Damn Good Reasons **DISCONTINUED - SEE NEW VER!**

31 On Thin Ice

Thanks to everyone who voted or commented on the last chapter!  They always give me that extra little boost for the day :)  I understand there's not a lot to comment on at this point though, not until you find out what's actually going on... We're getting there.  It'll all start coming together now :D

---

The lot of us piled out of four cars and burst through the front door of Irby's as an unruly, raucous mob of teen spirit. The place was already jam-packed for a Friday night (which, for such a small premise, doesn't take a lot of patrons) but adding in another fifteen of us really lowered the oxygen levels.  Seriously, it was hard to breathe in there.

But despite the numbers, no matter how busy his bar was or how rowdy it got, Joe Irby saw everything. Always. Irby's Billiards had been handed down to Joe through four generations. Looking after that place wasn't just a job, it was his purpose in life.  His fathers before him expected him to keep the infrastructure in top shape as well as its reputation.  And Joe was good at it.  It was in his blood.  But, according to Ace, the billiards bar went through a rough patch where it was losing money.  Joe needed to make some cutbacks.

A couple of months later, the cops raided a truck coming into Castle Rock and found it packed to the sides with alcohol that had no paperwork.  The driver talked to save his own ass.  He told them the destination of his delivery.  The cops were all over Irby's like a bad rash.  They gathered all the evidence they needed to prosecute Joe and bring his precious establishment to its knees.

Ace got word of this and - after being kicked out of there several times - decided to make himself and anyone he chose, permanent residents.  There are definite advantages to knowing which cops are the crooked ones.  Especially the ones that would help cover up a crime for a very reasonable price.

"Cass, grab a cue," Ace said. There were other guys we didn't know playing on our table, and one of them had just taken a shot as Ace rudely started racking up the balls as if the table was free.

"Hey, can't you see we're playin' here?" one of them said. He was a skinny hillbilly type wearing farmers clothes, and unless he had some kind of martial art hidden under his belt, Ace would floor him easy. Billy, Charlie and Fuzzy gathered around the table too, backing up Ace from all sides.

The guy looked around at them all, wisely deciding not to take them on. "Joe!" the guy called. "This guy ain't even old enough to be in here – what goes?"

Joe had been watching, of course, but he turned his back and started to serve one of the other guys at the bar.

"This is bullshit," the guy spat, throwing his cue down on the table.

"If you want it back, play me for it," Ace said.

The guy gave Ace a dirty look and then walked over to Joe to make some sour, verbal complaint, and then he and his buddy left.

Joe left his post and came over to us. "Watch yourself, boy," he said to Ace. "You just lost me a customer, and for no damn reason."

"This is my table," Ace shrugged. "Now. You're feeling generous, aren't you Joe? So generous you're offering to serve all of us here, free tonight. Why don't you start by lining us up some shots. There's a boy." And he slapped Joe on his big, round shoulder.

Joe smirked an insidious smirk. "One day, Merrill. One day the tables are gonna turn, and I'll be rid of the lot of ya. For good!"

"Whatever old man."

Joe went back to the bar and poured some shots before continuing to serve his customers. I looked at Ace who leaned down on the table and made his first break of the night. OK - so, Joe owed Ace a lot - that was true.  But I felt like Ace was getting too cocky. Like he was starting to push him too hard.