Shoot the Piano Player (14 page)

"That's right," he said. "I just stand there. I don't make a move."

"But she wants you--"

"The hell with her," he said. "That ocean's too deep for me."

Clarice looked at him. Then she looked at the shot glass. Now it was just an empty jigger that needed a refill.

"You see?" he said. And he grinned again. "There ain't nothing happening."

"You leveling? With yourself, I mean."

"Well, if it's proof you need--" He put his hand in his pocket and took out the roll of money, his salary from Harriet. He peeled off three ones and put them on the table. "I'm paying you in advance," he said. "For the next time."

She looked at the three ones.

"Take it," he said. "You might as well take it. You're gonna work for it."

Clarice shrugged and took the money off the table. She slipped the bills under her sleeve. "Well, anyway," she said "it's nice to know you're still my customer."

"Permanent," he said, with the soft-easy smile. "Let's shake on it."

And he put out his hand. Just then he heard the noise from the bar. It was a growl, and then a gasp from the crowd. He turned his head and saw the crowd moving back, shoving and pushing to stay clear of the bouncer. The growl came again, and Harriet was coming out from behind the bar, moving fast as she attempted to step between the bouncer and the waitress. The bouncer shoved her aside. It was a violent shove, and Harriet stumbled and hit the floor sitting down. Then the bouncer let out another growl, and took a slow step toward the waitress. The waitress stood there motionless. Plyne raised his arm. He hesitated, as though he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do. The waitress smiled thinly, sneeringly, daring him to go through with it. He swung his arm and the flat of his hand cracked hard against her mouth.

Eddie got up from the chair. He walked toward the crowd at the bar.

11

He was pushing his way through the crowd. They were packed tightly, and he had to use his elbows. As he forced a path, they gasped, for Plyne hit the waitress a second time. This time it was a knuckle smash with the back of the hand.

Eddie kept pushing, making his way through the crowd.

The waitress had not moved. A trickle of red moved slant-wise from her lower lip.

"You'll take it back," the bouncer said. He was breathing very hard. "You'll take back every--"

"Kiss my ass," the waitress said.

Plyne hit her again, with his palm. And then again, with the back of his hand.

Harriet was up from the floor, getting between them. The bouncer grabbed her arm and flung her sideways. She went sailing across the floor, landed heavily on her knees, and then twisted her ankle as she tried to get up. She fell back. She sat there rubbing her ankle, staring at Plyne and the waitress.

The bouncer raised his arm again. "You gonna take it back?"

"No."

His open hand crashed against her face. She reeled against the bar, recovered her balance and stood there, still smiling thinly. Now a thicker stream of blood came from her mouth. One side of her face was welted with fingermarks. The other side was swollen and bruised.

"I'll ruin you," Plyne screamed at her. "I'll make you wish you'd never seen me--"

"I can't see you now," the waitress said. "I can't look down that far."

Plyne hit her again with his palm. Then he clenched his fist.

Eddie was using his arms like scythes, a feeling of desperation on him now.

Plyne said to the waitress, "You're gonna take it back. You'll take it back if I hafta knock all your teeth out."

"That won't do it," the waitress said. She licked at her bleeding lip.

"God damn you." Plyne hissed. He hauled off and swung his fist at her face. His fist was in mid-air when a hand grabbed his arm. He jerked loose and hauled off again. The hand came down on his arm, holding tightly now. He turned his head to see who had interfered.

"Leave her alone," Eddie said.

"You?" the bouncer said again.

Eddie didn't say anything. He was still holding the bouncer's arm. He moved slowly, stepping between Plyne and the waitress.

Plyne's eyes were wide. He was genuinely astonished. "Not Eddie," he said. "Anyone but Eddie."

"All right," the piano man murmured. "Let's break it up."

"Christ," the bouncer said. He turned and gaped at the gaping crowd. "Look what's happenin' here. Look who's tryin' to break it up."

"I mean it, Wally."

"What? You what?" And then again to the crowd, "Get that? He says he means it."

"It's gone far enough," Eddie said.

"Well I'll be--" The bouncer didn't know what to make of it. Then he looked down and saw the hand still gripping his arm. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked, his voice foggy with amazement. "Whatcha think you're doin'?"

Eddie spoke to the waitress. "Take off."

"What?" from Plyne. And then to the waitress, who hadn't moved, "That's right, stay there. You got more comin'."

"No," Eddie said. "Listen, Wally--"

"To you?" The bouncer ripped out a laugh. He pulled his arm free from Eddie's grasp. "Move, clown. Get outa the way."

Eddie stood there.

"I said move," Plyne barked. "Get back where you belong." He pointed to the piano.

"If you'll leave her alone," Eddie said.

Again Plyne turned to the crowd. "You hear that? Can you believe it? I tell him to move and he won't move. This can't be Eddie."

From someone in the crowd, "It's Eddie, all right."

And from another, "He's still there, Hugger."

Plyne stepped back and looked Eddie up and down. He said, "What goes with you? You really know what you're doin'?"

Eddie spoke again to the waitress. "Take off, will you? Go on, fade."

"Not from this deal," the waitress said. "I like this deal."

"Sure she likes it," Plyne said. "What she got was only a taste. Now I'm gonna give her--"

"No you won't." Eddie's voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"I won't?" The bouncer mimicked Eddie's tone. "What's gonna stop me?"

Eddie didn't say anything.

Plyne laughed again. He reached out and lightly patted Eddie's head, and then he said kindly, almost paternally, "You're way outa your groove. Somebody musta been feedin' you weeds, or maybe a joker put a capsule in your coffee."

"He ain't high, Hugger," came from someone in the crowd. "He's got both feet on the floor."

From another observer, "He'll have his head on the floor if he don't get outa the way."

"He'll get outa the way," Plyne said. "All I hafta do is snap my fingers--"

Eddie spoke with his eyes. His eyes said to the bouncer, It's gonna take more than that.

Plyne read it, checked it, and decided to test it. He moved toward the waitress. Eddie moved with him, staying in his path. Someone yelled, "Watch out, Eddie--"

The bouncer swiped at him, as though swiping at a fly. He ducked, and the bouncer lunged past him, aiming a fist at the waitress. Eddie pivoted and swung and his right hand made contact with Plyne's head.

"What?" Plyne said heavily. He turned and looked at Eddie.

Eddie was braced, his legs wide apart, his hands low.

"You did that?" Plyne asked.

Did I? Eddie asked himself. Was it really me? Yes, it was. But that can't be. I'm Eddie. Eddie wouldn't do that. The man who would do that is a long-gone drifter, the wild man whose favorite drink was his own blood, whose favorite meat was the Hell's Kitchen maulers, the Bowery sluggers, the Greenpoint uglies. And that was in another city, another world. In this world it's Eddie, who sits at the piano and makes the music and keeps his tongue in his cheek. Then why--

The bouncer moved in and hauled off with his left hand, his right cocked to follow through. As the bouncer swung, Eddie came in low and shot a short right to the belly. Plyne grunted and bent over. Eddie stepped back, then smashed a chopping left to the head.

Plyne went down.

The crowd was silent. The only sound in the Hut was the heavy breathing of the bouncer, who knelt on one knee and shook his head very slowly.

Then someone said, "I'm gonna buy new glasses. I just ain't seem' right."

"You saw what I saw," another said. "It was Eddie did that."

"I'm tellin' ya that can't be Eddie. The way he moved-- that's something I ain't seen for years. Not since Henry Armstrong."

"Or Terry McGovern," one of the oldsters remarked.

"That's right, McGovern. That was a McGovern left hand, sure enough."

Then they were quiet again. The bouncer was getting up. He got up very slowly and looked at the crowd. They backed away. On the outer fringe they were pushing chairs and tables aside. "That's right," the bouncer said quietly. "Gimme plenty of room."

Then he turned and looked at the piano man.

"I don't want this," Eddie said. "Let's end it, Wally."

"Sure," the bouncer said. "It's gonna be finished in a jiffy."

Eddie gestured toward the waitress, who had moved toward the far side of the bar. "If you'll only leave her alone--"

"For now," the bouncer agreed. "Now it's you I want."

Plyne rushed to him.

Eddie met him with a whizzing right hand to the mouth. Plyne fell back, started forward, and walked into another right hand that landed on the cheekbone. Then Plyne tried to reach him with both arms flailing and Eddie went very low, grinning widely and happily, coming in to uppercut the bouncer with his left, to follow with a short right that made a crunching sound as it hit the damaged cheekbone. Plyne stepped back again, then came in weaving, somewhat cautiously.

The caution didn't help. Plyne took a right to the head, three lefts to the left eye, and a straight right to the mouth. The bouncer opened his mouth and two teeth fell out.

"Holy Saint Peter!" someone gasped.

Plyne was very careful now. He feinted a left, drew Eddie in, crossed a right that missed and took a series of lefts to the head. He shook them off, drew Eddie in again with another feinting left, then crossed the right. This time it landed. It caught Eddie on the jaw and he went flying. He hit the floor flat on his back. For a few moments his eyes were closed. He heard someone saying, "Get some water--" He opened his eyes. He grinned up at the bouncer.

The bouncer grinned back at him. "How we doin'?"

"We're doin' fine," Eddie said. He got up. The bouncer walked in fast and hit him on the jaw and Eddie went down again. He pulled himself up very slowly, still grinning. He raised his fists, but Plyne was in close and pushed him back. Plyne measured him with a long left, set him up against a table and then hit him with a right that sent him over the table, his legs above his head. He hit the floor and rolled over and got up.

Plyne had circled the table and was waiting for him. Plyne chopped a right to his head, hooked a left to his ribs, then hauled off and swung a roundhouse that caught him on the side of the head. He went to his knees.

"Stay there," someone yelled at him. "For Christ's sake, stay there."

"He won't do that," the bouncer said. "You watch and see. He's gonna get up again."

"Stay there, Eddie--"

"Why should he stay there?" the bouncer asked. "Look at him grmnnin'. He's havin' fun."

"Lotsa fun," Eddie said. And then he came up very fast and slugged the bouncer in the mouth, in the cut eye, and in the mouth again. Plyne screamed with agony as his eye was cut again, deeply.

The crowd was backed up against a wall. They saw the bouncer reel from a smashing blow on the mouth. They saw the smaller man lunge and hit the bouncer in the belly. Plyne was wheezing, doubled up, trying to go down. The smaller man came in with a right hand that straightened Plyne. Then he delivered a whistling left that made a sickening sound as it hit the badly damaged eye.

Plyne screamed.

There was another scream and it came from a woman in the crowd.

A man yelled, "Someone stop it--"

Plyne took another left hook to the bad eye, then a sizzling right to the mouth, a left to the eye again, a right to the bruised cheekbone, and two more rights to the same cheekbone. Eddie fractured the bouncer's cheekbone, closed the eye and knocked four teeth from the bleeding gums. The bouncer opened his mouth to scream again and was hit with a right to the jaw. He crashed into a chair and the chair fell apart. He reached out blindly, his chin on the floor, and his hand closed on a length of splintered wood, the leg from the broken chair. As he got up, he was swinging the club with all his might at the smaller man's head.

The club hit empty air. Plyne swung again and missed. The smaller man was backing away. The bouncer advanced slowly then lunged and swung and the club grazed the smaller man's shoulder.

Eddie kept backing away. He bumped into a table and threw himself aside as the bouncer aimed again for his skull. The splintered cudgel missed his temple by only a few inches.

Too close, Eddie told himself. Much too close for health and welfare. That thing connects, you're on the critical list. Did you say critical? The shape you're in now, it's critical already. How come you're still on your feet? Look at him. He's gone sheer off his rocker, and that ain't no guess, it ain't no theory. Just look at his eyes. Or make it the one eye, the other's a mess. Look at the one eye that's open. You see what's in that eye? It's slaughter. He's out for slaughter, and you gotta do something.

Whatever it is, you better do it fast. We're in the home stretch now. It's gettin' close to the finish line. Yeah--he nearly got you that time. Another inch or so and that woulda been it. God damn these tables. All these tables in the way. But the door, the back door, I think you're near enough to make a try for it. Sure, that's the only thing you can do. That is, if you wanna get outa here alive.

He turned and made a dash toward the back door. As he neared the door, he heard a loud gasp from the crowd. He whirled, and looked, and saw the bouncer heading toward the waitress.

She was backed up against the bar. She was cornered there, blocked off. On one side it was the overturned tables. On the other side it was the crowd. The bouncer moved forward very slowly, his shoulders hunched, the cudgel raised. A low gurgling noise mixed with the blood dripping from his mouth. It was a macabre noise, like a dirge.

There was a distance of some twenty feet between the bouncer and the waitress. Then it was fifteen feet. The bouncer stepped over a fallen chait hunched lower now. He reached out to push aside an overturned table. At that moment, Eddie moved.