Hate the Game
Dallas swiped the long, blond hair off his forehead and tucked some of it behind his ear as he leaned over the pool table in the smoky back room of Buck's farmhouse-turned-bar-and-house-of-ill-repute and lined up his shot. He had been playing singles against two alternating cowboys from out of town that he had met earlier in the day at the rodeo. The betting had been just for a couple dollars here and there and Dallas had been winning just slightly more than he was losing. Then again, that was kind of the point. No one wanted to know they were being hustled before all their money was gone. And he knew that he had a pretty long stretch ahead of him if he planned on emptying both the men's wallets before the end of the night.
It had just so happened that one of the cowboys, Russell, had cleaned up in the bull riding category and Dallas had come in place in his race, winning a nice bit of cash for himself. That didn't stop him from wanting more, though, and hustling pool was an easy way for him to make it, especially with new marks in town that would be gone by the end of the weekend, broke and with their tails between their legs from being beat by a teenage punk.
"I'm sick of this two dollar shit we been doing for the past hour," the tall, charcoal-haired cowboy with the black boots and black hat said over the twangy sound of country music blaring from the jukebox out in the main bar area as he leaned against the side of the table, resting his hand on the table and effectively stopping Dallas' shot. He had a little bit of a strut to his walk and lean that made Dallas wonder what made him tick. Not to mention the way the man's dark eyes moved over Dallas' lanky frame while he was leaning there with his long legs crossed at the ankles. It was just shy of being a leer.
The teen stood back up straight and he let the stick bounce up and down on its heavy end next to his boot while he stared at the man and waited for the inevitable offer of a higher wager. Some of these guys were too predictable. Dallas cocked an eyebrow and bit the inside of his cheek and studied the man for a moment before turning his head nonchalantly to check out the heavy crowd throughout the dimly lit party house. He recognized most of the guys and women from all the time he spent at Buck's, and some he just knew were visiting from the rodeo. They were rowdier. Louder. Wilder. They acted that way anyway, which made Dallas' wild side itch to compete and find out just how tough they were.
Dallas finished scanning the scene surrounding him, reminded himself that he was doing business right here, and settled his gaze back on Russell. "So what do you want to do? I've been kicking your ass all over the table all night, don't forget."
Russell snickered and pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his dusty blue jeans. He opened it, showing off all those glorious bills he had in there. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and laid it on the green felt top of the billiards table, his long, ringed fingers pulling away from it slowly. He looked Dallas square in the eyes and spoke confidently. "I wouldn't say that you've been kicking my ass. Sure, you've won a few, but twenty bucks says you miss this shot."
Dallas had made this cut shot hundreds of times and he was certain he wouldn't miss it this time either, even if it was a tough one for most people. Except that he now planned to completely mess it up so that he could go double or nothing on the next shot that he would set his ball up for against the cocky bastard. He nodded and his hair slipped out from behind his ear. He caught Russell watching his movements with interest. He impatiently tucked the hair back and tapped the guy's leg with his stick to get him off the edge of the table.
"You got it. No way I'm gonna miss this, though," he lied and leaned over to line it up again.
He tapped the cue ball just a hair off from exactly where he should have to make it hit the twelve ball so it would go into the corner pocket off the bank smoothly, and instead, it hit the corner edge of the pocket and bounced away from its intended destination. Hs ball was currently surrounded by three of his opponent's balls and that was exactly how he wanted it.
"Fuck!" Dallas swore to appeared pissed off, but it was nothing more than a perfectly crafted ruse. He ruefully pulled a twenty dollar bill from his own wallet and laid it on the table on top of the other bill. He kept his hand over the two bills and glanced up at the other man, trying to appear desperate, as if losing the money was a major deal to him. "I have another deal. How about we double or nothing if I can bank that twelve off the rail and put it back into the same corner pocket that I just missed?"
Russell's friend, the other cowboy Dallas thought he heard was named Douglas, laughed harshly and shook his head. "Are you kidding? It ain't even your turn now, kid. Pay up."
"You can see I did pay up," Dallas replied impatiently, giving Douglas a glare. "I'm just offering another angle to this bet. And it ain't really up to you because it ain't your game, now is it?"
Dallas could feel his blood beginning to boil at being interrupted in his scheme, but he pulled himself together just enough to try and not lose his cool. He ignored the grunt Douglas aimed at him and set his sights back on Russell again, who was letting his beady eyes wander over Dallas' frame again. He waited until the man's gaze made it back up to his eyes again and Dallas shrugged at him questioningly. "So what do you think, man? Double or nothing?"
There was definitely something a little left of center going on with Russell and he could feel it in the man's gaze, especially after catching him checking him out more than once. Maybe there was another way to get this guy's money without having to pretend he sucked at pool. Dallas loved chicks, first and foremost, but if this dandy was able to be played another way, Dallas was sure that he would be able to steel himself to handle it. Lord knew that it wouldn't be the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
He walked over to where Russell and Douglas were sitting on wooden barstools next to the slab of wood Buck had drilled into the wall as a makeshift bar, and reached between them to grab the cigarette pack next to Russell's hand. He leaned in a little so the side of his leg brushed against Russell's thigh, testing the waters, and he smiled up at him. "Can I bum one of these while you make up your mind?"
Russell struck a match when Dallas put the cigarette between his lips without affirmation that he could bum one, and the blond leaned over to allow him to light it. A smirk tilted the left side of the man's lip up and he looked once at the table before nodding at Dallas. "Go ahead. I'll take your bet. But I'll up the ante if you miss this one."
"You're a fool, Russ," Douglas grumbled as he stood up from his seat and quickly downed the shot he had sitting on the bar. He glared at Dallas who was now leaning over the table once again as he spoke. "I'm going back to the motel now. I don't need to stick around to know what happens next. Don't be too late because we're taking off at first light with or without you."
"See ya," Dallas said as he sunk his ball into the pocket and grabbed the forty dollars off the table in the blink of an eye. He was more than glad to see Douglas go, especially when the man purposely bumped his shoulder as he walked past him. "Asshole."
Russell stood up, too and Dallas though he was going to follow his friend, but the man came over to him and stuck his hand out to give Dallas another twenty dollar bill. After Dallas shoved the money into his pocket, Russell put out his hand again to shake. Dallas took it tentatively, but he figured it was the least he could do since he just scammed the guy out of forty bucks.
"I knew you could make that first shot," Russell smiled knowingly at him while gripping his hand like a vise and yanking him slightly off balance. "I just wanted to see if you were the hustler I imagined you were. Everything is a game to you, huh, kid? Maybe the ponies ain't a game to you. You ride real well."
The last part was said with obvious undertones that Dallas knew he could cash in on if he played his cards right. He yanked his hand away and squared his shoulders, trying to look taller than he was. He refused to admit a damn thing about hustling, and he'd be damned if he was about to be seen by everybody who knew him with this guy trying to bust his hand and him not doing anything about it just because he had an ulterior motive. "I'm just a better pool player than you, Russ. That's all it is."
"You're a player alright, but I don't think pool is really your game now is it?" Russell asked, taking a step closer to Dallas with that gaze roaming all over him again. "Is there somewhere where we can go talk?"
Fuck, Dallas thought as he glanced around the room once again. He didn't need anyone seeing this shit getting started and it appeared everyone was too busy playing poker, dancing or just drinking to notice shit that he was getting up to. His nerves were on high alert now that he told himself that he would go through with the evil, wicked plan he had hatched the moment he noticed that Russell was devouring him with his eyes. He just had to force himself to remember how fat the man's wallet was, and that he would knock the guy for a loop before he was able to get too friendly with him. All that money would be his and he'd never see Russell again. You can fucking do this, Winston.
Dallas grabbed his denim jacket off the back of the chair some girl that he didn't know was currently planted on, and he headed toward the stairs to go up to one of the rooms Buck rented out. For once, he would actually be able to pay the man for his stay if he had planned on staying overnight. He glanced back and nodded his head for Russell to follow him and waited on the top landing until the man did, casually, sauntering out of the pool room and up the wooden steps.
Room number three was at the far end of the dimly lit hallway and Dallas led the way, opening the door quietly to peer inside to make sure it wasn't being occupied. "Come in here."
Time seemed to move at once too fast and in slow motion when Russell followed Dallas into the room and closed and locked the door behind them. He pushed Dallas hard in the middle of his back and onto the twin bed that sat against one wall. The teen's jacket fell to the floor and he flipped over quickly and watched Russell quickly remove his cowboy hat and fling it onto the one chair in the opposite corner of the small room. Then all his attention was on Dallas as he fell hard on top of him on the bed.
He shoved the thin t-shirt up Dallas' slim torso before those ringed fingers roamed over skin that hadn't ever been handled like this before. His shaggy, dark hair had fallen into his eyes with the removal of his hat and he smelled like smoke, hay and whatever sickening cologne was left over on Russell's sticky skin after the rodeo. Dallas closed his eyes tightly and tried to pretend it was a girl touching him to try and get through this game. Pretending did nothing, though since Russell was grunting and groping and his hands were rough and calloused and hard.
Dallas tried to move, but he was being practically smothered by the much larger man before his wrists were suddenly pinned above his head with one heavy grip, and a wet mouth covered his with kisses that were too sloppy and brusque on his own. That was about the moment Dallas began to panic, which really and truly freaked him out because he never panicked. He thought he could handle this but he had no concept of just how strong and aggressive Russell would become when he got him alone in a room where no one could see or hear.
In fact, the only thing Dallas could hear beyond the panting and grunting going on in the room was the sound of more, shitty, country music and people's rowdy hoots and hollers. No one would hear him if he even dared to scream for help, which he wouldn't anyway. The last thing he needed was anyone knowing about Dallas Winston upstairs in a room alone with some strange guy. Even if no one would believe it, the rumors would go around, get twisted and turned around, and his reputation would be tarnished forever. Even with anxiety filling him up, he knew better than to make any kind of noise that would get him noticed.
Adrenaline coursed through Dallas and woke up every fiber of his being when Russell's free hand scratched down his side and went for his belt buckle. He struggled and got hit in the face with the hand that had been holding his arms up and just as quickly, his wrists were restrained again. He tried to use his body to shove the man off him and got his lip bit hard enough that he tasted blood. Finally, he realized through his fog of fear and distress that his legs were trapped between Russell's legs and he knew what he needed to do.
With a forced focus, Dallas began to kiss Russell back with a desperation that must have seemed like desire to the older man if the mounting groans were anything to go by. He silenced his mind of the fear he felt and let his body relax while he allowed Russell to manipulate him. Just when Dallas couldn't take another second of being mauled like this, and Russell lifted just slightly off him, he arched his back under him and curled his middle up hard as he raised one knee with all his might to strike the man square in the nuts.
Dallas' hands were let go of and Russell rolled off him, swearing and hollering and grabbing his balls through his jeans. Quickly, the blond jumped off the bed and grabbed a ceramic pitcher that was sitting on top of the small table next to the bed. He swung it toward the bed and hit Russell in the shoulder with it before swinging again and hitting him hard enough in the side of the head to feel the pitcher shatter in his hand while the man was still reeling from the kick and the first swing. He didn't know if he killed him or just knocked him out but he didn't care either way, really. He was just glad that shit was over with.
His breath came in gasps and he desperately needed something to quench his thirst and get the taste of that perverted fucking cowboy out of his mouth. But first, he was going to get his loot. He didn't put himself through this shit for nothing.
Dallas glared down at Russell to make sure he was unconscious before reaching toward his back pocket and maneuvering his wallet out of it. He opened it quickly, pulled all the bills out, and shoved them in his back pocket before throwing the wallet on the bed next to the lanky cowboy.
"That'll teach you, you fucking asshole," Dallas breathed out between clenched teeth before he grabbed his jacket off the floor, put it on and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.
He turned to walk to the door and opened it just a crack to check that no one was wandering the hallway or lurking on the steps before he exited the room and the loud 'whoop' of a drunk partier on the first floor made him jump slightly. He was just about to take a step out of the room but he turned around again. He left the door open while he spun on his heel and walked over to the chair to pick up the black Stetson that Russell had been wearing all night. Dallas tucked his t-shirt back in and straightened his denim jacket before settling the hat on his own head. He felt that he was owed a souvenir, and now he would look like a real cowboy when he went to the rodeo.
Dallas didn't look back as he sauntered out of the room with his pocket full of cash and a new hat on his head. His breathing had evened out as he trotted down the steps, only stopping at the bar for a moment to throw a couple bucks on the bar for the beer he ordered. He took a swig before he pushed through the crowd to get to the front door as confidently as he could manage, ignoring everyone. He trotted down the front steps of the big, old, farmhouse and made his way across the gravel driveway toward the line of trees that led down onto the street.
"You alright, Winston?" A hard voice too close behind him made him almost jump out of his skin but he hid it well considering how frayed his nerves had become in the past half hour. He hadn't even notice that he had been followed. He turned to find Tim Shepard standing not five feet away with his arms crossed over his chest and a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Dallas shrugged, took another gulp of his beer, and sneered at his sometimes friend. "I'm straight, yeah."
"Nice hat," Tim nodded towards Dallas with a stoic expression on his hard face. "I didn't happen to see that bull rider you were hustling walk out of there tonight. Just his buddy earlier."
He fucking knows. How does he always know my fucking business?
"Yeah?" Dallas replied icily and glanced up at the bright stars in the clear night sky. "I didn't notice. But then I mind my own business just like you should learn how to do."
Tim nodded at him once, and his hands dropped to his sides. Those dark eyes of his seemed to look right into Dallas' soul with their intensity. "He didn't hurt you too bad, did he?"
"Are you fucking kidding me? Do I look fucking hurt to you?" Dallas barked out and got right up in Tim's face; so close he could smell the peppermint gum his friend was chewing while he smoked and the sweet perfume of whatever girl had been hanging all over him lingering on his leather jacket. It was familiar to Dallas and it helped to temper the fear he had been feeling, but no one needed to know how scared he had been up in that room, least of all Shepard. "That motherfucker was no match for me and I settled the score, so just keep your mouth shut, okay?"
Tim didn't flinch at the close proximity. "One of these days you ain't gonna have no tricks up your sleeve, Winston, and someone's gonna settle your score for you."
Dallas knew Tim wouldn't say anything and if he were anyone else, he may have appreciated Tim's concern. But he wasn't anyone else, and he didn't appreciate the concern … much. "Like I said, mind your business."
The two stared at each other for a long moment before Tim took a step back and turned to go back into Buck's. "I'll see ya, Winston."
"Yeah," Dallas replied curtly as he headed back toward the street.
He took a last slug from his beer bottle and flung it into the trees before he hoofed it in the direction of the Curtis house. He intended to sleep of this nightmare of an evening. As he lit a cigarette, he realized his hands were still shaking and he decided that he would never be taken down by fear or weakness. He had proven that tonight. He also proved to himself that he wouldn't play games like he had tonight no matter how much he could walk away with because what if Tim was right and he hadn't made it out in one piece?
Dallas Winston was tough but there was always someone tougher and he refused to feel that kind of fear and helplessness ever again.
Thanks so much to Christian for giving me the idea for this piece and for looking over it for me! Reviews are appreciated and encouraged. :)