Bar Shark

Picking the mark. Easiest or hardest part of the night. A man walks by me in a cheap suit and a fake Rolex, it won't be him tonight. I sit at the bar with a whisky on the rocks in one hand and a thoughtful look in my eyes. My demeanour is tailored to those around me, just a simple man out for a drink after a hard day at work. The thing is though, I hadn't been at work today. This was my work. Another man walks by me with custom made leather boots and stops at the bar, orders something bland and pays with a fifty dollar bill. It’s him, tonight is all about him. I stand up slowly and make my way towards him, you have to set the bait just right.

“Hey, are you here alone? Could I interest you in a friendly game of pool?”

He looks at me with what for a moment could be described as contempt, but then his face softens and he smiles.

“Sure, I must warn you though- I play for stakes. Can you handle the buy in?”

“I’ve only got a fifty,” I fake a nervous laugh.

“That’ll do just fine,” he says as he makes his way across the room to the table.

Hook line and sinker.

He racks the balls and I stand there with a sheepish look, holding the cue tentatively.

“Heads or tails?” He asks as he pulls a coin out from his wallet.

“Heads,” I reply

“Unlucky.” He remarks after tossing it in the air “looks like i’ll break”

Playing the fool. This next step was the most important, fail this and you’re out on the street looking for a new bar and a new target to start this all over again.

He breaks and the balls spread out over the table, a little sloppy with none sunk but a respectable break nonetheless. I lean down on the table and line up my shot, I shoot and the white ball goes flying around the table hitting everything but the ball I was aiming at. I grimace and take a step back, passing the torch to the stranger for his shot. He leans down and shoots, knocking his first ball in. He lines up his next shot and does the same for his second ball. This goes on for some time before I get another shot, which of course I miss again. Finally there's only the eight ball and five of my balls left. I paint a look of worry on my face as he lines up the final shot, which he sinks.

“Better luck next time friend,” he laughed.

“Double or nothing,” I retorted.

“It's your money man,” he laughs again as he re-racks.

He’s right where I want him.

“My turn to break,” I announce, this time with a bit of confidence.

He nods and I lean down to shoot, exposing my left shoulder, upon which resides a detailed tattoo of a shark. I see him notice it and pause, my gameplan slowly revealing itself in his mind.

A look of realisation shows on his face as I break, perfectly spreading the balls across the table, sinking two and leaving the white positioned exactly where I want it. For the next 10 minutes I methodically sink every single ball one after the other, pausing only to chalk my cue. I line up the eight ball and sink it without giving the stranger a single shot. The game is over. I walk over to the now dejected man and hold my hand out, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing me a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

“Thanks for the games,” I say as I walk past, a smug look on my face.

I walk outside and take a deep breath, looking at my phone at a list of bars in the area. I pick one and start walking to my next job, putting away the hundred in my wallet next to five more of the same bills.

This is my work, and damn I love my job.