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.A thick slice of the chef's cheek fell neatly away from the bone, dropping with an audible slap onto the tray below.The chef fell to the floor.He was vaguely aware of Victor standing over him, his mouth moving, tugging at his clothes, cursing, trying to get him to stand up.There was something in his eyes, he knew that, and he thought he heard noises, somebody cursing in the distance.Then he saw a pair of legs moving across his narrow field of vision.In a second, they were planted on both sides of him like the Colossus of Rhodes.They looked like Tommy's legs.He thought he recognized the boots.WHEN TOMMY CAME charging into the kitchen, he saw Victor standing by the slicer with a gun, the chef sliding to the floor at his feet.Tommy vaulted the steamtable, surprising himself, and knocked Victor above his hip as fiercely as he could.The revolver flew from Victor's hand, landing in the cold grease in the Frialator.Tommy yanked open a utility drawer, pulling it completely out of its housing, scattering knives and utensils everywhere.He reached for the first thing he could find and came up with the short, five-pronged ice shaver.He lunged forward and buried all five steel teeth up to the hilt in Victor's armpit."You miserable fuckin mutt!" he heard himself say, and he yanked the wooden handle toward himself, ready for another thrust.The steel teeth stayed in the arm.They raked down the underside from armpit to elbow, leaving five bloody trenches.Victor took a few steps back and stumbled over the chef's semiconscious body.He lost his balance, put a hand out to steady himself and fell into the slicer.There was a terrible, grinding peal as the still-whirring blade chewed through Victor's fingernail.It changed pitch, a lower tone, as it continued lengthwise up the finger, halving it to the second joint.His shirtfront and neck spattered with blood, Victor managed to pull back his hand and take a few wobbly steps.He stood there, one good hand wrapped tightly around the wrist of the other, gaping at his ruined finger and the blood sprinkling out of his elbow.The color started to drain out of his lips, and his face became blotchy, then white.He did a sort of dispirited jig, no sound coming out of his mouth, and flopped helplessly to the floor, coming to rest at Sally's feet."What the fuck is going on in here?" said an incredulous Sally, taking in the carnage.The Count stood behind him, his eyes bulging.He seemed to shrink back, looking for an exit.Skinny stepped forward past the Count, seemingly unconcerned.He walked behind the line, saw the chef lying there, bleeding from the face, a silver-dollar-size patch of white cheekbone visible through the blood.Skinny reached over and calmly turned off the slicer.He looked down at Victor, who was getting whiter by Sally's feet.And there was Tommy, still standing over his chef, the bloody ice shaver in his fist.Tommy felt ready to kill them all.He looked down at Victor and considered whipping out his cock and pissing on him.Instead, he took a deep breath, looked straight at Skinny, and with a shaking voice said, "We had a work-related accident here.We're gonna say there was an accident with the slicer.the chef's feet slipped.That's what we're gonna say.I'm gonna take him to St.Vincent's." He pointed at Victor on the floor."He's goin' inta shock it looks like.You don't get him to a hospital, he'll probably fuckin die.Per sonally, I don't give a shit.But if he don't get that hand, the arm wrapped up, you're gonna be lookin' at a dead guy.I don't know how you feel about the guy," he said, "but I'd get him to Emergency pretty quick.I recommend Beekman.He doesn't look too good.""Jesus, Tommy," said Sally, "I didn't know ya had it in ya.You're right, he don't look too good.""I'll go bring the car around," said the Count.He scampered up the stairs, happy to get away.Tommy noticed that Skinny was smiling at him.He looked almost affectionate.He spoke directly to Skinny, encouraged by the amused look on his face."So we're not gonna have a problem with this, I hope.The man was in the wrong.We gotta stick up for our friends, right Skin?" Tommy turned his back on the others and helped the chef to his feet.As he started walking him slowly to the delivery entrance, he noticed the little orange bottle, still grasped tightly in the chef's hand.He pried loose the chef's fingers and gently placed the bottle in a front pocket."It's okay, Chef," he said."Everything's gonna be okay.No problem.""No problem," repeated the chef weakly.When Tommy and the chef were out of the room, Skinny got an apron from the laundry room and threw it down over Victor's hand."Get yourself together, Vic," he said."We're takin' you to a hospital."Sally bent down and reached under his arms to lift him up.Victor howled in pain, suddenly awake."Sorry, Vic," apologized Sally "I didn't see it."Blood dripped freely from Victor's elbow onto Sally's sneakers.Skinny stepped back, not wanting to get blood on his suit."Jesus, Tommy," Sally called after him."I guess this means you don't want the fuckin' job."Forty-TwoSALLY SAT in a black leatherette recliner, feet up, in front of the television.The Flintstones was on, Fred and Barney propelling their Stone Age vehicles with rapidly moving feet.Sally was dressed in a sleeveless T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms.There was an open box of Froot Loops on the carpet next to his chair and a half-empty glass of Slim-Fast wedged between his meaty thighs.He wiped his fingers on the front of his T-shirt, leaving brightly colored pink-and-blue trails of Froot Loop dust across his belly.'Sally threw the lever on the side of the recliner and brought his feet down to the floor.He rocked back and forth a few times, gathering momentum to get out of the chair, and then hauled himself to his feet.He lumbered into the bathroom and returned with a toenail clipper.He was just starting in on the big toe of his left foot when the doorbell rang.It was Skinny and Victor."You're early," said Sally."I'm just eatin' breakfast.You bring some crullers or somethin' at least?"Victor looked dubiously at the box of Froot Loops."That's some fuckin' breakfast.I don't eat nothin' that color.Gives you cancer."Victor's arm was heavily bandaged above the elbow, and his hand was in a cast.There was an aluminum splint on the middle finger; it extended out from the hand in a fixed reproach, the gauze around it stained with yellow antiseptic and dried blood."How's the hand?" asked Sally."You ever gonna be able to play the violin again?""S'alright," said Victor, settling into the recliner."It's my fuckin' arm that's killin' me.They wanted to keep me overnight inna hospital.It throbs like a motherfucker.They gimme some pills."There were some dark threads from the stitching running along the top of Victor's right ear.His nose was swollen, and he had two black eyes."I'd like to kill that fuckin' nephew a yours."Sally chuckled, "You gotta admit, the kid showed he had some balls.""I'd like to cut his balls off.Feed 'em to a fuckin' dog.Did anybody find my fuckin' gun?"Sally shook his head."Why don't you just relax a little bit there, Vic.You look like shit.""Yeah." said Victor, turning his attention to The Flintstones."Fuckin pills they gimme got me buzzed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]