Page 44 of Third Time’s a Charm

The crowd is a rowdy, joyous wave as it exits the theatre, sweeping us up with them.

“You’d never seen that before, had you?” Louise whispers.

She must see the surprise on my face. Or maybe it’s guilt.

“I could tell by your reactions. Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else noticed.”

“I just never got around to it, I guess. But I really enjoyed it.”

“Good,” Louise says with a grin as she hooks her arm through mine and we make our way down the street to the local bowling club, where Louise booked us a table for dinner. Apparently, they’ve stayed open late especially for the movie event, and even have a Priscilla-themed menu for the evening.

We’ve barely finished eating when an old guy we’ve never even met is dragging us out of our chairs and down the street to the pub for the promised rematch.

If the whole town got dressed up and came out to see the movie, they’ve also come to the pub to celebrate the birth of Trevor Junior. And, as it turns out, to see me beat Eddie at darts.

If I’d known last night that he’s the district champion, I might have thought twice about challenging him. Not because I didn’t think I could win. I watched his style when he beat the other guys. I knew I could take him. But because I’d never want to humiliate anyone. I’m lucky he took it as well as he did.

“Pommy Bastard!” Eddie yells, wrapping me in a bear hug that lifts me off my feet as Louise and I walk into the main bar. “Get the man a drink,” he shouts at the barman, who is filling jugs of beer from a tap with one hand and pouring trays of shots with the other.

Beating him tonight might be even easier. He’s definitely been celebrating the birth of his nephew. If he can hit the board at all, I’ll be surprised.

“Nah. Play better when I’m munted,” he says when I suggest a rematch tonight might not be the best idea. But he makes no move towards the board, handing me and Louise shot glasses of what turns out to be vodka.

Someone turns up the jukebox, which is loaded with a weird combination of country tracks and eighties dance music. Louise is in her element, as the mile-wide smile on her face and the rhythmic lifting of her shoulders and swaying of her hips confirm.

Trays of shots get passed around. Toasts to Trevor, his wife, and Trevor Junior are made.

Tables are moved to the walls to make room for the crowd.

“Trev’s gonna be so pissed off he missed this,” Eddie yells in my ear before sculling another shot.

“Do you think giving Eddie sharp implements tonight is a good idea?” Louise whispers against my ear, so close her lips brush the helix, sending a quick shot of electricity somewhere it shouldn’t be.

She’s right, though. He’s listing to the left.

“Just stay well clear.” I direct her a little away.

“Not a chance. I’m getting you on my phone this time.” She nudges me with her shoulder. A shoulder bared by the narrow straps of her costume. My gaze roams her smooth skin, dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg freckles, before dropping to the swell of her breasts exposed by the neckline of her dress. I can’t keep my eyes off her.

My throat seizes. I need water. There’s none around, so what I get is another shot as Louise gives me a flirty look and steps away with a flick of her train, to aim her phone at Eddie and me.

Two games in, we’re tied. I blame my poor performance on distraction, courtesy of Louise. But Eddie is getting increasingly unsteady on his feet. Not that I’m entirely sober myself.

I’m just about to suggest we call time on the game when someone who’s clearly seen this play before yells, “Timber!”

As one, the whole crowd steps back from the big man.

Eddie sways once, twice, and then, with a pirouette any ballerina would be proud of, falls flat on his back, the two darts he was clutching rolling harmlessly out of his hand.

The crowd cheers and closes in around him.

Louise, cheeks flushed, hair askew, roars laughing.

“I hope he didn’t break anything!” she squeals.

“Nah, Eddie’s made of rubber. He’ll be right.” The barman shakes his head as he and a couple of burly blokes drag Eddie into the corner, roll him onto his side in the recovery position, and leave him there.

The country songs disappear from the jukebox and everyone, even the grizzled old blokes who’ve been holding up the bar, hit the makeshift dance floor. I try to move to the side of the room, but Louise is having none of it.