They weren’t expecting her to show up at the pool hall on the very day of her release. She did the dime at Leavenworth standing on her head and looked no worse for the wear; walked through the door with that little limp from the .38 round embedded in her right hip. They moved aside as if it was yesterday, someone handing her the enameled cue that'd been sitting in the rack all that time.
There was press, of course, the whole dog and pony show. She was a celebrity for all the wrong reasons. Evidence came to light that if she hadn’t opened fire that night with her Thompson, the nuclear bomb would have gone off. Presidential pardon but with a lot of mumbling during the announcement. She wasn’t about to discuss any of it though. It'd been crystal clear someone had to have taken the fall.
"Just business as usual, boys," she told the reporters, hiked up her skirt and kick shot the two.
CLACK.
They all watched the five roll along the felt before dropping into the corner pocket then mad clapping and clattering of camera shutters. She took a step back and studied the table, chalking her stick as if sculpting scrimshaw.
