By Brian MacGowan
I was down at the pub shooting pool, I had just sunk my last ball scoring myself $500. I raised my arms like a prizefighter yelling “Yeah! That’s the way it’s done.” Walking around the table I grabbed up the cash and just waved it in the guy's face. “Thank you for your contribution.”
Next thing I knew someone shoved a beer into my hand. Hey, I’m not going to give up a free drink. I downed half the glass without even stopping to breathe. I was on fire that night. Raising my arms once again, like Rocky Balboa, I announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, is there anyone else who wants to give me their hard earned money?” I spun around looking at the faces around me. The wimps, no one wanted to play me.
I finished off my beer while looking around the bar; all night long there was some guy sitting in one of the corner booths. He was dressed all in black, like some Don Mafioso. He had been talking to a couple of other Dons, but now he was by himself nursing a whiskey.
I walked up to his table, he ignored me like I was a nobody. But hey, I just won 500 bucks! He must have heard the cheers. Getting tired of standing there I slammed my pool stick across the table in front of him. “Hey you!”
He didn’t even flinch. All he did was stare at the cue stick and then put his glass down. Finally, he looked up at me. His eyes were...I don't know. It was like looking into an empty grave. I probably should have just backed off, but my balls wouldn’t let me.
Giving him my best tough guy stance, I said, “I’ve been watching you. You look like a pool player. Wanna give it a go?”
He just looked at me as if I was a gnat. He half smiled at me, turned back to his drink and then said, “I think not.”
Bullshit! He was a player. “Come on.” I pulled the wad out of my pocket and dropped it on the table, “I’ll give you two to one odds.” fire was running through my veins, so I wasn’t worried. There was no way that I was going to lose.
The guy just looked down and kinda laughed, “I don’t play for cash,” he said in a snooty tone.
Yeah, right. That suit he was wearing was expensive. He needs cash, and lots of it. I wanted to play him now more than ever. “What d’ya want, then?”
He just picked up his glass. He didn’t even look at me, he just spoke over the top of his drink. “What do you have that I might want?”
What the hell type of question was that? I’m thinking, I have cash, who doesn’t want that? I was trying to goad him into playing. So I just gave him a whatever shrug and said, “I never lose, because I have heart.” And that was no lie, I put my heart into every game that I play. Without heart, you’re nothing.
“Your heart, you say?” That seemed to spark him up. I swear his eyes changed and he gave me this...smile. It was just creepy. Then he said, “That, I will take.”
I stood there trying to figure out what the hell he was saying. “What? What do you mean?” I was confused.
Then he pointed to my chest and said, “Your heart. We’ll play for your heart.”
Whoa there buddy. “My heart?” I sneered at him. “You mean like a lover? Because I’m not into that.” I admit, he was a good looking, but I don’t do guys.
The Don finished his drink then stood up. He held out his hand. “Let me introduce myself, I am Damien Onyx. And you are?”
I took his hand, “Jimmy. Jimmy DeFalco.” He had a firm, confident grip. I gripped his hand harder.
He increased the pressure on my hand. “Well Mr. DeFalco, it’s simple.” Then he spoke to me like I was a kid. “I want your heart. The one beating inside of your chest.”
I just laughed, “Yeah sure.” I looked around to see who else heard this. “But what do I get when I beat you?”
He gave me this one eyebrow lift look at me, “Well, if you should happen to win, you get to keep your heart.” His expression changed to pure seriousness. “I would think that would be incentive enough. But if you want something more tangible,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled out this enormous money clip. He just casually looked at it. “You can have this. Which is more than you will ever see hustling pool.”
My God, there must have been at least 10Gs there. I slapped him on the shoulder. “Deal.”
He gestured toward the table like some high and mighty big shot. I walked up like I was the king of the block. I was going to enjoy taking him for all he was worth.
When we got to the tables, I threw one arm over his shoulder. He cringed under me, but I didn’t care; I was going to be rich. Turning to the crowd I announced, “My good friend Damien here, is going to challenge me for my heart.” I put my hand on my chest. “But I get his dough!” I couldn’t help but smile. I grabbed up a beer and chugged it down, slamming the empty glass onto the table.
Damien came up to the table, running his hand over the rail, as if he was brushing dirt off of it. “Since I have been challenged, I choose eight-ball. The best of fifteen racks.”
I tried to hide a smile. What a sucker, I could run racks all night long. The crowd around the table cheered. This was going to be easy.
He reached into his pocket again pulling out his money clip; he held it out for everyone to see. “I believe it is customary to put the wager on the table before the game begins.” The crowd gasped when they saw how much dough was up for grabs.
Damien just looked at me, like he was expecting me to do something. I spun around pretending to pull my heart out of my chest. Then, smiling, I smacked my hand down on the edge of the table beside the money. The crowd laughed.
Apparently, my new best friend wasn’t impressed. Damien came up to me and put his left hand on my back. “Let me help.”
Holy fuck! My chest felt like it was about to explode. I was in so much pain I could hardly breathe. Eventually all I could do was throw my head back and let out a “Gahhhhhh!” I looked down and the guy’s hand was inside of my chest. Everyone in the bar was freaking out. Some people ran for the door, a bunch of them puked their guts out, others just stared. I could feel his hand on my heart, he was squeezing it, playing with it like he was choosing a tomato. I thought that the pain couldn’t get any worse; he gave a quick twist his hand. I felt and heard a sickly ripping sound. He then slowly pulled his hand out of my chest. I started hyperventilating; there in his hand was my beating heart.
I looked down; blood was oozing from my chest. How the fuck was I not dead?
With a wet slurp, he put my heart on the edge of the table beside the money. I could see and feel my heart beating rapidly.
Damien just looked at me, casually licking blood from his fingers. “Are we going to play? Or do you forfeit?”
I just stood there, dumbfounded, trying to figure out what was happening. A cold sweat enveloped my body. All I could do was stare around the room; everyone was just frozen in place...like those people in Pompeii.
Out of the corner of my mind, all muffled, I heard Damien sigh. “Oh for the love of all things unholy.” His cold fingers were on my forehead; something moved through my mind, and then it was gone. My thinking was clear again, like nothing ever happened. Studying my heart, I was fascinated by its beating. I looked up at Damien. “Am I...dead?”
“No, but wagers must be placed on the table,” Damien said as he went to the wall rack of pool cues. He picked up a cue, sighting down its length. “When you are ready, you may break.”
I’ll tell you, all of those people not moving, it was freaky. It was like they were living statues. “What about them?” I said pointing around the room.
He just shrugged it off like it was an everyday thing. “They’ll be fine. Most likely traumatized, but still alive.”
I really didn’t want to touch anyone, some of them were crowding the table. I wiggled my way around a couple of them to get to the end of the table.
Looking annoyed, Damien went around the table touching the people who were in our way. They just crumbled to dust. Poof, they were gone. Damien looked at me, one eyebrow raised and a slight smile. “Oh dear. These ones, won’t be so fine.”
I glanced down at the piles of dust thinking, “Did I know these people? Where’s Tina? What about Mark?”
Picking up the cue ball, I placed it in my favorite position, about midway to the left of center, just slightly behind the line. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my heart beating. Taking a deep breath, slowly letting it out, I watched my heart slow down. Closing my eyes, I took a cleansing breath to center myself. Opening my eyes, I pulled back on the cue, and then rapidly sent it forward, squarely striking the cue ball. The ball flew down the table making a clean break, pocketing two balls. Making my way around the table, I pocketed more balls. Within minutes the table cleared. I racked another set of balls, then ran the table again and again.
At first I was careful to avoid the dust piles of people. It just felt wrong to step in them, like I was violating them. By my fourth rack, it was tough shit for them. I was having a great run; making shots that I never made before. Their ashes just became part of the regular dirt on the floor. I was smoking those balls and that was all that mattered.
While I was running the racks, Damien just sat there quietly watching me, like he didn’t have a care in the world. At one point, probably out of boredom, he wandered around the room looking at the frozen people. He broke a hand off one guy. He just chuckled to himself saying, “Now, he’s going to be in for a surprise.”
On my eighth, and final rack, Damien was still moving around the room. He stopped by some tough looking biker dude. The guy had been running for the door, but he was looking back at where we were. Damien looked at the guy’s face. He got mad, then growled, “You!”
He scared the crap out of me; I almost miscued. Damien tapped the guy on the forehead, bringing him back to life. Well, at least his head, the rest of him was still frozen. For a tough biker, he looked like he was scared shitless. His face was sweating; his eyes were bulging out of his head. Damien got real close to the guy’s face and said, “I told you that if I ever saw you again, I would have your balls.” He then reached down to the guy’s crotch, grabbed him and then slowly squeezed. I could see the pain on the guy’s face, his mouth was open but he couldn’t say anything. Damien stopped. “I have changed my mind. I have no need for your balls.” Relief showed on the biker’s face. “And neither do you.” Damien gave a quick twist of his wrist. The wet popping sound of the guy’s nuts made my stomach churn. I could almost feel it myself.
Damien turned to me. “I do apologize for that unpleasant business. It interrupted your run.” He waved at the table. “Please continue.”
Looking toward the edge of the table, I tried to calm my wildly beating heart. Deep breaths, deep breaths. You’ve got this. After rebuilding my confidence with some easy shots, there were just three balls were left on the table. I went for a bank shot, one that I had made many, many times before. Like a cocky bastard, I fired the cue ball down the table.
Oh, Fuck!
I collapsed on the table, my run over. All I could hope for is that he has a lesser run than me.
Damien gathered up the balls for his first rack, “It appears Jimmy, that your run has ended.”
My heart was beating feverishly; I could feel it palpitating. I was surprised that it stayed on the table.
All that I could do was sit there, stupefied, as Damien ran rack after rack. The clacking of the pool balls in sync with the beating of my heart.
“Eighth rack Jimmy,” Damien announced. This break was his most powerful, pocketing almost half of the balls. He quickly ran the table as if he couldn’t wait for the end. “Last ball Jimmy,” he confidently dropped it into a side pocket.
Oh Christ no! I stood up. “N-n-now what?” I stammered.
Damien picked up his money clip. “Tell you what Jimmy, we’ll split the pot.” He tossed the wad of cash toward me. “You can have that, but the heart is mine.”
He picked up my heart, squeezing it. “Do you feel that Jimmy?”
Feeling his hand on my heart, I nodded, “Please, please don’t.” I clutched at my chest where my heart should be. He kept squeezing and relaxing his hand, changing my heart rate. My eyes started to fluttered, my mind becoming foggy.
“How about this Jimmy?” Damien licked my heart. I felt his tongue running over the surface and down into the open aorta.
My eyes rolled back, I crashed to the floor, convulsing. Jesus please make it stop. Damien continued manipulating and licking my heart. My breathing became ragged. He then stopped. Oh, thank God. My heart slowing came into somewhat normal rhythm. My convulsions subsided, sweat poured from my body.
Opening my eyes, Damien was standing over me. He was still holding my heart, but at least he wasn’t playing with it anymore.
This started out as a simple game of pool. How was I to know it would it would turn into a life or death situation. I just wanted out of there. I shouldn’t have challenged him. I should have just backed off when I had the chance.
Fumbling for the money clip, holding it out, I gasped, “Please, please,” Oh God it hurt. “Please. Take it back.” Dropping the clip drop to my side, I swallowed hard. “What do you want?” I was struggling to speak. “Name it.”
Damien bent down on his haunches like some sort of beast. He held out my rapidly beating heart for me to see. I closed my eyes; I could still feel his hands holding it, subtly manipulating it, caressing it.
“I’ve already told you. I want your heart.” He didn’t even look at me, all he could do was look at my heart, like...like it was a piece of fruit. Then he licked his lips and said, “And I’m hungry.”
What the Fuck! He’s hungry? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
He opened his mouth, fangs protruded from his upper teeth. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. He bit down on my heart like it was an apple. Ripping a chunk of it away. Gah! My jaw locked tight as pain shot through me. Spasms racked my body, my lungs gasped for air. I struggled to look at Damien. Blood, my blood, was running from the corners of his mouth. He was chewing thoughtfully like he was some type of gourmet chef.
“I must say Jimmy,” he held my heart out again, looking at it appreciatively, “this is delightfully tasty.”
He took another bite. My life force was draining. My vision gone. My hearing fading, but I could still him chewing, swallowing.
“Good-bye Mr. DeFalco. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
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