Eight Ball, Corner Pocket

[Tommy Knox]

///Eight Ball, Corner Pocket\\\
Chapter XIX

"...bitch probably still mad that I hit it and quit it..."
- Knoxville -

Thursday 10:39 PM [February 28th, 2013]
New York, New York

We find ourselves inside the club house of the Nomads, New York chapter. We've seen these types of places before. The depths of these walls are nothing new to the eyes of our favorite individual roaming across the land, living the American Highlife. The main room is dim with neon lights on the wall flickering over the pool table. Across the room, a bar rests in the corner.

Tonight must have been a wild night. Then again, more than likely it's only getting started. Empty bottles and glasses stand on the bar. The room seems empty for a brief moment before Knoxville pops his head up from behind the bar and slams a bottle of Jack Daniels sending an echo bouncing off the walls. He pours himself a tall glass of whiskey and pulls out a cigarette and places it between his lips. Without hesitation, he lights the end and then slowly walks around the room, along the wall, looking at pictures of current and past club members.

He then comes to the end of one wall where a couch intersects, rested against the perpendicular wall. In front, a small coffee table is placed with a small glass mirror laying on top covered in white residue. Knoxville looks around for a second and then sits on the couch, leans in and looks closer at the mirror. He then rubs his finger across the top and then licks his fingertip as a smile comes across his face. A razor blade and dollar bill rest beside the mirror that he notices just before being interrupted by a door closing from across the room.

"What the hell are you doing, Knox?" Wallace says as he places a cigar in his mouth and slowly lights the end.

Laughing to himself for a moment, Knoxville replies. "What does it look like? I'm just cleanin' up the mess you guys have here, heh."

Wallace shakes his head from left to right as he takes a slow drag from his cigar and walks towards the pool table. "Just be careful with that shit."

"Who, me? Nah, you got it all wrong Wallace. This shit ain't for me anymore. At least not right now." Knoxville stands to his feet and takes a drag from his cigarette shortly followed by a strong drink of whiskey. He then walks over to Wallace who is racking the pool table.

"Not right now? What does that mean?" Wallace asks.

"I'm strictly green, bro. A couple of years ago, I would have been all over that but not now." Knoxville says with a pause right after. "So, how'd it go?"

Wallace tosses the rack aside and then hands Knoxville a stick as he walks to the other end with his. He then leans over the table and aims as he takes his time. "If everything you promise is true, then it's a go. You supply us back in Cali and we'll move it as far as New York. If you want us to transport to Mexico, then you're going to need to come down about twenty points for every load in question. Everything in the states, we're good on price but if you want us to move it south then we need more on our end." With that last word, Wallace slams the cue ball down the table and breaks the balls all over, sinking the three and four in the process.

Knoxville thinks to himself for a second before answering. "Here's what I'll do. Lets make it two and a half for every pound both north and south of the border. You can easily double those numbers at wholesale."

"I'll bring it to the table." Wallace responds.

"Why not go back in the right now and let them know my offer?" Knoxville questions.

Wallace smirks as he takes his next shot. "Church is over, bro. The guys all left out of the back before I even came back up here. We'll discuss it tomorrow at the table. Don't bother them with it when they get back later tonight for the party."

Knoxville thinks to himself and nods his head for a short moment. "You got it. You didn't happen to mention me comin' in full patch, did you?"

Wallace takes a drag from his cigar before answering. "Actually, I did. It's not going to happen. You can't just come along and ask to be patched in. Look it, we're boys and all but it's not going to happen. We can do business together and back you when needed. You can ride with us but not in formation. Sorry bro, it's not my decision."

A look of disappointment comes across Knoxville's face as he aims to take his shot. "Damn... that's all I really wanted" He then takes his shot and slams the nine ball in the corner pocket opposite from him. "I even offered you guys fifty-fifty partnership in my operation."

"For that we'll have your back when needed and offer you protection from the competition. Sorry dude, maybe if you came along a few years back but now it's too late. A lot of the guys know the trouble you got in with our friend across town and honestly, they don't trust you. You have a life on the road though. With your wrestling, you wouldn't find time to put in your dues with the club." Taking another drag from his cigar, Wallace slowly walks to the opposite side of the table as he looks Knoxville dead in the eyes.

"I guess you're right." Knoxville answers.

"How are things going for you by the way? I saw you challenged two big mother fuckers the other week and almost pulled one over on them." Wallace questions as he takes a drag from his cigar and walks to the bar to grab a beer.

Knoxville lines up his next shot as he speaks. "Leon Roberts and Jake Titan, the Natural Born Killaz. I had to make a point."

Wallace laughs loudly for a moment before answering. "What point was that? You trying to prove to them who can hit the mat harder? If so, you proved it!"

Knoxville takes a stout drink from his glass as he walks to the other side of the table. "Oh, we have a fuckin' wise guy? Titan and Roberts are still tryin' to figure out what the fuck hit them. Last week, if it wasn't for nosey bitches gettin' involved in other peoples business then the two would have both went to sleep on their backs in the center of that ring. I just can't seem to get a fuckin' break! As soon as I challenge two people, then the other jealous fucks rollin' with dumb broads want to butt their heads in my fuckin' business. Fuckin' Kaylyn, bitch probably still mad that I hit it and quit it back in WCF."

"I heard about what happened last week. So, what are you going to do about it?" Wallace asks Knoxville.

"Well, there's nothin' I really can do without gettin' myself into trouble. Fuck it, you know me, trouble is my middle name. I'll give Kash a shout, see if he can get his bitch in line before I put my foot up her ass and teach her some manners. She should have never gotten involved in grown mans business. Now someone has to teach her a lesson." Knoxville walks to the bar and grabs the bottle of Jack Daniels and pours more in his glass.

He then takes another few strong drinks and pulls out another cigarette and rests it between his lips. "Me and Gooch have to go up against Evan McDonald and Megan Andrews now to advance in the tournament for the tag gold. That shouldn't be too hard, these two aren't even on the same level as big Gooch and myself. My southern friend is goin' to have some fun throwin' these two little punks around the ring like rag dolls."

Wallace grabs a shot glass and pours himself a round. "Well, good luck with chasing that gold."

"Pfft, are you kiddin' me? I've seen McDonald and Andrews in action. I'll let Gooch handle McDonal while I try to slide into some Andrews." Knoxville replies as he takes another drink.

"Don't take that bitch lightly and start thinking with your dick." Wallace says as he takes another drag from his cigar.

Knoxville chuckles for a brief moment just before lighting the cigarette that's still hanging from his lips. "There's nothin' like that to worry about, trust me. True, she's fine and all that but business is business. I don't even know why they're still in the mix. Last week they lost to Hyatt and that fine piece, Niobe. They shouldn't even be a factor in this tango to the gold. Either way, it's fine by me. Those two are just an easy steppin' stone to climb high in the ranks."

Wallace twalks towards the table and begins to line up his next shot. "Yea, that Niobe chick sure is sexy. I know you've been making some passes towards her and whatnot. What are you going to do if the next team in line after Monday night ends up being her and her partner?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess. Right now I need to focus on Andrews and McDonald. If there's one thing I've learned along my travels chasin' this dream, is to never take your opponents lightly. There's not so much worry with them bein' capable of pullin' off the win. I'm more concerned with that bitch, Kaylyn, and her faggot buddy, Kane, stickin' their noses in my goddamn business again." Knoxville says as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

"Do you need a couple of brothers to stand by to make sure that doesn't happen?" Wallace asks.

Knoxville smiles for a moment and takes another drink. "Thanks for the offer, man. I think I'm good though. I don't need you guys to get off course worryin' with my shit, especially up north across that border. If I see either one of them at ringside durin' my match then I'll be glad to plant my foot up both of their asses."

Wallace lines up another shot as he looks across the room at Knoxville in the corner of his eye. "I wouldn't seem too worried with them. They seemed more concerned with Buckson than you."

"Well, as long as Gooch is my partner then I'm goin' to have his back no matter what it is that comes his way. I told you, bro. Him and I are goin' to win those fuckin' titles one way or the other. Monday night it starts all over again with Andrews and McDonald. Forget about what happened last week with NBK in the ring or the week before. It all starts over this Monday night at Meltdown. Those two have no clue what they're about to get themselves into. If they thought Hyatt and Niobe were tough, shit, they're in for one hell of a surprise." As that last word rolls off his tongue, Knoxville walks to the table with the bottle of Jack Daniels in hand.

He places the bottle and his glass on the side and pours himself a drink as he takes a couple of drags from his cigarette. "I'm not ridin' all the way into Canada to walk away from my match empty handed. I'm goin' to be at Rasslemania makin' an impact and claimin' my stake here in APW. I owe it to Gooch, I owe it to the fans and I owe it to myself. This journey is only gettin' started."

"Well, that's good. Do me a favor, will ya?" Wallace asks.

"What's up?" Knoxville answers.

"Since you have that bottle over there, pour me another drink. While you're at it, you might as well grab that rack. Eight ball, corner pocket mother fucker..." Wallace laughs as the smoke from his cigar rolls up along the side of his face. Knoxville fills both of their glasses with whiskey as the two continue to talk and enjoy each others time.