“You late, boy.” Bea tossed Bill the keys to the linen room and told him to hurry and get dressed. “You need to cut the round and get it up right away for Mary to put on.”
Being with Marie last night, Bill had not checked if a round was cut. Having worked as late as they did, even if he had checked he wouldn’t have cut it then.
When Bill was changed, he went to the meat room to cut the round. First thing, he took a drink of bourbon. Mary walked in on him while he was drinking. He didn’t see her coming and hadn’t heard her walk in.
“You was busy last night, huh? And you worked real late.”
“Yeah.”
“You go home?”
“Right after I followed Marie to make sure she made it okay. She was all messed up. Me, I was too, but I’m used to it.”
Mary reached out for the bottle of bourbon. Bill handed it to her and watched her take a small sip. She handed the bottle back to him. He twisted the cap back on and put the bottle under the towels in the drawer.
“I need that round.” Mary walked over to the counter on which she usually sat and hoisted herself up taking her usual position with her legs crossed at the ankles and swinging her feet.
Bill walked into the walk-in and came out with a big slab of meat slung over his shoulder. He plopped that meat down on one of the cutting blocks. When it was down, he laid it nice and flat and petted it, so to speak, so as to make sure it was laying flush. Satisfied, knowing it was in the position the way he liked it, he went over to the knife drawer and pulled out a curved, butcher’s knife and a sharpening steel. He took a moment to hone the blade straight on the sharpening steel then drew a line in the layer of fat on the slab of meat he thought approximated the middle point. Before he actually cut into the meat he walked over to Mary and kissed her on the lips.
“Boy, cut the meat.”
Bill continued kissing her. Their tongues met and when this happened Mary let a tiny sigh escape her lips. As they kissed Bill ran his hand up under her dress. She didn’t stop him immediately and let him have his way momentarily, but when it was coming to a point where she would really not want to stop, she ended the kissing and helped him remove his hand with a little prod and by saying “Later baby.”
“I want some,” said Bill.
“Later baby. Later. When we can fit it in.”
Bill went back to the meat. He checked his line, looked to Mary who shrugged her shoulders more to say she thought it was okay than to express indifference. Knife up, point end down, he pierced the meat down to the bone and began to cut around. He went as far as he could on the one side then rolled the meat so he could do the other side. When he had gone all the way around he checked to see if the two pieces, still attached to the bone, were separated.
His visual inspection showed a couple of spots where he could make the cut more clean. He took a moment to do this and then inspected his work again. Satisfied that the two chunks of beef were separate, he rinsed the knife, wiped it, returned it to the drawer.
Bill had two options. He could take the meat to the band saw and saw through the bone using the machine. Or he could saw through using a hand saw. He chose the latter.
