Henshaw was still making over how wonderful life was while ordering himself a drink. Harley seemed bored out of her mind and White looked very tense, yet Henshaw remained blissfully unaware of his companion's emotional states as he set up their usual pool table.
"This is what you guys spend your free time doing?" Harley asked White.
"Mostly," White replied shortly and without interest.
"Well, thank you," Harley commented flatly.
"Thank you?" White repeated, confused. "For what?"
"For reminding me why I'm with Mistah J. You two are boring as hell, just like everybody else."
"Our job isn't to entertain you and you can take those off in here if you want," White said, indicating her sunglasses.
"Maybe I wanna be entertained," Harley retorted as she removed the glasses. "Maybe I won't be so cooperative if I'm not. What do you say to that, tough guy?"
White pounded his fist on the table and leaned within inches of Harley's face. "Fine," he sneered. None of this seemed to disturb the woman. After all, she'd seen far worse. White stood up and walked to a dartboard hanging on the wall. He yanked out the three darts lodged in the board and returned to Harley. "Wanna play?" he asked with a fake smile.
"Thrilling," she said sarcastically as she rose from her seat and took the darts from his hand.
"I thought we were going to play pool," Henshaw complained.
"Shut up, Henshaw," White said bitterly, and then turned to Harley. "You know how to play?"
"I hit the stupid target. What's to know?" She threw her first dart. It hit somewhere above the board and to the left. Henshaw stifled a laugh. "That was my first try!" Harley scolded him. She took better care of her stance, concentrated harder and threw the second dart, but she had overcompensated and it hit below the board and to the right. Frustrated, she took the last dart and mimicked throwing it a couple of times as practice, and then let it fly. It bounced off the outer plastic rim of the board.
Henshaw couldn't restrain himself now and had doubled over in laughter, howling, "Didn't hit it once!"
White wasn't laughing though. Not at all. "You have no aim," he realized in shock.
Harley turned to him and stamped her foot. "I've never played darts before! I can get better," she insisted and went to retrieve the darts for another try.
White wasn't paying attention to her though. He had jumped behind the counter, greatly upsetting the bartender, and went to the trashcan to remove the bag and its contents before returning to the other side of the bar. "Henshaw, grab that table and bring it to the roof," he instructed while holding the trash bag in one hand.
"White, have you fuckin' lost it?" Henshaw asked.
"She has no aim!" he exclaimed as though this was some sort of explanation. Henshaw didn't think arguing the matter would do much so he turned one of the many round tables in the room on its side and started rolling it to the stairs that led to the second floor and then the roof.
"You can't take my stuff!" the bartender protested.
"Cool it, Pops. We'll bring it back," White said as he took Harley by the wrist with this free hand and ascended the stairs behind Henshaw.
"Well, we're on the roof," Henshaw commented as they emerged behind him.
White indicated a spot near the edge of the building. "Put the table over there." As Henshaw moved the table, White began digging through the trash bag and removed five empty glass bottles. Then he took them to the table Henshaw had set up. Harley simply watched, curious to see what was going to happen.
"You gonna tell me what this is all about or not?" Henshaw asked irritably.
White removed the gun from his belt and pointedly waved it in front of Henshaw's face as he slowly explained, "She. Can't. Aim." Then he started setting the bottles in a row on the table.
"OH!" Henshaw understood now. "Jesus, where'd the boss pick her up anyway?"
"Didn't you even listen to that news broadcast?" White asked.
"No…not really," Henshaw admitted.
White rolled his eyes. "She's a doctor…or was a doctor. I keep sayin' she doesn't know what the hell she's doin'."
"Holy shit, how'd a doctor get messed up with the boss?"
"I don't know and I don't care. Right now I'm just worried about takin' a bullet in the back because she can't take care of herself." White returned to Harley's side and took her to the far end of the building with Henshaw close behind. He handed her his gun. "Now, hit those bottles."
Harley knew her own shortcomings and looked nervous. "I…Aren't we a little far?"
White took the gun back from her, aimed, and shot toward the table five times. Four of the bottles shattered with only one left standing.
"Four out of five. Not bad," Henshaw complimented. White handed him the gun and Henshaw took out the remaining bottle.
"Looks like we're close enough to me," White said as he reloaded the gun. Henshaw raced to the trash bag, pulled out another five bottles, and quickly replaced the shattered ones on the table.
The commotion of gunfire had roused the bartender who sprinted up the stairs to the roof as fast as he could. "What the hell is going on out here?" he demanded.
"Nothin' for you to worry about," White reassured him. "Just some target practice."
The bartender didn't seem to want to get involved any further, especially with gunplay involved. "There better not be any nicks on my table," was his final comment as he returned to his post.
After he had left, Henshaw teased, "Please! Like he'd be able to tell one way or another in that dump. This table is already shot to hell." White grinned at the comment as he handed the gun to Harley once again.
Harley closed one eye and carefully trained her sight on one of the bottles before her with intense concentration. She pulled the trigger. The bullet burst forth and whizzed past Henshaw, who was standing a slight distance from the table, ready to replace bottles. Henshaw froze, realizing how close the bullet had come to his head.
"She tried to shoot me!" he exclaimed.
"Were you aiming for Henshaw?" White asked her.
"No," she sighed in disappointment.
"Too bad. That would have been a pretty good shot," he commented. "You okay?" he called to Henshaw.
"Yeah," Henshaw replied as he walked across the building, dragging the trash bag. "But I'm standing over here with you guys from now on."
"Alright," White returned to Harley. "Show me your stance." Harley did as instructed, happy that someone was willing to take the time to instruct her.
"First thing you should do is open both eyes…" and the lesson continued from there. By the time they had finished for the night, she could tell her aim was getting closer. She had even hit the table a few times. Fortunately, as Henshaw predicted, the bartender didn't notice a single mark.