VERDICT IN LITTLE SHACK OF HORRORS SERIAL MURDER TRIAL:
DERRICK POOLE FOUND NOT GUILTY IN MURDER OF PALM BEACH DANCER
Ed pumped his fist in the air as he read the newsfeed on the bottom of the TV screen. ‘Yes!’ he said, probably a little too loud. The other four people who were in the dank, smelly old man’s bar looked over.
Time to go. He didn’t look nothing like himself, but if this whole bullshit case had taught him anything, it was to take no chances with nosy people. Next thing ya know, someone’s on the phone with the cops hoping to score a reward or some face time for being a Looky-Look. It was a great day, though. A great fucking day! He’d be able to get with Derrick soon enough. It had been so damn long – man, that was gonna be some reunion. Then they’d take their show on the road. Get the hell out of Dodge. The band was back together!
He looked at the screen as he chugged the rest of his beer. The newscast, which didn’t have any sound, was now running video clips that showed the scene down at the courthouse. Derrick sure looked like he was having a good ole time chatting it up with those reporters, with that ugly snitch of a girlfriend smiling at his side. The last conversation he’d had with Derrick, the last thing the dumbass had said to him before they’d agreed to go their separate ways for a while was, ‘I think the bitch from work might’ve turned the cops on to me.’ Ed felt the jealousy race through him like a fever. He felt it all the way down to his fingertips and he squeezed the bottle so hard he thought he might actually break it. She’d be the first to go – Girlfriend. Right after Blondie. This was no Butch and Sundance and what’s-her-name threesome happening here. That’s not what he and Derrick were about. He put the bottle down hard on the bar.
He was holding her hand.
He turned away from the TV, it made him so mad. What the fuck was that about, now? There was no need to play all lovey-dove boyfriend no more, Dumbass. No more need to pretend to be something you ain’t, because Derrick Alan Poole was Not Fucking Guilty!
‘Time to drop the curtain,’ Ed muttered as he threw down a five. ‘Show’s over.’ Maybe he’d even change the order of things and take Girlfriend before Blondie. He’d busied himself for the past four months building what was at first supposed to be a shanty Everglades hold-up for a wanted expat like himself, far away from snoops and tourists and campers and rangers and washed-up towns. But he’d made it into so much more than a place to lay his head. Maybe he and Derrick could take both of them lucky ladies to the new crib and show them around. He smiled at the thought. He hoped Derrick would like it. Even if they decided not to hang around Florida for long, they could still tidy up business before they pulled out.
Ed popped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it as he headed to the door, daring some yahoo to say shit to him about smoking in a bar. He grinned as he walked out. It was gonna be great to see Derrick. Maybe there was a way to get together even tonight. A reunion would be sweet. It was gonna be hard to hold back. There was so much he wanted to do. He felt like he’d popped a fistful of X, only better. He felt like he could do anything now.
‘Yes!’ Ed yelled as he walked out of the bar into the still-sunny parking lot. Damn, he hated summer. He fist-pumped the sky with a smile. ‘Let’s do this!’