Page 1 of Small Town Beast

One

Chapter One

The right dress– or the wrong one– can change a woman’s life.

Tanya Weaver picked up the silky red material laying across her bed. She walked to the mirror and held it against her body, turning right and then left to see how it draped. It was a spectacular dress and the nicest she owned. It flattered her like no other dress ever had. The sight of her reflection made her turn away from the mirror, nauseous.

But she had no choice. She stepped into the garment and pulled it up— the cheap knit fabric had no zipper, but clung to her like water. It exaggerated her narrow waist, and thin straps held up the rest, which showed off the nice round tops of her breasts very nicely. She looked like a snack and quite possibly the whole meal — which was not difficult for Tanya when she put in effort, because she was very pretty.

But not even vanity could make her feel better tonight.

In a few minutes her friend Bee would be here to take her to the other side of town. The side of town a respectable church girl would never find herself in dead or alive.

If there was another way…

There was no other way.

Tanya wiped up the messy makeup that her shaking fingers had mistakenly applied.

Do this for Amari. One night, and it’s all over. You can get him back. One night, and your whole life can go back to what it was.

She pushed her feet into some high heels, nearly stumbling over the chaotic mess on the floor in her hurry to the door.I can’t have Amari coming back to this. I got to clean up in here, ASAP.

She had moved into the apartment over a week ago but barely unpacked. Clothes and Amari’s toys spilled out of boxes and cheap plastic bins. Documents and papers littered the kitchen counter— she didn’t have a table yet— full of names, numbers,scribbled words and scratched out times, pointing arrows, as if she’d been trying to solve a complicated equation.Amari’s birth certificate was pinned underneath a rock he had painted at preschool that said FOR MOMMY.

The chaos mirrored Tanya’s state of mind these last two weeks. As she called every number she could think of she held the picture of her baby son in her mind. As she took days off to search the park in Rowanville she remembered the weight of him in her arms, his smell, his laugh. She loved her son more than anything on earth.

The chaos in her heart revolved around one single thought:Do whatever it takes to get him back.

And so she wore the dress.

Before she went out the door she checked her purse. It held condoms, twenty dollars, and a knife. Just in case.

She was ready. Lord help her. She walked out the door, shoulders back, head high, ready to sell her soul to the devil just like Mama always said she would.

Two

Chapter Two

Just a few miles away a man named Saverin Bailey was also about to make a life changing decision. But he was in no hurry at all.

Saverin was leaning back in a velvet sofa, size 12 boots flat on the floor, clutching the rosewood handle of a Kimber 1911 pistol.His eyes stared straight ahead.

He was a white man in his late twenties. His body was fit from many years of physical labor and a personal regimen that he still kept to rigidly, after everything he’d been through. It was the one constant in his life besides waking and sleeping, but today he hadn’t gone through the exercises, in fact had barely moved from the green couch at all.

He was a good looking man, or he had been once. He could have used some grooming, to be sure. The barber hadn’t seen Saverin Bailey in almost two years and that went for most people who knew him.

That evening he’d brushed his hair back and tied it over the collar of a clean good shirt. He looked like he was about to go somewhere important. But his eyes were dull as scratched glass as he lay like a log on the couch, holding the Kimber in one handand a tumbler of whiskey in the other. He had been drinking heavily all day.

The death didn’t come out of nowhere. Saverin knew that Fang had been lagging for years. The old boy didn’t eat much, he’d lost some fur, and most days he slept in the wide sunbeams that came in through the great South-facing windows of the house, dreaming of whatever old dogs dream of.

Saverin knew when Fang stopped walking the end was at hand, but the loss of a loyal hound is a thing no man is ever prepared for.

It was fitting, in a way. Saverin had been there when Fang was born, and he’d been the one to see the old boy into death with the honor he deserved.

Fang had been with him as long as he could remember— nearly as long as his little brother, Sam.

And now both Fang and Sam were somewhere he couldn’t reach.

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