but I had mine covering the pockets.
"Are you sure you haven't played before?" He narrowed his eyes, appraising me. “Huh? I've not even got one ball in yet. I thought I'd at least have beginners luck."
I tried to look upset, even stuck my bottom lip out in a pout, but he'd begun to get suspicious. No help for it then, I might as well finish this game off.
I walked up to the table and potted my balls one after the other. As I lined up the black to finish the game, he stared at me.

"You bitch. You pool-sharking bitch."
The black rolled into the hole, nice and smooth.
"Okay, maybe I have played once or twice before. My dad taught me when I was a kid."
"That's so cheating."
"That's so cheating." I mocked his voice. "Hah, if you wanna play with the big boys, you gotta learn how to take it. And if you are sucker enough to believe all that I'm just beginner bullshit then you deserve what you get."
"Best of three?" He ran his hand through his hair and looked at me with faint hope in his eyes.
"Best of three is for cry babies."

A couple of greasers walked into the back room. They sized up the two of us and nudged each other. One was tall and thin with rat eyes. He had long hair tied back in a ponytail and wore a long overcoat even though it was quite warm in the bar.
"Up for a game of doubles?" he asked.
The other one was short and fat. He wore a stained t-shirt and had a couple of missing teeth. He leered at me like he could see through my clothes. It made me shudder just to have his eyes on me.

"Yeah, sure," Andy said. "I'm just teaching my missus how to play though, so we aren't real good."
He was trying that trick on these guys? Couldn't he tell they were pros? Better to just leave now than try it on. The taller one looked like he could even have a knife in his pocket. I tried to shoot Andy a look to warn him but he ignored me.
"I'll get us some drinks."
He grabbed me.

"Do your stuff," he whispered in my ear.
I shook my head. "We don't want to mess with these guys. They look dangerous."
His hand cupped my elbow and I could feel his body leaning in close to me while his breath tickled through my hair. I put my arm around his waist, figuring it was better for the thugs to think we were together than that I was single.
"But I've put a hundred bucks on this game."
He squeezed my arm tighter.
I forced out a laugh. The two thugs glared at us and could quite easily snap. The walls of the room closed in and the air had been sucked out. This situation would not get any better.
"Oh babes, don't be so dirty," I said and play-slapped him.
I rolled my eyes at the tall thug as though Andy was being a bit naughty then walked up to take my shot.

Notes

And they're playing as a couple c;