Page 2

Billy

I t’s been six months since Lucy’s parents’ funeral.

Scrolling through my phone, I grind my teeth. The urge to have her consumes me. It’s becoming unbearable. I have no idea what she sees in her worthless loser of a boyfriend.

“Miles,” I sneer into the emptiness of my shopfront.

Hell, maybe the frat boy treats Lucy like a princess, but even that isn’t enough for my Lou. She deserves perfection, and it sure as fuck isn’t that guy.

The greatest outcome of that fire was her useless parents dying, but it’s been the worst event for me now that I don’t have access to Lucy.

When Veronica went missing, her parents blamed me and never let Lou around me again. Sure, I killed her, but no one ever found out. I still stayed in the shadows, making sure Lucy was as well as could be.

I slam the leather receipt ledger down on the counter. There haven’t been as many legit customers lately, which bothers me. I have to check in with one of my contacts, to find another client who wants to buy a specialty project. I need to keep this taxidermy shop at least viable to cover up its main purpose.

As I glide my fingers across the account book, I smirk. Veronica, my late wife, is forever a part of my business, her skin tanned to immortalize her memory.

Shaking my head, I look out the front windows. The sun glares off the chrome on a rusty pickup truck parking in front.

With a jingle of the bell, the guy enters, mud flying off his boots as he strides toward me. Buddy's a stout man, his moustache and beard speckled with white, the brown escaping as fast as his youth. There is a dark stain of yellow across his hair and his teeth.

“Could hardly find you all the way out here, but I heard you’re the best at taxidermy. I got a wicked buck's head, and I need it mounted,” Buddy tells me.

“It isn’t deer season, my man.”

“This son of a bitch broke my fence. He wouldn’t stop causing a ruckus. It’s fair game.”

He leans on the counter, and his body odour assaults my senses. Sweat, grime, and piss.

I crinkle my nose, breathing through my mouth. “Alright. It’s a thousand dollars. You pay half now, then the other half when you pick him up.” I hand him the form and a pen.

“Sounds good,” he says. Buddy digs his wallet from his back pocket and opens it to his hunting licence.

I nod and he swipes his debit card.

“It takes roughly four weeks, but you caught me on the right day.” I’m able to devote all my time since customers have been scarce, but Buddy doesn’t need to know that. I finish the transaction and hand him a receipt.

“Excellent, this one is the best I’ve ever gotten.” He puts away his wallet.

I grin and walk around the counter. “Let’s see what you bagged, eh?”

Pretending to be enthusiastic has become draining. A deer mounted on the wall to prove your dick-size is laughable.

He shuffles out of the front of my shop, his worn boots leaving trails of dirt along the way.

Pulling my lips back in disgust, I walk around the mud, flip the sign to closed, and lock the door as I follow him to his truck. His tailgate is down, a tarp covering the carcass.

“He’s a beaut. Gonna look really nice in my man cave. ”

Buddy peels back the blue covering. The stench hits me first. He’s left me barely enough to mount, but I’ll make it work. The eyes are an opaque milky colour, a clear sign it’s not a fresh kill.

“What did you do to it?” I ask, walking away to grab the stretcher from the back door. I wheel it over to the rusted out pickup.

“Read online that I should wash it to cure the hide. I cut him up myself. He’s been washed with dish soap, and I laid him in the tub with salt for a couple of days.”

The man turns, his shoulders squared and with a grin showing all his teeth. I can only imagine the scent of his bathroom.

“Interesting. Help me get him on the table, then you’re free to go.”

He pulls on the horns. The deer’s face bounces off the tailgate and trails through the debris on the bottom of the truck bed.

The amount of salt Buddy used has some of the skin sloughing off in spots. He’ll never realize he’s got carcass stuck to the metal of his truck for years.

Once the head is on the table, I give the guy a nod and turn to wheel it into the back of my shop.

The pickup grumbles to start as he pulls out, leaving me in a cloud of dust.

“Well, Brute, it’s just you and me for the afternoon. I’ll never understand how people can hunt y’all for sport. You were just living your best life before that waste of skin came along.”

Brute the buck says nothing, but I don’t take offence.

I work on the eyes first, because the smell is only going to get worse. “Sorry, Brute. You don’t want to see the horrors of that man cave, anyway. It’s for the better. He probably sits and jerks his tiny little dick to porn while smoking home-rolled cigarettes.”

After I dispose of the decomposing orbs, I get to work on the hide. I’ll never know how long he was left in the DIY solution, and now I have to do my best to give him a lower concentrated salt soak.

Walking around the shop I grab the enzymes needed from the wooden cabinet along the white brick wall. Seizing a couple of rags from the other cupboard, I wipe down the stainless-steel table.

I glance over at the wooden case I’ve built to hold the skins. It’s cool, dry, and works like a charm for the curing process. Even when the job is as big as a few people.

I move back to the carcass and rinse him off. Once I close the drain, I pour in the enzymes and fill the tub with water again.

“Should be alright now, Brute, stay comfortable for me, eh? I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I walk around, turning off the lights, making sure everything is locked up tight .

Heading out the back door, I saunter outside and climb upstairs to my apartment. It’s above the shop, it’s a glorified closet, but it keeps me rural and away from people.

Bouncing on my toes, I dance across the floor to my makeshift bedroom to put on a band tee and a ripped pair of oversized cargo shorts.

Grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, I cross the open area to sit on the decaying couch.

I grab my cell and check Lucy’s social media. There is a new picture with Miles’s arm around her shoulders.

Gritting my teeth, I ease back on the cushion. It should be my fucking arm around her. It’s more than a want now. I need her in my life. She belongs to me, and like fuck will I let that prick have her.

I take a swig from my beer, its pungent sweetness coating my tongue. Reading the email from my realtor, I’m pumped with the vendor take-back mortgage terms I arranged for Lucy. She never needs to know that I own the property.

I knew Lucy would fall in love with that house, and it’s easier to circle your prey when they’re in a web of your own making.

Everything is falling into place.