8. Bowling for a winner
Upon entering the bowling alley Ben felt like a kid again as the bright lights, excited voices and the sound of bowling balls impacting skittles hit his senses, throwing him into a childlike world of innocent joy and excitement. Francesca had planned to meet him inside and she hadn’t disappointed him.
Unaware of his presence she sat, alone, with her back to him on a stool at the bar.
Grabbing his bowling shoes Ben approached Francesca and alerted her to his company with a cheery hello. She turned around with a queer smile, her olive eyes enquiring in his direction. Casual but stylishly dressed she wore boot cut jeans and a tight black strappy top. Her almond coloured hair was pulled back into a loose up do that was held in place with a black clip, whispery strands fell loosely from the style and were left to decorate her forehead. She had on a perfume that smelt nice but Ben couldn’t quite place the scent- flowers maybe? He was never too good in identifying smells.
“Hi Ben. You ready to go?” she asked.
“Yep, come on Fran it’s time for me to wow you with my superb bowling skills.”
“Not if I beat you to it.” She shrieked, running in front of Ben.
In the aftermath of much childlike behaviour – playful shoves and pushes – both Ben and Francesca arrived at the lane at the same time. Slipping the clown like bowling shoes onto his feet Ben dawdled in chitchat with Francesca whilst she too put on the most stylish fashion icon known to man.
“Who’s bowling first?” Francesca asked politely.
“As I’m a gentleman it’s ladies first of course.” Ben smiled.
Francesca giggled, her laugh was girly but not annoying – in fact Ben thought it was rather cute.
Inputting their details into the machine Ben motioned for Francesca to get ready. She reacted by gracefully picking up the ball between her thumb and forefingers and with a gentle but powerful run catapulted the ball into the lane. The ball rolled steadily, Ben held his breath as the ball neared the skittles; with one knock Francesca had won a strike!
Francesca whooped and turned to face Ben, her eyes challenging. “Beat that buster!” she laughed.
Ben smiled coolly. She may have got the first strike but that was only because he’d let her go first, he’d soon be matching her score and her smile would be on the other side of her face. Ben may have been a gentleman when it came to his perfect etiquette but when it came to gaming it was a whole different ball game, if you excuse the pun.
“Go on Ben it’s your turn or can’t you face it, do you just want to hand the whole game over to me now and have it over with?” she sniggered.
Ben rebuffed such a suggestion. “Me give up? Never!” he snorted.
Stepping boldly to the balls Ben glanced over at Francesca his face set into a mild smirk. Acting as professional as he could possibly muster Ben slotted his forefingers and thumb into the holes, all the while maintaining his cocky grin at Francesca. She smiled innocently, waiting for Ben to attempt his turn. Picking up the ball he walked over to the lane and did a little jog, warming his muscles up for lift off. His foot taking one step back, then another and another Ben found himself around four inches from the lane.
Taking a deep breath he steadied his bowling hand, this was it, it was time, running towards the lane he held the ball loose, ready for lift off. He was sure he’d thrown it but nothing had happened. Confused Ben glanced down at his hand; the ball was still attached.
“Is everything okay over there?” Francesca asked.
“Um, yes everything’s fine, the ball just didn’t come off last time, but not to worry I’ll just do it again.” Ben laughed.
“Okay doke.” She replied.
Repeating the process that should get him a master strike Ben flung himself out and waited for the sound of clunking skittles, only the sound didn’t come. Uneasiness had begun to sweep Ben’s system by this time as he realised there may be a reason for the balls apparent dislike to knocking skittles over.
Curiously he peered at his fingers in the holes, they certainly seemed to be fused solidly. If Francesca found out about this she’d be ribbing him for months. He couldn’t let that happen so sneakily he wet his fingers and then tried moving them about a bit – still nothing.
“Ben what’s wrong? Are you okay over there or do you need a little help?” “No!” Ben said urgently.
“No? You sound a little worried, are you sure?” she said gently. Ben grimaced.
“No, that’s a certain no okay Fran, its all systems go here.” Ben muttered.
Curiosity sprouted on Francesca’s features, was he plotting something? A ploy in which he could somehow throw a move that would gain him full marks every time? It was all so suspicious.
“Well why aren’t you bowling then?”
“I’m just… you know working my way up to it.” “Okay…” she said suspiciously.
The slightly lubricated finger trick hadn’t worked in loosening his fingers so Ben had to think of something else. Glancing around the limited space he had to work in he spotted his glass of coke. He didn’t really fancy pouring his drink all over his hand but hey if it worked it would’ve been for a good cause wouldn’t it. And he could always buy another one. Aiming the glass he poured some of it in the holes and then twisted his fingers round, they still wouldn’t budge!!
Glancing slyly behind him Ben clocked Francesca glancing in the exact same direction her face unsure, as if she’d got an inkling of what he was up to. Gulping Ben turned back to the ball. How was he going to get out of this one? Maybe he should just own up but then Francesca would have the satisfaction of knowing Ben couldn’t even bowl the ball let alone get a strike! No that wasn’t the way… his brain working overtime Ben conjured a plan.
“Ben are we going to be here all night or are you just going to you know bowl the ball?” Francesca muttered; her voice slightly irritated.
“Yes Franny, I’m going to bowl right this very second.” Ben said chirpily.
Hoping his plan would work Ben pushed the stuck bowling ball up his jumper; he already had a spare tire so Francesca would be unlikely to notice the extra weight he’d suddenly put on since they’d entered the bowling alley.
Directing his free hand towards a new ball Ben carefully picked it up. It was certainly heavy carrying all this extra weight; he hoped his aim would still be up to shot. Tottering backwards Ben ran unsteadily towards the lane his arm outstretched ready to propel the ball forwards. Luckily for Ben this ball flew off his fingers like a rocket, trundling down the lane like it had nothing to lose…unluckily however the extra weight Ben was hiding under his jumper and the sudden burst of energy from the flying ball sent Ben with it, hurtling his stunned exterior onto the bowling lane. Groaning Ben rolled onto his back, slowly opening his eyes he saw Francesca’s figure hunched over his, her face creased into genuine concern.
“Ben, are you okay? Did you faint or something?” “No I…” Ben stuttered.
Francesca’s eyes suddenly grew wide.
“Hey what the hell is that!?” she muttered, her fingers pointing to Ben’s extended midriff.
Throughout his little performance the bowling ball had shrewdly stayed in place. His face sheepish Ben knew his defiant act of attempting to keep in the game was a mistake. He should’ve just admitted his fingers were stuck in the first place at least Francesca wouldn’t think he was the fool she would think he was when his secret was revealed.
“The aliens did it.” Ben said lamely.
Francesca’s eyes turned sceptical. She clearly didn’t believe a word of it - and Ben was glad because if she had believed him then she obviously wasn’t the quick girl Ben thought her to be. Ben laughed, unveiling the bowling ball he glanced up at Francesca.
“You’re a clever girl, I didn’t think you’d work out I’d put on a stone or two since we came in here.” He said.
With her sudden insight Ben’s peculiar actions became perfectly understandable.
“I knew you were up to something Ben Dover! What the hell have you got a bowling ball stuffed up your shirt for?”
“Oh I was planning on taking it home and adding it to my collection.” Ben muttered sarcastically.
Francesca gasped, had she got Ben’s character wrong? Was his friendly, happy go lucky coffee shop ownership image just a pretence to hide his darker side – his side as a thief!? Ben looked at Francesca curiously; her eyes had widened with shock her mouth open slightly in amazement.
“You’ve fooled all these people all this time…. Jesus Christ how did you do it?” Ben chewed his lip in bewilderment.
“Fran I was joking yeah? I don’t really have a collection of these at home.” Her face sprouted into a deep emotion of relief.
“Oh thank god for that.” She laughed.
Ben’s eyes roved Francesca’s in worry. She spotted his sprout of concern and smiled awkwardly. “Sarcasm doesn’t hit my funny bone.” She trilled.
“Fair enough now can you get me some help here!” Ben mumbled. “What do you need help for?”
“This!” Ben shrieked pointing to his stuck fingers. “Oooh.” She giggled.
The giggling didn’t stop there; in fact her giggling roared relentelessly for many minutes more. It wasn’t long before Ben grew tired of it and changed his mind about it being cute.
“Okay I get that you find it’s funny now come on get someone to get this ball off me.”
Francesca glanced at Ben her face creased in laughter; humour tears fell down her cheeks and her olive eyes crinkled in amusement. Just at that moment Ben realised this was probably the happiest Francesca had been in a long time. He hadn’t seen her laugh before but now he was glad he had, it was truly incredible - how her laugh transformed her face into a mirage of beauty. It may have been a cliché but it was true – a smile, a true smile in the form of a rippling laugh could transform even the hardest of face into a figure of beauty as happiness - it lit up the soul.
“Come on Ben I’ll give it a go.” She said finally, managing briefly to get a grip on her laughter.
Grasping the ball firmly in her hands she pulled at the ball with all her might; the effort infused into pulling was evident by the strained expression on her face, the determination in her eyes but despite her efforts the ball grasped Ben’s fingers as if it were some sort of modern day torture device. Dropping the ball Francesca stepped back for a breather. Glancing around Ben realised they’d got an audience; onlookers stared nosily at the scene, the shorter ones peering over taller shoulders.
Many of the bystanders sniggered at the ridiculousness of Ben’s feat imagining in their minds eye that it was his weight that contributed to his humiliating position. Others just shook their head in pity. Ben knew his situation looked a little odd, he even knew it was probably his own fault his fingers got stuck after all he was the one with a weight problem but what he knew most of all was the fact that it was downright rude to stare at someone and not offer to help!
“Right I’ve had enough of this I’m leaving.” Ben yelled, grabbing his coat.
Stumbling slightly a flustered Ben tucked his coat under the crook of his arm, held the bowling ball in his free hand and stumbled off. Francesca like the others watched flabbergasted as Ben fled the scene, his body shaking with every step he took.
“Show’s over.” Francesca yelled to those around her as she ran to catch up with Ben.
Just as she came into the reception of the bowling alley she heard a commotion overhead. Peering gingerly around the corner she saw Ben being accosted by a clerk
“What are you doing with our bowling ball?” the clerk enquired. Ben glared irritably at the clerk.
“It’s stuck.” He said through gritted teeth. The clerk scratched his head.
“Stuck?”
“Yes that’s what I said, what are you an echo?” Ben said rudely.
Francesca winced, that really wasn’t the way to talk to someone. In retaliation to Ben’s rudeness the clerk stood up straight, all 6ft of him, his eyes cruelly sizing Ben up.
“Okay smart arse, show me how this bowling alleys property is ‘stuck’ as you put it.” “Pull my finger.” Ben muttered.
“Pull your finger? What?” the clerk questioned, his face not only irritated but confused too. Ben rolled his eyes.
“The bowling ball is stuck to my fingers so by pulling the ball you will be pulling my fingers get it?” “I’m telling you mate, if you’re lying about this…” the clerk threatened.
“I swear…” Ben said truthfully.
Grabbing hold of the ball the clerk pulled firmly, Ben watched the clerk’s attempt, his face smug in the knowledge that he’d fail. A second later Ben’s smug expression evaporated into disbelief as the ball came away in the clerk’s hands with a loud pop. The clerks face blared incrimination as a stunned faced Ben’s realised the implications of this extremely unexpected outcome.
“You swear do you mate? Little thief’s like you will get what’s coming to them!” the clerk roared.
Ben’s heart was in his mouth as he clocked the exit. He knew he didn’t have much time and certainly not enough to explain the truth. Consumed by nerves Ben willed his legs to move but under the pressure his legs had gone to jelly and shook in sheer trepidation. His eyes shifting anxiously, his face desperate Ben screamed silently for a saviour.
“Run!” a girls voice yelled.
Shocked by her sudden appearance Ben let Francesca’s flurry of energy bundle him out the bowling alleys exit down towards the street. As they escaped adrenaline-flooded Ben’s body filling him with a feeling of exhilaration so strong he’d never felt it before. For the first time in his life a girl had saved him from his own worst enemy – himself.