Free The Fat Artist and Other Stories by Benjamin Hale

It’s like six thirty now, and I know Kelly aint gonna be out there at the park with a bat till like two, three hours, so I gotta keep busy. I bet Braden a beer on a round of pool, and I’m winning till I knock in the eight ball, so I go up to the bar to buy his ass a beer and buy my ass one too, and when I get back from the bar who the fuck is standing there at the pool table as Braden’s racking the balls? I aint seen this motherfucker in two years, and I never did much like that motherfucker much anyway so it aint like I been seeking his ass out since I been out of jail. Sure enough he’s wearing these ugly yellowass boots that he cleans pools in or whatever. And here I am, I’m standin here with two beers full up to the rims in both my hands and I’m all trying not to spill and shit and still for some reason I can’t take my eyes off these big yellow boots he got on. And Caleb Quinn says, hey, whatup dog, like we’re buds. I put down the beers and we shake, and when me and his hands are doing the whole slap-squeeze thing I feel he’s still got a real good arm, and I note this duly. So then I’m all like, I aint seen your ass in like two years, what you been up to, just some bullshit like at. And we’re talking, and the conversation’s just about shit we used to do, all the girls we used to know. Just a bunch of inconsequential bullshit. And we’re shooting pool and shit and talking. But I’m keeping my eyes on the clock the whole time, waiting for it to get close to nine. Caleb’s loosenin up and drinking, and I’m drinking too, but I’m trying not to drink too much cause I gotta hold on to my wits. But I get an idea on my own, which is I keep on betting him beers on pool games, and at this point it’s just me and Caleb and the pool table cause Boomsma is over at the bar trying to chat up the one girl in the room, and she aint even that hot. And here I am, I keep on losing and losing, cause I’m throwin the games. I keep on sinking the eight ball and shit, playing like shit on purpose. So I let him win and win, and I keep going like, shit , dog, it aint my night, and Caleb, this greedy motherfucker can’t turn down free booze, especially if he feels like he won it off me. So I been going over to the bar and buying his ass beer after beer and then shot after shot when he switches to whiskey, and don’t get me wrong, Caleb’s a big dude and he’s a drunk anyway, so it takes a lot to get him good and shithoused but he gets there alright. And it’s like, not even nine yet, but here’s Caleb, and he thinks we’ve been having a grand old fuckin time and I guess he’s right, and here I am about to take a shot, and I’m lookin at the cue ball and the cue’s slidin in and outta my fingers like a dick in a pussy and that’s when I look up all sly and I see Caleb standing there like he’s ten sheets to the wind, and I see him put down his beer on the edge of a table, but he like half misses the table and the glass falls, and I don’t even remember if it broke or not all I remember is he tried to put his beer down and missed the fuckin table. And that is when I unload the plan on him. And it works like a motherfuckin charm , at least the first part does. I make my voice all quiet so he’s gotta lean in to hear me, and I look around the room like I’m being all like conspiratorial and I say, you still into yay? He leans back and he’s all like, yeah, every now and then, like he’s trying to play it cool, but he don’t have a very good poker face. See now this is the thing, Quinn (I say to Caleb). My old connection calls me up the other day and says check out all this shit we got. At first I say, naw, dog, I can’t get into that shit no more, I’m still on probation. And then he tells me how much and what price, and I freak out, right? Soon as he tells me what he’s selling this shit for I’m all like, the fuck ? cause at first I don’t believe him, I think he’s shittin me, but I say, I gotta