The Postman Always Rings Twice - James M. Cain [9]
I caught a truck for Mexicali, and then I got to thinking about my $250, and how with that much money we could go to the beach and sell hot dogs or something until we got a stake to take a crack at something bigger. So I dropped off, and caught a ride back to Glendale. I began hanging around the market where they bought their stuff, hoping I would bump into her. I even called her up a couple of times, but the Greek answered and I had to make out it was a wrong number. In between walking around the market, I hung around a poolroom, about a block down the street, One day a guy was practicing shots alone on one of the tables. You could tell he was new at it from the way he held his cue. I began practicing shots on the next table. I figured if $250 was enough for a hot dog stand, $350 would leave us sitting pretty.
"How you say to a little one ball in the side?"
"I never played that game much."
"Nothing to it. Just the one ball in the side pocket."
"Anyhow, you look too good for me."
"Me? I'm just a punk."
"Oh well. If it's just a friendly game."
We started to play, and I let him take three or four, just to feel good. I kept shaking my head, like I couldn't understand it.
"Too good for you, hey. Well, that's a joke. But I swear, I'm really better than this. I can't seem to get going. How you say we put $1 on it, just to make it lively?"
"Oh well. I can't lose much at a dollar."
We made it $1 a game, and I let him take four or five, maybe more. I shot like I was pretty nervous, and in between shots I would wipe off the palm of my hand with a handkerchief, like I must be sweating.
"Well, it looks like I'm not doing so good. How about making it $5, so I can get my money back, and then we'll go have a drink?"
"Oh well. It's just a friendly game, and I don't want your money. Sure. We'll make it $5, and then we'll quit."
I let him take four or five more, and from the way I was acting, you would have thought I had heart failure and a couple more things besides. I was plenty blue around the gills.
"Look. I got sense enough to know when I'm out of my class all right, but let's make it $25, so I can break even, and then we'll go have that drink."
"That's pretty high for me."
"What the hell? You're playing on my money, aren't you?"
"Oh well. All right. Make it $25."
Then was when I really started to shoot. I made shots that Hoppe couldn't make. I banked them in from three cushions, I made billiard shots, I had my english working so the ball just floated around the table, I even called a jump shot and made it. He never made a shot that Blind Tom the Sightless Piano Player couldn't have made. He miscued, he got himself all tangled up on position, he scratched, he put the one ball in the wrong pocket, he never even called a bank shot. And when I walked out of there, he had my $250 and a $3 watch that I had bought to keep track of when Cora might be driving in to the market. Oh, I was good all right. The only trouble was I wasn't quite good enough.
"Hey, Frank!"
It was the Greek, running across the street at me before I had really got out the door.
"Well Frank, you old son a gun, where you been, put her there, why you run away from me just a time I hurt my head I need you most?"
We shook hands. He still had a bandage around his head and a funny look in his eyes, but he was all dressed up in a new suit, and had a black hat cocked over on the side of his head, and a purple necktie, and brown shoes, and his gold watch chain looped across his vest, and a big cigar in his hand.
"Well, Nick! How you feeling, boy?"
"Me, I feel fine, couldn't feel better if was right out a the can, but why you run out on me? I sore as hell at you, you old son a gun."