Simmer Down

everything. I knew that Snacker had been slacking off tonight and taking too many breaks, but...
    Oh. Shit.
    I spun around to face Adrianna, who looked as though she might go into cardiac arrest at any moment.
    Snacker hadn’t been taking those breaks alone.
    Ade caught my eye and silently begged me to get her out of this mess. No matter how seedy and slimy it had been of Adrianna to do whatever she’d been doing with Snacker tonight, she was still my best friend. But I felt more sympathy for Owen than I did for Adrianna. No matter how unpromising poor Owen was as a potential husband and no matter how vocationally lost he was, I couldn't let him get shot down in front of everybody. I had to rescue Owen before he had his heart broken in public.
    I had to brainstorm quickly. I’d cause some kind of a scene, any kind, and ruin the moment so tremendously that Owen would be unable to finish his proposal. My two friends could talk about their six thousand conflicts and differences and dissatisfactions later. If Heather had only kept drinking, she could have been provoked to jump atop the table and perform a scene from Moulin Rouge.
    Owen was closing in on the big question. “... so what I want to ask you, Adrianna, is...”
    I was on the verge of faking a dramatic mental episode when noises from the back of the restaurant preempted me. Loud crashes sounded from what I thought was Josh’s office. A second later, someone or something slammed into what was definitely the door to the office, a door that was now closed.
    “What the hell is going on?” Josh took off across the dining room, dodging alarmed customers. Not to miss out on the action, I was right behind him. As we approached the source of the noise, I recognized Gavin’s voice, but he was shouting so frantically that I couldn’t make out his words. Still, there was no question that he was bellowing madly. Josh must be right about Gavin’s being the killer! He was in Josh’s office trying to finish off his second victim!
    Josh tried the handle on the door. “Dammit, it’s locked. Where are my keys?” He fumbled around in the pockets of his baggy chef pants until he produced a huge key ring and eventually found the right one and opened the lock. He was able to push the door open only a few inches when it snapped shut.
    “Snacker!” Josh called out. “Help me open this door.” I was mildly offended that Josh solicited help from Snacker. Typical for men to ask other men for help when it came to physical demands! I could have been just as useful as Snacker. I’d have to flex my biceps for Josh later.
    “Is that Gavin in there?” Snacker asked as he appeared. He threw a dish towel over his shoulder, and he and Josh leaned on the door together.
    “Yeah,” Josh grunted against the weight of the door. “We have to get in there. Push!”
    Like a silly cheerleader rooting for her team, I stood behind them.
    After two tries, the chefs forced the door open to reveal Gavin and Barry locked tightly together in a struggle. Just visible between them was a large handgun.
    Josh and Snacker took major steps back.
    So certain had I been that Josh was right about Gavin that it took a moment to absorb what I was seeing. The man clutching the weapon was not Gavin, but Barry. Barry was the one who held the gun, and Gavin was furiously trying to wrest it out of Barry’s hands.
    While in the process of trying to save his own life, Gavin was shouting, “You are not getting my restaurant from me, you maniac! It is meant to be mine, and you will not take it away!” This didn’t seem the time to be arguing with Barry, but it didn’t stop Gavin from screaming that he wouldn’t make Barry a partner if he were the last fruitcake on earth.
    I looked behind me in search of some large object to hurl at the two men. Where was that lethal ladle when we needed it? The couple at the table nearest me had a full bottle of red wine, so I reached between the horrified-looking pair of diners and grabbed the glass bottle. Raising my arm up, I aimed for Barry’s head and hurled the bottle as hard as I could.
    The bottle completely missed Barry and hit the ceiling light, shattering glass and knocking out the bulb. I momentarily remembered why I had always been the last kid chosen for teams in gym class. Apparently age hadn’t improved my pitching skills whatsoever, but the noise startled the two men long enough for an enraged Gavin to secure the gun from Barry’s hand.
    Gavin held