Florence was at the doorway, asking coldly, “Is there a problem here? What’s Junior got his panties in a twist about?”
“Nothing, just hang on a damn second,” Goldie replied quickly. He focused back on Day. “Baby, please, calm down. Take a few deep breaths for me—”
“Angel!” Day screamed, grabbing the sides of Goldie’s face and shaking him. “He’s here to fucking kill you!”
“Day! Whoa! Hey!” Goldie laughed because it was ridiculous. “Come on now, baby.” He looked over at Florence, certain he was going to see his old friend laughing too. “Do you hear this…?”
Florence wasn’t laughing.
He was holding a gun.
“Well,” Florence said with a shrug, “what do you know? Junior’s right.”
23
GOLDIE
Goldie laughed again.
He couldn’t help it.
Maybe it was because he’d had so many guns pointed at him here recently, but seeing one in Florence’s hand was bizarrely surreal. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience right now, and the only thing dragging him back to reality was the clench of Day’s hand on his arm.
“What the fuck is so funny, huh?” Florence demanded.
“Put the gun down,” Goldie said. “Come on, Flo. What are you doing?”
“About to get the story of the fucking century, that’s what I’m about to do!” Florence barked. “Just imagine the headline. Depressed old fuckin’ wrestler kills himself after murdering his boyfriend, their bodies tragically discovered by his best friend.”
“That’s a load of bullshit,” Goldie snapped, panic setting in when he realized Florence was serious. “No one is ever gonna believe that. You’re insane if you think you can get away with this.”
Day took a step forward.
“Wait, wait!” Goldie grabbed Day’s arm. “Hold your horses, murder muffin. I’m trying to talk to him.” His eyes snapped to Florence. “Hey! Is it true? Did you set up that jobber to shoot on me? To hurt me for fuckin’ real?”
Florence’s eyes widened, and his grip on the gun trembled. “How did…”
Goldie’s heart shattered, and he thought he was going to throw up. His eyes stung, and his emotions teetered between agony and absolute rage. He didn’t want to believe it, but there was no denying the expression on Florence’s face. It was the look of an arrogant man who didn’t think he was ever going to get caught and was now stunned to be confronted with his crime.
“Holy fuck.” Goldie hissed. “It is. You did it. You really did it.” He didn’t understand, and his stomach twisted violently. He had a million questions zooming through his mind, and the only one he could manage to get out was, “Why?”
“Why?” Florence spat. “Are you fucking kidding me? You are surrounded by an entire museum of your bullshit, and you don’t understand why I was pissed?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You fucker!” Florence shook the gun at him. “The cereal! The action figures! The movies! All the fucking merchandise! You got everything I wanted, and we were supposed to be a fucking team!”
“You fucked my entire life up because I got more fucking merch deals than you?” Goldie was starting to feel a little murderous himself, and he had to fight to keep his temper in check. “Are you fucking serious?”
“The only reason you got any of that shit was because of me! You wouldn’t be fucking shit without me, and you left me in the fucking dirt when you turned heel and joined the stupid Syndicate!” Florence raged. “My career was worthless! All they were using me for was a prop for your fucking story line.”
“But we were going to get back together after that four-way!” Goldie argued. “Don’t you remember? We were—”
“No!” Florence shook his head. “I talked to Pryor, that bitch. He was only gonna let us put the tag team back together for one more season and then split us up. He wanted you to focus on your solo career, and I was gonna get shafted with some newbie piece of shit! I was never gonna see a main event ever again!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Goldie demanded. “I could have talked to Pryor! I could have helped you!”
“You stupid son of a bitch.” Florence laughed sadly. “Ididtalk to you.”
