Page 22 of Last Mile

“Ah, after Edward Felson?”

My jaw dropped open in surprise . “You know Fast Eddie, the pool hustler?”

Samantha laughed. “Actually, it’s more like I know my Paul Newman, and since he played Fast Eddie in The Hustler and The Color of Money, I know the character.”

“I see.” Closing the gap between us, I asked, “How did you learn to play pool?”

“Uh, uh, uh. I believe by the rules of your game, I’m the one who gets to ask the question.”

I grunted in frustration. “Fine. Ask away.”

Samantha drummed her blood-red nails on the edge of the pool table. “Hmm, this is harder than I thought it would be. I feel a little pressure to not ask some bullshit question.”

“You can always forfeit and let me go.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy.”

“Damn. At least I tried.”

After momentarily closing her eyes, she opened them. “Okay. I have one.”

“I can’t wait to see what you came up with.”

“What’s something you’re good at that I wouldn’t be able to guess?”

With a smirk, I replied, “I don’t think you really want me to answer that.”

While I expected her to roll her eyes in exasperation when she got my meaning, she surprised me by pursing her lips. “I would think you being good at fucking would be a given. Right?”

I laughed. “Damn straight.”

“So, what’s something else— something that sets you apart from your MC brothers?”

After thinking for a moment, I answered, “Boxing.”

“Interesting.”

“I like to think so.”

“Do you do it as an amateur or professionally?”

“Professionally. Or I used to.”

“Why aren’t you doing it anymore?”

“Whoa, I thought this was a one-ball, one- question kinda thing?”

Samantha hopped up on the table edge as if she was settling in to hear a long story. Swinging her legs back and forth, she said, “I’ve never known any real- life boxers before, so you can’t fault me for being intrigued.”

I tapped the bottom of my cue stick on the floor. I had never talked to anyone outside the club or the gym about boxing. None of the women I had dated, or I guess I should say fucked, gave two shits about it. Mama Liz wanted nothing to do with it, considering that it was a blood sport that got her baby boy injured.

But for reasons I couldn’t possibly imagine, Samantha seemed seriously interested.

“The main reason I’m not doing it so much anymore is I’m ready to do something else. It doesn’t hold the same excitement for me that it once did. I guess you could say I want to do more with my life than beat the shit out of dudes.”

“I think wanting to do something else besides fighting is totally understandable— if not commendable. I’m just not sure how you’ll be able to do that with the lifestyle you’re in.”

“Why do you say that?”