Kristoffer

Derrick

After a long day of driving around the entire state of Arizona, Joshua decided a little time spent in a tavern would do him some good. “Big Billy’s” the sign said. Joshua decided to sit nearest the barkeep and perhaps strike some conversation after being alone all day.
He sat for a few minutes in the sticky bar, rivulets of sweat were running down his face as his eyes scanned the interior. To the left of him a man wearing a green and black flannel shirt was caressing his fingers over the wood of the tavern tabletop. They swayed slowly back and forth, an expression of ecstasy washed over his face.
Joshua grabbed a napkin out of a pile and wiped the sweat off of his face, something he loathed doing as it usually irritated his skin. He sipped some of his coffee and looked at the odd man again whose fingers were now going back and forth rapidly brushing away at the table top like there is some sort of stain on it that won’t come out.
“Look!” the man shouted. No one person was specifically targeted by his outburst but for some reason Joshua knew it was meant for him.
Joshua decided to find a table to sit at, or maybe a woman to talk to. His coffee was getting too cold to enjoy and the mysterious man’s behavior was growing stranger with each passing minute. Before leaving the row of seats Joshua decided to purchase another cup of coffee from the barkeep, but before the words came out of his mouth, the strange man spoke up: “Barkeep, this man wants more coffee.”
Joshua was abashed, he hated when other people ordered for him, it made him feel like a child, like a four year old who couldn’t intelligently communicate his wants or needs to anyone.
“My name is Derrick,” the man next to him finally showed some signs of being mildly sane. Joshua did, after all, find it a little peculiar that this man he had never met, who was sitting several seats away, knew his coffee was cold, not gone but cold. The barkeep walked over slowly and took Joshua’s old cup replacing it with a new piping hot cup.
“I’m Joshua. I’d rather be called Josh.”
Derrick was hunching over in his seat, the profuse running of his fingers decreased to a stir. “You would also rather not being ordered for.”
Joshua was peculiarly impressed, he never met anyone who could read someone so well after being in there presence for several minutes. His own mother and father didn’t know that Joshua had his own pet peeve about being ordered for.
Joshua stopped sweating but he kept wiping at his forehead. He could see that the man wasn’t sweating at all, and he was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. It was an Arizona August. He should have been floating away.
“I’m glad you looked Josh.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Derrick fingers began moving faster on the table top again. “I said that I’m glad you looked when I said to look. That made me happy.”
“Oh, yeah, glad to hear it.” Joshua sipped at his coffee. It was ice cold. “What the- this was hot as hell a minute ago.”
“Sorry about that.” The man’s fingers slowed again. His apology only raised more curiosity in Joshua.
Joshua shifted his wait on the bar stool and looked around the tavern. Nobody. There was nobody there but him, Derrick and the bartender. “Sorry about what…? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You weren’t drinking you’re coffee so I figured it was too hot, I made it colder for you so it would be a little easier to consume. You waited too long though.”
“You made it colder…?” Joshua was getting a little uneasy now, he felt a little friendly to this “Derrick” before but now it was just getting stranger.
No answer came out of the Flannel wearing man. He said instead: “Sure is hot in here isn’t it? You’d think a nice little establishment like this one would have some Air Conditioning to fight off this Arizona heat.”
Joshua noticed the heat was rising and Derrick’s fingers were moving faster. “Why are you doing that Derrick?”
“My fingers?” Derrick asked, as if he did not know.
“Yeah, why are you doing that with your fingers.”
“So I can get your attention. I like getting attention. It makes me happy.”
“Getting attention makes you-,” Joshua was cut off.
“Yes. Just as getting alcohol makes you happy. Just as getting a young woman to go down your pants makes you happy.”
Joshua was truly shocked now. How did this “Derrick” know about his recovering from alcoholism or his affair with another woman? Any other man would get upset and starting yelling obscenities at Derrick, but not Joshua. He was intrigued, shocked and intrigued.
Then Derrick starting talking again, and his hand was moving so fast across the table top it looked like it was going to catch on fire. “Joshua Raymond Reynolds, born February 22nd 1971, son of Jack and Debbie Reynolds, brother of William Arthur Reynolds, born June 8th 1970, killed March 12th 1999 during a routine Army training mission.” The man’s fingers were still flying.
“How-,”
“Blood Type O, weight 189 pounds, history of mild insomnia usually around the fall.” Then, as quickly as his fingers started moving, they stopped. “Wow. Look at what I said Joshua. You must be in awe. Are you in awe? I like that, it makes me happy.”
“Please stop…please stop Derrick.”
Joshua couldn’t take any more of this. He had no idea what was going on. He started thinking.
Who is this man? How does he know all of this…? It’s as if he can read my past, my present…what the hell is going on?
“I can read your past Joshua.” Derrick slid out of his seat and stood before Joshua. He was tall, and much more haggard looking than when he sat down.
“Are you…are you some sort of telepathic person or something?”
Derrick took off flannel shirt, threw some money onto the table top and said, “Nah, just really good at guessing.”

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Man is both predator and prey...