“she’s a keeper. Any girl who says five minutes and keeps her promise is a keeper. I always figure a half hour for every five minutes they ask for.”
“Look out everybody!” Cody announced as he busted in through the door of a two story Cape Cod beach house three miles from the ocean. “Rusty brought a girl home!” He carried his bike up the stairs, disappeared into a cluttered room and dropped the bike and skateboard.
“We don’t go much on formalities here,” Rusty explained.
Rusty’s mom appeared from behind the stairs. “Rusty! What are you doing here? You didn’t tell us you were coming. And what’s this I hear?”
“Mom,” Rusty said giving his mother a big hug, “this is Cassidy.”
“Oh my,” she said when she saw me. “It really is you. We were so afraid we would never get to meet you. We caught the news program by chance and recognized Rusty in some of the shots so we started recording the news. When they aired the story about your engagement we were stunned. We didn’t know.”
“Nobody really knew. We knew we wanted to get married last fall but decided to wait until I finished academy to announce our engagement. That was in January and then I started work with the search and rescue team. It’s only been recently that we have had a chance to make any wedding plans.”
“Well, we taped it all. If you’d like to see…”
“Mom, we came here so we could forget it. We need to just clear our heads while we’re here. Cassidy has had one tough track after another and I just got her back out of the mine. I don’t want to watch her be lost to me again. We just need a couple of days to regroup.”
“Well, regrouping is our specialty. Your dad will be home in an hour or so and dinner will be ready shortly after that.”
“Can we have the attic?”
“I don’t know if you want the attic. Cody has been having friends over at all hours of the day and night.”
“I’ll talk to Cody.”
Rusty took the suitcase and started up the narrow stairway. At the landing he knocked loudly on the first door he came too. Loud rock music blared out as the door was opened.
“I’m taking the attic over for two days.”
“But…”
“It’s just two days. You’ll survive.”
“Hold on…” Cody dashed down the hall and up a set of pull-down stairs at the end. We heard scuffling, bumps, furniture being moved around and the sound of bare feet coming back down the stairs. Cody reappeared carrying a pile of clothes and assorted odds and ends, then disappeared back into his room.
Rusty carried the suitcase to the pull-down stairs and then clunked up to the top. The attic was a long narrow room that ran the length of the house from front to back. Double doors overlooked the backyard. The floor under the lowest part of the roof was lined with odds and ends. There were a couple of mattresses, board games, beanbag chairs and low coffee tables. A small TV was hooked to an electronic game system and there were bookcases filled with paperbacks in every imaginable genre along with Nerf balls and piles of bedding. The center of the room was dominated by an ornate pool table. The floor had plush carpeting to cut down on noise and the finished undersides of the roof were lined with posters of young people doing adventurous stunts: surfing, motorcycle racing, skateboarding, freestyle skiing and more. Rusty opened double doors that led out onto a balcony and dragged a mattress to the doorway. Then he went to the pile of bedding and found several comforters and put them on top of the bare mattress.
“It’s not a posh hotel but I’ve found it’s one of the most pleasant places to sleep.”
I went out onto the balcony and looked down into the backyard. There was a flagstone walk all the way around a small swimming pool. A tiny patio stood between the back door and poolside. How they got the equipment in that small area to dig a pool I’d never guess.
“Are you finding everything you need up there?” Rusty’s mom called up the stairs.
“Yeah, Mom, we’re fine.” Then he turned to me and asked, “Ever played pool?”
“I haven’t played in years. I used to play a lot when I was living at home. The ranch hands have an old pool table in the bunkhouse and we’d play in the off season.”
“Your dad let you go in the bunkhouse?”
“The guys were considerate. They kept things clean when Jesse and I were around. I learned how to play poker there, too. I lost a lot of pocket change to them, especially Old Frank and Steve. They’d never take more than pocket change from me.”
“You want to try it?”
“Nine Ball or Eight Ball?”
“What?”
“What version do you want to play? I’m used to Nine Ball, where you have to shoot the balls in order. Most people play Eight Ball. But we can do either. I just think Nine Ball forces you to think more and provides more of a challenge.”
“I think I better wait until after dinner to take you on.”
I had more luck at Nine Ball than I did skill. I was not very good at leaving the ball set up for the next shot and so the target ball always ended up hidden behind a higher numbered ball, forcing my opponent to try complicated bank shots to get at the target ball. It was one of the things that made Nine Ball interesting.
I found the rack and then set the balls: one ball at the point, nine ball in the center and balls two through eight in a diamond shape around the nine ball. I slid the rack to the marked spot and then carefully removed it.
“Okay,” I said, “you break.”
Rusty chose a stick from a row of them on the only flat wall. I chose one too, after rolling a couple to make sure they were straight. Rusty was amused watching me, but then traded his stick when he discovered how warped it was.
He broke. His shot scattered the balls all over the table and two fell into pockets in the confusion. I think they got scared and dove for cover.
“Okay, now you have to hit the one ball, or you can also use it to hit any of the other balls in. First one to sink the nine ball wins. If you miss the lowest numbered ball or sink the cue ball, it’s ball in hand.”
He studied the table. He took careful aim at the one ball and almost made it. He might have sunk it if he’d been a little more gentle. It clung to the edge of the pocket begging me to sink it, but to just shoot it meant I’d scratch and it would be ball in hand. I bounced the cue ball off the side of the pocket barely nudging the one ball over the edge. The two ball lay across the table. There was a lot of green to cover and the seven ball was guarding the logical pocket. I used the two ball to sink the seven ball.
There was a bump and some thumping downstairs, talk drifted up the stairs and we heard footsteps coming up to the attic. Rusty’s dad made his way up the stairs and across the room.
“Uh oh,” he said, “who’s stripes?”
“Nobody, Cassidy’s creaming me at Nine Ball.”
