Page 69 of Savage Keepsakes

“I know I do. Doubts cling to my mind like pesky bugs that never quite leave.”

Crickets chirp loudly. Somewhere there is the sound of frogs.

“It’s my job to clear the doubt. Trauma is a messy piece of the puzzle that makes up our minds. I gotta repaint it.”

Billy puts out his cigarette and grabs my hand, leading me back into the house. “I owe you some cuddles.”

Once we are back in bed, I lay on his chest as his arm crushes around me.

“I love you, Lou,” he whispers, and kisses the top of my head.

“I love you, Billy.”

Eighteen

Billy

“Sounds good. Thanks, JoJo,” I say into the phone, listening to the rest of the information she intends to share about the farmer’s market and the emails she plans to send.

“Can you also shoot them to Lucy? She’s gonna be the one at the market until I feel like it’s something I can do.”

I don’t want my face beside the product. The thought of it unsettles me.

“Of course. I’ll send them out this afternoon. It luckily falls on her next day off. Make sure you have enough of Lou’s organic soap—which is adorable, by the way.”

“Thanks. I owe her the world. She opened my eyes when I came back into her life.”

I spin my car keys on my finger while heading out of the house. After disposing of the remains of the previous ladies, I retrieved the drill bit and started preparing for tonight’s victims.

“I know, but you changed her, too… Okay, everything looks great. Just make sure you have enough product to cover your table and business cards if you have them.”

Fuck. I definitely don’t have them. I’ll have Lucy print me some flyers.

“Sounds wonderful. Thanks for helping me out with this, JoJo.” I hit the end button and get into my car.

I drive out of town and travel a few cities over to get to a mailbox. The parents are going to freak out over these necklaces. I stitched them together with pieces of leather and the belly buttons of each girl.

After I drop off the packages, I cruise around the downtown core, looking for a couple who might require a ride home. I parallel park and lean against the headrest.

As a yawn escapes me, I sit up straighter and flip on the music, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel as I wait. I have plenty of leather products for the market, but I must make soap batches.

“Hey. Are you our Uber?”

A man with dark brown curls stands at the passenger door. I check behind him and see a plump woman wearing an ill-fitting sweater dress and cowboy boots.

She’s never spent an hour in a barn. Her long, curly, reddish hair is greasy, which adds to the unimpressed expression on her face.

“Sure,” I tell him, and unlock the back door. He rattles off their address. He continues to talk about nothing, and when I look into the rearview mirror, she is asleep.

“I’m Ryder. This is my girlfriend Heidi.”

“Nice to meet ya. I’m Miles. You guys lived here long?”

“Few years. I moved from the States.”

Weird move, but free health care can drive people to do crazy things, until they realize that it’s shitty.

“Cool. Far trip for your folks, though,” I say.

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