Page 65 of Bad Seed
He doesn’t meow at me, and I look up. Astin leaps onto the sofa with a cucumber in his mouth. As he lays down, he starts to gnaw on the end.
Where did he get…?
My spine hardens. I watch my cat methodically peeling off the skin in small, green curls. The cucumber does nothing. He’s cool all right.
“Astin?” I call to my cat. “Are you supposed to have that?”
My loving, loyal cat stares up at me in defiance, then punctures his fangs deep into the cucumber.
“Sonofa!” the cucumber screams.
Astin hollers in response and flings the cucumber away. As it rolls off the couch, the green skin shifts to the stringy, pale body of a naked man. He lands on his elbows and knees. Blood drips off of his leg with two, fresh puncture wounds.
Just as he turns to glare at my cat, I ram my foot down on his spine, collapsing him to the carpet. “Hello, Cuke.”
“Hey…man. Good to, ugh, see you.” Cuke, one of the fixers of the Squash mafia lays out his hands on the carpet to show he’s not armed. As if he could be. It’s hard to hide a gun inside a cucumber. “Your cat’s not, like, infected, right? Doesn’t have rabies?”
I roll my eyes to Astin who’s glaring down at the man that used to be his catch. He looks about to pounce to try to eat him.
“And if he does?” I ask.
“Just want to know. In case I need to disinfect my wound with bleach.”
“For fuck’s sake, you are not doing that.”
“It works. I swear. Keeps my skin all nice and taut too. No mold getting in there,” Cuke shouts like he’s about to tell me about this one mom doctors hate.
I lean on my leg, pushing him down. “What are you doing here, Cuke? This isn’t your territory.”
“Would you believe I’m on vacation? Was here seeing the Mickey and the Minnie. Ya know. It’s a Small World—”
I dig my ankle down, silencing him before that song gets trapped in my head. “You’re off by about five hundred miles.”
“Oh… That explains the lack of rides.” He twists his head to stare up at me with a look that would chill anyone else to the bone. “…and churros.”
“I could crush you right here,” I threaten, putting all my force into my foot.
Even with his ribs shifting under me and lungs about to pop, he doesn’t make a sound. This fucker’s eerie. I swear, a chef could slice him up on a mandolin and he wouldn’t make a peep.
I let up and Cuke coughs out, “You could, you could. But then you gotta hide a body, and well, them coyotes seem the type to go digging up old bones. If you get my meaning.”
Fuck. He’s right. Last thing I need is to draw more attention to myself. With one last threatening dig, I slip my foot off of him.
“Get up.”
“Thank you, thank you.” He bunches back to his knees then sticks out a hand. “Little help?”
I cross my arms.
“Or not. It’s all good. I can get there on my own. Fuuck. Do not get old, Shadey boy. It is hell on knees. And elbows. And my neck makes this snapping sound whenever I—”
My hand grabs his flapping jaw and pinches. “Why. Are. You. Here?”
“Well, that’s a funny story.”
“So help me if you say it’s not ha ha funny, I will…” He doesn’t care if I toss his bones to the coyote. I glance to Astin and smile. “My cat will eat you whole.”
Cuke’s eyes widen. He stares over at Astin with some innate ancestral fear. “Okay, okay, fine. I’m here to extend an offer.”
