Nobody's Fool

puts two eggs on your tab.”
    Wirf sighed. “Why shouldn’t he charge me for eggs?”
    â€œHow much money have you dropped in here tonight?” Sully wanted to know.
    â€œNot a dime yet.”
    â€œWhat do you figure? What was your tab last night?”
    â€œI don’t remember.”
    â€œI do,” Sully said. “It was over forty dollars. Tonight will be more.”
    â€œI’ve done more zigging,” Wirf pointed out. “And had more company. This has been team zigging. Synchronized team zigging.”
    â€œHere he goes,” Sully whispered, nudging Peter, who was again at sleep’s door.
    Tiny had slid off his stool, come halfway up the bar to where the tabs were kept next to the register, where he casually turned one over and made a notation.
    â€œHey!” Sully thundered, causing Tiny to leap.
    â€œGoddamn you, Sully,” the big man said guiltily. “What?”
    â€œBring that down here a minute,” Sully said.
    â€œWhat?” Tiny said, looking around.
    â€œI want to see what you just wrote on that tab.” “It wasn’t even your tab I was writing on,” Tiny said. “So take a hike.”
    â€œI know it wasn’t my tab. Bring it down here. I want to see what you wrote.”
    Tiny grabbed a tab and came down the bar with it. “You know what, Sully? You’re an asshole. Your father was an asshole. Your brother was an asshole. And you’re an asshole.”
    He slapped the tab on the bar in front of Sully. “Go to jail,” he said. “Do us all a favor.”
    Sully turned the tab over, saw that it was his own, and flicked it back at the bartender. The tab caught an air current and dropped straight to the floor like a stone. “That’s not the one you wrote on,” Sully said.
    Tiny grunted, bent at the knees and picked it up and put it back onthe bar. “It’s your tab, Sully. And that’s the only one you got any business looking at.”
    â€œI want to know what you wrote on his,” Sully said, then turned to Wirf. “Tell him you want to see your tab.”
    â€œBut I
don’t
want to see my tab,” Wirf said. “Ever.”
    â€œShow him his tab,” Sully said.
    â€œFuck off, Sully,” Tiny said, turning and heading back down the bar.
    Sully watched him go, vaguely aware that Wirf had taken out a pen and was scribbling on a cocktail napkin. “Why do you let him piss on your shoes?” Sully said.
    Wirf grinned, handed him the napkin. Sully opened it. “Why do you let him piss on your shoes?” was what it said. “Tell me you aren’t the most predictable man in Bath.”
    â€œYeah, okay, so what,” Sully said. “You still haven’t answered the question.”
    â€œLet’s go home,” Wirf suggested. “Your kid’s asleep.”
    They turned and studied Peter, whose head lay on the bar. When he exhaled from his nose, he made ripples in the puddle of condensation on the bar.
    â€œKids are cute when they’re asleep, aren’t they?” Wirf observed. Sully nudged his son, who started awake and said, “Okay.” “It’s your round,” Sully said, “and don’t pretend to be asleep either.”
    â€œGod,” Peter moaned. “Let’s go home.”
    â€œHey,” Sully called down the bar to Tiny. “Let’s settle up. Bring Wirf’s tab.”
    â€œHere we go again,” Wirf said.
    Tiny brought Wirf’s tab. Sully’s was already in front of him. They had not allowed Peter to buy a round. When Sully reached for Wirf’s tab, Tiny slapped a big paw on top of it. “That’s your tab,” he said, indicating Sully’s.
    â€œI tell you what,” Sully said to Wirf, pushing all the money he had on the bar at Wirf. “I bet you all of it that this greedy cocksucker charged you for both eggs. The one you ate and the one on the floor.”
    Wirf took the tab from Tiny, glanced at it, handed the bartender three twenties. Tiny took them and the tab and retreated to the register. “Let’s go home,” Wirf said.
    â€œNo,” Sully said. “Well, how about it? If he didn’t charge you for both eggs, I’ll not only give you the money, I’ll eat the egg on the floor.”
    Tiny was on his way back with Wirf’s change. When he got there, he slammed Wirf’s tab down on the bar faceup in front