30 Fast Workers
As the late Braveheart used to I have united several fights into one story broken by chapters As I walked into ‘Fast Workers’ – a bar near the plant – I looked at my watch. I was early for my chat with Michael Tippet, who'd asked to meet me after work that night. Michael’s firm was doing our annual audit and he'd asked me to have a drink with him. I'd agreed. I hoped it wasn’t a problem with the audit. I got myself a drink – a light beer that I wanted to nurse till Michael arrived – and took it to a side table.
I’d suggested this bar. It had a past but as I looked around I though, not for the first time, that Fast Workers was more past than present. But then, that was typical of the area – slowly decaying industry. There were too many empty buildings around it, buildings that when I was a child and went past them on the way to the plant when Mom took us kids to see Dad, had been full of workers earning reasonable money, full of cars in the parking lots, full of products being delivered or loaded onto trucks. But then, that was before America began to export jobs. So I shook my head whenever I went that way.
It was typical of the area in another way too, or at least those businesses which were still going. It was smart on the outside, well maintained and even had a bit of garden around it; the parking lot had a well-tended hedge separating it from the street. It tried – just like those other businesses – to pretend that all was going well.
It was clean and neat inside too. Even the rest rooms were clean, which was always my standard for a good bar. There was a polished hardwood dance floor, though I didn’t see much dancing going on when we went there on weekdays, and a juke box that played anything from country to rock depending on who put the money in. Despite all that though, the decor was dated – not quite run down but certainly out of style. It was like walking back into the 1950s.
The name was a pun too. Fast Workers served fast food – good wholesome fast food, not the garbage you got at McDonalds – and it served up the drinks fast too. The place catered to factory workers who were either on a lunch break with limited time, or on their way home and usually anxious to get there. A few of the guys from the plant drank there. That was why I went too – it was neutral turf. At least there we could pretend I wasn’t the boss and they weren’t the workers. I’d tried to make it more than make believe too, by inviting some of my beach buddies and a few people I’d met through the car clubs – most recently Max and Julie.
I’d only realised the pun in the name when I’d turned up one Saturday night in the fall of 2003. We’d worked a lot of overtime – we had a big order for a company in Atlanta and had to get it away quickly. We were trying to impress them, hoping to get some more orders. I’d been on the line, so I had my brother with me and even Dad, though he wasn’t a lot of use. He’d gotten too stiff with arthritis to get into all the places we needed. Still, between us we’d gotten the job done.
One of the foremen had suggested a meal. He wouldn’t get much at home, he said he was so late that his wife would have fed his dinner to the dog. I was between girlfriends at the time – it was a good eighteen months before I met Kelly – so I’d readily agreed.
That night the bar had been buzzing like I’d never seen it before. It wasn’t just that it was packed, though it certainly was that. The crowd had been excited. They’d been talking politics. I’d stumbled across a group of Democrats, almost a caucus, who were discussing the primary that was then on. I’d never found politics so exciting. I asked the barman why here, why Fast Workers. He told me that the bar had always been a stronghold of ‘non machine’ Democrats, and that
Fast Workers was the name of one of John Gilbert’s last movies. He had to tell me too that John Gilbert had been a legend in Hollywood, one of the few actors who’d stood up to the studio system and the bosses like Mayer. Not that it had done Gilbert much good, but as the barman said, “he made the effort. We’re doing the same.”
So, later, when I’d met Julie and Max after Kelly started playing roller derby, it had seemed like an ideal place to invite them. A retro bar with a political message was just the place for them. But there was another reason to invite them and to keep on going myself - there were often fights. After all, the customers were a wild mix of factory workers, truck drivers, even a few sailors and bikers. There were more hyphenated Americans of every nationality than I’d ever met before in one place, and of course there were tensions that inevitably led to fights.
By custom, the men fought outside in the parking lot. Some of the fights were a little rough. They’d sometimes wield cue sticks and even – rarely – throw broken bottles. The women however, typically fought inside the bar. The proprietors didn’t try to stop the fights – not unless things got really wild, anyway. Catfights brought customers, even more than politics. Some of the fights even involved politics. Not all of them though. Many, maybe most, were about jealousy, rivalry, men, drink – all the usual reasons why women fought. It was those reasons – pretty much all of them rolled together – that had caused a fight one night when we were there with Max and Julie.
1 OUT OF THE PAST
Julie had brought her friend Ashley along. I knew Ashley from when I’d first met her along with Julie and Max at Wrigley stadium. That night at Fast Workers, Ashley and Julie were dressed alike, just as they'd been at Wrigley, in checked blouses with a few of the top buttons undone, jeans that fitted almost too snugly on their ample butts and thighs, and sneakers. In deference to the cold, they both wore leatherette jackets. Ashley's was chocolate and Julie's was navy. They looked great and with Kelly away in Seattle yet again, I looked forward to a bit of mild flirting. I needed to hone my romantic skills for Kelly.
Ashley wouldn't have a bar of it though. She wasn’t too pleased to see me again. Almost as soon as Max had introduced me, explaining how we'd met up again, Ashley returned to the fight. “You were there that day when those girls picked a fight with Jules and me! Hell, they were your friends.” She stabbed her finger in the air. “Huh! Some friends! Drunk…rowdy…they were spoiling the game. That little redhead knew it too. She told them off but those two skinny blondes were too far gone to listen to any sense. You should have controlled them. No! Don't give me any excuses. You should have. Way before that, you should have cut off their booze.” Ashley shook her head, and then went on again, “I would have beaten that blonde bitch who got up my nose and shoved me. No, I wouldn’t have beaten her…I already
had beaten her. She was on her back where she belonged but then her friend pounded Jules in the gut and came after me. You saw it.” Her face darkened. “You know I had that fight won.”
I nodded. It was pretty clear Ashley wasn’t the forgive and forget type. Then I blew it by replying, “I’m not so sure Wendy and Elena picked the fight though. The way I remember it, there was a bit of a verbal duel in the stands.”
She cut me off angrily. “Hey! They were spoiling the game for us! Like I said, even that other girl you were with…the little redhead…said so. Anyway, we won that verbal duel, as you call it, too. Those skanks were too drunk to think of an answer to us.
“That was the reason for the whole thing!” she went on. “They were so drunk, they were stopping us from enjoying the ball game. Your redhead friend got the message and did her best to shut them up. That was something you should have done.” This time Ashley tossed her head. Her brunette mane shimmered in the light. Her boobs jiggled slightly under her blouse. I looked at her more closely. That blouse wouldn't have kept the February cold out. While it was long sleeved, Ashley had a few of the top buttons undone and it was so short at the front that it left her belly bare. She continued, “And so what if we were in their way when we left? Like Julie said at the time, they could have walked around us.”
“Yes…and you could have moved.” I paused and added, “If you’d wanted to avoid the fight. But…” I let it hang there. I wanted to give her a bit of her own back.
“Why should I move for those drunken skanks?” Ashley snapped. She stabbed her finger toward me again
“As I said, you could have…if you wanted to avoid the fight, that is. Fess up, Ashley. You wanted the fight just as much…or even more…than Wendy and Elena did. You blocked her path. In fact, you stepped right into it.”
“Hey! Who started the fight? It wasn’t me!”
“A little push? All Wendy wanted to do was get you to move.” I said, tongue in cheek. I knew better. Wendy had been intent on fighting, as much as Ashley. “You pushed back and you kept pushing till Wendy almost fell. “
“She started it!” Ashley repeated. She took a step towards me.
“You set her up. You played her. You provoked her into taking a swing at you.” I added, placating her a little, “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. You just showed how clever you were. But admit it, Ashley. You’re no stranger to fighting in public. You followed the rule book…let the other person make the first move and then you could claim self defense when the cops arrived…if they’d arrived.”
Ashley wasn’t buying it. “Get lost! She started the fight. She took it to me. If it was how you say it was, how come she belted me around for the first few seconds?”
I had to think that over for a moment. Wendy had started the fight well. She’d taken to Ashley for a few moments. “You were playing possum. You wanted to give the idea she was attacking you…unprovoked…that she’d completely surprised you. Oh you played her well. Then you attacked. She had no chance. You just outclassed her.”
“He’s right you know. You did plan it.“ Max came back with some drinks. He chuckled. “Yeah, you planned it alright…just like you and Jules have done before, together and separately.” He chuckled again as she glared at him. “Don’t play the innocent with me. See Ashley…I know you. You played that blonde, just like you’ve played others before and since. And yeah, she surprised you because she could fight”.
“Alright, alright, have it your way.” Ashley said sourly. ”I set it up. Yeah…ok.” She took a deep swig of her drink. “I wanted to fight the blonde bitch. She'd been bugging me. Her drunken antics got right under my skin. Then she bumped me at the gate when we left. Yeah, I wanted to teach her a lesson. I thought she'd be easy pickings. Now are you satisfied?” She took another pull at her drink.
“And you were winning.” I tried to placate her a little again.
“Screw you!” Ashley rounded on me and repeated. “I wasn't winning! I’d
won! had won! The bitch was on the ground when the other blonde butted in!”
I'd had about enough of this girl. “Yes she was. You'd won, and if you'd left it at that Ashley, you'd have walked away with the win. But you had to crush your enemy. Elena only stepped in to stop you from stomping on her friend's belly when she was down.”
“And that was when it all went wrong for us.” Julie broke into the conversation. “Lighten up, babes. It was a fight and we lost. It happens.” She grinned at Ashley. “Not often of course.”
“Don't try to cheer me up, Julie Brandt!” Ashley tossed her head again and stalked off.
“That’s one angry woman. What got into her?” I asked wonderingly.
“She broke up with her guy after that fight,” answered Julie. “She blamed him for pushing her into it.” I nodded. I'd thought as much at the time. “Still, it’s odd that she should turn on you like that. Back then, she was full of praise for how you helped her after the fight. “
I thought back. “All I did was help her put her windbreaker on.”
“She didn't expect any consideration. It was more than her guy or even you, Max,” she turned to her man, “would have done to girls we’d beaten.”
I changed the subject. “How are the plans for the car show going?” I asked Max. We talked about cars for a while.
About five minutes later, I heard Ashley's raised voice again. I looked. She was over near the bar, glaring at Hilary Devlin. I shook my head. This did not look good.
Hilary was Queen Bee among the women who frequented Fast Workers. A union shop steward in a factory that made electric lights, she'd taken Julie under her wing, introducing her to everyone, making sure they all knew Julie was a Move On member. I’d been surprised when I first met Hilary, at the way everyone deferred to her. The barman set me right. “Remember what Teddy Roosevelt said…'Walk softly and carry a big stick.' That's Hilary's motto.” He must have seen my surprise. “Yeah, she looks and talks gentle enough, but wait till you see her big stick.” He chuckled.
I’d had to wait a little while before I did see it, but when I did, it had certainly been memorable.
Jennie Lindt had been quiet enough, if a hard drinking, hard cussing biker moll is ever quiet. I'd already learned this older woman had a mean streak, and some strong views too. She was a Tea Party supporter before there was a Tea Party, one of the misguided people who listen to the garbage that Fox News spews out. I prefer to read Pat Buchanan and the American Conservative. They have success behind them. Buchanan put Nixon's campaign together in 1968 and has spoken sense ever since. He was even an advisor to presidents Ford, Reagan and Papa Bush.
But that night Jennie had been loud, all but yelling her viewpoint across the bar in an argument with another girl, and with her biker cronies cheering her on.
Hilary had asked both the arguing women – politely – to speak a little softer.
“What’s it to you sister…or should that be
Comrade?” Jennie sneered. I took a closer look. Jennie was older. I guessed she’d be close to forty since I knew she had a teenage son. She was overweight too, maybe 160 pounds, with a belly and thick arms and legs. Still she looked formidable though – those thick arms and legs were mostly muscle. She wore faded jeans and a biker jacket over a white t-shirt. Her spiky short blonde hair was party covered by a scarf.
“Excuse me...please.” Hilary was trying to be the voice of reason. “Can you keep it down? We can’t hear ourselves talk.” I looked more closely at her too. She was about the same height as Jennie – both were about five foot six – but Hilary looked slender alongside the burly biker. Still Hilary was wiry. She looked as if she worked out every day but that, others told me later, was just my middle class perception. Factory girls didn’t need to go to gyms. Their jobs kept them fit.
“You can’t tell me what to do, Ms Shop Steward!” Jennie shot back. “Why don’t you leave if you don’t like it?”
“You're being rude as well as loud,” said Hilary, “and you’ve been that way all night.” She walked over to the biker and added, “Please…keep it down.”
“I have? So what? It’s a free country. If you don’t like it then screw you.” She flipped Hilary the middle finger. “What are you, some kind of morality police?” She slapped a hand on Hilary’s shoulder. “Back off, bitch!” She belched loudly.
Hilary’s hand snaked out quickly. Her slap struck Jennie’s face so hard Jennie rocked on her feet.
“Dickhead!” Jennie hissed, slapping back equally hard, but her shot was poorly timed. Hilary stepped back and the slap just kissed her cheek. Infuriated, Jennie stepped forward. As Hilary continued to back away, Jennie’s steps became a headlong charge – a charge that came to a sudden halt when Hilary stepped to the side and drove her fist deep into Jennie’s paunch.
Jennie gagged and doubled over. The older woman wasn’t done though. She swung her whole body around, crashing her head into Hilary’s side as the lighter woman tried to seize her enemy’s shoulders and drive her into the floor. Hilary backed off and Jennie stood upright.
The biker attacked again, her fists out ready to punch. Hilary bobbed down and to the side. Jennie’s punches sped harmlessly by but left her dangerously outstretched. Hilary capitalized and her fists thudded, left then right, into Jennie’s gut. Jennie reeled back, her fists down to protect her. Hilary switched her target, slamming a fist into Jennie’s cheek. Jennie backed off hurriedly, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to suck air back into her battered lungs.
Jennie fended Hilary’s attacks off by kicking. Her rapid kicks missed but frustrated Hilary’s attack for a moment. Hilary found the answer however. Quickly crouching, she scooped up Jennie’s leg in her arm and yanked it high. The blonde’s arms windmilled as she fought to keep her balance but she crashed into some tables. Her fall helped her, since it pushed some chairs into Hilary’s way. Hilary nearly tripped herself. By the time she had recovered and pulled the chairs back out of her way, Jennie was upright and swinging punches.
But she was battered, her face red with bruises already forming. Her jacket was torn, her stomach heaved with every breath and she lurched rather than stepped forward. Still she managed to hit Hilary hard, twice – once in the face, snapping her head to the side, and then to her stomach. Hilary, confined by the tables and chairs, could not dodge the blows. She had to retreat. Truly the tables and chairs had been a hindrance to both women.
Once Hilary got into the open space of the bar and able to move freely though, Hilary was all over her foe. She moved quickly, dancing around the lurching Jennie. Hilary scored repeated, unanswered light blows that infuriated Jennie even if they didn't do much immediate harm. They were softening up the overweight blonde even more.
Suddenly Hilary changed her tactics, and her fist slammed into Jennie's gut. A fountain of spit exploded from the blonde’s mouth along with all her breath as she doubled over with a sound like a burst balloon. Jennie lunged forward, trying to ram her shoulder into Hilary's midriff. Hilary, in clear command of the fight, stepped to her left and as Jennie blundered forward, she swung her knee up, hammering her foe's stomach yet again.
Jennie dropped to her knees groaning and Hilary stepped back, dusting her hands. “Don't bad mouth me again,” she said as she turned her back on the bikers.
That, it seemed, was exactly what Ashley was doing in the bar right then – bad mouthing Hilary. I shook my head and looked enquiringly at Max and Julie.
Julie returned the look. “No. She’s big enough to handle this herself…and anyway, Hilary’s calmed her down.”
Julie was right. Ashley’s temper spike seemed to be over. She walked away from the bar and over to us. “Jules…that bitch..why is she so right and so wrong all at once?”
“What do you mean?”
“She just knows all the answers…blames NATFTA…don’t we all? But while Hilary has all the information…she can even can quote stats, but,” Ashley shook her head, “she’s got no solutions. Whatever happens, we’re shafted. Abramoff gets a plea bargain…I bet he’ll keep all his money. No one’s got an answer to that and anyway the NSA and probably the CIA listen to everything we say. Hilary says the wiretaps are illegal and they are…but is that going to stop Bush and his cronies? Like I said, we’re shafted. “
Ashley paused. She took a swig of her drink and tossed her head back. Again her hair shimmered in the light. Even though Kelly was home that weekend, I considered a mild flirt with the buxom, curvy brunette. Her size and shape were so close to my ideal woman, and she was a woman with a mind too. She went on, “Hilary doesn’t have an answer. Whatever she does and says, she till has no answer!”
“Do you, Ash?” Julie asked.
“No, not yet…but I'm not a union organiser either.” Ashley scowled. “But if I was? “She tossed her head meaningfully.
“Problem with you, Ash, is you're full of talk and no answers,” Max said.
“You got any answers?” Ashley hissed before turning on her heel. She stalked away again, muttering, and I lost sight of her in the crowd as I chatted to Max and a few guys about their next car club meet. I was going to show both my Packards and I needed to get someone to drive me from the meet site to pick up the second one.
It must have been ten minutes later when I saw Ashley again, dancing with one of the guys from the plant. Tony was active in the union local. We didn’t encourage the union at Balfour – well-paid employees with good conditions and benefits didn’t need unions – but we didn't discourage them either. It was good for the guys to be reminded how other workers weren’t so well treated. Tony worked hard and well but it was in his interest to do so – he had a share in the firm’s profits that would grow with the time he worked for us.
Just then though, Tony was doing a very kind of work, and he was certainly living up to the name of the bar. As I watched and the music changed to a slow country ballad, the dancers slowed. Tony and Ashley kissed deeply and their hands groped each other's bodies.
Julie saw Max and I exchange glances. “Hey cut it out,” she said. “She deserves some fun. It’s been ages since she had a guy.”
“She’s gonna 'have' a guy tonight for sure, if she keeps this up.” Max chuckled.
The bracket ended. Ashley steered Tony our way, her hand tightly wrapped around his waist. “She's not letting him get away,” Max chuckled again.
“Stop it!” Julie hissed, grinning.
“Stop what?” Ashley came closer. “Max and Jules, meet Tony.”
“Max was being an ass,” Julie said by way of explanation. “Hi Tony.”
“Hi boss.” Tony smiled at me.
“You already know each other?” Ashley seemed surprised as well as more than a little annoyed. I’d noticed she’d not included me in her introduction.
“Yeah…, he's my boss at work.” Tony rolled his eyes, but not so Ashley would see.
“You’re not at work now! Let’s get a drink” Ashley all but dragged Tony away.
“I get the impression Ashley doesn’t like me anymore,“ I said.
“You showed her up,” replied Max. “She didn’t like you telling it how it is…not about that fight ,anyway. She’s still sore about losing…not just the fight but her guy too.”
“She’s stupid,” declared Julie. “She should be glad she got rid of that jerk. He wound her up to fight and then when she lost, he dumped her. Asshole!”
Julie may have been right but so was Max. Ashley was a very angry woman.
I saw Tony and Ashley next about fifteen minutes later. They were in a booth. Ashley was sitting on Tony's lap and they were necking. Ashley even had her hand inside Tony's shirt, so I was surprised when Tony fronted up at our table again a little later. I raised my eyebrows.
"Boss…that girl, she's coming on strong."
I smiled. "Hot stuff?"
"She's on fire! I'm scorched."
"I'll buy you a drink to put the fire out. Excuse me, Max and Julie." I'd been wanting to sound Tony out about some work issues and this was a good chance to do so.
We made our way to the bar and ordered. Like the name of the place suggested, the drinks came up fast. Tony took a mouthful of his beer "Thanks Peter. How do you know Ashley?" I told him. "Boss, I'm not surprised. She's a firecracker and she'd go off just like one too." He shook his head. "Might be a good one-nighter for guys who want that sort of thing, but I wouldn’t want to have breakfast with her every morning."
I smiled. "How did you escape?"
"Oh, it's not like that. I could have told her to go but I didn’t. It was fun…up to a point anyway. No, Ashley had to go outside to answer her phone. It was too noisy even in the booth." He turned. “Oh, hi Hilary! What's the gossip?"
"It's not what, Tony, so much as who,” said Hilary archly, “and the who is you and that brunette who put the moves on you earlier. It's another reason altogether for calling this place 'Fast Workers'!"
Tony laughed. "Well she's gone now, at least for a while. She's outside on her phone." He pointed. Both Hilary and I looked through the front windows. Ashley was stalking up and down outside, holding her cell to her ear with one hand, waving the other hand around in the air. "She'll deck someone if she's not careful. I wonder what's got her worked up so much."
"It doesn’t take much.” Hilary smiled. "She and I have already had words once tonight."
Seeing I wasn't going to have the talk I wanted with Tony and not wanting them to go on about my friends' friend, I changed the subject. We made smalltralk for a few moments.
”Look! She's gone.” Hilary pointed. It was true. We couldn't see Ashley pacing to and fro.
“I wonder what stung her,” I said. “She looked angry.”
“Maybe she was breaking up with someone,” Tony said.
I looked at him sharply. “After what she and you were doing just now?”
He grinned. “Can’t ride two horses at once, boss.“
Hilary shot him a look. ”It’s bad manners to talk about somebody when they're not here,” she said. She could be funny about a lot of things. “Tony, let's have a quick dance.”
In hindsight it was all but inevitable that within a few moments – probably not even a minute – of Tony and Hilary getting on the dance floor, Ashley stormed back inside. She looked around the bar quickly, then headed for Tony and Hilary like a cruise missile. “Tony!”
Tony whirled around, surprised. He'd had his back to the door and the music had masked any sound of Ashley’s approach. Before he could open his mouth, Ashley had her arms round him and was kissing him. She finally broke the kiss but held onto his waist. “Hun, I’m so sorry I was so long on the phone!” She all but pulled him away from a startled Hilary.
“What do you think you're doing?” Hilary said when she found her voice.
“Oh yeah…sorry Hilary…my manners. Thanks for keeping Tony amused while I was gone. I'll have to buy you a drink later. But for now…Tony…” Ashley, her arm twined around his waist, drew Tony away.
I heard one of the girls near me say quietly, “I don't think anyone's ever treated Hilary like that! Serves her right.”
“Yeah, it’s about time the Queen Bee got put in her place,” her friend agreed.
Clearly Hilary wasn't popular with everyone, a fact not lost on the union delegate. She flashed a quick scowl at the speakers. She stepped up, trying to push her way between Ashley and Tony. “We were dancing till you butted in…now butt out.”
“Yes you were.” Ashley entwined herself even closer to Tony. “Now we are. So long, Hilary.”
“You bitch!” Hilary, perhaps as concerned about her ‘alpha woman’ reputation as she was interested in Tony, seized Ashley's arm, swung her around and drove her knee up into the brunette's plumpish tummy. Ashley's mouth opened as a stream of air and spit erupted. A moment later, as the pain registered, Ashley groaned. She groaned more loudly still as Hilary's fists, left and right, slammed into her belly.
Ashley doubled over, moaning. She staggered back, just dodging Hilary's attempt to seize the collar of her jacket but not Hilary’s other hand, which grabbed some of her hair. Hilary yanked the reeling brunette both toward her and almost upright. Again Ashley's mouth opened wide, spewing air and spit as Hilary's knee drove deep into the bigger girl's stomach. Ashley seemed to quiver. Her outstretched arm wavered for a second or so, till her hand latched onto Hilary's hair. She pulled the shop steward in close. The two women struggled, each with a fistful of their foe's hair, Hilary punching with her free hand, Ashley slapping with hers.
Slowly Ashley recovered. Hilary had trouble punching at such short range and she could only hit the bigger girl's sides. Ashley's groans told us the blows were painful though. Continued, they would soften her up but for now they weren't making as much impression as were Ashley's own slaps, delivered with force and speed on Hilary's face and neck.
The two women staggered around the floor, each trying to trip the other up or stomp on the other's foot. Hilary almost succeeded. Her foot snaked behind Ashley's and she shoved, but she didn't quite have the force behind her to push her foe down. Instead Ashley lurched backwards. Her free hand clutched Hilary's hair too. Then as Ashley recovered her balance and Hilary readied a hard punch that might have damaged her enemy, Ashley swung her body to the left, dragging Hilary with her. Ashley yanked hard and Hilary stumbled. She lost her balance and crashed into some onlookers.
Ashley stood there, breathing heavily, seemingly glad of a few seconds recovery time after Hilary had pounded her so severely. In any case Hilary was up fast – faster than most girls would have been. She was on her feet and swinging before Ashley's red face had resumed its normal colour or her breathing steadied. Nevertheless the fight was more even now. Though both were battered and worn, both moved well, ducking and weaving to avoid each other's blows. Perhaps only a third of the blows hit. Each that hit did some damage. Their faces grew redder, they each groaned when a particularly nasty shot hit.
Then Ashley let forth a massive blow. Hilary had parried Ashley's left fist and countered with a right of her own that hit the bigger girl's side – it would have hit her belly if Ashley hadn’t moved just in time. Still, Ashley emitted a louder groan as the pain registered. However, Hilary's near success opened her up for Ashley's counter and Ashley's fist bored into her foe's stomach just below the sternum. It almost lifted Hilary off her feet. The smaller girl staggered back, gasping, her face white. She spent the next minute or so dodging and fending off Ashley's attack.
Ashley scored with a few more quick blows but none as damaging, and Hilary began to recover. Again the two women moved around, less quickly than before. Despite their injuries, they closed steadily, their arms out for attack, and once more began to trade blows. Hilary ducked and avoided a few blows which, had they hit as Ashley intended, might have ended the fight then and there.
Hilary hit back with a few shrewd blows that got inside Ashley's defences and which, when they struck, made Ashley gasp. Hilary struck again. That blow made Ashley stagger. She stepped back to regroup. She wasn't moving freely, her face had several cuts and more red patches that would be bruises soon. Hilary, while battered, didn't seem as badly damaged, her bonus for her early success – a bonus on which she started to capitalize now.
She struck harder and she struck more often, preventing Ashley from recovering. Instead the bigger girl grunted and groaned and gave more ground with each blow that landed. Hilary wasn't trying for the killer blows, rather her patter of punches was like steady rain – it would make you as wet as a thunderstorm, but it just took a little longer.
Ashley didn’t seem to have any real answer. She ducked and weaved and parried effectively. Not all – not even most – of Hilary’s blows hit. But the bigger girl took hits all over her torso and those hits took their toll. Ashley was completely defensive – that is, until she kicked out and her surprising kick collected Hilary in the stomach. It seemed to once again throw her backwards. Hilary staggered, her arms windmilling.
This time Ashley came forward rapidly and scored two quick and heavy punches, one to her foe’s face and the other to her stomach, before Hilary could regroup. Hilary parried another blow and then hit out. Ashley parried that in her turn.
And so the two women went back to trading blows. This time the contest was more even. Both hit, both defended, and both took punishment. But after perhaps half a minute it seemed that Ashley's blows hit harder. That became more obvious as Hilary began to defend more and hit less. Her defence was effective. She parried or dodged still more of Ashley's slugging heavy blows. Ashley looked around as if trying to find a place where she could shepherd Hilary where Hilary couldn’t dodge. But there were few spots – not near the dance floor anyway. Hilary broke away more than once, frustrating Ashley’s attack.
Then Ashley seemed to falter. She fired a left-handed punch and then sent her right to her right as if she expected to catch Hilary there, as if she’d anticipated Hilary dodging that way to avoid the first punch. It didn’t work. Hilary had not dodged to Ashley’s right. The punch went nowhere, but it left Ashley strung out. Hilary had bobbed down and now returned fire with a left-right combo that smashed into the bigger girl’s rounded stomach. Ashley reeled backwards.
Hilary scented victory and surged forward. For a long moment it seemed to go all her way. She pressured a gasping, groaning, Ashley who could barely defend herself. Yes, Ashley’s defence was reasonably effective, she prevented most blows from coming through but she was gulping for air. More importantly, she was retreating, toward the only place within a short distance where there were obstructions – a planter box and some tables and chairs that marked the edge of the dance floor. Hilary applied more pressure, closing on her foe.
Then, to my surprise, Ashley suddenly twisted, broke away from Hilary. Moving more quickly than I had seen her move all night, she swung right around her foe, putting Hilary where a moment ago she herself had been – with the tables close at her back.
Ashley smiled coldly. She stepped forward, no longer was she defending, no longer was she gasping or groaning. Now she hammered the smaller girl with punches. Hilary defended but too many of Ashley’s blows broke through. Ashley closed further and Hilary tried to clinch but Ashley brought her knee up straight into Hilary’s gut.
Hilary reeled back yet again but this time she had nowhere to go. She hit the table. Ashley punched at Hilary’s chest. Hilary defended, blocking the punch but she didn’t block the uppercut that followed it, which hit her chin and flung her backwards onto the table, knocking glasses, plates and silverware to the floor.
Hilary lay motionless on the table, groaning.
Ashley stepped close. She grabbed Hilary's left leg in her right hand and pulled Hilary toward her. Hilary's butt was half off the table, her feet just touching the floor. Ashley bent over her gasping, groaning enemy. “Some 'queen bee'”, she sneered and rammed her left fist deep into Hilary's stomach. Hilary convulsed. Ashley smirked, “Don’t you ever cross me again,” and rammed another punch into Hilary's gut. Hilary screamed, then croaked when Ashley punched her a third time.
Ashley turned away. She was scratched and blood still oozed from cuts on her face even if most were covered by scab. Her clothes were torn but none of that mattered to her. She had won the fight. And she was going to celebrate.
She walked up to Tony, flung her arms around him and kissed him hard on the lips.
He pushed her firmly away. “No Ashley, go away. That was vicious. You didn’t need to punch Hilary on the table just then. You'd already won. You just proved how brutal and cruel you are.”
Ashley's face whitened. She looked at Tony for a moment. Then she slapped his face hard. “What are you, some kind of wuss? I need a real man and I'm going to find one.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the bar.
Max turned to me. “Ashley won’t find a real man if she carries on like that.”
“Give her a break!” Julie snapped at him indignantly. She turned on her heel and went after her friend.
That had been one big fight. I shook my head as I brought my mind back to the present. I’d never gotten to practise my flirting skills with Ashley. Perhaps that was just as well. As Tony said, she was a scorcher and anyone who touched her was likely to get burned.
I was about to get another drink – there’s only so long you can nurse a beer – when I saw Michael Tippet walk in. I got up. “Hey!” I greeted him. “We’ll have our chat soon, but first want you to meet a few friends.” I steered him over to the bar. “Meet Max, Julie and Ashley. I met them at Wrigley last year.” It would do Michael good to realise I didn’t just hang out with people from the H H Richardson Bar and the Union League Club but had friends from all walks of life. “Max and I share an interest in old cars,” I explained. “He races them too. Julie plays roller derby in the same league as Kelly and Ashley is Julie’s friend.”
It didn’t go well. Michael was clearly agitated so, after a few more words, I took him to a quiet corner. “So, what’s this all about?”
“Well…the audit, in a way. Wendy Griffiths will be part of our team next week.”
I almost knocked my drink over.
“Yeah. I guess your Kelly will be sore when she hears about it.” Michael interrupted my comment – that Kelly, who loathed Wendy as a gold digging hustler, would be more than sore. She'd be furious. “But you don't have to tell her. Not like me. Kim has just about kicked me out.”
“I can imagine.”
“Yeah, Kim is in one of her moods again. Or, rather, the mood got worse.” He paused and shook his head as if wondering whether to go on.
