“Because you inspire him.”
Podge pointed his pencil at the table.“Just shoot.”
Hodge took the shot and missed completely.The cue ball rolled lazily across the felt, tapped nothing, and stopped.
Goldie turned on her stool.“Was that supposed to happen?”
Hodge glared at her.
Tempi leaned over the bar.“No.”
Britta covered her mouth with both hands.
Podge made a mark in his notebook, and Hodge pointed at him.“Don’t you write that down.”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
“For accuracy.”
“For your funeral.”
Podge didn’t look scared.“Threats don’t change statistics.”
Hodge stared at him for three full seconds before looking toward Twister.“Can I hit him?”
“No,” Twister answered.
Hodge sighed.“Club used to be fun.”
“It’s more fun now,” Britta called.“We have snacks and women.”
“And statistics,” Podge added.
Hodge pointed his cue at him.“You’re on thin ice.”
Goldie laughed again.
Yeah, I liked that sound.
Tempi set another glass in front of Goldie, then paused.“Wait.Did I make this too strong?”
Goldie lifted it, sniffed, and immediately pulled it back from her nose.“Define too strong.”
“Can you still feel your eyebrows?”
Goldie touched one eyebrow.“Barely.”
“Perfect.”
Twister pushed off the wall.“Tempi.”
Tempi looked innocent.“What?”
Twister sighed.“Don’t overpour Goldie.”
“I’m not overpouring.”