A Romantic Comedy

Blurb:

Joey was 12 when she first watched Casey rack ‘em up in  her parents’ billiard hall. Deep in puppy love, she taught him a trick shot that made him a champion. In return, he promised her a favor. Seventeen years pass before she demands payback, but in getting it, she discovers just how much the games of pool and love have in common.

Excerpt:

Prologue

Twelve-year-old Joey Thornton eased her plump body a few inches farther into the smoky back room of her parents’ billiard parlor. They had gone out for the evening, leaving an employee in charge of the business and a babysitter in charge of her. She knew her mom would raise the roof if she found her here, but when the sitter fell asleep, she just couldn’t resist the opportunity to sneak downstairs.

Mom tended to be pretty open-minded about most things…except when it came to her only child and the game of pool. It was fine that her husband, Thorny, had been hustling pool for a living when they met. It was acceptable that they now operated the most successful pool parlor in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and lived in the apartment above it. But she didn’t want her daughter playing the game or associating with those who did. Her precious daughter was going to be a lady and marry someone respectable. And that was definitely not someone who would be found in Thorny’s back room.

Joey’s mother managed the front room of Thorny’s, where it was clean and bright—the kind of place the whole family could visit. The lighting in the back room was limited to the hooded fixtures above the six tables, and the smoke hung in the air even when no one was there. High chairs surrounded the room to accommodate the many spectators who came to watch…and gamble.

In Oklahoma it was legal for the players to bet against one another, but not for the bystanders to bet on them. That law, however, was rarely enforced. Huge sums of money often passed over, and under, the tables in Thorny’s back room, which had the reputation of being a testing ground for aspiring hustlers and champions. Joey knew all this because she often snuck downstairs after bedtime and watched the action through a peephole that her father had provided for his own purposes.

But that night a little peek wasn’t enough. That night she had to get a closer look at the handsome, black-haired man with the big smile that showed off his perfect teeth. Her own, imperfect, teeth were wrapped in miles of silver wire.

“Hi there.”

Joey glanced to her right and left before believing that his smile was really for her. Her stomach did a funny little flip-flop and she swallowed hard. She wanted to say something terribly mature, but even if some clever words happened to come to her, she didn’t dare part her lips. Being fat and having her whole mouth look like the inside of a radio was bad enough. Being caught in her childish robe and bunny slippers was unbearable.

“You must be Thorny’s girl—the princess of this castle.” When she nodded, he walked over to her, lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess.” Then he leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “How did you escape the ivory tower?”

She couldn’t stop the giggle. It just burst out. And when she saw how much it pleased him, she was glad it had.

“There. Much better. Princesses should always smile.”

“Hey, Hard-Case! We playin’ or what?” The demand came from a large black man with a shaved head. Joey had barely noticed him.

Hard-Case never stopped smiling. He just moved leisurely to the table and chalked his cue. “You’re welcome to stay, Princess. Maybe you’ll bring me some luck.”

Joey was so enamored, she wouldn’t have left that room if it suddenly burst into flames. She had heard they called him Hard-Case because he was hard to beat and harder to distract. Apparently it was true. A half hour later, the other man handed over a wad of money and left.

“Do you play, Princess?” Hard-Case lined up several balls for practice.

“Thorny taught me but Mom doesn’t like me to play.”

“Oh. I see.” He sunk two balls and turned to her again. “Well, since you’re already breaking house rules, how about a game?”

 Before he could withdraw his offer, she grabbed a stick. More than anything in the world she wanted to impress him. “Nine ball okay?” she asked sweetly. He looked a bit surprised, but agreed. She picked up the rack and set it on the table. “Would it be all right if I break? I mean, you know, I’m just a kid.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “That line has the ring of a hustle to it, but go ahead. Let’s see what Thorny taught you.”

Seconds later, she sank the nine ball on the break and won the game.

“Holy shit! Excuse me. Not bad! But…can you do it again?”

She did. And smiled in spite of the braces. With legs stiff and fists planted on his lean hips, Hard-Case’s dark eyes glared down at her. She could tell he wasn’t really mad, though, because his mouth twitched at the corners.

“How often can you do that?”

She shrugged and batted her eyelashes in feigned innocence.

He grasped the ends of her two long pigtails and gently tugged. “Spill the beans blondie or I’ll string you up by your braids.”

Rather than dwell on the fact that he was actually touching her hair, she played along. Crossing her arms over her chest, she tipped her head back to return his glare. “You’ll never make me talk. Remember, I’m the daughter of King Thorny, the bravest man in all the world!”

He laughed and tickled her nose with the ends of her hair. “Ah, yes. But what if I tell the wicked queen about your late-night adventures?”

Her look of dismay was genuine. “You wouldn’t!”

“Not if you tell me your secret. How often?”

His smile let her know he wouldn’t give her away regardless, but she really wanted to give this poolroom Prince Charming something to remember her by. What better gift than her one-trick-shot secret?

“I can sink the nine ball on the break about three out of four times, as long as I set up the rack.”

He released her hair and threw his hands in the air. “That’s impossible!” Pacing back and forth, he continued. “There is no way to ensure that shot. It’s pure luck! If a shooter could consistently do that, the game of nine ball would be extinct.”

She shrugged and did it for him again.

Picking up a cue, he got down on one knee at her feet and offered her the stick as a knight would offer his sword. “Teach me, Princess, and I’ll be your devoted slave for the rest of your life.”

The mere thought of such devotion had her heart racing. She tapped his shoulder. “I’ll grant your wish, Sir Knight, but you must make me two promises in return.’’

“Anything,” he replied as seriously as his present position allowed.

“First, you must never reveal how you learned the secret. Second, if I ever need a favor, even if it’s a hundred years from now, you must grant it.”

                                      * * * *

And now, seventeen years later, she was ready to call in his marker.

Chapter 1

“St. Louie” Louie took another long drag on his unfiltered cigarette then scattered the colored balls across the worn green felt. Although he doubted it would do much good, he shot a silencing glare at the two teenage boys at the other table. Louie preferred this particular joint at midday because he was nearly assured of being alone to practice without nosy spectators.

It wasn’t the boys’ eyeing him that was so annoying. Nor was it the fact that they were obviously playing hooky from school. Rather, it was their constant arguing and occasional earsplitting shouts that had caused Louie to miss a half-dozen easy shots. Instead of tossing them out on their delinquent rears, he decided to take advantage of their inexperience—something he was quite good at. He wondered how much money they had on them.

From time to time he watched their play. They weren’t bad…for kids. They were sure an odd-looking pair. The taller one sported a dark crew cut except for a six-inch-long tail at his nape and two gold hoops in one earlobe. The other one was almost a foot shorter, wore a sweatshirt and overalls that might have fit his pal better than him and had a red baseball cap pulled down over his forehead. The tail was cleaning the floor with his little friend and that bad-tempered squirt was none too happy about it.

“You cheated!”

“Don’t be a jerk. You lost ‘cause you ain’t no good. Gimme the skin and quit whinin’.”

The squirt crumpled a dollar bill and threw it across the table. “Okay, one more game, but we switch cue sticks. The one I was usin’ musta been warped or somethin’.”

“Forget it. You ain’t got no more green and I’m tired of playin’ by myself. Let’s do somethin’ else.” The tail leaned his stick against the wall and started to walk away.

“Wait! I’ll bet ya fifty bucks I can beat ya if we switch sticks.”

The tail swiveled around and planted his fists on his hips. “Fifty bucks? Your whole family ain’t got fifty bucks.”

“Do too. I been savin’ up. Ma don’t even know about it. Well? Whaddya say? Or are you too chicken to play like a real man?”

The tail marched back and poked the squirt in the chest. “Nobody calls me chicken! I’ll play your dumb ass for fifty bucks, but I gotta see it on the table first.”

“Fine. You wait right here and I’ll be back in ten minutes. Then we’ll just see who’s the dumbass!”

Louie waited for the tail to settle on a high chair against the wall then got back to his practicing. A half C-note was worth hanging around for.

Twenty minutes passed before the kid gave up. Speaking to no one in particular, he headed for the door. “Shoulda known that dumbass didn’t have no fifty bucks. Wait till I get holda him. Makin’ me sit here like a jerk…” The remainder of his departure speech was lost amid the whir of the ceiling fans.

No more than five minutes later, the squirt came running back in waving a handful of wrinkled bills. “All right! Now let’s see who—” He stopped in his tracks, looked around the dimly lit room then turned to Louie. “Hey, mister. You see that guy I was playin’ with before?”

Louie shrugged. “1 guess he got tired of waiting, kid.”

“Damn!” The squirt threw the pile of money on the table where he and his pal had been playing. “I was really gonna show him too.” He huffed and puffed a few more seconds before slowly gathering up his money.

Louie took a step forward. “Wait a minute, kid. If you really want to play like a man, I’ll take you on.” He couldn’t see the kid’s eyes beneath the brim of his cap, but he could tell by the way his mouth twisted back and forth that he was tempted.

“Well, I don’t know. You’re awful good.”

“Hey, I’ll spot you some, of course. I’ll tell you what, kid. We can play a practice game, whatever you’d like. I’ll even give you some pointers.”

“How do I know you got the money?”

Louie laughed out loud and pulled a thick wad of bills from his pocket. Peeling off five tens and placing them on the side rail of the table, he said, “There. Just like real men play.”

The kid thought about it for a few seconds then placed his stack of money next to Louie’s. “Okay. But we better skip the practice game. School lets out in a few minutes and I gotta be outta here. And you don’t need to spot me any. Just let me break. Nine ball, one game, winner take all. Okay?”

Louie almost argued with the cocky squirt, but what the hell, he might as well make it a fast buck as well as an easy one. “Rack ‘em up.” Something niggled at the back of his mind as he watched the squirt set up the nine balls in the diamond shape within the wooden triangle. The adept movements of his fingers, the thinness of the bones in his hands, something. But then the kid was placing the cue ball against the far right cushion for his break shot and there was no more time to contemplate the niggle.

The white rock crashed into the other nine, sending them careening against the four cushions. Two striped balls sank immediately, as the cue ball rolled back to the right cushion. By the time it rebounded, the nine ball—the one that counted—was sitting all alone, waiting to be kissed by the cue.

Louie held his breath and stared in disbelief as the nine ball made its way toward the far pocket. He barely noticed how the squirt had been moving along the table’s edge throughout the break. He did notice, however, that the squirt’s fingers snatched up the hundred dollars at the precise second the ball dropped in for the instant win.

“Thanks, Louie!” the kid yelled as he dashed away with the money.

By the time Louie collected his wits and rounded the table, the kid was flying out the door. Just as Louie exited, he caught a glimpse of the little hustler running like the wind down the sidewalk. He was about to continue the chase when a shocking sight stopped him. The kid pulled off his hat and long blonde hair fell free.

The squirt was a girl! That’s what he had noticed about the hands. Well, hell, he thought, as he went back inside the pool hall and assured the curious manager that nothing was wrong. It was bad enough he got suckered, but by a girl? That wasn’t the kind of thing he could complain about. After all, what was a lousy fifty bucks against his reputation?

                                              * * * *

Joey Thornton didn’t stop running until she reached the garage bin behind the Chinese restaurant four blocks away. As she rounded the corner, Mark was nervously pacing and hugging himself against the cold. Bending over, she braced her hands on her bent knees and took several deep breaths before she could speak.

“Did he chase you?” Mark asked in a voice that cracked with adolescence.

“Sure. But the hat trick worked like a charm. Never met a hustler yet that was willing to admit he was bested by a girl. Stops ‘em dead every time.” Her blue eyes sparkled with the excitement she had been holding in for the last two hours.

“Geez, Jo. Doesn’t it scare you at all? I mean, one of these days you’re liable to figure some character wrong and I won’t be of any help because I’ll be hidin’ in an alley too far away to know what happened to you.”

Joey gave him a crooked smile then dropped the youthful tone she had adopted as part of her teenage-boy disguise. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be for the buddy system to work right. The manager back there told me Louie had been taking kids for their lunch money. It was time he got his own clock cleaned.” They had pulled this con only a handful of times over the past three months, and then only when the mark was obviously trying to take advantage of youngsters.

As before, she would put this money aside for Mark’s future. Fortunately, she had set aside the property settlement from her divorce five years ago. Thus, she had more than enough to cover all the expenses of their current adventure.

“Don’t fret, Mark. That was the last time we’ll be doing anything like that. From here on, we’re after a much bigger fish. I want to tell you all about it but first, let’s find a more aromatic conference room.”

At fourteen, Mark was already taller than the average adult man and Joey had to lengthen her stride to keep up with him. The weatherman had said the temperature was a record high for December 29 in St. Louis, Missouri, but Joey was still chilled to the bone by the time they reached her car.

“We’re heading south,” she declared as soon as the heater warmed her enough to stop her teeth from chattering.

“Okay,” Mark answered.

Joey winked at him. He had stopped questioning their itinerary a week after they were on the road. She had told her parents she wanted to see the country and thought it would be a good experience for Mark. Instead of touring the Grand Canyon and viewing the Statue of Liberty, however, they had spent most of their time in places with names like “Chalky V” and “The Golden Cue.” Then she had made him swear not to tell her parents about where they’d truly been when they visited them over Christmas.

“How does Florida sound?” she asked.

His eyebrows raised an inch. “Disney World?”

Joey laughed. Mark was like an old man one minute and a kid the next. “We’ll find time for it, I promise, but that’s not why we’re going there.” She caught sight of golden arches ahead and flicked on her turn signal.

“I'll explain over lunch.” Since the day they had left Tulsa three months ago, Joey had been promising to explain. Now that phase one of her plan was complete, she felt it would be safe to let Mark in on everything.

Even though she knew he wouldn’t admit it, Mark felt indebted to her mom and dad. If she had told him what she was really up to, he might have been tempted to tell them. Good intentioned or not, she couldn’t let anyone stop her. Taking Mark with her had not been part of her original plan, but when her mom related his story, Joey decided it would be best for all concerned if he accompanied her.

From what her mom had said, Mark was abandoned when he was five, which left him parentless but technically un-adoptable. He spent his childhood being shuffled from one foster home to another, without either parent ever turning up. Some places were decent, more were not, and one was sinful. By thirteen, he had been arrested twice for shoplifting and put in the juvenile detention center.

It was shortly after he’d run away from there a second time that Joey’s parents found him sleeping in their electrical room. It took some time and a lot of effort, but they finally gained his trust enough for him to tell them where he was from.

Upon investigation, they learned his history and found that if they turned him in, he would be returned to the center, probably only to run away again. They also learned they were too old to be accepted into the foster parent program. The kindest thing they could do was give him protection from the elements. They might have eventually solved the problem, but their own crisis took precedence.

When Joey returned home to help her parents six months ago, she took over the responsibility for Mark’s welfare, which he appreciated, and his education, which he tolerated. Being a teacher in a tough school for the previous six years helped her deal with his unenthusiastic response to the learning process.

Mark had been a big help to her parents when things started going bad. When the situation worsened, he had put his life on the line for her mother. Joey was determined to pay him back for his loyalty.

As soon as they sat down in the restaurant, Joey began. “Mark, I want you to know that I am really glad you were with Mom—”

“Geez, Jo. Are you going to get all mushy again? I didn’t do anything special. Hell, your dad was paying me to clean up that night.”

“Don’t swear. And quit selling yourself short. If I didn’t think you could handle something special, I wouldn’t have brought you along with me. The reason I haven’t explained what we’re doing is so you wouldn’t slip to Mom or Thorny before I could get my plan underway. ”

“You actually have a plan? And here I thought we were doing research for some weird-ass travel book.”

“Don’t be a smart aleck. Of course I have a plan. Ever since I found out the name of the human filth behind everything that’s happened to my folks—Thorny’s heart attack, losing the pool parlor, the gang that hurt you and mom—I knew I had to go after him.”

Mark’s jaw dropped open. “Are you nuts! That scumbag’ll eat you alive.”

“Not the way I intend to do it. You see, I’m going after the one thing more precious to him than life. His title.” Mark’s narrowed brows told her he was still in the dark. “He won the World Nine Ball Championship the last two years. The next tournament is in six months in Las Vegas.”

“Holy sh—”

“Mark!”

“Shoot! I was going to say shoot. So, what does Florida have to do with your plan?”

Joey sat forward. “You know I’ve got my nine ball trick shot, but beyond that I’m just a very good player. My skills need polishing before I can face a champion. Also, since I can’t ask Thorny for advice, I need someone who knows the professional circuit. In other words, I need a trainer.

“I went on the road for three reasons—to get used to playing again, to study the pros when they didn’t know they were being watched by anyone that mattered and to locate the man I want to train me.”

“What do you mean locate?”

“This man was the U.S. Open Champion for three years straight then about eight years ago he just disappeared. Thorny thought he was the best shooter ever born. I met him once, when I was twelve.” She couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “The manager of that pool hall back there was the last in a long line of leads I’ve been following. It was finally worth the effort. My future mentor lives a very reclusive life in central Florida.”

“Do I at least get to hear the name of this legend we’ve been stalking?”

“Casey Jones Hardin. Or, as he was better known once upon a time, Hard-Case Hardin.”

                                           * * * *

“They’re back. The blonde babe and her punk sidekick. I smell trouble.”

Case Hardin’s attention instantly shifted from the paperwork on his desk to the worried face of the sandy-haired man in his office doorway. Sam Noble had been at his side since they were twelve and Case knew better than to discount his instincts. Sam’s sixth sense had once saved them both from disaster and was one of the reasons Case made him general manager of his five Family Fun Centers.

“Which table?” Case asked.

“Eight, in the back corner. I’ll be in the cage if you need me.” Sam gave a mock salute then closed the door behind him.

Case switched the view on his computer screen to the closed-circuit cameras link. There was one camera behind the snack bar, two in the poolroom, and three in the video arcade. He had originally installed the system to keep an eye on the arcade without having to endure the ear-damaging computerized sounds that accompanied the games. The walls and ceiling had been specially insulated to keep the noise limited to that area, but he preferred not to spend time in there at all.

Selecting the poolroom view nearest table eight, he manipulated the camera’s remote control until he had a clear picture of the two patrons in question.

A week ago, Sam had informed him that a young woman had come in and asked to see Casey Jones Hardin on a personal matter. When Sam denied knowing the man, she sarcastically informed him that Mr. Hardin was his boss, the president of the corporation that owned Family Fun Centers. And this Orlando address was listed as its headquarters. She had done her homework, but Sam had still sworn he didn’t know the man or how he could be reached. She had then insisted he take her name and number where she was staying, “just in case.”

Joey Thornton. The name meant absolutely nothing to Case, and he was beginning to worry that it should. In the last ten days, Sam had received calls from the managers of the other four centers. Although the centers were spread from Jacksonville to Fort Lauderdale, Ms. Thornton and her young companion had visited each one and left the same message. Fortunately none of those managers had to stray from the truth. Sam Noble was the only boss any of them were acquainted with. Case preferred to maintain a very low profile, both for business and personal reasons, and Sam agreed to abide by that decision.

Case had been toying with all sorts of explanations as to why she could be beating the bushes for him, and none of them seemed beneficial. But the second message she left with Sam last night had the two of them truly baffled. The pair had returned, rented a table for an hour and clearly demonstrated to anyone watching that they both knew their way around the green. Before leaving she advised Sam to “tell Hard-Case I’ll be back tomorrow night and every night until he grants me an audience.”

It wasn’t the fact that her message had all the earmarks of a threat that bothered Case. It was her usage of a nickname that he had never expected to hear again…at least not from a total stranger.

He studied the back of that stranger now as she leaned over the pool table to make a shot, Nice form. And nicely displayed too, in skin-tight jeans and a t-shirt with the words Take Your Best Shotacross the back. Pretty, but looked about twenty, if that. Way too young for his taste.

She sank her target ball and sashayed around to the opposite end of the table. The shot she was about to try was child’s play for a pro, but impossible for a beginner. As she eyed the balls and selected her position, her straight, shoulder-length hair fell forward, momentarily concealing her features. She paused to tuck it behind her ears, but not before Case caught her annoyed frown. He got the distinct impression she wasn’t accustomed to her hair being in her way. So how did she usually wear it to play, and why would she wear it differently tonight? For him?

He tried to imagine that hair forming a curtain around them both as he looked into her pleasure-hazed eyes. No. He was certain he didn’t know her like that. No way could he have forgotten that face or the boyish name attached to it.

The ease with which she made the shot confirmed that she was definitely not a beginner. He was asking himself for the hundredth time what she could want from him when she looked straight into the camera and blew him a kiss.

                                                * * * *

Joey saw the little red light behind the a/c vent go out and knew she had guessed right. Normally when she approached a table, her eyes surveyed the felt before anything else. Tonight, however, she happened to look up and noticed something behind the grate of the a/c vent. She had guessed it was a hidden camera, similar to ones her parents had used to keep an eye on things without getting in the way of good patrons.

She had seen the manager duck through a door moments after he had assigned them a table then, less than a minute later, that dot of red light appeared behind the grate. Someone was observing them and she was fairly certain about that someone’s identity, although he apparently wanted to play hide-and-seek awhile longer.

“Mark, if I’m on track, the elusive Mr. Hardin is about to make an appearance. Just keep playing and follow my lead.”

She had no idea if she would recognize him when she saw him again. After all, a twelve-year-old’s recollection of Prince Charming brandishing a cue stick was bound to be distorted. It had been only a brief encounter— two hours out of a lifetime. And yet, the sweet memory of the most handsome man in the world treating the awkward ugly duckling like a royal princess had never diminished. If anything, it had surely expanded to the point of gross exaggeration in her mind.