Sand Blast - Written 2017 - Copyright Jag Aoti
Chapter 4 – The Incident
Balls 1 thru 4 lay in the pockets, and in nine ball that was as good as a win.
“One more” gestured Tony, his middle finger in the air. The jinx wouldn’t phase Jackson. He always one at nine-ball.
Jackson lined up the 5-ball, a sharp angle into the side pocket but with nothing in the way. He pulled back with his right hand, the cue sliding across the tops of his left knuckles.
Just as he was about to punch forward, a searing pain shot through his skull. A loud crack reverberating through him. Glass shattered around him and as he watched it fall to the ground, Tony leapt across the table towards him.
Jackson crouched, just in time to dodge the freight-train of Tony that was coming towards him. Tony’s arms outstretched, wrapped around a figure in the corner of Jackson’s eye, bringing him down to the ground in an imposing “caaaarunch”. He spun around to see Tony on top of the man, his massive forceps squeezed against the man’s throat.
The man kicked, and winced as his face went from white to red to blue, and as his eyes began to roll back, Tony let go and he collapsed on the floor.
“Who in the fuck is that, Jackson? He just bottled you! Are you okay brother?” Tony yelped.
The man gasped for air, grabbing at his bruised throat and curling into the fetal position. His kaki shorts were drenched – presumably piss. Jackson noted the numbers tattoos across the back of his hands as he held them to his throat.
1 7 4 8
His sandy blond hair was still intact. His maroon button-up was ripped from the collar to the pocket, presumably from Tony’s initial impact
“I have no idea” Jackson replied, holding the back of his head and staring at the man.
The man began to stand, a look of terror in his eyes. Flaggo rounded the corner, picked him up by his shorts and heaved him into the hot sand just beyond the deck, his left ankle cracking on the last bottom step. A howl erupted from him as Tony spit towards the dishevelled heap.
A small crowd had gathered, still sipping beers and tapping to the music, but with the interest and curiosity you’d find in schoolchildren.
“nothing to see here” Flago explained, kicking sand as he walked towards the ocean.
Flago dropped himself backwards into the waves, erasing the early afternoon’s turmoil from his mind.
Jackson stood, head pounding, with a look of concern on his face.
“I sure as hell don’t know Blondie here Jackson” Tony said as he slapped him on the back. “Whatever you got yourself into, it won’t be coming back around here I don’t think.”
Jackson took a long sip of a warm beer from one of the tables on the deck.
“Never seen him before in my life – honest. Didn’t think I had any enemies around these parts.” Jackson explained.
Flago walked towards them, drenched from head to toe, and let the blonde man pass as he stumbled to his knees and tried to run his way down the beach.
“Heeber’s all around. And let’s keep the bottles off our foreheads, shall we?” Tony suggested.
“Good enough” Jackson and Flago said in unison, grinning at each other as they strolled back into The Puffer.
What the fuck was that? Jackson thought to himself.