"Poolshark"
                                           By SilverGirl

Meiko Kiyama watched as the tall blond youth stared down the cueball on the table, as if daring it to defy his
plans to win the game. He was up by four, with only one more stripe to go before he could sink the eight-ball.
With an expert's touch, he made the shot, watching as the fourteen headed obediently for the corner pocket.
Unfortunately, the cueball did the same, making a funereal clack as it followed the stripe. He swore under his
breath.
"Scratch!" his black-haired friend chuckled, digging the cue out of the pocket and placing it on the other end of
the table. Sage swore again as the one was sunk, followed by the seven, four, and the five. Ryo had almost tied
the game. If he sunk the three, she knew it was over.
The other boy took careful aim, and fired. The shot missed by a hair. It was his turn to curse.
The blond guy smiled, lining his shot up for the eight. He practically launched the stick at it, and she winced at the
sound. But the aim was true, and the game was won.
"Good one, pal," the dark-haired one said. The blond guy smiled, turning to one of the girls who had gathered
around to watch him play, a tall curvy brunette who giggled uncontrollably.
Meiko looked away, disgusted. She was sitting off in the shadows nursing a Coke and picking at a salad. Of course
she thought the blond guy was cute, as did every other female in the vicinity. But she didn't approach, resigned to
the conclusion that a woman with brains would probably scare the hell out of him.
"Hey, Sage." She heard the voice before she saw the brawny, navy-haired challenger. "My turn."
"Sure Kento, let's go," Sage replied. The balls were racked, and Sage took the honor of breaking. He watched,
pleased, as the six flew into the side pocket. "Guess I'm solids this time," he observed, taking aim for the three.
The shot went wild.
Kento studied the table, then walked around, lining up for the twelve. The shot was perfect, and he received a
thumbs up from the previous challenger.
Not losing his serious expression, he aimed for the side of the table, sighting the nine. Meiko smiled as she
watched the expert shot bank off the rail and hit its mark, and the stripe settle into the corner pocket.
The ten, fourteen, fifteen, and thirteen followed suit, each landing in a different pocket. All Kento had left was the
eleven to sink, and Sage had not gotten another shot in yet. The room had turned deathly silent in the presence
of this certified shark.
Kento studied the table for five full minutes, until a grin slowly spread over his face. "Eleven in the corner pocket,
eight in the side, same shot." He leaned down, taking careful aim, and fired, putting all the power he had into it.
The cue shot between the eleven and the eight, sending them flying in opposite directions. Each banked off the
rail of the table, careening into the appropriate pocket. Meiko almost choked on her salad.
Sage looked at the table, then at Kento, then at the table again. "Damn."
Meiko watched as Kento won five more perfect games. At last the shark decided to leave the table.
Meiko shook her head in disgust as she saw the girls still flocking around Sage. Don't they ever learn? It was then
that she noticed Kento get a table by himself, while Sage went for another round at the pool tables.
Poor guy. He can shoot pool with the best of 'em, and nobody's flocking around him. Well, that's going to change.
Tossing away the remains of the salad, which they had put too much dressing on for her taste, she headed over
to Kento's table.

                                             *****

Kento Fuan shook his head. No matter that he had completely slaughtered Sage at the pool table, the blond babe
was still a magnet to the opposite gender. His father had taught him the art of pool, perhaps a bit too well. He
looked down at his own cuestick and smiled. People normally brought their own sticks to pool halls. What one had
to watch out for were the people who brought their own cueball.
"Hi. Is this seat taken?" He looked up at the speaker, and suddenly couldn't remember where he'd put his voice
box.
She had violet hair that flowed past her shoulders to the middle of her back, and piercing amber eyes. Unlike the
other girls, who wore short, tight dresses meant to leave nothing to the imagination, she wore a simple t-shirt and
blue jeans. But for some reason they looked different on her than on everyone else.
She was pretty. No, "pretty" was too weak a word. She was stunning. A babe if there ever was one. "Ah, no," he
stammered, remembering her question. She sat across from him.
"That was a really great game back there," she said. He felt his face grow hot.
"Thanks," he managed. "I try."
She smiled. "You certrainly try awful hard." He chuckled.
"Can I get you anything?"
"Nah, not really. Though I was wondering if you could give me a few pointers." She gave a coy smile. "I'm trying to
improve my game."
"Sure," he grinned. Though your game doesn't need any improvement. He was never more thankful that she
wasn't psychic. They got up and went over to the nearest unoccupied pool table. Kento's well trained hands
racked the balls, and with a stroke loud enough to wake Talpa, broke the formation.
"First," he said, feeling slightly more comfortable now that he was in his field of expertise, "the way you hold the
stick is pretty important. It's best to keep as little of it as possible between your fingers and the ball. Less chance
of it slipping." With that, he chalked the tip. "Next is picking your shot. Sometimes the easiest one isn't always the
best."
He scanned the table for an example. "See? The four looks easier, but if you make that, the ten is blocking your
other shots. I'd for the three, six, or one first." She smiled, took aim for the three, and shot. Her aim was slightly
off. The red ball bounced off the mouth of the pocket.
"It's also better if you hold the stick near the bottom. Gives you more control," he said. He wasn't normally so
bold, but he figured this chance was too good to pass up. "Here, I'll show you." He leaned over her, guiding her
hands on the cuestick, hoping his own hands weren't shaking too badly. The shot was perfect, and the four
obediently dropped into the pocket.
"Cool," she said.
He grinned. "Want to go for a real game? I'll be easy on you."
"Sure," she said, "but don't go easy on me."
"Okay," he said. "You're on." He gathered, racked and broke, and by some act of a higher being, he didn't sink
anything on the break. She took her chance, sinking four stripes before she missed. He worked his magic a sixth
time, sinking all seven solids plus the eight.
"You ever play for money?" she asked, grinning as he racked the balls again. "You should."
"Nah," he waved the notion aside. "I'd lose. I'd be too hung up on the betting to concentrate on the game." He
risked another look at her. Man, she's gorgeous.
"At least you know that," she said. He positioned the cueball, then fired for the break. The game went quickly,
with Kento as the winner yet again. She looked at her watch in disgust. "I'm terribly sorry," she said. "I've got to
get home. Nice meeting you, though." Kento hoped he was successful at hiding his disappointment.
"I can walk you to your car," he offered.
"It's okay, you don't have to," she said.
"It's eleven o'clock, you have a bunch of half-drunk guys out there... I'd just feel better, you know?"
She smiled. "All right."
They were at the door of her green 1987 Tercel before he knew it. "Thanks again," she said. "I had fun."
"Glad I could provide someone with some good company," he replied. She pulled out a yen bill and folded it into his
hand. "You don't have to that...." he began.
"Keep it," she said with a wink, getting into her car. She revved the engine and pulled away, leaving Kento
standing there with the bill. He unfolded it, discovering a small piece of paper, grinning broadly as he read what
was on it: the words "Call me" and a phone number.

                                            THE END