Ava's Alley

Ava's was a good-sized bar, but it was a little outdated, but it wasn't ragged in any way. It had dark wood all the way around. There was a bar with sixteen stools, four islands in the center, each with four stools around them, and five high-top tables up against the wall opposite the bar. White Christmas lights glowed along the lining of the ceiling. The walls were plastered with framed pictures. Some were old, some new. They were patrons and events that had taken place there. There were four pool tables with lights advertising Budweiser beer. They were old and made of cheap plastic to look like stained glass. That's the reason Allie liked going there. She loved to play pool. Allie loved to hustle pool. Not precisely kosher for a cop, but there, she wasn't a cop.

Another thing she loved was the dance floor. It wasn't big, but it worked; she loved to dance, and people loved to watch. Even Bruss, though he would never admit it.

If you lived in the Cleveland area, you were either an Eastsider or a Westsider. Ava's is on the east side. The people there thought she was a personal trainer because that's what she told them. Ava knew Allie and Bruss were cops, but as far as she was concerned, it was nobody's business.

The place was jumping when she got there. Ava was behind the bar firing off drinks in record time. The woman has talent and style. She was tall for a woman. She had jet-black hair under her signature black bolero hat. Her makeup was heavy and dark. She was of Greek descent. She was funny and fun to be around.

"Allie! I haven't seen you in so long!" she exclaimed.

She came out from behind the bar, grabbed Allie tight, and quickly shook her side to side.

Then she held Allie out in front of her by the shoulders.

"Let me look at you! Oh, you're still the prettiest girl I know!"

She let Allie go.

"Hey, Ava, I didn't think you were here on Fridays."

"I'm normally not, but one of my girls called in sick, so here I am!" she said. "What brings you this way?"

"Bruss has convinced me that I need to get laid. So, I decided to check out what they have on the other side of town because, by me, it's nothing but Cleveland cops."

"Well, you have come to the right place. Allie, some new guys are coming in here. Oh, girl, if only I were a few years younger and a couple of pounds thinner! They are Grade A choice. They normally come in around 8:30, according to the pattern, and this should be the week they're here. It's three of them. But, if you're lucky, they sometimes bring the big guy."

"Well, let's get me started on some inhibition removal medication."

Ava put her arm around Allie.

"Four Tequilas and a beer, coming right up."

"You should know Bruss is parking the car. He's my wingman tonight."

"He must have expected me not to be here," she said, pouring the shots. "And girl, you can fly on your own."

"WAIT! We need a famous Ava toast!"

"Well, of course, darling."

She had climbed onto the bar.

"LADIES! HOLD EM' UP!"

CHEERS TO THE MEN WHO ARE BIG!

CHEERS TO MEN WHO ARE SMALL!

CHEERS TO THE MEN WHO THINK THEY ARE BIG BUT REALLY AREN'T AT ALL!

BUT THE ONE WE RAISE OUR GLASSES TO IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT,

ARE THE ONES THAT GO FROM SMALL TO BIG AND STICK IT IN JUST RIGHT!

A chorus of women whooped and cheered, shot glasses and bottles hit the bar.

"SALUD!" a chorus of voices shouted.

"Ava, you outdid yourself with that one! I really should come here more often," she said.

"I would love to see—"

Her sentence was cut off as Bruss walked up to the bar.

"Patrick."

"Ava. You're looking good," he said.

He helped her down from the bar.

"Thank you, but I always look good. You look tired."

"Shelly keeps me busy."

"Oh, still with the Trollip?"

Allie just sat there throwing back her shots. She waved down the other girl and got another round while they had a wonderful passive-aggressive conversation. After an hour, eight shots, and three beers, they both realized she was still there.

"You know I'm not a relationship expert, but I'm starting to get a little buzz going, so I'm going to give you a word of advice because if I say something stupid, I just blame it on my buddy Jose. You see, the way I see it, and I have 20/20 vision, mind you," she stopped, took another shot, and finished her beer. "And you know I love Shelly so much, but I love you both too..."

"Allie land the plane," Ava said, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, ma'am," Allie said.

She gave her a small salute and a hiccup.

"You two need to have breakup sex," she said.

She wagged her finger back and forth, finished her last shot, and picked up her beer.

"Allie, we broke up two years ago," Patrick said.

"And did you have breakup sex?"

They both stood there, not answering.

"HA! You didn't!" she bellowed.

She was pointing an accusatory finger at them.

"So, you should. You need to. You all need some fucking closure. Get it? Fucking. Now I'm going to play pool and steal someone's money."

She slid off the bar stool.

"Still have Warlock?"

"Yes, darling, I do," Ava said.

"I'll be back for it in a bit."

She wagged her finger back and forth between them.

"You two. Sex. Yes."

She walked off to the pool tables, leaving Bruss and Ava looking at each other.

"It's not a bad idea," Bruss said.

"It's a horrible idea, Patrick."

She walked off and went back to her customers.

*************************************************************

An attractive young man was standing in the corner at the end of the bar. He smiled and laughed. He was blonde, 6 feet tall, with a high and tight haircut. He watched as she made her way over to the pool tables.

"Well, that was a kick in the balls," said Bruss.

"Hey, you win some, you lose some," Blondie said.

The tables were filled with players. Allie watched for a while and picked out the one person she thought most cocky and self-assured. These kinds of men don't like being dominated by a female. Male egos always get the best of them.

She found him. He was shorter than her, his ego was apparent, and he seemed to be the leader of his group. They were all feverishly stroking his enormous ego.

He was the proverbial big man on campus.

He was celebrating every ball he sank, his friends cheering right along. Let's be honest, he was a douche.

Allie walked up to the table and slapped $100 on the rail.

"I've got next game if you think you can handle me," she said.

He raised his head and looked her over, up and down. His eyes lingered a little too long on certain parts, but in his defense, she was beautiful.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here," he declared.

"Yes, I'm standing right here unless you are blind, in which it will be better to beat you."

"Feisty. I like feisty."

"Marc, let's finish this game later. I have some money to win."

"Oh, aren't we sure of ourselves? Rack them. Will you take pity on me and start easy? Maybe eight ball?" she asked.

"Sure. Why don't you rack since you have a nice rack," he said.

She didn't acknowledge the comment. She just racked the balls.

"Why don't you go first, sweet cheeks."

She took a bar cue, chalked it, and took aim. She purposely miscued the ball.

"Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have had that last beer," she said.

"Oh, you're OK, it happens to everyone. I'll give you a reset."

She reset and went for the break again. She made contact, but none went far. She sank two balls the entire game. Then he ran the table. She put down another $200. He gladly accepted another game.

The same thing happened, but she did better and sank four balls.

"OK. Double or nothing. Just one more chance."

"I'm getting bored. I want to play someone who will challenge me. But for you, sure. I feel bad about taking all your money. I'll still take it, but know that when I do, I will feel bad."

"I'm confident I'll be able to do better this time. I'm going to do a couple of more shots, and then I'll be ready to go."

"By all means. I'll wait," he sounded sarcastically gracious.

He watched her walk to the bar.

"She's had like 13 shots and six beers. The bitch is hammered. I think I'm going to up the stakes."

Blondie got close. "Dude, a word of free advice. Don't up the stakes. She's about to wipe the floor with you, but that's my take on the situation."

The guy looked right through him.

Allie walked to the bar. She ordered two shots, raised them to him, and drank them down.

"Ava, I need my cue," she said.

"Sure thing, doll."

Bruss looked at her.

"Are you sure you're good? You've got some serious money on the table."

"Don't worry, Patty Cake; I may not remember what I did in the morning, but I know exactly what I'm doing right now."

"I still don't know how you do it."

"Bruss, I spent six years with 32 dick-swinging Marines. I had to learn how to keep up. And I learned. Drink them fast, drink a lot, drink till they're cute."

She patted him on the shoulder and returned, cue in hand.

"Let's do this."

She slid Warlock out of the case and screwed the two pieces together.

"How good do you really think you are, sweet cheeks?" she asked.

"Is that supposed to intimidate me? You have drunk an entire bottle of Cuervo."

"And beers. Don't forget the beer. I never do."

"Ya know what, Shnookums, I'm going to up the stakes. I'll triple the winnings if you win. If I win, I take the $600 and walk, " he said.

Blondie took a seat at a high-top table.

"Bad decision, man," he said.

She laughed, "You are proof that evolution can go in reverse."

He became angry, and it engulfed his face.

"For such a dumb bitch you sure have a smart mouth."

"I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and shit out a better insult; let's play."

He went to rack the balls.

"Oh, by the way, we're playing one pocket," she said. "You know how to play one pocket, right? A seasoned pool player like yourself, I'm sure you know how to play all the games."

"I haven't played in ages. Can you refresh my memory?"

"OK. This should be an easy refresher."

She picked up his beer and drank it down.

"That was mine," he said.

"Oh, I thought it was mine. I'll buy you one when you lose. Call it a consolation prize," Allie said, blatantly patronizing him.

"Alright, here's the condensed version of the rules. Let me know if I need to talk slower. You can only score in one of the two corner pockets; we'll flip, and the winner chooses the head or foot end of the table. They also get to pick their pocket. The other four are neutral; you sink in 1, and it returns to the table. Blah, blah, blah. Don't scratch or sink in the other person's pocket. Blah, blah, blah. You don't have to call your shot; any ball works as long as it's in your pocket. Do you remember now?"

He looked a little confused but tried hard not to let it show.

"Yeah, I remember. I haven't played in ages, but I won," he said.

"Sure, you did, Pookie. Do you want to flip for pocket choice?" she was condescending when she asked.

"Sure."

One of his friends flipped the coin. She won with heads.

"You gotta like it when you get head," she said. "I pick the head of the table, the right pocket. So, I get the right head, and what's left over is the left, and you look like you don't mind someone's leftovers."

She broke the rack gently. It was necessary so you didn't hit into another pocket. He shot hard and missed. You played till you sank eight balls. They went back and forth. She didn't celebrate her drops. He didn't either after his first one. She intentionally bent over low, exposing her cleavage and sticking out her ass. She would crouch low deliberately. She didn't need to, but she enjoyed it. The bulk of the bar was fixated on the game. Bruss was sitting at the high top with Blondie.

"She takes the phrase 'if you got it, flaunt it, to a whole new level," Blondie said.

"I will never understand how she operates," Bruss said quietly.

The bar erupted when she sank the eighth ball. The entire game took five minutes.

He slapped the money in her hand.

"Cheating bitch," he scorned.

"Your beer will be at the bar," she told him.

**************************************************************

Ava came over. Allie unscrewed her cue, put it back in the case, and handed it to her. She peeled off a hundred and gave it to Ava.

Allie slightly tossed her head to the side.

"Get the dickless wonder a beer."

"Good work Doll. I've been waiting for someone to knock his ego down a peg," she said. "Now, more importantly, those guys I told you about walked in forty-five minutes ago. They are sitting at the center island. There are four of them. They brought the big one. He doesn't join them often."

"Big one?" she inquired.

She bit her bottom lip and slowly nodded.

Allie made her way to check out the "Grade A choice" sitting at the island. When the crowd parted to let her by, she saw him. He was sitting on the barstool drinking a beer. He was looking around the bar, surveying the crowd. Ava was right; he definitely was the big guy in the group. He was in the top three most attractive guys she had ever seen. She has seen some big, gorgeous guys, but DAMN.

He scanned the room, looking for the woman David had promised he would meet. Then he saw her making her way over. She was stunning. The closer she got, the more she took his breath away. She was so beautiful it was hard to believe that she was real. He hoped she was coming to him, not one of his friends. Maybe David was right. Tonight might be his lucky night.

She didn't want to appear thirsty and approached the guy opposite him. She didn't know where Bruss went to. She had to be her own wingman.

"Hi, boys. I'm Allie, and you're all incredibly attractive, so I wanted to come over and say hello.

The dark-haired one she had approached spoke first. On any other day, she would have set her sights on him. He had dark hair, hooded dark eyes, and full eyebrows. She would be all over him.

"You really kicked that guy's ass. I've never seen a pool hustle in person."

"We all need a hobby. So, all of you know my name. I should know yours. I may not remember them by closing time, but I will gladly meet you nonetheless."

The dark-haired one went around the table, pointing at each person saying their name.

"Well, I'm David, Scott, Brad, the big guy is Dean."

She pointed as she spoke.

"David... Scott... Bri... no, Brad aaaaaand Dan," she teased.

The big guy corrected her, "Dean."

"I'm sorry," she said with a pout.

She made her way over to him.

David looked crestfallen. Dean was looking anxious. He wasn't anticipating her approaching him since she had made a B-line to David.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Allie, and you're Dan."

He spoke with a slight southern accent, "No, you're Allie, and I'm Dean."

"Whatever, I'm not going to mince words, Dan," she said.

"Dean."

He was smiling.

"Right. You are the sexiest, most handsome, alluring, intoxicating, irresistible, luscious," Allie bit her bottom lip and slowly released it, "man I have seen in a long time."

"You know it's mind-boggling that your vocabulary is so extensive, yet you can't remember my name," he said with a grin.

"You do have a very valid point. You went to college, didn't you? Let me guess, football scholarship, "she said.

"Yes, I did go to college, and I did play football."

"You have the most remarkable eyes I have ever had the pleasure of looking into."

She moved closer to him and invaded his personal space. His legs were parted, feet on the rest. She slid her body between them, her thighs resting against the seat. She put her hand on his thighs, leaned in, and looked into his eyes. She was invading his personal space, and he didn't seem to mind.

"Do you know who Billie Joe Armstrong is?"

"Lead singer of Green Day. And yes, I've been told my eyes look like his, just a darker shade of green," he said.

"I could get lost in your eyes. Can you see into my soul?"

"Yours are equally beautiful. Can you see into my soul?"

Blondie took a seat at the high-top table next to them. A couple of ladies were sitting there.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

Neither of them said no.

Her phone went off in her back pocket. It was a text message from Bruss. She took her hands off his thighs, turned her back, and walked a few feet away.

HOLY SHIT! he mouthed to his friends.

B: Shelly invoked my curfew, so it's time for me to go.

A: Just because the streetlights are on for you doesn't mean I'm going home. I am staying out past 2300 hours.

B: How are you going to get home?

A: Even if the Uber costs a hundred dollars, I'll take one. I am eight hundred dollars richer than when I walked in.

She waved at him, and he waved back.

B: You better be careful if you're going to climb that mountain.

A: You know I can rock climb.

B: Alright, be safe. Patty Cake out.

***************************************************************

She turned her attention back to Dean. Someone had come up behind her before she even got a word out. It was the guy who had lost to her. He put his hands on her ass and squeezed.

He whispered into her ear, "I think you owe me the opportunity to show you that I do, in fact, have a dick. Since you hustled me and all."

Blondie saw what he was doing.

"DUDE, you just signed your fucking death warrant."

She issued him a warning. "If you don't remove your hands, I will break your nose and throw you through the wall."

"Sure, you will, Peaches," he said.

He moved his hand further down her ass and tried to put his fingers between the gap in her thighs.

Her face became intensely serious, and her breaths became deep. She was like an angry bull, seeing red.

Dean was also turning a shade of red. Before he could do anything, she put her chin to her chest and violently threw her head back. It slammed into his nose. She swung her elbow back into his ribs. He doubled over. He lifted his head.

"You fucking BITCH you broke my fucking nose."

She punched him dead center in the face. His head snapped back for the second time; she mule kicked him in the stomach like she was kicking in a door. He flew back so hard that his feet left the ground for a second. He slammed into the wall and landed on his ass, head tipped to the side, legs splayed open. He looked like a rag doll.

"NO! NOW I BROKE YOUR FUCKING NOSE!" she yelled at him.

She spit on his lifeless body.

"And I don't like being called a bitch. Bitch."

The place had gone dead silent; the only sound was the song playing on the jukebox. Everyone just stood there like statues. His posse ran over to help their illustrious leader.

Blondie started a slow clap while everyone around them just continued to stare.

"Oh, come one people! Don't just stand there. Give it up for the girl!"

"WHAT DID YOU DO YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!" one of his followers shouted.

"She hit him with her fist... and then a wall," Dean said. "I think you should just pick up your friend and go."

One of the guys took a step closer towards Allie. Dean slowly stood up. It looked like a beanstalk growing.

"Holy shit Jack! FEE-FI-FO-FUM!" exclaimed Blondie.

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time. Pick up the misogynist who just got his ass whooped by this gorgeous woman and leave, OR I will pick all of you up and carry you out myself."

The guy's eyes looked like they shit themselves. They struggled to lift the dead weight of their friend.

"Let me help you," Dean told them.

Dean walked over, grabbed the guy by the back of the shirt, and lifted him with ease.

With their friends' arms over their shoulders, they dragged his unconscious body out of the bar.

He looked at Allie. "I think you need some shots. I think we all need some shots," Dean said.

He headed up to the bar with every eye now turned his way. Slowly, the conversations started again.

"Oh my God, Allie, that was fucking sweet. What do you do for a living? Do you kick ass professionally?" David asked.

"No, I'm just a personal trainer who knows a little self-defense," she said.

"That was not self-defense; that was hand-to-hand combat," Scott said.

Dean returned. He had four shots in the palm of each hand.

"I need help. Ava stacked them there."

Allie took them from his left hand, and Brad emptied the right.

"Ava told me Allie likes Tequila. So, we are having Tequila."

They each took a shot and tapped it on the table.

"Salud!

The three guys were coughing. Allie and Dean drank it down like water.

"Oh, dear God. I can't do that again," Brad said.

"Me neither," the other two said together.

"OK."

She picked up another one and threw it back.

"That's some good shit right there.

Dean did the same.

She looked at the last one.

"Go ahead. You can have it," Dean said.

"I'll fight you for it if you want."

"Hard pass."

He handed her the shot.

"You can kick ass like Ronda Rousey and drink like a sailor. You're a catch," Scott said.

Ava came up with three beers for the table.

"Well, you had three people buy you a beer. I thought maybe you would like to share," she said.

"That's a good idea. Thank them for me, please."

"I'll have to pass. I've had my limit for the night," Dean said. "I have to work in the morning."

She put the beer on the table.

"Allie, thanks for kicking his ass. He has been a pain in mine for the last two years."

"She hit him with the wall," Dean said.

"That's my girl. It would be best if you scooped her up while you can. She doesn't come around here very often."