Chapter 158
“So he’s surrounded by these big guys all wearing dark shades, you know? Even though they’re inside. So right away, I know this guy means business, right?” A blonde girl with giant boobs giggled, and he stopped talking to admire her smile for a moment before he continued. “I didn’t want to ask too many questions, ’cause the last thing I want to do is be an accessory to a crime.” It was his shot, so he paused in his story and surveyed the pool table, trying to decide what would get this guy’s money in his own pocket the fastest.
Elliott always had to be aware of who was coming in the front door and who was coming in the back door. The latter usually wasn’t a problem, but as he lined up his shot, two guys walked in the front, and even though he’d never seen either one of them before, he instantly knew who one of them was. “These guys always travel in pairs,” he thought to himself and sunk the four ball into the side pocket. He moved to the next shot as Tony made a sound like a wounded puppy.
A few weeks after Jordan Findley died, Elliott had telephoned Janette, just to tell her he was sorry for her loss. She was a strong gal, that Janette, and even in the midst of her grief, she’d given him a sales pitch, trying to tell him that he really should consider coming to Kansas City, that he’d like it there. That he’d be happy for once. He’d laughed, knowing that was never going to be the case, not long term, anyhow.
She’d mentioned a new Leader, said Jordan had handpicked this guy to take over after he retired, and now he was going to step in a little early. While his track record sounded impressive the way that Janette talked about him, it wasn’t enough to make Elliott want to join their group. He’d gotten a better handle on the gambling recently, even though he still had plenty of people looking for him who didn’t realize yet that the pool player and the guy making the shady bets also ran the city’s most popular used car lot. While he was closer to thinking about it than he had ever been before, he had yet to pick up the phone and call her.
And when two members of the Tulsa team had stopped by his house a few weeks ago, he’d told them to go to hell, too. Even if they did seem to think Aaron McReynolds was the best thing since sliced bread. With butter. And jam.
This was him, Elliott was sure of it, though he really didn’t know why. This guy looked like a pro, maybe that was the reason. He didn’t look like some punk Guardian wandering in off of the streets, that’s for sure.
The girls immediately noticed. If a hunky male model had fallen out of one of their Vogue magazines onto the barroom floor, there couldn’t be a more attractive man at the establishment. Even from across the room, Elliott could make that assessment. Just his piercing blue eyes alone would have all of these girls shifting their allegiance in a half second if he didn’t get back to telling his story soon. He missed the shot so he could hold their attention as Mr. Gorgeous and his friend, who also wasn’t horrible looking, though Elliott had no idea who he was, closed in on him, ready to pounce as soon as he gave them a chance to speak.
He went back to his story about Vinny as many of the girls tried to listen but kept turning to look at the new arrivals. The second guy looked a little green, like this place wasn’t good enough for him, and Elliott decided he should draw the story out even longer just to see if he might throw up. Unfortunately, Tony missed another shot, and Elliott had to miss one, too, so he could finish up the story without losing too many of his adoring fans. The blonde with the boobs had moved on, and Elliott narrowed his eyes slightly at his opponent, even though he thought both guys were doing a really good job of sending out signals that they weren’t interested. Again, he thought if he talked long enough, maybe they’d take to holding hands or something to let the girls know they didn’t swing that way.
The thought made him chuckle, which seemed to make the guy he was sure was McReynolds think it was time to speak up. He slid between two of the women who seemed to have no problems letting him through if it meant they could rub up on him a little and quietly asked, “Can I talk to you a minute?”
It was Elliott’s shot, and he was pretty sure he could finish this game right here. “That depends. You play?” he asked. He took the next shot, sinking a ball into the side pocket and then another into the corner in one swoop.
He looked over at the newcomer, who looked very uneasy. “Not well.” A glance behind him showed his friend standing with his hands in his pockets, an expression of boredom on his face, though he thought that might be for the lady’s sake. “But I can try.”
Elliott chuckled. He had a feeling he’d pick it up real quick. He took the next shot and stood up to survey what he needed to do next as Tony cursed under his breath.
“I’m Aaron McReynolds.”
So this was the famed Guardian Leader. Elliott had to smile at his own ability to call ’em as he saw ’em. He glanced at the hand the man had extended and then back at his face before finally taking it and saying, “I know that. What I don’t know is why you’re here.” He moved around the pool table and lined up his next shot, people moving out of his way automatically. Aaron stayed behind him. “I told those last people no thanks. I’ll tell you the same thing.” He made the shot, leaving just one more ball. Tony looked like he might burst into tears at any moment.
Aaron let out a sigh as Elliott moved to position himself to sink the last ball. “Fair enough,” he said, across the table. “I’m here as a favor to a friend. She seems to think you might be able to help us out. Maybe we can help you, too. But if you don’t think that’s the case, that’s fine by me.”
Elliot took his final shot and the onlookers broke into a round of applause. Tony reluctantly handed over the money, and Elliott shoved into the pocket of his jean jacket before turning back to Aaron. “Tell you what. Why don’t you let me take some of your money first, and then we’ll see?” He had no intention of leaving here with the Guardian Leader, but he may as well line his pockets with his hard earned cash if he could.
