“I’m here,” I say. “I showed up. I might as well compete.”
“What good does brooding do anybody? What good does it do the woman you tried to help?”
“None.”
“Right.” He pats my shoulder again. “So don’t throw your life away to despair. Don’t go looking for it. It’ll come find you often enough, without any help. You’re in this moment right now, you’re here, so you might as well enjoy it.”
“It feels wrong.” I face the tables again. “It feels wrong that I’m here and Tarika …”
He nods. “All over planet Earth right now, there’s a lot of terrible things happening. If you stopped and focused on that, you’d never live, Greg. You’d never get anything done. And you do more than most to make the world a better place, kid. Keep that in mind.”
I appreciate the pep talk, but I’ve lost my motivation to compete. Winning a nine-ball tournament feels so unimportant right now.
“You’re here, Greg,” Roy says. “So play. I wish I could compete but those days are long past me now.”
“What are you talking about, Roy?” I ask. “You could get to the final table here.”
“I might get through the first round or two, but playing well over several hours?” He shakes his head. “I can’t do that anymore. Old age is a bitch.” He gives me a hard look. “You’re still young. Don’t waste your youth, kid.”
He shuffles off, each step looking painful. Roy squeezes between Ashlynn and Tammy and sits, makes a crack about something, and both women start laughing.
I’m ready to drop out of the tournament. But Ashlynn and Tammy and Roy came all the way out here to see me play. Least I could do is try my damned best. Because Roy is right: another tournament might never come along.
And next time?
There might not be a bag on the end table by the front door, so some asshole misses when he tries to shoot me.
Life’s like that.
As I head back to our seats, I think about Tarika and her plight puts my situation into perspective. A few minutes ago, I was worrying about how I’d perform in a nine-ball tournament.
Seriously. I was worried about a nine-ball tournament.
That is a First World Problem right there.
Putting things into perspective is always useful. The tournament isn’t that big of a deal, really. Family is more important. So are friends.
Nothing terrible.
What happens if I win?
I might, you know, actually enjoy myself.
I’m smiling as I sit down.
Tammy gives me a look. “What’s so funny?”
“Did I ever tell you I knew a bagpiper?”
************
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Evan Ronan writes mysteries and thrillers filled with lots of suspense, crisp prose, crackling dialog, and wry humor. Sometimes he posts rambling videos on YouTube.
He loves hearing from readers and can be contacted at ronaniswriting@gmail.com. He always responds to emails.
ALSO BY EVAN RONAN
The Unearthed
The Lost
The Accused and the Damned
The Hysteria
The Traveler
The Dream Machine
The Possessed
The Missing
THE DEAD SERIES (Part-time Private Detective, Greg Owen)
The Dead Girl
The Stalked Girl
The Prodigal Girl
THE TOMAHAWK AND SABER SERIES
(collaboration with Nathanael Green)
Language of the Bear
Through the Narrows
The Susquehannock
OUT OF THE FIRE SERIES
Out of the Fire
Into the Grey
OTHER NOVELS
UNDO (YA / sci-fi)
Otherworld (Middle Grade fantasy)
stay in your homes (horror / thriller)
The Board (crime thriller)
WRITING AS BRIAN O’ROURKE
The Bastard’s Refuge
Wyetgerd’s Ax
The Sword Behind the Veil
THE PRODIGAL GIRL. Copyright 2017 by Evan Ronan. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
Edition: November, 2017