Page 2 of Savage Keepsakes

Billy

It’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.”

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