Ronnie smiled and nodded, and then watched as Stiles did, indeed, lose to the biker, but in such a way that you’d have to know he was setting up the other guy. The biker turned to his friends and laughed behind Stiles’ back, then faced Jimmy’s dad again and said: “I feel bad about taking your money. What say we grab a piss-break and play one more? Double or nothing, winner takes all.”

Stiles blinked, wobbled a bit more, then said, “That’s…w-what? Shit, never could do math in my head once I had that second pitcher started…lemme see, that’d be…eighty dollars?”

“Sounds about right.”

Stiles looked confused, then said: “How ‘bout making it an even hundred?”

The biker looked at his friends and gave them a quick wink, then faced Stiles again. “A hundred sounds even better.”

The men shook hands, the biker heading for the restroom, and Jimmy’s dad heading out the back exit into the alley.

“Where’s he going?” asked Ronnie.

“This’s part of the hustle, kid,” replied the other man at the table. “See how he made sure the biker’s friends saw him stumble out the door? In a minute, he’s gonna start making sounds like he’s back there puking his guts out, then sit down and have a smoke. Biker comes back from the restroom, his friends are gonna tell him that Slugger’s out back being sick, and the biker, he’s gonna take it for granted that he’s already won the next game. Won’t play as well as he did the last time ‘cause he figures Slugger’s too sick and too drunk to give him any kind of game.” The guy pressed a fist against his chest, let fly with a loud, wet belch, then finished off his glass of beer. “Speaking of taking a piss, seems the lizard needs draining. Do me a favor, will ya? Order us up another pitcher while I’m in there. I think I may be a few minutes—that damn Italian sub I had for lunch has finally found the escape route.” He patted Ronnie’s back. “Be back in a few.” He rose from the table, weaving and zigzagging through the crowd.

Ronnie was glad the place had gotten this crowded.

He flagged down a waitress and ordered two more pitchers of beer and some onion rings, gave her a five-dollar tip, then asked the remaining guys at the table to save his seat.

Making his way through all the people, Ronnie walked past the pool table and the cue rack. No one was paying any attention to him or the table area, so he grabbed the opportunity to take a couple of items. No one noticed. The biker’s friends were too busy talking about the “…stupid motherfucker…” who was “…puking his lunch up in the alley…” and how Oz (that must be the biker’s name) was going to “…clean him out…” when they played the next game.

Ronnie guessed that Jimmy’s dad must have been doing this for a long time, and that he was pretty good at it…at least most of the time. (“What? You spend all night buying drinks for your buddies or did you lose it hustling pool games again?”)