Page 52 of More than a Memory
“Put your money away. There’s already a line of guys waiting to buy you a drink. What’ll you have?” he asked, smiling.
Darcy smiled back. “Give me your favorite IPA,” she requested.
“You got it.” He turned to grab a frosty mug from the cooler and fill it from a tap. “Here ya go! Tell me what you think.”
Taking a sip left a small, foamy mustache on her upper lip, causing the man sitting next to her to comment, “You’d better wipe that upper lip or you might ignite every guy’s fantasy about kissing it off.”
Laughing, she wiped her arm across her lips, thanking him.
“Hi, I’m Darcy.” She held out her hand, and he grabbed it and shook.
“Anthony. Pleasure to meet you.”
“This is really good!” she told the bartender, approving of his recommendation. “This place really packs them in,” Darcy continued making conversation.
“Yeah, I take it this is your first time here?” Anthony inquired.
“Yes, I’m trying to find an old friend of mine I’ve lost touch with. I was told he hangs out here sometimes. You may know him? Liam Anderson?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“How about Captain Josiah Williams?” she asked crisply.
“Yeah, I do know him. Why do you ask? What does he have to do with you finding your friend?” he asked, suddenly more wary.
“Oh,” Darcy said rolling her eyes, “they’re best friends, so I thought if I could find one, I could find the other,” she explained, kicking herself for moving too fast. Her laser-sharp delivery of the last question had aroused his suspicions. She would have to hold off on any more alcohol or she’d risk losing her better judgment.
That explanation seemed to make sense to him, and he visibly relaxed again.
“Do you want to shoot some pool or darts?” he asked.
“Sure, I’d love that,” she answered affirmatively.
“Hey, Rick, give us another round would ya?” he called out to the bartender.
“Sure thing. Do you want the same beer as before?” Rick asked Darcy.
“None for me right now. I’ll just have a glass of water,” she said. “Pacing myself.”
“Got it,” he winked.
The pool table was open, so they decided to shoot a game of eight ball rather than wait for a dartboard to open up. Darcy racked the balls and took the first shot, her break sending a solid in the pocket.
“Yeehaw, I love the solids. Is that weird? I’ve always liked them better than the stripes,” she said charmingly.
“Just a little…I’ll take whatever I can get, so I guess I’m fickle. Whichever gets me the win is my favorite,” he teased.
She took another turn, banking a shot off the far-right corner, sinking the red 3, which won her another shot. This time she was perfectly set to pocket the yellow ball, which she executed perfectly sinking it easily.
“Hey, wait a minute, you didn’t tell me you were a pool shark!” he laughed.
“You didn’t ask,” she joked back as she sank yet another solid.
Missing the next shot, it was finally Anthony’s turn and he proficiently cleared half of his own balls from the table in one turn. A group of off-duty soldiers had become interested in their game and put up their quarters, challenging the winner. On her next turn, in a really tight spot, the game ended when Darcy accidently sank the eight ball, effectively losing.
“Damn,” the next guy up complained. “I was hoping to play against the pretty lady, not this chump,” he said, nodding towards Anthony, whom he obviously knew and could joke with.
“You’re just scared to look like a fool,” Anthony responded. “You know I can kick your ass.”