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“Good.” I turn toward the door to open it, but as I do, headfirst, he launches himself at me, his forehead impacting the side of my skull with a Crack!
Fuck!
I stagger, ears ringing...
… but through the stars, I grab him by the arm, swinging him around, using his weight to keep me upright as I punch into his gut before, knocking his feet out from under him, he goes down.
The whole thing lasts under five seconds.
And now I’m on top of him, straddling his chest.
There are those out there who would know how to get out of this situation. Loudmouth’s not one of them. Screaming incoherently, he tries to punch up at me, but he’s not got the angle. Instead, with each attempted swing, I rap my knuckles onto his nose, rattling him. “Like I said before, calm down. You’re going nowhere except out of here.”
Spittle flies with his blustering. “Gonna call the fucking cops on you.”
“Be my guest…” I aim a finger up toward the corner and the cyclops eye of the security-camera. “All of that was on CCTV. The police’ll be delighted to see you attacked me first.”.
I glance up toward Emilio, wringing his hands around and around. “How much do they owe?”
The old man shifts from one foot to the other. “They haven’t eaten yet.”
“They’ve had drinks and you’ll have started preparing the food. How much do they owe?”
He spreads fingers, rocks his hand. “Cento? A hundred.”
Hauling Loudmouth up by his lapels, I reach inside the jacket, pluck out his wallet and hand a couple of fifties to Emilio. Frog-marching the moron to the door, I jerk a thumb to his table... “Out! The lot of you. Take your friend somewhere he can get coffee.” I toss the wallet out onto the street after him.
Loudmouth’s cohorts slump out and away. Around the restaurant, faces smile. One man raises a glass to me. Emilio’s accent thickens as he slaps at my shoulder. “Mr Hickman. Grazie mille. I not know…”
“Not a problem…” I level a finger toward the kitchen… “… Now you get back to your job and I’ll get back to mine.”
“I get you a drink, Signore Hickman. He hurt you. I hear the noise when he hit you. We all hear it.” Around him, other diners nod and mutter.
“Later, Emilio. I’m working. And so are you.”
He stalks off, shaking his head. “S’gonna be one of those days…”
Yeah…
Rubbing at my temples against the thumping inside, I return to Romano. “My apologies, sir. Didn’t think I could leave the old man to handle that…”
My employer is jovial. “Forget it, Hickman. Good work.” He nods sidelong. “Katya here was all eyes for your exploits.” She semi-rises from her seat, her brow creasing, angling to see the side of my face.
I scratch an ear. “Don’t know that I’d call bouncing a drunk exploits.”
Still, I glow inside as Katya brushes her fingertips over my temple. “You’re hurt, Hickman. Leone, you should give him some time off. He might need to see a doctor.”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Romano angles to look too, slipping the handkerchief from his top pocket, offering it to me. “No, you’re bleeding…” I touch my temple and my fingers come away wet, a slick red trickle. “… Go get yourself cleaned up. And like Katya says, take the rest of the day. You’re off-duty. Go get that drink Emilio wants to give you.”
“If you’re sure, sir…”
He gives a lop-sided smile. “There are others here, Hickman. You’re not actually indispensable.”
At the kitchen swing doors, Emilio advances, a green first-aid box in one hand. “Mr Hickman…” He gestures me through to the bathroom.
“Just… stop fussing. It’s nothing. Let me clean myself up. Then I’ll have that drink.”
