Hustle Me (2 page)

Still, it didn’t stop her from trying to drag me places and force me to be more sociable.  Her and her boyfriend, Tommy, kept trying to hook me up with people they knew, but after a few dates that ended miserably, they had finally stopped pushing as much as at first.
 

My only other friend was actually someone from my past. Zach Miller was put into the foster care system the same week that I was. We were both placed in a temporary home together
and were the same age. Zach’s parents didn’t die like mine had. He didn’t know his father and his mother was put in jail for drug possession. We spent four months together, before she got out and regained custody of her son, leaving me all alone.
 

I hadn’t seen Zach in almost ten years before starting college. Each time I was sent to live with a new family, I always hoped that I would someday see him again, but it never happened. I will never forget walking into my English class on my very first day. I was running late because I am terrible with directions and ended up coming in when role was being called.
 

I dropped my bag as the door slammed on my ass and a very handsome guy came and helped me pick up my things. I should have recognized his smile, but I was too embarrassed to pay attention. He offered me the seat next to him just as they got to my name. I raised my hand and got myself situated in my chair. When I heard the name Zachary Miller, my eyes shot up and looked to the guy next to me, who was raising his hand.
 

At first I thought he didn’t remember me, until he reached over and squeezed my hand. I have to admit, I didn’t even remember anything the professor talked about, because all I
wanted to do was talk to Zach. We passed notes during class and when it ended, we spent the next two hours catching up. Since that day we had been inseparable and he is my very best friend.
 

For the next couple of months I fell right into college life. My courses were rough, but I managed to stay on task and do well. Zach and I hung out and studied together as much as we could. He wasn’t that strapped to maintain a grade point average anymore. His mother married someone with money and got her life together. He had new siblings and a happy life, nothing like I had lived.
 

I should have known that my life could never be perfect for long. Everything changed when I got the letter from the attorney’s office. I will never forget that day that everything I knew came crashing down over me.
 

Chapter 2
 

Jammer
 

The people I played changed from day to day, but the game always remained the same. For as long as I could remember I'd been playing pool, or billiards if you want to get technical about it. What went from being a hobby with my friends had turned into an easy way to make a buck, or in my outlook, a way to break away from my family.
 

They weren't that bad, but had always insisted I follow through with being a part of the family business. Since I was no good at school, and I had no intention of working alongside of my family, I left when I was seventeen and never looked back.
 

My friends and I used to hang out in the back of this local restaurant. They had two pool tables and the owner was pretty cool about us being there, instead of getting into other kinds of trouble. Baltimore City wasn’t exactly the safest place to bring up a kid. Since I was still alive and not in jail yet, I would say I was a success story. Don’t get me wrong, I know places like John’s Hopkins and major banks were located in the city, but for the most
part, where I came from only consisted of lowlifes and panhandlers.
 

My parents had run a strip of businesses right off of Baltimore Street that consisted of a deli, a cleaners, and a check cashing establishment. They did well for themselves and even gave back to the community, but my father wasn’t always a straight businessman. He lied to my mother about things and when I discovered it, I wanted nothing more to do with him or what he was involved in.
 

It broke my mother’s heart, but it was better than telling her she was married to a liar. She was a kindhearted woman that thought the world of him. Far be it from me to take that away. I’d much rather her assume I was the fuck up instead.
 

When I left, right before my eighteenth birthday, I had saved about five hundred bucks. My plan was to take my beaten up Honda Civic to Pennsylvania and play in an Amateur Tournament and win big.
 

I got my ass handed to me in the first two matches and was eliminated. After just one day, I was down to under four
hundred bucks and knew that it was the only thing standing between me being independent or going back home to my father.
 

After going outside and kicking the hell out of a few trashcans and smoking a few cigs, I went back and watched the guys play that beat me so badly.
 

I knew I was a cocky guy, but I had honestly believed that I was pretty damn good. The men and even women in this tournament blew me away. There was no way that I could shoot at the level they were.
 

 That’s when I met Joker.
 

I was walking around, watching a few people play on a couple practice tables when he approached me. I recognized him right away as the second guy that handed me my ass. He tapped on my pool case that was hanging over my shoulder. “Where’d you get that stick kid?”
 

I hated being called kid, but since I’d lied about my age to get into the tournament, I knew I couldn’t argue. “Pawn shop.”
 

“You mind if I take a look at it?” We were in a crowded place and it wasn’t like he could take it and run. Still, since I had
traded my stereo and all of my baseball cards, I wasn’t very keen on taking the chance.
 

“Why do you want to see it?”
 

He smiled and crossed his arms. “I noticed when you were shooting that the ferrule seems cracked. It can affect the way the tip hits the cue.”
 

“Ferrule?”
 

“Yeah, kid, it’s the white part of the tip. You going to let me take a look or what?” After watching the dude play pool and now hearing about his knowledge of the stick, I reluctantly got my stick out and handed it to him. The stick unscrewed to fit in the case and he only needed the top shaft part of it. I waited patiently to hear what he was going to say. “It’s definitely cracked.” He showed me where. “Don’t you hear the difference when you take your shot?”
 

I shrugged. “I guess.” I really didn’t notice. I shot the game, but had no knowledge of sticks really.
 

“Look kid, my friends call me Joker. I have a shop about an hour from here and can get this fixed for you for about fifty bucks. If you want to improve, you need a stick that can shoot properly. I
can take it and drop it off to whatever hotel you’re staying at, if you want. I’m coming back tomorrow.”
 

Hell no, I wasn’t leaving my stick with this stranger!
 

I grabbed the shaft out of his hand. “No thanks. No offense, but I don’t really know you.”
 

“I understand. Listen, if you change your mind, here is my card. I don’t have to shoot again until tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by and I can fix it up for you.”
 

“Yeah, maybe I will.”
 

We said our goodbyes and he went on his way. After watching a few more matches, and getting even more discouraged, I headed out to find a hotel room. To my dismay, they were all booked due to the tournament being in town. I was going to have to sleep in my car and it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Since I knew I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to spend any money, I skipped dinner to go and have my stick repaired by the man they called Joker.
 

I plugged in the address on my phone and was soon sitting in front of a bar. After walking all the way around the building and
not seeing another entrance, I walked inside. An old man was shining a glass behind the bar. “Can I help you, kid?”
 

What was with everyone calling me kid?
 

“A guy named Joker told me to come see him about getting a repair done.”
 

He shook his head. “Sure he did. Another charity case, I see. Take the hallway until you come to a set of stairs and go up. Knock three times and he’ll let you in.”
 

After finding the stairs and standing at the old beat up red metal door, I was reluctant to knock, but I had nothing better to do and I wasn’t about to let that old man downstairs laugh at me.
 

Joker answered the door promptly and smiled when he saw it was me. “Hey, kid, come on in. I was just cooking some dinner. You hungry?”
 

I followed him into the open studio type apartment. The smell of something cooking filled my nostrils and I realized just how hungry I was. “A little.”
 

He laughed and shook his head, while he grabbed an extra plate and sat it at the bar. After eating one of the best steaks I’d ever tasted, he got up and grabbed my stick, before taking it into
another room. I finished eating and followed behind him. The room was set up with a couple machines. A few sanders were on one table and a bunch of long pieces of light wood were in a bin. “You make sticks?”
 

“Yep, as a hobby. It keeps my mind off of things when work’s slow.”
 

I walked around and looked at some of the finished sticks. The wood grain was amazing and I’d never felt a stick that was so smooth. “These are great.” I saw a price sticker and almost threw up my steak dinner. “Holy shit, this stick is two grand?” I put it back where it sat and backed away from the display case.
 

Joker shook his head and kept working. “You probably don’t want to know how much the other ones are. They can run you a pretty penny.”
 

“Obviously.”
 

He was staying on task and never looking up at me being so nosey. “You got a place to stay kid?”
 

I shook my head and looked down at the equipment. “Not really, but I was thinking about going home. I shot like shit and there’s nothing left for me to do.”
 

“I could use a hand around here. If you’re interested, I got an extra room in the back. It ain’t much, just a mattress on the floor, but it’s yours if you want it.”
 

This man was a stranger and aside from being really awesome at pool, I knew nothing about him. What I did know was that I wasn’t about to go home and face my father after failing so quickly. Did this guy know how desperate I was? I could be running from the law or something. While he slept, I could rob and kill him. This was real life. “Why are you helping me?”
 

He smiled and shook his head. “My life had revolved around this game, kid. Let’s just say that if I could go back and change things, I would. Now, I just try to do the right things whenever I can. If I’m wrong about you, then don’t take offense, but I’m throwing you a bone and you can decide if you want to take it.”
 

After thinking about it for only a few seconds, I agreed to be Joker’s assistant, but in doing so, I had no idea that the man was going to change my life.
 

For the next year I worked alongside of Joker and learned how to make pool sticks during the day. At night, we’d shoot pool
for hours and he taught me everything that I never even knew about billiards. I threw myself into my new lifestyle and learning how to get better. Eventually, I stopped talking to my friends and family and focused only on the game and my training. There was the occasional time that Joker would have people over and older women would end up in my bed. Not that I ever complained about that. It was always no strings attached and even they had things to teach me.
 

Joker was also like a second father to me. Aside from him basically taking me in and giving me a job, he’d take me out to meet other pool players. He played high stakes games involving a lot of money. Some would even last over twenty four hours. Coffee became my best friend and the game was my infatuation.
 

There was so much more than making shots to the game. It took precision and being able to maneuver each and every shot in my mind. I learned about positioning the ball after every shot and lining myself up for safeties and hard combinations.
 

Joker insisted on me not playing for money the whole first year that I lived with him. Since he had taught me so much, I respected his decision, but when Valley Forge came around again,
we were both registered and I was ready to show the world of billiards my improvements. It was my second chance at redemption and I knew if I failed again, that I wouldn’t want to continue on the path I was headed. I loved the game, but had been humiliated before and I just wasn’t about to have it happen again.
 

I was so nervous when the day came, but managed to make it to the fifth round. Joker was still in the tournament as well, but he was waiting to play his next match and was acting as a coach for me. While the other guy I was playing was hiding my next shot, making it impossible for me to see my ball, I stood to the side contemplating what I was going to do.
 

I looked around the large room full of people. They were watching my match and I could feel the beads of sweat running down my forehead. I was nervous and this shot was going to determine if I won something or nothing at all. Sure, I’d come far from how I shot the year before, but I wanted the candy pot and first place was where it sat.
 

Joker came up behind me and told me a shot I needed to take, but the idea of him making that decision pissed me off. I’d
played the whole match without his help and I wanted to finish it that way too.