The Bet Ch. 01

** My first attempt at a longer piece - do let me know what you think! **

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I was always a patsy for being sent to conferences at short notice, the price I paid for being single, childless and pet-less. This particular conference, my boss reasoned I could drop everything and head to Liverpool at short notice, with a couple of hundred quid as a sweetener, put through the books as subsistence for my travels and a first class train ticket.

I worked for a company that sold office stationery -- pens, staplers, anything that could solve your filing problems and I'd been here for just under a year. It was okay, I was paid well and on time each month, but it really wasn't how I envisioned my career developing after graduating from University -- I'd imagined glamour, expensive trips abroad and being wined and dined by the heads of massive multi-nationals. Not being sent to Liverpool for a conference set up by chair companies to show off the latest in office chair technology.

My boss had also assured me this conference would plunge into levels of debauchery and hedonism to rival the Rolling Stones in the '60s, or Caligula at his finest. He told me to pack condoms, my best shirt and extra pairs of pants. I wasn't sure if he was serious or not, but if there were wild and loose women, I was going to make sure they would be wild and loose with me.

Ten minutes was all it took for me to realise I'd been sold a crock of pure bullshit. There were two women there - Michelle, my area manager was one. The other was a PA for one of the speakers, who was also his mother. The speaker was a guy I'd been ordered to try and schmooze, trying to score with his mother would have been career suicide.

The first night, the evening entertainment was a quiz. I got put onto a team with three guys, each of whom offered a disturbing glimpse of my future. Phil was in his fifties and spent the evening stuffing cheese-and-onion crisps into his mouth and resting his vast stomach on the table. He had been in sales since his twenties and spent the downtime between questions telling us about his porn habits and regaling with stories of previous conferences, full of sex, drugs and booze. He was a heart-attack waiting to happen.

Gary was in his late thirties and heading for a messy divorce. He'd not seen his kids in a month and spent most of the evening looking at the photograph he kept of them in his wallet. The final piece of our quizzing jigsaw was Olly, a four-year sales veteran, who remained convinced that he'd finally get the Big Sale and make enough commission to live out his true dream of owning a BMW. Or an Audi, or just something with four wheels. He was going to get his whip pimped out (his words) with big rim tyres, sound system and all the other car accessories to warn all other road users you're a shit driver.

Don't get me wrong, Phil, Gary and Olly were friendly guys. It's just that they were enough to help me decide to get the hell out of the office stationary industry as soon as I could. They were also enough to persuade me the following evening to avoid the planned karaoke night. I was going to head out into Liverpool and see if I could find my own fun.

I took a stroll along the street. The hotel, one of a well-known brand of chain hotels in the UK had been put on the outskirts of a business estate, close to the M62. I was surrounded by car parks, processing plants and not much else. I dug my phone of out my pocket, Google-mapped the closest pub and headed there.

I found it easily enough. A ten minute walk from the hotel, the pub was situated at the end of a row of identical houses - front door and big window downstairs, two windows upstairs. The street looked old and worn-down, tired of life. It was early February, dark enough for the streetlights to be on, and yet everything still looked grey. The pub was the fulcrum of the street, the only smattering of life and colour I could see. Music and laughter emanated from inside. On cue, a guy pushed the doors open, staggered into the evening, laughing and shouting 'Fuck off ya cunts!' over his shoulder as cheers followed him.

Inside, it looked as it should have done. No trendy wine-bars around here, it was wooden tables, wooden stools and stickiness. To my right, a couple of guys were playing darts, one guy arguing about why Liverpool should sack Klopp and the more sensible elements of his group were telling him not to be such an idiot. I ordered a pint of lager at the bar from a barmaid in a white shirt and sweat patches and surveyed the scene in more detail.

There was a pool table with a group of teenagers sat around. One guy in particular took my attention, swaggering around as if he owned the place. He was with three other guys, all of who seemed to be barely tolerating him. He was loud, obnoxious and a damned good pool player. I knew this because he made a point of loudly announcing it to everyone in the pub whenever he sank a ball. I watched for a while as he soundly beat all his friends, before offering guys in the pub a match for money. No-one seemed keen to take him up on his offer or to even acknowledge his existence.

Every so often he did stop to talk to a girl who was sitting close to the group. She barely looked up when he spoke to her, eyes not leaving her phone. Looks-wise, she was cute, but really not my type -- her hair was slicked back tight to her scalp, big gold hoop earrings and a puffa jacket that masked her frame completely. She was chewing gum and clearly very bored.

The guy sank the black and vanquished another of his friends, then looked out into the pub to challenge someone. Our eyes locked and he nodded at me.

'What about you, pal? Not seen you here before. Fancy a game?' he challenged me.

Please don't start thinking I'm some kind of pool hustler. I'm not. I'm really not. I hadn't played for a couple of years, not since University. Don't get me wrong, I knew which end of the cue to use and how to get the ball the screw back when needed, but was I a hustler? Not a damned chance!

'Sure, I'll give you a game,' I replied. I ordered another pint. The barman told me he'd bring it over before whispering I could have one on the house if 'you can beat the gobshite!'.

I slung my jacket over the back of a chair near the girl, who didn't even raise an eyebrow. The guy racked up the balls and introduced himself as Luke. I introduced myself as Steve and explained I was in Liverpool for the conference. My accent gave me away as a Southerner, and more questions. Who did I support (Brentford. No-one cares about Brentford), what did I think of England's chances in the World Cup, and most importantly -- how much did I hate Manchester United?

Luke racked the balls up and settled to break. Just as he drew his cue back, he stopped and stood up.

'How much we playing for?' he asked.

'A Bet? Money?'

'Aye. I only play strangers for cash. How much have you got?'

I had most of two hundred pounds burning a hole in my wallet. I nearly blurted that out then realised very quickly that might not be the smartest move as a stranger in a pub, many miles from home. 'Tenner sound good?'

'Twenty?' he counter-offered.

'Yeah, sure,' I replied. Twenty pounds wasn't much and was a small price to pay to avoid karaoke.

He settled down to his break. He thumped into the cue ball with a meaty stroke, splitting the reds and yellows and black over the green baize. That was as close as I got to the table. A red dropped into the bottom left pocket, followed by the other six as I watched, before he rolled the black into the middle pocket.

'And that's how it's done, motherfuckers!' he bellowed as I handed him £20.

'Another game?' I asked. I pulled another note from my pocket. 'But I break this time.'

He slapped his winnings back onto the table and agreed. I settled in to break, sank a yellow and then missed my next shot. Somehow, I ended up putting the white right behind the black, and Luke fouled. With my extra shots, I managed to sink another four yellows before missing a straightforward shot. Luke potted his seven reds on his next trip to the table, then missed the black. He was trying to show off, going for a bank shot to the middle pocket. I managed to sink the final two yellows and then the black to win my money back.

'Fuck that shit, man!' Luke shouted. He wasn't used to losing and didn't like it one iota. His girl looked up sharply at his raised voice before settling back to her phone. His friends looked at each other, I detected more than a hint of amusement in their glances.

'One more match!' Luke told me. The barman brought over my pint on the house for beating him, and I felt the good vibes in the place all flooding towards me.

'How much you got?' I asked him. I was feeling cocky and confident and would still do anything to avoid karaoke.

He produced a wedge of notes and quickly counted them. 'Fifty quid. You got fifty quid?'

I nodded. I looked around. A lot more of the pub suddenly seemed very interested in what was happening on the pool table. Even the girl put her phone down to watch what was happening, her look of boredom becoming a look of intrigue. Neither of us could back down. I slapped my fifty pounds onto the table. We flipped for the break, I won and broke. Nothing went down. Luke went, sank four yellows before an unlucky rebound sank one of my reds. I was up and managed to pot all my reds, down to the black. I missed the shot.

'Ha! Unlucky pal!' Luke gloated. He potted his remaining yellows and settled in for an easy shot on the black. He looked at me to wink, pulled his cue back...

And missed.

A quiet murmur of amusement floated around the pub. I took a deep breath, settled in for the shot on the black and let out a sigh of relief as it dropped safely into the pocket.

'Fuck off, you cunt!' Luke hissed at me. I scooped up the money and slipped it into my pocket. 'Double or quits! Right fucking now or you don't walk out that fucking door!'

I looked at him, assessing the situation. I thought I could probably take him out if it came to a fight, I wasn't sure about his three pals or whoever else in here might have his back. Luckily, the barman came to my rescue. 'He won your money fair, Luke. No fighting in here. Understand?'

'Double or quits?' Luke asked me.

'Have you got a hundred quid?' I asked.

'Fuck, someone lend me a ton?' he asked, looking around the pub. No-one volunteered. 'Babes, you got a ton?' he asked the girl. She rolled her eyes and went back to her phone.

It might have been the booze, it might have been the feeling I was unstoppable that night, it might have been that I was an idiot. Whatever it was, not a lot of thought went into what I said next.

'Quits if you win. If I win, she comes back to my hotel for the night.' I said, nodding at the girl.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. 'Luke! Don't you fucking dare!' her voice had a soft Liverpudlian accent, much less pronounced than Lukes. She had brown eyes that looked like melted caramel in chocolate. I got the impression that if she were willing to restyle her hair, she would be pretty. Very pretty.

Luke looked at her, then at me, then at the onlookers. He was caught in a shitty place. On one hand, he wanted the hundred quid in my pocket. He didn't want to lose face in his pub. He knew he'd lost the last match when he got cocky. All he had to do was concentrate, and he'd seven-ball me again without even trying. He also didn't want to piss off his girlfriend. He really didn't want to piss her off.

I shrugged. 'Your call, pal' I said and turned to leave.

'Fucking cunt. You're on!' he told me, racked up the balls and broke before anyone could stop him.

You know I said I wasn't a hustler? I'm not. I'm really not. What I was that night was lucky. Really fucking lucky. He didn't pot anything from the break. I missed my next shot, a fairly routine red. He bounced to the table, full of bravado. He lined up a yellow, and smashed it hard into a pocket, his frustration all taken out on that yellow sphere. He stood up to glare at me, noticing too late his bravado was misplaced. As I, and everyone else in the pub watched, the white cue ball screwed backwards and connected with the black.

The black began to roll towards the left middle pocket. Luke stopped gloating as he watched the ball rolling inexorably towards the pocket, drawn like a moth to a flame. With a clunk that echoed around the pub, the black nestled into a pocket, rolled through the mechanisms and sat proudly behind the Perspex screen, alongside its yellow brother Luke had hammered into the pocket.

Silence descended on the pub for all of two seconds, before laughter and the cheering started. I heard his girlfriend shout 'You dumb fucking cunt!', throwing a worried looking glance in my direction. Two of his friends got up to ruffle his hair and laugh at him. Luke angrily tried to shrug them off.

I had no intention of sticking around and slipped away, unnoticed. I still had the wedge of cash in my hand, and was certain I hadn't made the mistake of telling Luke where I was staying. I had absolutely no desire to take his girl back to my hotel, I never thought he'd agree to that bet and I was damned sure she wouldn't happy to oblige.

I departed the pub, into the cold Liverpudlian street. It had started to rain, a soft drizzle matted my hair to my head. I pulled the collar of my coat up and looked around, trying to remember from which direction I had walked here. I crossed the road and decided to walk until I found a sign telling me the name of the street and I'd call a cab. I did not want to be outside the pub when Luke left, I didn't want a fight.

'Hey!'

A female voice shouted at me from across the street. I looked back and saw the girl. Her dark hair and big black puffa jacket shone in the rain. She looked to be a little shorter than me, maybe 5'7''. She wore skin-tight black leggings, her legs told me she was slim and athletic underneath the padding her coat provided.

'Look, I wasn't being serious,' I explained. 'I just thought it was a way of getting him off my back.'

She nodded. 'Yeah, well most people knew Luke was a twat. All you did was prove it.'

'I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I don't want to be the reason you two have an argument.'

She sighed as she suddenly realised she didn't know what to say. She could have left the pub and gone home and never given me another thought. For me, this was a drinking story for when I wanted to show off, the time I beat a wannabe-Scouse gangster at pool and walked out with a pocketful of notes.

'Would you at least be okay to walk me back to my hotel? I don't remember how I got here and I'm happy to pay for you to have a taxi home?' I asked.

She shrugged. 'Yeah, I can do that. If you're paying for the cab.'

'It's the least I can do. I am sorry,' I said. 'I honestly didn't mean to cause you any trouble. I wasn't thinking, I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. I honestly thought he'd thrash me in the last game and I'd just go back to my hotel. I'm still amazed I won.'

Behind us, a male voice bellowed 'Nancy!'

It startled us both, and she grabbed my arm. 'Luke!' she whispered and pushed me to start walking. 'If he catches up with us, he'll kick your head in.'

We walked in silence for a few steps, disappearing around a corner and out of Luke's sight.

'I'm Steve,' I said. 'Nice to meet you.'

I offered my hand for her to shake. She raised an eyebrow, smiled and shook it. Her hand was warm from being buried in her pocket. 'Nancy.'

'What do you do? Work? Study?' I asked.

She took a deep breath. 'Neither. Unemployed.'

'Well, what do you want to do?'

She looked at me surprised and a little suspicious. 'Why?'

'I'm curious,' I explained. 'You don't have to tell me. Chances are we'll never see each other again, but we may as well spend these few minutes getting to know each other. And if you can't tell a complete stranger who's just won you in a bet what your hopes and dreams are, who can you tell?'

She laughed, a warm, musical sound. 'Fine. I want to be a primary school teacher. I love kids, but where I'm from, it's not the sort of thing we do. We get pregnant, our fellas go to prison, our kids grow up to be Luke. That's my life.'

I shook my head. 'No, it's not. What's stopping you from becoming a teacher?'

'Money. I can't afford to go to college, books and all that shit. We can't all have fancy jobs and stay in hotels and shit, you know.'

Ahead of us, the maroon awning of the hotel lit up the darkness. The rain got heavier, slipping from a light drizzle into a real downpour. It bounced onto the cars, the tarmac, drenching us both. We ran into the reception and I pulled my phone from my pocket and handed her the handset.

'Do you know a cab number to call?' I asked, wiping a drip of water from the end of my nose. For the first time I had a close-up look at her in the light. Her dark hair was pulled tight to her scalp and scraped back into a bun. A small piercing glinted in her left nostril, drawing attention from her dark brown eyes that I could have melted into. A small rash of freckles covered her cheeks and the bridge of the nose. The battered white Reeboks on her feet had seen many better days. I wanted to see her let her hair loose, to shake it out and let it cascade over her shoulders. To get her out of her over-sized coat and into something more flattering.

She tapped in a number, and spoke to whomever answered the phone. I tried not to listen to the conversation, thinking I'd wait with her until the cab arrived, then have a drink and head up to my room. I had no intention of joining in with karaoke, I could hear someone murdering Total Eclipse of the Heart.

'An hour?' Nancy asked, the disappointment thick in her voice. 'No, that's... that's fine. Thanks.' She turned to me. 'No cabs for an hour. I'll walk back from here.'

'No, you won't!' I told her. 'It's late, it's pissing it down. Have a drink and I'll wait with you for the taxi. Deal?'

She tried to protest, but I waved it off. I took her arm and we went into the bar. She ordered a vodka and orange, I had the same. We sat in a booth in the corner, hidden from anyone who might wander out of the conference room and try to drag us in there, but still able to see the reception for the cab driver.

'So what's going to happen with you and Luke?' I asked.

She shrugged. 'No idea. But let's not talk about him though, yeah?'

Right on cue, her phone rang and Luke's face appeared on the screen. She ignored it. We began to chat about our families and discovered that we'd both grown up without a father -- mine through divorce, she through not knowing who he was. As she made her way through her vodka and orange, I could see the tension leaving her jaw and shoulders. Her phone rang twice more, she rolled her eyes as Luke's face appeared on the screen. The next call came from her mother, to ask where she was as Luke was on their doorstep demanding to see Nancy.

'I'm with a friend,' she told her mother. 'Won't be home for a while.'

I took that as a hint to get another round of drinks in. The barman told me that he was about to call last orders, so I decided to take the plunge. I got a bottle of champagne, some cheap no-name brand the hotel had in stock, and two glasses. I went back to the table and suggested if she wasn't planning on going home soon, as the bar was going to close, maybe we should take the bottle to my room.

'Don't start getting any ideas,' she told me. 'I'm not that sort of girl.'

'I know,' I replied. 'But your clothes are still wet and there's a radiator you can dry them on. You can at least leave Luke outside your house getting soaking wet for a bit longer?'

She laughed and nodded before standing up, stretching and following me to the lift, all thoughts of her taxi long gone. It was a short ride to the second floor and my room. It was an uninspiring hotel room, dominated by a large double-bed that took up most of the floor-space. A flat-screen TV sat on the wall, above a chest of drawers with a kettle on top of it. The walls were painted beige, the sheets white, a wooden headboard. A brown armchair positioned in front of a window looking out onto a car-park finished off the décor. Just inside the door was a bathroom with a shower that was surprisingly powerful, a sink and a toilet. It was a room that had seen thousands of visitors over the years and encouraged each one of them to spend their time somewhere else.