Free Ms. Etta's Fast House by Victor McGlothin

“Something wrong, Seersucker?”
    â€œNaw, just remembering how I thought it was a shame when I heard about the killing is all.” He stared out of the window while a single thought ran laps in his head. “What about you, Mistah Floyd? Ever make a wager you couldn’t satisfy?”
    â€œYou thinking of trying me?” was Baltimore’s answer.
    â€œI’d rather leave you alone and broke like you did that dead fella’s wife.” The southerner stuffed all of his money into the side pocket directly in front of him. “If you can’t match it, I’ll play you for that prized coach of yours sitting out yonder.” He glanced out of the window again. “But you understand this. One of us is gon’ leave this place tonight.” Without questioning which place the man was referring to, Baltimore pitched in both his car keys and the stack of bills he’d won off Barker Sinclair.
    Seersucker studied Baltimore’s every move now that twelve hundred dollars and a new car lay in the balance. He watched as Baltimore opened the fancy alligator box, whistled a slow melody, slapped his hands together and then stroked at his wavy black hair. Then Baltimore doused his hands with talcum powder he’d taken from the case. Those pretty-boy antics ruffled Seersucker. “You ready yet or you gonna prance around all night?”
    With that said, Baltimore knew which place one of them would be leaving. “Naw, I’m done,” he said coarsely, taking two pieces of African ebony wood from the case. He glared at the man while screwing the top of one into the bottom of the other. He was not only prepared to rain harm down on Seersucker, he’d already decided it was justified. “Eight ball, corner pocket,” Baltimore called before the break.
    â€œYou crazy as a shit house rat for even thinking about trying that shot.”
    â€œWell, you’re half right,” Baltimore corrected him. He steadied his left hand on the table, cocked his right arm at the elbow then snapped his wrist forward. The cue ball crashed into the pack, scattering the other balls across the table. Blinky reappeared from underneath it. Seersucker’s condescending smirk faded as the black eight ball rolled toward the corner pocket. Just like that, the eight ball fell, the game was over and the man’s seven hundred dollars were gone.
    Baltimore huffed. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you got the hell away from my money.”
    â€œBut, that’s an impossible shot. Impossible!” the loser whined. “I don’t know how but you cheated me, you rotten bastard!”
    Infuriated, Baltimore marched toward him. Seersucker pulled a six-inch blade from his waistband. He jabbed at Baltimore twice before feeling the brunt of ebony wood smacking against his head just over the left eye. “I should end this right now but I’d hate to ruin all these good folks’ evenings,” Baltimore barked. He told Blinky to keep watch over his cash and then he grabbed a handful of Seersucker by the collar. Tossing him out in the back alley with his skull cracked opened was doing him a favor. “If I see you again, I’ma shoot you on sight. Understand that!” As the man writhed on the ground in pain, Baltimore gathered himself and headed back inside.
    After collecting his things, Baltimore dropped sixty dollars on the table where M.K. and Delbert were teetering on public intoxication. Ruth Anne and Belle were not far behind them. M.K. peered up with his eyes glazed over, a perplexed expression hung on his face. “Hey, y’all, it’s Baltimo’. Boy, where you been? Keeping Dinah company is a lot of work and the kinda job I don’t want.”
    â€œFellas, that ought to be enough wind to sail your ships right on into the dock, but I’ve gotta make some waves.” Baltimore extended his hand to Dinah, who frowned as if he’d held a dead fish