Breaking The Ice [bxb]

Chapter Six [Eli]

I hate closing shifts.

Unfortunately, during hockey season, the only shifts I can work are mostly closing time and weekends.

The problem with closing shifts is that the restaurant at The Lodge closes at eleven, but the bar stays open all night. And while I never work night shifts, because I'm not old enough to work at the bar, my brother tends to stay well past closing time, since he's the manager. Which means I can either walk home after dark, or wait for him to finish going through his shit.

Tonight, he said he was going into his office next to the staff room to look over the books, while I finished clearing up the restaurant area. I saw him walk away in that direction, but then I heard Scarlett come in for her night shift and their voices meshed together as Elliott stopped to talk. Now, it's been thirty-seven minutes and I have just finished cleaning all the tables and chairs, and I'm now on my second turn cleaning the counter.

I'm finally starting to consider going out to the bar to ask my brother if he plans on staying much longer, when there's a clatter of metal on metal from the kitchen. 

Chef Armel and his cooks have all gone for the night, over half an hour ago, as has Hannah. And I never left the restaurant, nor did I see anyone walk in. If there's anyone in the kitchen right now, they must have come in through the back door.

I push past the double-swing doors into the kitchen to see what happened. The scene I'm faced with looks straight out of a movie.

A kid I know from Brunson High, and from the skaters' rink at the Arenas, has one hand propped on the counter where Chef Armel usually cuts meat. His other arm is laced around Liam Astor's hip. At their feet, a knife block has been knocked over and half a dozen kitchen knives are scattered across the floor.

However, Liam's state is what jumps to the eye most. His lip is busted open, swollen and bloody, and the whole right side of his face is bruised. He has one arm limply draped over his friend's shoulders, with one hand pressed to his side, just bellow the ribs.

I rush forward to put my own arms around him from the other side and help lower him to the floor, away from the knives.

"What the hell happened?"

"I drove here as fast as I could, but I think he might've blacked out a bit on the way," Liam's friend vents, a little hysterical. His hair is all over the place, and although his face is intact he has this sort of crazed, anxious look in his eyes. "I didn't know where to take him."

"How about a fucking hospital?" I spit out.

The kid shakes his head fervently. "His dad can't find out."

My mouth actually gapes open at his words. "You're fucking kidding me," I say under my breath, surprising myself with the steadiness in my own tone. "You think his dad won't find out?" I raise my voice a little to exclaim, "Look at him!"

My arm is still around Liam's waist, even as I'm crouched down on the floor by his side. His friend stands over us both and shoots Liam a nervous glance, quickly averting his eyes. I watch him fidget restlessly.

I shake my head. "I'm calling 911. Which is what you should have done hours ago."

He nibbles on his thumb nail. "My parents can't find out either. They think I'm staying the night at Mack's place with Liam," the kid blurts. 

I look up at him in disbelief. 

"Seriously? That's what you're worried about?!"

Before Liam's useless friend has time to say anything in his defense, my brother's voice sounds from the other side of the kitchen doors.