“I never played that game much.”
“Nothing to it. Just the one ball in the side pocket.”
“Anyhow, you look too good for me.”
“Me? I’m just a punk.”
“Oh well. If it’s just a friendly game.”
We started to play, and I let him take three or four, just to feel good. I kept shaking my head, like I couldn’t understand it.
“Too good for you, hey. Well, that’s a joke. But I swear, I’m really better than this. I can’t seem to get going. How you say we put $1 on it, just to make it lively?”
“Oh well. I can’t lose much at a dollar.”
We made it $1 a game, and I let him take four or five, maybe more. I shot like I was pretty nervous, and in between shots I would wipe off the palm of my hand with a handkerchief, like I must be sweating.
“Well, it looks like I’m not doing so good. How about making it $5, so I can get my money back, and then we’ll go have a drink?”