Chapter 7

And on her pillow Zane discovered a scrap of paper. Zane growled when she smelled the unmistakable scent of Opium perfume on the paper.

‘I’m sorry. I love you’

“I, I love you too,” Zane whispered.

“But you sure got a funny way of showing it,” Zane yelled, thinking of her ruined billiards table.

She paid to have the old table carted away. What the two Latino men planned to do with the damaged table was none of her concern. She then found a used billiards table on-line and purchased it. She smirked when she had the two same men and their pickup truck fetch the new table for her; the felt was a pastel pink and the billiards balls were adorned with flowers. Each ball had its own floral design.

Pete Helmont was more than happy to sell the girl a new Bill Coski stick. Seeing the man’s last name, Zane did make the connection; he was either father to or uncle of Lynn Helmont. But, she did not ask.

The next month dragged by. Zane went on a few dates but none of them panned out. When one girl found out what Zane did for a living, the young woman was outraged.

“How, that, that just objectifies women,” she hissed, incensed. “And you do that?”

“Women will be objectified whether I dance or not,” Zane said, wishing Annette Cueller would lower her voice.

“But you, you’re contributing to the denigration of women everywhere,” Annette shrilled.

“Well, we can’t all be housecleaners,” Zane snapped. “OH! Wait! Isn’t that what men have been saying for years? That women are only good for cooking and cleaning and having babies?”

“It’s honest work,” Annette hissed.

“So is providing entertainment. And again, women will be objectified, will be demeaned. Just look at Muslim countries. Women don’t dance in Lebanon, but they’re still objectified. They’re still relegated to second class citizenship. Is it right? No. But am I going to say ‘no’ to make a few bucks from it?” Zane stated.

“Women like you are the problem,” Annette shrilled, storming out of the Blue Jay Diner.

“She’s been a stark raving bitch ever since she and Harlene broke up,” the waitress said.

“Har, Harlene? Harlene Guilbeau?” Zane asked, giggling.

Harlene Guilbeau danced at Hunter’s Cabin under the name Harlow. She wore elegant evening gowns reminiscent of the glamourous age of Hollywood. By the end of her set, she would be down to opera gloves, thigh high stockings and high heels and a diamond choker or long strand of pearls.

“Yeah. You know her?” the waitress asked.

“Not really,” Zane smirked.

After another dating app hookup with a woman that admitted she’d used her younger sister’s picture, Zane decided to stop trying to replace Dominique and just enjoy her peace and quiet and solitude. She would concentrate on work, concentrate on her investments. Zane even thought to look into Vo-Tech. Her good looks and good physique would not last forever. She needed to think beyond the small stage.

That decision lasted all of a week. After all, there was only so much studying the on-line Stock Exchange information one could read before going blind. There were only so many career choices one could ponder then reject. There were only so many solitary pool games one could play before losing her mind.

“Hey Kid,” the bartender called out when Zane entered the Cottonbowl Bar.

“Old enough drink yet?” the man asked as Zane approached the only table that was available.

“Yeah, but just give me a Barq’s,” Zane agreed, putting her quarters onto the table. “I’m driving.”

Grabbing a stick from the rack after verifying that the cue stick did not have a black stripe, Zane practiced a few trick shots. A young man swaggered up to the table, sneer permanently etched on his blandly handsome face.

“Fifty to play this table,” Zane said calmly as the boy dropped his quarters onto the table.

“Got fifty?” the boy sneered. “Ain’t never lost yet.”

Zane flashed a wad of cash. The boy swore he had the money but did not show any cash. With a shrug, Zane nodded her agreement.

“Uh huh. I’ll even let you break,” Zane smirked as the boy racked the balls.

He broke but sank nothing. Zane then ran the table. He mumbled something about an ATM right down the street and hurried out of the bar.

“Fifty says we ain’t never seeing him again,” Rhonda called out, cackling.

“Oops; got to go,” Zane said suddenly, thrusting her half-full bottle of root beer across the bar. “See you.”

Zane scampered across the street and pumped her stubby legs as fast as she could. Racing around the corner of the strip mall, Zane skittered to a stop by the rear door. A breeze fluttered and Zane coughed, wrinkling her face in disgust.

“God! Forgot how bad that thing smells,” Zane muttered, looking at the dumpster.

“And Dr. Ubelhauser got all over me about my salt but I’m like, you try eating healthy at the cafeteria…” Zane heard as the rear door opened.

“Got company,” a tall brunette mentioned, nodding with her head toward the solitary figure standing near the door.

“I uh, oh, hi,” Dominique stammered, hand covering her small bump.

Words stuck in Zane’s throat. She tried once, couldn’t make words come out, then tried again. Tears of frustration began to form in her eyes.

Slowly, she approached Dominique. Dominique’s eyes watched Zane carefully, some tears of her own beginning to form.

“”I miss you,” Zane managed to whisper just before their lips met.

“I miss, I miss the old you, the Zane I had before I got, before I told you I’m pregnant,” Dominique said.

“I need you,” Zane confessed.

“Yeah, Domi, looks like you got a ride?” the tall brunette asked as she unlocked the door of a small car.

“Yeah, she’s got a ride,” Zane said, tightly embracing Dominique.

“Yeah, Melanie; thanks,” Dominique said.

On September 24th, Dominique Strickler gave birth to Andrew Charles Strickler. She explained that Andrew Burke, her uncle had died, congenital heart defect. She’d been an infant when he’d died but her mother had claimed Uncle Andrew had loved Dominique and would have been Dominique’s godfather had he lived.

“And Charles is my Daddy,” Dominique tiredly explained.

“He’s beautiful, Zane said, then kissed Dominique. “You’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah, beautiful. Everything’s just so beautiful; we doing a DNA test so we can find out who did this to you?” Charles Strickler snarled, clearly uncomfortable around his daughter’s homosexuality.

The father turned out to be Dominique’s cousin, Paul Strickler. Charles wanted to beat his twenty nine year old nephew to a bloody pulp for taking advantage of a clearly intoxicated girl. Thankfully, Douglas Strickler intervened. No good would come of physical retaliation.

“No, no, instead,” Douglas said, glaring at his irresponsible son, “He’ll pay one thousand a month in child support…”

“A thousand?” Paul squealed.

“And half medical, half educational,” Douglas said, hand twisting in Paul’s shoulder length blond ponytail. “Or would you rather go to prison for rape? On top of incest?”

“Rape? It wasn’t rape; you’re hurting me,” Paul whined.

“Rape. Your cousin, your own cousin was obviously intoxicated. Guess what, Mister been to four colleges and still don’t have a degree in anything?” Douglas yelled, forcing the twenty nine year old child to his knees. “That’s considered rape.”

Paul made a grand total of two payments before running away from home. Douglas sighed and continued to pay the monthly child support, knowing Paul would come back as soon as he was out of money, or was in trouble again.

“Know what Charlie,” Douglas said to his younger brother. “Next time? I think I will let you beat that boy’s ass. Might knock some sense into him.”

This year, there were only ninety one entrants for the pool tournament. Lynn Helmont was there; Christine Campbell was not. Zane managed to eliminate the brunette in the fourth game. As Lynn stomped away, Zane commented to Dominique that the brunette was not aging well. She had some hard lines on her face and breasts and buttocks were beginning to sag. The shorts and patent leather vest no longer looked racy, daring. Now the risqué outfit just looked sad.

In between games, Zane was showing off her trick shots. Dominique was pocketing some cash, betting on Zane’s abilities.

“Twenty. Twenty says she can make eight balls on one shot,” Dominique called out.

“Eight? In one…yeah, yeah, I got twenty says…” a few men said.

“Twenty. Twenty says she jumps the three ball and makes the one ball in the corner pocket,” Dominique called out.

She only made sixty dollars on that bet. By the time Zane and an old man they kept calling ‘Dennis the Menace’ were sinking shots as Eddy called them, no one was taking Dominique’s challenges. Dominique shrugged; she had nearly a thousand dollars to put into AC’s college fund with Russel Ubelhauser.

“Tough break, kid,” Dennis smirked as Eddy called out the five ball; the five was right next to the corner pocket.

“Yes. Tough break,” Zane agreed as Dennis managed to miss the shot.

“Three ball,” Eddy called out. “She makes this? She takes first place.”

“Son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a bitch,” Dennis chanted as Zane easily knocked the ball into the corner pocket.

“Here, Baby,” Zane said, thrusting the ten Franklins at Dominique. “Put this in AC’s college fund.”

“Can not fucking believe? Just can not fucking believe a fucking stripper beat me,” Dennis growled, enraged. “A stripper! A fucking stripper!”

“Tough break, Dennis the Menace,” Dominique shrugged, following her girlfriend from the Billiards hall.

**Author’s Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment.

I thank you for reading my stories. I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my works, those that ‘Favorite’ my words.

This is an entry for the ‘YAY TEAM 2025’ Author Challenge organized by Voyeurkenneth. Please take a moment to vote for this and the many other fine stories contributed for this challenge. Thank you.

Eddy Jones, Edward Brian Jones is the son of Sheriff Adam Jones and Jan Jones nee Dorchester, two minor characters mentioned in ‘Outside of Their Jurisdiction’ in the Loving Wives category.

Lynn Helmont is briefly mentioned in ‘Ozark Weekend’ in the Incest/Taboo category; she was Donnie’s girlfriend.

Nicholas Cohen is briefly mentioned in the ‘Watching TV Rots Your Brain’ series. He bullies Malone for having long hair, then further along in the series, Nicholas impregnates Andrea White, a friend of Malone’s.

Alan Hackett, one of the opponents Lynn manages to beat is first mentioned in ‘Lunches’ in the Mature category.

Wedges, the sandwich shop that specializes in deep fried sandwiches is first mentioned in ‘Eyes like the Ocean’ in the Anal category.

Hunter’s Cabin is introduced in the “Give Me the Remote” series.

Russell Ubelhauser and the Ubelhauser firm are introduced in ‘Lipstick Prints on the Window’ In the Incest/Taboo category.

Jack Thompson and the Thompson Group are introduced in the ‘Bit of a Bitch’ series.

The furniture store that Jack invests in is ‘Their Private Saddle’ which is introduced in ‘101 Avila Road’ in the Toys & Masturbation category.

Swan, Soleil and Patrick are all characters from the ‘Give Me the Remote’ series.

Bill Coski was an old drunk I knew; he seemed to reside in one of my favorite bars in Metairie, Louisiana in the late 1970s. I am taking license with how to spell his name; I never asked him how it was spelled. But, the man was a pool shark. More than once, he would win free drinks at the bar by putting four balls, one ball into a different pocket with a single shot. He also knew how to make the cue ball jump over another ball to make a shot.

Whenever anyone challenged Bill to a game of eight ball, he would graciously let them go first. Then he would run the table, never moving from his spot. The cue ball would just roll right back to him and he would take the next shot. Then one day, he wasn’t there anymore and no one knew what had happened to him.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.