T-Bone

A quick idea/character sketch.

No one really knew this about him, but there was a reason he always ordered a T-bone when he went to a business meeting. It wasn’t the fact that it was a good cut of meat, highly prized for containing both portions of porterhouse and fillet, it was the bone itself that made it necessary in his eyes. One vertical half of a cow’s lumbar vertebra, with the vertebral foramen, the circular groove where the spinal cord runs, at the top and the bisected transverse process jutting away downward, supporting and bisecting the two cuts of meat. Once the meat was all pulled away, what you had was a bone spike with a handle, and this always made him rest more easily when surrounded by the kinds of people he did business with.

The thing was, it’d all be over too soon if he made a reach for a knife or a fork, but he was well known for picking up the bone and cleaning it near dry with his teeth. The few seconds this would save him if the meeting went south would be the difference in him walking out and washing up on the shore somewhere in New Jersey. He hated New Jersey, so that was not an option.

While he didn’t care for the nickname, he allowed it since it added another layer to his planning. He also realized it would take on a whole new meaning if he ever had to push the plan into the actualization stage.

As he ran the cut edges of the bone through his teeth preening its edges, he realized something. Dammit, he thought. He couldn’t hear any noise coming from the kitchen anymore, and one of the goons had moved into his periphery.

The meal wasn’t even finished. Business hadn’t even been discussed yet. Bad form all around. He edged the bone from his teeth and slowly let the transverse process slide between his index and middle fingers. He looked over at his host who gave him a brief glint of eye contact before he wiped his mouth and began to rise, dropping his napkin on his empty plate.

The last thing he heard before he felt the bone hit the Goon’s windpipe was his Host telling him he should have never have touched the girl. The last thing the Host heard before he felt cow bone in his heart was T-Bone telling him that who ever had told him that had lied. T-Bone didn’t like people who lied, nor did he like people who jumped to conclusions. T-Bone turned the vertebra handle and felt the Host’s heart twist inside and tear free.

On his way through the kitchen, He threw the bone into a pot of soup simmering on the stove and pushed through the back where he found the kitchen help taking a mandatory smoke break. He knew they wouldn’t say anything about what they’d seen. They had families in Mexico and as soon as the back kitchen door closed behind T-Bone, they were already beginning to take off their aprons as they headed for the subway. They’d have a new job by sunrise. It all made little difference to them.