Mary sat swinging her legs all the while she watched him. Bill took a hand saw from one of several hanging on the wall and immediately went to work moving through that bone. It didn’t take but a minute and he was done. When he was done and the two pieces were separated completely, he took the bigger one and wrapped it in layer after layer of film. Then he carted it into the walk-in.
“Let’s smoke a joint,” said Mary.
“I’ve got to get one from my locker,” said Bill.
“Well, boy, we ain’t got all day. Move your ass.”
“Be right back,” said Bill.
They didn’t linger in the deep freeze. It was too early in the morning and too cold to take their time. They didn’t even bother to close the parkas. They smoked, passed it along, smoked. Then they were high. They both hung their parkas back on the hook and straightened their uniforms.
Before Bill hoisted that one chunk of meat onto his shoulder to carry it upstairs, he and Mary took a drink of bourbon. While she was drinking Bill goosed her from behind, helping himself to a good feel of her. Mary leaned herself into his hand to let him enjoy, to let him know she was enjoying too. Then they went upstairs and worked through the morning nonstop.
Bill would discover as the day went on that the whole of this particular Friday would be just about nonstop. He and Mary set up the round, dressed it, carried it together in a large roasting pan to the oven. That done, only then, did Bill help himself to a cup of coffee. Bea asked if he wanted to play the numbers. He gave her his and Mary’s to play for the rest of the week. He handed her a $10 bill from which there would be change.
As he handed her the money, he remembered not so long ago when he couldn’t even pay his rent, when he and his fiancé were borrowing the money each month from his brother. He had no money, no job, no prospects. He was down and out.
Now, in contrast, he could spend money on gambling and he spent money on drugs. Sometimes he bought the booze for him and Henry Lee. On his days off, even though his days off were few and far between, he and his fiancé usually went out to eat. He could remember when they could barely buy food to eat at home.
Ain’t it funny how the night moves.
He stood by Bea awhile while he drank the coffee he had poured for himself. Bea was already pretty much done setting up her station for as much as she could do this early in the morning. Her special for the day was chicken salad. Bill and Mary would have to cook off the chickens and then cut them for Bea when they were cooled. They had done this together, he and Mary, many times.
Bea usually asked if he wanted to play the horses. She did not ask this morning. This morning she was about work, doing her best to get everything done as quickly as possible so that she could begin to prepare for what they all felt was going to be a gangbuster night.
When Bill finished his coffee, he went back by Mary. She was starting a pot of fresh Bordelaise sauce. He no longer had to learn how to do this, so he asked her what he could do for her instead. She told him to make sure they had enough pickerel and fried shrimp breaded then to scrub the potatoes for lunch. When he was done with that, she told him he could bring her a case of chickens for them to cook off.
“And change that shirt,” said Mary. “You got blood all over it.”
