A/N: the words I used in this chapter are pool, honor, and missing. The holiday is International Beer Day, August 4.
This chapter takes place around the time of Sum in the Parts of a Whole, which showed us Booth and Brennan's first case. I may have fudged the time frame a little bit but we all know that Bones time is fluid, so I just went with it.
Some gross language in this chapter...
It was late on a hot, sticky August night in DC…not exactly the kind of evening for a pleasant stroll, but Seeley Booth had to get out of his apartment. It felt like the walls had been closing in on him, and he couldn't sit around anymore and allow himself to go stir-crazy. He knew he had to scratch that old itch, or he'd never be able to relax enough to get any rest.
He grumbled to himself as he made his way through the narrow sidewalks that led away from his place. He knew he shouldn't give in so easily. He knew he should make more of an effort to fight off the nasty demon, but it just wouldn't leave him alone. It was like that whenever he was stressed or preoccupied…he had to blow off some steam, and gambling was an easy way to do it, even if it was an expensive hobby. So far he'd managed to keep from going flat broke, but he'd been teetering on the brink of disaster lately. Of course, he had to stay on the safer side of things if he wanted to keep his job with the FBI…and he needed that job if he was gonna pay his child support and see his kid.
He'd figured out that he could make a little bet here and there along the way and that'd be enough to calm him down…enough to keep the itch at bay. He knew it was a dangerous compromise…but it was just another way to gamble, right? He hoped to stay on the winning side and out of trouble, but it was a constant struggle…the urge to gamble seemed to bug him every single day.
After a few minutes, he found himself at the dirty glass door that led to Pete's Pool Hall. He'd wasted many evenings in that dark, smelly building, hustling some greenhorns from time to time…and if that didn't work out, he knew he could always lay down a twenty on a game with one of the regulars. He usually won, but not always…he was too smart for that. Nobody wanted to play against a guy who never lost. He'd let them think he was vulnerable occasionally…suck them in and then maybe score big the next time.
Thick cigarette smoke almost choked him as he entered the main room. People weren't supposed to smoke in public places like that, but Pete, the proprietor, wasn't always concerned about following some stupid rule. Most of his regular customers wouldn't complain about stuff like that, so he simply ignored it. Waving at Booth, Pete nodded as he filled a pilsner glass with the beer on tap. "There ya go, buddy…it's International Beer Day, and so, seeing that you're a regular customer, the first one's on the house tonight."
"Thanks." Leaning on the bar, Booth took a drink and looked around the room. "Where's Chip?"
"He stepped out to make a phone call. I guess he doesn't want his girlfriend to know he's at a pool hall or something. He'll be back in a minute. Him and Jersey have been waiting for ya, see? Chip probably knows your schedule better than you do…he knew you'd be in for a couple of games this evening. It's a Friday after a hard week of work, and you need to relax, right?"
"What? Yeah...seems like it. Oh…there they are…" Booth waved at the two rough looking characters who entered the hall. The younger man, who went by Chip, pointed at a nearby table. "Ready to lose yer shirt, Boothy boy?"
"We'll see about that." Booth chuckled as he drained his glass before walking over to the table and reaching for a pool cue from the nearby stand. "Rack'em up…"
Jersey gave the men a gap-toothed grin as he arranged the pool balls on the table. "Okay, fellas…here ya go. Wanna flip to see who breaks?"
Chip eyed Booth with a sarcastic grin. "Nah…I think I'll just let my buddy here do the honors, since he's so much older than me. Let's see your money, Booth…"
Booth pulled out a twenty and laid it on the center of the table. "There's mine…"
"And here's mine." Chip added two tens to the table, watching as Jersey picked them up. "He don't mind holding the cash for us, if that's okay with you…"
"No problem. Let's play." After chalking his cue, Booth broke the racked balls. "Number 1 in the side pocket…I'll be solids." He lined up the next shot and sent another ball home. "Not too bad for an old guy, huh?"
Chip tapped his foot impatiently, waiting his turn. He'd seen Booth run the table on occasion, but he was feeling lucky that night. To his surprise, his opponent missed a wide open shot.
"Fuck…" Sighing softly, Booth stepped out of the way. "Your turn…"
Chip may have felt lucky, but after making a couple of shots, his luck ran out and he scratched the cue ball. "Shit! Okay, Booth…go ahead."
Booth made the next shot, but the cue ball took a weird carom on the following shot and missed its intended target, much to his annoyance. He couldn't figure out why he was so distracted at the moment. Why can't I string anything together this evening?
Seizing the opening, Chip ran the balls that were left on the table. Laughing out loud, he took the money from Jersey. "Whad'dya think? Wanna try to win your money back?"
"Aw, c'mon, Chip…" Jersey slapped his friend on the back. "Don't take advantage of Booth, okay? The way he's missing shots, he's gotta have somethin' on his mind." He winked broadly at Booth. "Probably he's got some cute little chick waiting for him somewhere, and he can't wait to get a piece of ass. You know…he's too horny to think straight about anything but nookie…"
"Yeah…he's definitely thinkin' getting some…he wants to score with a different kind of stick, right? It's not those striped and solid balls he wants to play with…"
"Shut your goddamn mouth and mind your own fucking business!" Disgusted with their lewd jokes, he glared at them as he leaned against his cue. "Are we gonna play or not?"
"Oh, I don't know..." Jersey cackled as he nudged Chip with an elbow. "I think I'd rather hear about the games you're gonna play later. What's her name? Does she have big perky boobs and nice long legs? Do you have a picture? C'mon, buddy…don't hold back on us. Share the wealth, okay? Maybe she wouldn't mind having some extra company, right? Maybe we could take turns…you know, like we do when we're playing pool."
Booth gasped at the sickening suggestion. NO FUCKING WAY!
Suddenly he remembered how gorgeous Temperance Brennan had looked as she was standing in the front of that university lecture hall. She was so beautiful…so brilliant…so compelling…and the idea that these two filthy jerks might have anything to do with her made him nauseous. She was so far above them…it was like they were mere worms compared to her…
Wait…is she the reason I'm so distracted? Because I can't stop thinking about her? Then another startling thought crossed his mind. What would she think of me if she knew I was here, spending time in this shitty pool hall with these two nasty animals? She said she only works with the best…and these guys are definitely the worst. They'll drag me down to their level if I'm not careful! I gotta get outta here…now!
Slowly shaking his head, he laid the pool cue down on the table, barely controlling his outrage. "You know what? You two losers can waste all night talking about your sick fantasies if that's what you want, but I ain't got time for that sorta shit. I'm outta here."
He turned his back to them as they sputtered their responses. Making his way outside, he vowed to himself that he'd never darken the door of that pool hall again. He'd find a Gambler's Anonymous meeting to attend as soon as possible, and he'd resist the urge to gamble, because he wanted to become the best man he could be so he could work with a world famous anthropologist. It'd be a challenge, but he was up for it. He knew he could overcome his baser urges if the prize was big enough.
Booth chuckled to himself as he walked home. Temperance Brennan had said she didn't believe in fate, but he did…and his fate was now tied to her. It might be that meeting her was the catalyst he needed to make him get a handle on his addiction. Maybe that was why he'd met her…maybe God was giving him a good reason to work on fixing things…
…and that was a bet he was willing to take.
Thanks for reading! Laura