8 Ball

He looks at it and mutters, ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

Then, without registering what he has just seen on the TV, Rob returns his attention to the phone in the palm of his hand.

DO YOU WANT A REMATCH?

He scoffs, incredulous. ‘Do I?’

At the other end of the sofa, Karen rolls her eyes. Bloody game. He’s no company. He may as well not be there.

Rob, however, is indifferent to her disillusionment. He’s indifferent because moments ago he lost a million coins on Super 8-Ball! to Enriqu3666.

He’s not so bothered about the outcome, he loses games all the time. No, Rob is angry with the manner of the defeat.

He had been on top. Having cleared his seven coloured balls, he should have been left with just the black 8-ball to pocket, a formality as it sat alone over a corner pocket. Unfortunately, however, nerves had gotten the better of him. Rob hit the cue ball too hard, making it overrun and come to rest behind two of Enriqu3666’s remaining spotted balls, snookering himself in the process.

That had effectively gifted Enriqu3666 the match, and in turn the million coins. Rubbing salt into the wound, Enriqu3666 had goaded Rob with emojis as he went on to clear the table.

Now Rob sought revenge. To recoup tonight’s winnings.

He presses ‘YES’ and waits for a new game to begin.  

It takes a couple of seconds longer than usual to get a response. That’s because on the other side of the world, exactly five thousand, three hundred and eighty-eight miles away, on the outskirts of Veracruz, Mexico, Enrique Casilla has stopped looking at his phone.

He sits alone at a table located just inside a modest, open fronted cantina. An untouched bottle of Estrella beer warms in front of him, and he’s still grinning at his victory, but as he studies the nearby flow of pedestrians, his smile fades.

Will she turn up?

The clock behind the bar reads ten to the hour. Still time yet.

Enrique considers the beer for a moment, then decides against it. He wants to stay focussed. Keep his wits. But he needs to take his mind off the nerves. Kill some more time. He looks back at his phone.

DO YOU WANT A REMATCH?

He presses ‘YES’ and the screen changes to show a green pool table, reset and ready to play.

Robmeister78 is selected at random to break and he propels the white ball into the triangle of coloured orbs, sending them hurtling around the table like a molecular chain reaction. Amidst the chaos, one of each ball disappears into a pocket, giving him the choice of spots or stripes.

There’s no real advantage in the distribution of either suit, so he selects spots. He prefers spots.

The first couple of balls are easy enough, there are plenty of options on the table. But inevitably, as each remaining ball is potted, the shots become increasingly challenging, until Robmeister78 finds himself with just the one remaining coloured ball.

Enqique3666 sends a sweating emoji.

Tilting the viewing angle of his phone, Robmeister78 attempts to line up the shot. It’s a tricky one. Judge the angle wrong and he could easily pot the white and forfeit the game. He’s done it before. Doubt creeps in. He spends too long fine tuning and in doing so forgets about the shot clock. It times out.

‘No!’ Rob cries out. But his chance is gone.

Back in Veracruz, Mexico, Enqique3666 is laughing. And the smile remains on his face as he calmly clears the table, until he too is left with just the eight-ball. The shot takes no lining up and he mocks Robmeister78, intending to deliberately wait until the last second before rolling in the 8-ball.

So lost in the moment is Enrique that he doesn’t notice his date arrive.

She hitches a leg over the moped on which she is a passenger and approaches him from behind.

Although pretty, she attracts no attention as she walks up to the cantina. The noise from the shot she fires into the back of Enrique’s head, however, shocks the area to an instant crouch.

Enrique slumps sideways, dropping his phone and exposing a bag that has been nestled in his lap.

The girl retrieves it, then takes her place back on the moped. It speeds away.

Back on the sofa, ‘PLAYER DISCONNECTED’ appears on Rob’s screen.

‘YOU WIN’

He fist pumps the air.

Karen rolls her eyes again.

*Yes, I suppose that is a fairly blatant attempt to leverage the “8 Ball Pool” keyword search results!

**More keywork piggybacking, anyone?

***I’m really not joking.