I never lose at pool. It’s practically the one competitive game I’m good at. When I was a little girl, my dad used to take me to the dive bar across town, Six’s, and I’d watch him drink and play pool all day. I was too young to know how fucked up it was. For me, I was just proud to be near my dad. I was happy then…

Now, I’m stuck on my own. No friends anymore. No nothing. I just have the money that I stole and it’s buried under a bush outside. I’m here because… well, I’m here really because I’m lonely. The idea was that it would be a good alibi. I’m not really sure how it’s the best alibi anymore. I should be home. I should be asleep, dreaming of my escape out of this country.

I drink my Corona quickly and find myself ordering another one. The door nearly slams open and all of the bells attached to it jiggle violently. I’m shaky, probably too nervous. I need to relax. When I glance over, I see the guy. I know who he is. I’ve studied him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Warren Marshall. Jesus fucking Christ. I try not to cry, but I’m so freaked out. I hold my breath and count to ten. I fake a smile at the pool players, but it’s obvious I’m not with them. I have no plan, no good alibi, and no great escape. I down the second beer in a second, and push toward the door, avoiding all eye contact.

“Shot of Whiskey,” I hear him say to the bartender. I feel it. I feel his head turn in my direction. Don’t do it. Don’t say anything. Please. “Whoa there! Hold on a minute. Who are you and where are you going? You look suspicious,” he says.

I stop dead in my tracks. “Um, I—” I choke. I don’t know what to say. He’s caught me. I’m done for. I’m going to jail forever. All my plans down the drain. He smiles, looking like a wolf. He’s got perfect teeth, a perfect body, and a perfect face. He terrifies me.

“I’m kidding,” he laughs. “Didn’t mean to frighten ya. What’s your name? Why don’t you have a drink with me?”

Shit. I look toward the door, but he sees my hesitance, so I attempt to look calm. No dice. I am not calm. I am far from it. My heart is pounding. I swear, I’m starting to sweat. I’m losing fucking control in the worst way. I start to feel dizzy. I start to think about how things were three months ago, when the guys and me first hashed out this plan. It was so idyllic. It wasn’t too hot. Summer hadn’t quite hit yet. We had all these plans. There was going to be so much money coming in that we could all buy a villa somewhere, on the cheap. All of our dreams could come true. I could own a coffee shop somewhere in the south of Italy, in Sicily. The old country. Things would be real. Finally.

“I really shouldn’t,” I say out of the side of my mouth. God, why do I have to be so awkward all the time. I’m tough. Deep down, I’m really tough. Why can’t I ever let it show? “I’ve had enough alcohol already…”

“What?” he laughs and claps his hands eagerly. “Too drunk? It’s early, darling.”

“Yeah, but…” Come on. I need an excuse. Anything. I just need to come up with something good. “Studying,” I blurt out. I don’t even say a real sentence, just studying. It’s pathetic and I hate myself for it.

He checks his watch and I suddenly notice how smooth his lips look, how perfectly tanned his skin is. He’s riding that perfect line of young enough to still be attractive and old enough to be a man. He’s powerful. It all happens in a split second and then the allure wears off. Bad news. I’m always tempted by bad news. If someone told me to stare away from the sun, I’d stare straight at it until my eyes burned out.

“It’s only 10:30. You’re really going to leave this place at 10:30?” he asks. When I don’t answer, he keeps going, pulling up two stools for both of us. “Come on. Sit down. This place gets real fun around 11.”

“Okay,” I mutter. I’m forced to oblige him. If I say no, I’m afraid he’ll tail me. I hate cops more than I hate the real bad guys, killers and the like. They’re practically the same thing to me. I still don’t know if he’s on to me or not. If he’s not, then I can move on and feel a little better about my situation.

“What’s your name? I think I’ve seen you around here before. You’ve lived here a while, haven’t you?” he asks me, motioning for a drink at the bar tender. “What’re you drinking?”

“Uh, yeah. A while now,” I lie. “I’ll take a—?” I glance over at his drink.

“Whiskey soda!” he yells at the bartender. He nods. “It’s a simple drink. I like it enough, I suppose. Anyway, I’ve been here all my damn life. Name’s Marshall.”

He puts out his hand, but when I go to shake it he takes my fingers in his hand and kisses the top of my knuckles. His cologne wafts into my nose slowly, but surely, and I can’t help but approve. It reminds me of my father’s and it brings back good memories for a second. Then I remember that he’s not akin to me. He’s nowhere near like me.

“Marshall. Nice to meet you. I’m Virginia Greene.” I say it to him in a nice, sweet voice. As long as I’ve got him here, I might as well play the character up a bit. If he thinks of me as nice, beautiful, and willing to please him, he’ll always think of me that way. That’s one advantage women have over men.

“Virginia slim,” he jokes, wrapping his hand around my waist. I twitch a little and he lets it drop to my knee. I let it rest there, despite my major reluctance.

“Bad joke,” I tell him honestly.

“Yeah, I’m not too good at telling jokes,” he says, taking a sip. The way he looks at me is deep and thoughtful, and I soon start to realize that I have nothing to worry about. He has no idea that I’m a criminal. He can’t care to give that a second thought right now. Right now, all the thinking is going on in his cock.

Am I scared still? Yes. But my heart has slowed down to a normal rate and I’m not clammy anymore. Scared, but I can get out of this.

I drink from my glass faster than normal. All I can think about is getting back to my bed, back to the comfort of my shitty apartment. I’ve hated that place for so long, but now it seems like a godsend. God, why did I have to change my life around for some extra cash? Freedom, I know. But the whole thing now seems unthinkable. If I could turn back time, I wouldn’t go through with it. That much, I know.

He squeezes my leg and it snaps me out of my trance. Actually, he’s looking more handsome. In this deck of cards, he’s an enemy. But he doesn’t know that. “You’re funny,” I laugh. “It wasn’t that bad of a joke.”

I don’t know why I’m humoring him. It’s the daredevil in me, always willing to ride the line. I could go back to his place right now. I could jump onto his lap. He could feel down my waist, around the curves that lead toward my ass, and even further toward the greatest treasure man has ever laid eyes on. I could unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. I could grab his thick cock. I know it’s huge. And I could slowly push it inside me. I can feel it now.

I’m wet.

“Thank you, sweetie-pie,” he says, winking. The wink. It kills me. I need to calm down. My heart starts beating in a very different way. All of the blood has moved between my legs. I’m warm and he can sense it. Men like him can always sense it.

“You’re cute,” I say, laughing a little and scrunching up my nose. What the hell am I doing? I’m riding the line…