Bill went in immediately. They were fighting over a liquor glass that had come in without being dumped. Bebe, the barmaid, never sent a glass into the kitchen with alcohol in it. Most of her bar glasses she washed herself. So this one must have come from a table. That meant it went from the table to a bus box to the kitchen. The only thing Bill knew for sure was that Victoria hadn’t been involved, meaning she wasn’t the one who had sent in a glass that had liquor in it. She was in the hall with Bill.
Apparently Mickey was collecting all such glasses and he’d been dumping their contents into his own glass. He’d been drinking this way all night and was pretty inebriated. Jim, the ex-trainer who was not right in the head, the one who went off slightly and gave Bill a hard time sometimes telling him he really he thought he was someone, had gotten wind of it and was pissed off that Mickey wasn’t sharing the booze. So Jim went at him, verbally at first and not too loud so that Bill could not grasp the situation. But the words had escalated and then gotten louder so that by the time Bill got in by the machine they were almost at blows.
Jim towered over Mickey and was a good ten years younger. To protect himself, Mickey grabbed a steak knife from one of the racks as Jim approached him. Seeing this, Jim turned to go to the knife sheath to grab a real knife, and he probably would have done so if Bill hadn’t literally stood in his way.
“Okay boys,” Bill said, “time to knock it off. You know that waitress went out to get Mr. Stevens. You’re both gonna lose your jobs if you don’t.”
“Get out of my way you little squirt,” Jim said. But he stopped short of pushing past Bill. He stopped so that his body did not touch Bill’s at all.
“Don’t get in the way of this,” Mickey said. “But I’ll cut it out if he will.” Having said that, he put down the steak knife.
“Look,” Bill said to Jim. “He put the knife down. So let’s let it be over.”
Jim eased up somewhat. He was tensed and on the way to crazed. He muttered something under his breath then turned away from Bill. Bill took out his pack of cigarettes and offered him one.
After Jim had lit up, Bill offered Mickey a smoke too. Then they all went out in the hall leaving only Paulie, the special needs kid, working on the dishes.
They were all in the hall when Tommy came in. Bill was standing in the doorway. Jim was by the back door, the door open now so the cold air could come in. Mickey was by the lettuce cases, close to the stairs.
“Something going on?” Tommy asked.
“Nah,” said Bill. “They just got a little behind at the machine and were having a tough time getting who was doing what straight. So we talked it out and took a little break.”
“Don’t need me here?” Tommy asked.
“We’re good,” Bill said.
“Okay then.” Tommy stopped over by the coffee urns to draw himself a mug of coffee before he left the kitchen. Marie was busy cleaning her station, beginning to wrap things that she thought would not be needed or used again for the rest of the night. She had watched the whole thing and was ready to run out for help if it was needed.
“I don’t want to hear any more shit,” Bill said to both of them. “I’m tired of this crap. And you,” he said to Mickey, “I see you drinking ever again, I’m firing you on the spot.”
“Okay, Billy boy,” Mickey said. “You’re the boss.”
“Really think you’re something,” Jim said.
