Work Hard, Love Harder

“Let’s see. You almost made me have to move in my own stuff. And I don’t want to piss off my roommate right after I meet her. And I think I might want to see this picture.”

“I give up.” Femi threw up his hands in mock defeat and stood. “Come on, Aish, we gotta move your car before they tow it and then I seriously need a shower.”

“Yeah. I was trying to be nice about it, but you smell kind of like the inside of a shoe. I’ll see you guys later.”

Colton gave them a few minutes to make it down the hall before he turned to Zoe.

“So, you think I’ve got a chance?”

*****

Zoe settled down to sleep, her head buzzing and her vision blurry. It had been a great party; not her usual type since she usually didn’t do parties unless there was some ulterior motive for being there. It was strange to just go out to have fun. Not that she was complaining. Her new friends were great – she just didn’t know how long she could go on pretending to be one of them – just another college student.

And then there was Femi.

It was really not fair that such a specimen of a human being could exist. One Idris Elba was quite enough to fuel the fantasies of women everywhere. What right did this Femi guy have to look like him? And then there was his accent which ebbed and flowed depending on how much alcohol he’d imbibed apparently. When he was high, the Nigerian accent got stronger, his voice was lower, and he’d whispered something in her ear tonight. She had no idea what though. She’d been too busy shivering with reaction. This was not good at all. She needed to find a way to subtly get all the info about him she could from Aisha. Clearly they were close. And Aisha owed her for introducing her to Colton with whom she was intertwined with right then.

Zoe shook herself sternly. There was really no use in trying to get to know Femi. He was her RA for one thing, for another he wasn’t a potential mark and she doubted very much he’d be amenable to her lifestyle…if he knew. He struck her as the super honorable type, all about doing the right thing and obeying all the rules. The complete opposite of her really. She didn’t even know where this interest was coming from. But she needed to nip it in the bud right the fu*k now.

*****

There was a faint siren in the background, but Fergus barely even turned his head in that direction; he pulled his jacket tighter to him to keep the chilly rain from taking up shop on his skin. He walked down the street with impunity, though it was dark and in the middle of Roslindale; no one would be bothering him on the streets tonight – the expression he wore was enough to keep anyone away.

Including Annie, the girlfriend who had just walked out on him after he expressed little interest in moving in with her. It had been three years, but still he felt nothing when she looked at him with such hope on her face when she suggested it. He tried to care, but he was just…gone.

A red sign blazed above him, the only light on the street, and he looked up to see it advertising a pool hall; it was as good a place as any to get drunk on a quiet Wednesday evening, he thought.

He walked in and noted the floors that were covered in chalk dust from the numerous tables lined up, racks of cue sticks pinned against the wall. It had been a number of years since he had played, but he and his father kept a lot of fond memories around the sport, and Fergus considered himself quite skilled thanks to skills honed by his friend Neal in high school.

There were maybe only ten people in the hall, and it was relatively quiet – music was playing, but low volume for a bar. He walked up and sat on a corner stool, the bartender coming over and raising his eyebrow at him, silently asking him what he wanted.

“Whiskey, bottle please,” Fergus said as he placed down a hundred dollar bill. The man just nodded, showing no surprise; he appreciated that at least here he was just another patron looking to get drunk and maybe play pool – not Fergus McShane, heir to McShane Consolidated, and a millionaire who fucked up the only relationship he’d likely ever have.

The faint scent of honeysuckle and sandalwood hit his nose, and he turned to see a skittish bottle-blonde enter the pool hall, looking incredibly out of place in a red sundress. His eyes locked on hers and she gave him a shy smile, ponytail swaying as she walked up to sit on the other side of the corner next to Fergus.

“Well, hello there,” Fergus said, trying to ignore the smirk the bartender gave him as he set the bottle of whiskey and glass down in front of him. He looked her up and down, appreciating her curvy figure, so lovingly outlined by her red dress. The red complemented her honey complexion so becomingly. She was probably a hooker or something, otherwise what would she be doing in here all by her lonesome?

She blushed and turned to the bartender. “Hi, um, can I get a cranberry and vodka, please?”

Fergus raised his eyebrow this time, noting that she hadn’t said hello to him. “My name is Fergus McShane,” he said, extending his hand.

“Oh! Sorry. Zoe Isabella.” She shook his hand gently, and he was mesmerized by the smile she gave him.

The bartender set her drink down, and Fergus spoke, “Put her drinks on my tab, please.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Zoe said softly.

“You can thank me by playing a game of pool with me later,” Fergus suggested. He wanted to play a game and there was nothing sexier than teaching a young woman how to play. He could stand behind her and slide his hands down her arms as he showed her how to position the cue. Fergus shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts out. His relationship might be essentially over, but it wasn’t technically over yet – he shouldn’t be thinking about this woman like that right now.

Zoe smiled. “I don’t really know how, isn’t it kind of…hard?”

He chuckled. “Sure, but you’ll have a great teacher. Been playing all my life.” His chest puffed up as he took a sip of his drink, noting she had barely touched hers.

”Well, I’d love to learn if you could teach me. It’s been a really long day, I’d love to unwind.” Zoe’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him, and he grew warm.

He slammed his palm onto the bar. “Well, alright then! Let’s get started.”

The bartender, who had since then been silent, spoke up. “Any good pool game starts with a bet.”

Her eyes went wide, and she looked to Fergus. “Is that true?”

Rubbing his neck, he responded, “Well, yeah, I guess. What do you want to bet?”

She chewed her lip, thinking. “If I beat you, you owe me $100, but if you win, you get a kiss.”

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” Fergus teased. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted to kiss me.”

Zoe shook her head coyly, just smiling at him.

“I’ll take that bet, but how about if you beat me, I’ll give you all the money in my wallet.” Fergus grinned, wondering if she knew how much money he carried around all the time. He was Fergus McShane after all.

She put her hand out again. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. McShane.”

He waved her off. “Please. My dad is Mr. McShane, just call me Fergus.” He pulled out his wallet and gave it to the bartender, watching him lock it in the cash register.