Racking Up Regret

The pool hall smelled like stale beer and broken dreams. Eddie ran the chalk over his cue tip, his hands steady despite the five grand in his pocket that wasn't his to keep. The cat burglar gig had paid well, too well, and now he understood why.

Across the table, Marcus studied him with eyes like polished obsidian. "You got something to say, Eddie? Or you just gonna stand there holding your dick?"

The baseball bat leaning against Marcus's chair wasn't subtle. Neither was the way his two flanked the exit.

"Just thinking about my son," Eddie said, and wasn't that the truth? Tommy's baseball game was tonight, and Eddie had promised he'd be there. Promised he'd turn things around, stop taking jobs that required lockpicks and midnight.

"Your kid's better off," Marcus said, circling the table. "Guy who steals from dead men's estates doesn't deserve family."

Eddie's jaw tightened. The old woman had been alive when he took the job—she died two days later of natural causes, but Marcus didn't care about details. He cared about the earrings, the diamond ones Eddie had already fenced.

"I didn't know she—"

"Save it." Marcus racked the balls, the crack of the spheres echoing like gunshots. "One game. You win, you walk. You lose, I get my money back. Plus interest."

Eddie looked at his watch. Tommy's game started in twenty minutes. He should run, should have run when he walked in the door. But the bat against Marcus's chair, the guys at the door—running wasn't really an option anymore.

He bent over the table, lining up his shot. The pool of light from the overhead lamp cast everything else in shadow. His life, his mistakes, the disappointed look on Tommy's face every time Eddie missed another game.

"Eight ball in the corner pocket," Eddie said softly.

He'd missed plenty of things in his life. His wife's patience. His son's childhood. His own potential. But as the cue ball connected and the eight ball dropped into the pocket with a satisfying finality, Eddie made a decision.

"Double or nothing," he said, meeting Marcus's cold eyes. "I win, you forget about the interest. You forget about me."

Marcus smiled, all teeth and malice. "And if you lose?"

Eddie thought of his ex-wife's voice on the phone yesterday: "Tommy asked if you're coming to his game. Again. What do I tell him?"

"If I lose," Eddie said, "I won't be around to make you collect."

He meant it. One way or another, tonight ended with him walking out of this pool hall or not walking out at all. But for the first time in years, Eddie was playing for something worth more than money.

He was playing for the chance to be there when Tommy looked up into the stands, hoping to see his father's face.