“Tails,” she said shooting Tate a grin when she won. “So looks like I won the toss, only question is, do you want to play or be cremated?”
“The more we play the less likely you are to beat Dad, but I’d like to get a few sunk so I say play,” he answered.
“You asked for it,” she said with a wink as she went for the break.
She heard some snickering from her classmates as not a single shot fell and she sent Tate a grin.
“What happened Melinda your luck ran out?” someone from the crowd called out as Tate assessed the board.
“Quiet down,” Mr. Grasse said as more people let out comments. “Tate it’s your shot.”
“I know but it seems my best friend here has decided to block every single possible shot I could try,” he answered loudly enough for the crowd to hear. “What do you think Dad?” he added calling him over to join them.
Arthur looked at the table and shook his head. “I see a few you could try.”
“Try and miss,” Mel stated letting out a full grin at them unable to contain it.
“You think you could make them?” Tate asked seeing the ones his dad had mentioned.
“I could but that’s not in the rules of the tournament, is it Mr. Grasse?”
“If you want to switch it up, I don’t think anyone here will complain, whoever sinks theirs and the eight ball wins,” he answered. “Are you forfeiting your shot, Tate?”
“Yeah I am, so come on Mel-Mel, show me how you’d win if you were me,” he grinned at her.
“You asked for it,” she cooed at him as they stepped back from the table. She aimed the first shot and let it sail looking at Tate when it sank. “That’s one.”
“And that’s two,” she added on the next shot. “That makes…three...and four…now where are we again oh yeah…five…six…seven...and eight.”
“So that’s eight full days of shopping, think I can make it nine?” she asked checking out the cue and the eight ball’s position.
“If you make that shot, I will suck it up and make it ten, if not…” Tate said looking smug.
“What?” she said cocking a hip out towards her stick resting on the floor.
“If you miss we switch and you owe me ten meals.”
“Tate, Mel…” Arthur warned though his eyes were full of laughter.
“Alright, ten mealsifI miss.”
“There’s no way you’re going to make that shot,” Tate said rechecking the board.
“I don’t know, what do you think Dad?” she asked looking at Arthur.
“I know better than to tell you that you can’t, but I don’t know if you have the room or reach to make it,” he admitted.
“Now you know that’s going to goad her into it,” Tate said as her eyes lit up. “So I think we need to redo the stakes.”
“Okay, what are you willing to lay down?” she asked as Mr. Grasse pretended not to hear.
“When you miss you have to tell the truth, where your skills came from and where you’re currently practicing them and with whom,” he said casting a glance towards Jordan. “And a month’s worth of home cooked meals.”
“And when Imakeit, you have to come visit Whitmore with me and go shopping whenever I want, wherever I wantandyou have to come work for me,” she countered waiting to see if he agreed to it. She smiled when he nodded in agreement.
“Lame,” someone from the crowd yelled. “Where’s the money?”
“I’ve got someone sponsoring fifty a ball,” she stated.
