Synthetic Maze

The show bar was Abbey’s idea of hell. When she was younger, she thoroughly enjoyed a few holiday reps stumbling through the hits of every popular musical that had ever existed, but once she hit eighteen and had her last holiday with her parents and brothers, she vowed never to sit through one of those shows ever again.

At this very moment in time, a few holiday reps from the kids club were parading around the stage in pink and black jackets miming their way through the Grease soundtrack and dancing like their lives depended on it. Well, Abbey supposed their wages depended on it.

She looked at the stage in horror. Her mother was clapping along and singing with the back track. Joe was leaning against the bar, chatting to one of the bar man who could speak English like he’d spent his whole life there, and Andy had disappeared with Luke on some boyish adventure Abbey wasn’t involved in.

She sighed and picked up her Tequila Sunrise, heading out of the show bar and down the steps to the second bar. It was far quieter and cooler. A plasma screen in the corner was showing Sky News, a round up of all the sporting events that had happened during the day, a few dad’s sat around it, groaning and whooping when their teams score was announced. Abbey sat herself down at the bar, away from the television and the pensioners gabbling away in some exotic tongue.

Now she was alone, she could truly think. Her mind hadn’t drifted since she arrived here. Under normal circumstances, she’d have poached a phone card from her mother and locked herself in one of the sleek phone booths in the lobby, dialling the number she knew so well. But, no. Not now. Because now, she wasn’t here under normal circumstances. This wasn’t a simple family getaway, it was a chance for her to forget Kieron Willis and everything she’d left behind at home, as well as have a reunion with the elder triplet.

She inspected her chipped manicure and sipped her cocktail, suddenly not in the mood to drink and have a good time anymore. The idea of creeping up to her room and wallowing in her own self pity was slowly enveloping her, and only stopped when she heard the distinct sound of snooker balls clicking together. She whipped her head around, searching for the familiar green snooker tables, when her eyes fell on them. Both were occupied by a familiar face.

A smile spread across her face and the feeling of self pity and wallowing was gone. She sipped her cocktail a little faster, the warmth of the alcohol burning her throat and chest. She watched the boy she’d spilt orange juice down, until he handed his cue over to his friend and headed down the two marble steps towards the bar.

“Try not to spill that down me, please, I’m running out of clean shirts.”

Abbey shook her head and twirled her straw around the fancy glass her cocktail came in, looking sideways at the stranger. “I can’t promise anything, but for the sake of you having a clean wardrobe, I’ll try my damned hardest.”

A bar man appeared before them and the boy ordered a beer and motioned to her glass, “and whatever that is.”

“Tequila Sunrise,” Abbey smiled at the bar man, watching him disappear to get their drinks. “I’d say thanks, but you’ve got one of those magic free drinks wristbands.”

He chuckled. “True. It’s been my best friend since we got here.” He twisted the wristband around his tattooed arm, before holding out his hand. “I’m Oliver.”

“Abbey.” She shook his hand gently, just as the bar man placed their drinks over the bar, the pair of them thanking him in Spanish.

“Are you by yourself? Or was that guy -”

Abbey’s eyes widened and she looked horrified. “No, no, no. Brother. Younger brother.”

Oliver nodded. “Good. So if you’re by yourself, do you wanna join us? You don’t have to, if you don’t want, I mean, I’m only getting my arse kicked at pool, so it’s not that exciting.”

“You’re getting your arse kicked at pool? Seriously? You’re gonna need my help,” she jumped off her stool and grabbed her fresh cocktail, leading the way back towards the pool tables.

“Finally, Ol, when you’re done chatting birds up, I’ve got to finish this.” A less tattooed version of Oliver smirked, holding out the cue they were sharing.

Oliver looked down at the table, his face a look of utter pain. “Nicholls, I fucking hate you,” he grimaced, snatching the cue back and studying the table currently half full with red balls and just three yellows. He picked his target and positioned himself, about to strike when Abbey shook her head. “What?” He looked up at her.

“Get your head level with the table, then you can see what your hitting a little more accurately, that should help you pot the ball better. I bet you’re a careless pool player,” she shook her head, chewing down on the straw in her drink, watching him do as she said.

The balls clinked together, and the target one rolled swiftly into a corner pocket. Oliver straightened up and grinned. “Don’t tell me you’re some sort of pro.”

Abbey shrugged. “Two brothers and a snooker mad dad taught me a lot.”

The other boy watching this exchange smirked. “Where did you find this one?” He motioned to Abbey, his question directed to Oliver.

“You know this morning?” He got himself level with the table and struck, potting another ball. “When I ended up with orange spilled down me?” He raised his eyebrows and nodded towards Abbey. “Culprit’s right there.”

“Ooooh!” He chuckled, extending his hand, “Matt.”

Abbey took his calloused hand and shook it gently. “Abbey.”

“Professional pool player and drink spiller.” He took the cue back from Oliver as he missed his last turn.

“Am I ever going to live that down?” Abbey asked, rolling her eyes at Oliver, who came to stand beside her, guzzling his beer.

“One day. Maybe,” he smiled, focusing on Matt, who managed to pot the last three yellow balls. He raised the cue in the air and waved it around.

“And your winner is, me!” He cried, before walking across to the opposite table and observing that game.

“We’re playing winner stays on, looks like I just missed out on my chance in the final,” Oli shook his head.

“Shameful. You were terrible before I gave you my sparkling advice.”

“Are you trying to say I’ve been a terrible pool player all my life?”

Abbey nodded, swallowing the last of her Tequila Sunrise. “I’m also going to go to bed. Been up since the crack of bloody dawn thanks to my mother.”

Oli chuckled. “How long you here for?”

“Another six days.”

He nodded. “Well, thanks for the pool tips.”

“I hope you get to the final next time,” she smiled, walking away with a wave and heading up to her room.