Megan and Bill walked into Q’s, a popular venue for pool, beer, and hamburgers, and also known for awesome finger steaks, fries, and a varied clientele. Choosing a table, they ordered food and a pitcher of beer then started to catch up on the last couple of weeks.
Two guys were shooting pool at the table closest them, and Bill noticed one of them right away, since he had an artificial hand and possibly leg damage after hearing a small click when he moved to set up a shot.
“I know him from Elks Rehabilitation,” said Megan.
Bill looked at Megan and raised an eyebrow.
“Hi Matt, how are you?” she asked the man.
“Juusst peachy, Megan. Fancy seeing you here.”
Bill frowned. He thought the guy’s speech, drawing out the word, just, was meant as mockery, maybe toward Megan.
“I thought I would get out, maybe shoot some pool,” said Megan. “Matt, this is my friend, Bill.”
“And this is my buddy, Dave,” said Matt.
After the introductions were made, Bill and Megan’s beer was delivered so they watched the two men work on the billiard balls.
“What happened to him?” asked Bill quietly.
“He was injured in a logging accident. It has been hard on him and now he drinks too much, way too often.”
Matt was a great pool player, even using an artificial hand, and Bill saw he was well on his way to being drunk.
“By the way I wanted to tell you that Eric’s follow up tests came back negative, clean that is, for any cancer.”
Bill smiled. “That’s great news!”
“Yes, it is, although he almost made himself sick with worry.”
After their food arrived, they started to eat. Matt was talking louder with each beer and was mixing in plenty of swearing. He was griping about how shit just didn’t work out, how life stunk and Megan started feeding him a bunch of crap about it. Matt threw a few glares in Bill’s direction.
“Oh Matt, quit yer bitching. You know I hate whiny men,” Megan said, trying to lighten the mood, giving Bill a wink.
“Blow me, baby. You get to go skiing or hiking or do whatever you want. Don’t be telling me to stop bitching,” Matt said venomously.
“C’mon guys. It’s okay. Chill out!” said Dave, wanting everyone to be happy.
“Shut up, Dave!” said Matt, looking dangerously angry.
Megan was trying to lighten the mood, but Matt was having none of it. Bill thought it was time to leave and was getting ready to reach for Megan’s arm when Matt again turned his venom on Megan.
“What kind of life do you really have, Megan? Huh? I know about you. Something happened back east and you’re hiding from it. What the hell are you hiding? That’s why you came to Idaho where nobody knows you-”
“Shut up, Matt,” said Bill, standing.
Everybody froze. Now it was Bill who looked dangerous.
“Megan, I think we should go,” suggested Bill.
Matt’s eyes narrowed. He was jealous of Bill. He had asked Megan out and she had turned him down. He didn’t like looking like a circus freak. It was eating him alive.
“Screw you, Bill!” Matt was yelling now. “I know who you are too! You’re nothing but a no-good, has-been baseball player. You’re nothing. I saw your last game. You’re finished you asshole! Life’s a bitch and then ya die! Get used to it PAL!”
Everybody in the bar froze.
Bill looked at Matt, then at Megan and then around the bar. His face was red, his jaw clenched and he wanted to beat the hell out of the guy. Hate welled up and he thought about calling Matt a drunken cripple.
Bill got a wicked smile on his face and walked to the pool table. Dave and Megan recoiled, moving away from the table as Bill reached down and grabbed the number eight billiard ball. He exploded, throwing the billiard ball past Matt’s head, at well over ninety miles an hour. His target was the dart machine at the end of the room, and he hit the bulls-eye, shattering the dartboard and leaving the billiard ball buried in the machine.
Nobody moved as pieces of plastic rattled to the floor.
“Not tonight, PAL!” Bill said, his posture challenging Matt to try anything.
“Shall we, Megan?”
She sat, stunned.
Bill looked over at the bartender, who had picked up the phone planning to call the police. Bill shook his head no at her, held up a finger to wait. She put the phone down. He was the pitcher, and he was in control.
Matt was still, his mouth forming a small O, his eyes large. He knew enough to keep his mouth shut. He had never seen anyone move so fast and feeling the ball whiz past his ear had scared him enough that he began to sober up, not sure if he hated Bill, or respected him.
Bill walked to the bar, grabbed a napkin and a pen, wrote his name and number down on the napkin, and left it on the bar.
“I’m sorry for the argument ma’am. Please don’t call the police. I’ll pay for all the damages.”
The bartender glanced at the paper, still shocked. “Ok, mister, but I’d like all of you to leave now!”
Bill nodded at her and seeing movement turned to see Megan walking toward the door.
“Megan?”
He hustled over and laid his hand on her arm.
“Get your hands off me, Bill!”
“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
“My ex-husband lost his temper and killed my baby. I can never be with a man who can’t control his anger.”