“Billy—” Nancy said with a warning tone in her voice.
Tiny pushed his head toward me. “What’s that s’posed to mean, Bacon?”
“It means you couldn’t find a fish even if it was in your pants, and you can’t find anything better to do than drool on my shoulder.”
Nancy stood up. “That’s enough, Billy. Let’s go.”
Tiny put a hand on my shoulder and leaned down. “Blow me,” he said.
It wasn’t much as an insult. It was about what you could expect from Tiny. But something about the combination of the stupid retort, the sharp words from Nancy, the beer, the lousy ball game, and that damned August heat made it seem a lot worse. Whatever it was, I’d had enough.
I threw a sharp elbow into Tiny’s groin and slid out of the booth. By the time he half-straightened I was already standing. “Son of a bitch,” he said, his teeth showing. I hit him again, in the gut this time, and he folded some more.
“God damn it, Billy,” said Nancy. “If you think—”
I didn’t think. There wasn’t time. Tiny gave a high-pitched gurgle and charged me. His head went into my mid-section, just above the belt, and drove me backwards.
I had about three steps back before I was going to slam into the wall. I used one of them to move sideways. Tiny kept going straight until his head smacked the wall with a dull bong. He sat down hard and just blinked a few times.
I turned to Nancy. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Do you want to leave now?”
She looked at me, shaking her head. Then she turned away and headed for the door.
“Nancy. Wait.” I caught her just two steps short of the door. “Nancy, look—” I started.
She turned to me. “Billy,” she snapped. Then her eyes widened. “Duck!”
I heard a slight scuffling sound behind me. I grabbed Nancy and swung her away, turning just in time to see a chair fly through the space we had been standing in.
Tiny was up and charging again. A table got in his way. He knocked it over. The thick glass ashtray flew sideways and smacked one of the shrimpers. He turned his head and glared at his partner. “God damn,” he said, and swung a haymaker at his buddy.
The second shrimper flew backwards and landed on the table occupied by the charter captains and their wives. Their drinks spilled on them as the table collapsed.
One of the captains, a bald guy with a beard and a diamond earring, stood up grinning. “Ya-HOO!” he bellowed and belted the shrimper.
In a moment a full-scale bar fight was raging. I wrestled Tiny to the floor, but as I stood up the bearded captain’s mate stepped over and slugged me. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled.
I stepped back and Tiny bit my ankle.
I kicked Tiny in the face. His nose broke and blood poured over my shoe. Then the mate was on me again. I hit him hard in the stomach. He bent over and threw up on Tiny.
I turned to Nancy, who was half-crouched against the wall. “Can we just—” I said, but that’s as far as I got.
“You bastard!” a voice shrilled at me, and somebody jumped on my back. Long red fingernails clawed at my cheeks; it was the mate’s girlfriend. “You bastard!” she repeated. “You leave Bobby alone!”
She clawed again and I felt the blood start to trickle down my face. I have a life-long prejudice against hitting women. So I turned quickly and backed into the wall, just hard enough to knock the wind out of her. “Ucck—” she said and slid off my back.
“Jeannie!” Bobby bellowed, and charged me again. Luckily he ran into Tiny, who had the same idea. The two of them glared at each other as they bumped. Tiny swung first. Bobby ducked under the punch and slapped Tiny hard on the side of the face. Tiny grabbed for Bobby, but Bobby stepped back and fell over his girlfriend. So Tiny grabbed the uncertain-looking guy with the tan who was standing with his back against the wall. Tiny got him in a bear hug and lifted him off the floor, grunting with the effort of his rib-cracking squeeze.
I stepped close to Tiny and hooked him in the kidney, hard; once, twice, and he dropped the uncertain guy and turned on me with a sound like a wild boar charging. But Bobby sat up just then and Tiny stumbled over him, coming to his feet a moment later with a grip on Bobby’s throat.
The bald captain brought a chair down on Tiny’s head from the rear. Tiny dropped Bobby, shook his head, and charged at me again.
Wondering what the hell his head was made of, I hit Tiny three times as he got his arms around me. He pulled me in to his chest and started to squeeze. I rammed the heel of my hand under his chin and then brought my forehead into his broken nose as hard as I could.
Tiny took a half step backward and glared at me. I hit him again, right on the chin, as hard as I could hit. He shook his head at me. “Son of a—” he said, and fell over.
I took a deep breath, which was a bad idea. My shirt was covered with blood and vomit from Tiny’s bear hug. I took the shirt off and tossed it on Tiny. I hoped he’d gotten what he wanted out of all this. I hadn’t. But at least it was over.