Page 133 of Pure Silence

“What?”

“We were at Clancy’s, that bar in Austin, and I told you what Pryor wanted to do—”

“Wait, wait, you tried talking to me about this serious shit while I wasdrunk?”

“Fuck you, you were always drunk! You were always into fucking something, sneaking around and crying, getting fucked up and trying to get some dick! It was the only time I could talk to you!” Florence groaned in frustration.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Goldie honestly didn’t remember being so unavailable, but this was also over a decade ago. “Can you please put the gun down so we can talk now?”

“No! Fuck you!” Florence shouted. “I tried talking to you in that damn bar, and you told me to quit my bitching and enjoy the ride! You told me nothing lasts forever and we should just be ready to fuckin’ move on!”

Goldie cringed because that did sound like his brand of melancholy bullshit.

“After everything we’d been through, you told me to move on. So, yeah, I paid some nothing jobber to bust your ass up.” Florence sneered with a disgust Goldie could hardly believe his jovial friend was capable of. “I wanted you out. I want you fucking gone, and I was gonna get what the fuck I deserved.”

“You should have tried talking to me again,” Goldie said firmly. “We could have tried to get through—”

“No, fuck you! You had to go!” Florence barked. “I was fuckin’ done with you! I gave you everything and you stabbed me in the fucking back! You wouldn’t stand by me when I needed you—”

“Dear God, can you please ask my angel if I can kill him now?” Day whispered, a bit impatiently. “My head hurts.”

“No!” Goldie wedged himself between Day and Florence.

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Florence scoffed. “You ain’t doin’ shit, Junior. This is my party.”

“That’s right. It’s your party.” Goldie held out his hands as if trying to calm a wild animal. “Nobody has to die here, Florence. Think about the podcast. You still want me to do it? I will. Fuck, you want me to be your co-host, I’ll do that. Let me help you now, okay?”

“No, man.” Florence shook his head. “It’s too late for all that. I… I tried to…” His brow furrowed, and he sighed haggardly. “This is it. This is the final story, okay? I was there for the birth of Goldilocks, and I’m gonna be here to watch you die.”

“Flo, don’t do this. Please.” Goldie could see Day slowly creeping around him out of the corner of his eye. “No one has to die—”

Florence aimed.

Day pounced.

“No!” Goldie grabbed Day’s arm.

Day grabbed the gun and pushed Florence’s arm back. It went off, and the bullet shattered the window.

“Hey! Get the fuck off me!” Florence swung with his other hand, punching Day in the side of the head with his big fist.

Day’s head snapped to the side, but he didn’t let go. He wrenched the gun away, and he tried to turn it on Florence.

“Day, don’t!” Goldie yanked Day’s arm again, trying to push in between him and Florence.

Florence was on the attack, and he punched Day again while Day was distracted trying to break free of Goldie’s grip.

“Fucking stop it!” Goldie slammed his elbow into Florence’s throat. “Don’t you fucking touch him!”

Choking, Florence stumbled back a few steps and hit the doorway. With nothing to catch him, he fell to the ground, gasping for air.

Day growled. “Angel, do not try to stop me.”

“Please, baby!” Goldie tried to grab the gun from Day’s hand. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I do not want to hurt you,” Day warned.

“Then don’t!” Goldie pleaded, finally wrenching the gun away from him. “Let’s just call the fucking cops! We can—”