Down in the snug of Mike’s Tavern, the world was a much rosier place. Darker and dingier, certainly, but nevertheless rosier. With half a dozen pints inside me, and a couple lined up on the bar, I was ready to face the world once more.
“Who’s it going to be then, eh?”
Ian had wandered off with Scottish Jimmy after the first few rounds, probably to get his gear ready for the gig – although it hadn’t been too clear from the grunt and nod with which he’d departed – so I’d decided to see what could be accomplished on Mike’s pool tables. There were several challengers, and they weren’t all bad, but they were up against someone who wasn’t just playing for entertainment. This was how I kept body and soul together most days, playing pool for drinks, the odd bar snack, and even the occasional cash reward. Playing for money was tricky, though. Your average punter didn’t mind losing a beer. That’s what it was all about, having a couple of laughs, buying a round, trying again. But when money was on the line, it was a different story. Some guys took it personally.
Still, it was better than mugging old ladies at ATMs, or begging for change on street corners. And still safer than selling drugs.
Extract from Burning Roses, a decadent tale of sex, drugs, rock n roll & magick, set in the clubs and bars of 1980s Johannesburg. Available on Amazon.
Or in paperback from Curiosity in Pretoria, and The Real Mackay in Blairgowrie.
One of my other books – Dancing in Valhalla – is free on Amazon, today and tomorrow. Go grab yourself a copy.
And I’ve just released Tales from the Crying Room on Amazon. Previously available only in a local paperback. Now free on Kindle Unlimited, and available worldwide in paperback.
Till next time.
Cheers.
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