Pool hall

Time gives no forewarning

As youth will have its way

Not caring for each morning

Or every precious day

The Lord gives us the freedom

To choose what we will do

If we just listen to his voice

Our soul he will renew

Give no care to things

You gain upon this earth.

Treasures will be left behind

To what you had at birth

~ Gemini Joe ~

hen I got older, my friends and I used to go over to the pool hall. I was pretty good at it. Everyone wanted to challenge me. There I was, a scrawny kid, and no one knew what to expect from me. They thought I was an easy mark.

One night, the hall was filled with bikers. Boy, I could smell the motorcycle grease on their clothes.

They sat at the bar watching us set up a table. One of them said to me, “Hey kid, I’ll play you.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Ah come on. I’ll even let you break.”

“Okay,” I said and went to the cue rack for my lucky pool stick.

He came up behind me and said, “I want that stick.”

I didn’t want to fight him, so I let him have the stick and chose another.

The biker gulped down his beer, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and racked the balls.

I took my shot. Nothing went in so I waited for him to have a turn and lit a cigarette. With the smoke dangling from my mouth, I took my next shot and the cue ball hit its mark.

“Lucky shot,” the biker said, sparking my competitive side. Next thing I knew, one, two and then three balls spun around the table and disappeared into the pockets. My friend Prunes stood along the wall puffing on his cigarette and smiled as I proceeded to wipe the table. The biker didn’t look happy. I collected my money and we got out of there fast before he could realize what had happened.

When we were safely back on our corner, I gave Prunes half of what I won. Someone was coming up the road and for a moment, we worried that it was the biker. But it was only Tony.

“Where were you?” Prunes shouted. “You missed it. Joe here took some biker to the cleaners at the pool hall.

“I had a date with Annemarie.”

“Didn’t her father warn you to stay away from her?”

“Her father doesn’t scare me,” he said. “He’s nothing but an old, washed up mobster.”

“And she’s nothing but trouble,” Prunes said. “You’ll be swimmin’ with the fishes if you don’t watch out.”

Tony pulled a flask from his pocket, took a swig, and handed it to Prunes. Just as I was about to get mine, the headlights of an approaching car blinded us. It stopped and two guys jumped out.

“Which one of you hoods is Tony?” one asked.

“I’m Tony. What’s it to you?”

“Get in the car,” he said, and grabbed Tony by the arm. “Someone wants a word with you.”

“Where are you taking him?” I asked.

“Pennsylvania.”

What he meant was the empty lots on Pennsylvania Avenue. Everyone avoided it, including the police.

“Can we come?” I asked.

They looked at each other and laughed. “Sure, suit yourselves.”

“Not me,” Prunes said. “I’m already late and my dad’s going to get mad.”

Even though I was scared, I couldn’t let Tony get into the car without me. I slid into the back seat and we drove in silence on a dark road. When the car stopped, the door opened and Tony was face to face with Annemarie’s father.

“I told you to stay away from my daughter,” he yelled.

Annemarie’s father looked on with satisfaction as his goons took turns beating Tony.

“Not in the face,” he warned. “Kick him in the back, kick him in the legs, but don’t leave any marks on his face.”

“I’ll stay away from her. I promise!”

His pleas echoed into the night as they punched him in the stomach. Whisky and movie popcorn shot out from his mouth like a fountain.

“Stop!” I said. “You're going to kill him!”

The old man held up his hand to stop the beating. When they drove off, I helped Tony get up and supported him as we walked home.

“You’re a good friend, Joey,” he gasped.