52. Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting

ZZ Top had given way to Fleetwood Mac. It wasn’t Rhiannon. Two bikers asked one of the South Carolina girls to turn up the music. ‘Somebody’s Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In Tonite’ kept the mood in the bar at the simmer. Azazael beckoned the three of us over to the short end of the bar furthest from door. There were two stools. As a rule The Southern Belles sat on them instead of serving customers. Maybe Az had been putting his foot down. Sam gave up trying to perch after two attempts. I thought I could hear the collective intake of breath over the music when Margarita Cansino flashed a bit of stocking top. Sam shook her head, but I thought I caught the hint of a smile.

Az shambled over. Tapped the glass on his wristwatch. I looked at mine, it showed a minute to the hour. A short guy, whose beard covered a belt buckle that gleamed silver through the overgrowth, put his hand on Ms Cansino’s thigh. Sam caught him in the throat with a closed fist. In spite of the beard cushion, the guy fell like a sheep under the slaughterman’s stun gun.

‘I could have handled that better,’ the redhead said.

 Within a few seconds, the bar was like the fight scene from The Quiet Man. Wasn’t Maureen O’Sullivan a redhead? Our redhead remained on the stool, whilst bodies cartwheeled around her as fists flew and teeth were spat out. The music got louder, some fiddle tune where I couldn’t tell if the whoops and hollers came from the record or the dance-floor donnybrookers. Azazael had leapt over the bar swinging left and right and accounted for four bikers in the first few seconds. I tried to look after Sam, but she was doing a good job by herself. I don’t know how she kicked anyone with those shoes on, although they came in useful for standing on a few hands. Within a few minutes there didn’t seem to be any sides in the fight at all. Az almost laid me out. Truckers hit truckers, bikers hit bikers, both tried to hit us. It was over when the little bearded biker was thrown through the front window by a another guy in leather and denims. Maybe he was from a different MC.

Az clapped his hands for quiet. One of the South Carolingians turned the music down. Then Azazael cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled ‘Drinks on the house.’ Which put a smile on everyone’s face but the two females behind the bar and, most likely, the bearded guy lying on the sidewalk. I looked at Margarita. She was already sipping another drink, though I hadn’t seen her order it.

‘I love it when you boys get over-excited.’

Sam Sara laughed out loud, ‘I’d have bet you would.’

Azazael disappeared out the back, before coming back with brooms, mops and buckets. I raised my eyebrows. He brushed past me and handed them out to those still standing. My eyebrows might have reached the back of my head at that.

‘They mess it up, they put it right. Poe-lice’ll be here in a minute. Don’t generally arrest anyone who’s pushin’ a mop or broom. Want me to get you one?’