”Sorry, Kit.”
”Oh, don’t mention it. I just love ruining a perfectly good pool table and losing a week’s profits.”
”Well, gosh, Kit, I just thought you’d laugh. How was I to know you’d take the news so personally? Don’t tell me the famous Kit Carson has fallen for that redheaded imp?”
Wisely, Robert made himself scarce. But the antiquarian chuckled all the way out to Commons. Kit muttered impolite words under his breath. With such friends …He unscrewed the sections of his cue stick and slipped them into their leather case, then settled up the damages with Samir Adin, the night manager.
”You what?” Samir asked in gaping disbelief.
”I scratched. Here, this ought to cover the cost of refelting it.”
”You scratched. Unbelievable. Did I miss the earthquake or something?”
Kit scowled. “Very funny Frankly, I’d say it hit at least 7.5 on the Richter. Had Goldie’s name all over it. Give me a Kirin, would you?”
Samir chuckled and dug for a cold bottle. “I keep telling you, Kit. If you want to beat Goldie Morran, play her when she’s unconscious.”
Kit downed the Kirin in five long swallows and felt better immediately. “Well, a man can dream, can’t he? Hillary had Everest, Peary had the Pole, and I cling to the dream of beating Goldie Morran at pool.”
Samir, a deeply sympathetic soul, broke into song, giving him a stirring rendition of “To Dream the Impossible Dream.”
”Oh, you’re no help,” Kit grinned. “Why do I come in here, anyway?”
Samir chuckled. “That one’s easy. All time scouts are gluttons for punishment. It’s in the job description.” .