Page 76 of Working for the Mob

“I’m going to pull around,” Art said, and drove a couple blocks down. He turned down a cramped street lined with more somber residences until he parked on a side street perpendicular to the main road. The butcher’s shop was visible from the car.

“I’ll wait for you here,” Art said. “There’s no rule against shopping on the other side of town, but Genevieve …”

He grabbed my hand and met my eyes. I wasn’t sure what I saw in them. Longing? Concern?

“Please, be careful,” he said. He gave my fingers a tight squeeze. He looked like he was going to say more but then he just threw my hand back to me.

I hopped out of the car immediately, positive that if I stayed in the car any longer, I might never get out.What am I doing?my brain said, as I approached the butcher. Every alarm in my head blared sirens that screamed,Turn back now! This is a mistake!

But I couldn’t turn back. I needed to return to the café with enough meat to feed the entire town! Especially since it seemed like the entire town showed up for lunch these days.

I opened the butcher’s door and already something felt off. No bells chimed as I walked in. No friendly voice greeted me. The coolness of the shop also struck me. The temperature outside was the same as the temperature inside. They must not run the heat.

I had to hand it to the deserted shop––it was much cleaner on the inside. The spotless counters on top of the cleanest glass display case. Not a speck of dust over the tiled floor. Even the aroma of bleach overpowered the tang of blood. Miss Dunham would be proud of the clean shop.

The meat in the display case looked fresh. Red tinged the steaks, the chicken a pale pink, and the pork a darker pink. At the very least, I would be comfortable selling these meats to our customers.

My steps echoed as I tiptoed further into the shop, past shelves of rub and barbecue sauce, and looked around the counter. No one was here.

A cold sweat ran down my back. I hadn’t even seen anyone and my nerves had already set in. Although I would need to talk to someone to bring back the deli meats.

A curtained doorway led to a backroom. Maybe someone was back there.

“Hello,” I called out. “Is anyone here?”

I waited a couple breaths without an answer. “Hello? I’d like to buy something.”

The only thing Art armed me with sat in my purse. A crisp ten-dollar bill should be enough to buy everything we needed for the day.

“Hello?”

Maybe no one was here. Shop owners needed to step out for lunch just like anyone else. I inched back to the door, a little relieved, when a baritone voice called out.

“Be there in a minute,” the voice croaked, like a bullfrog.

I froze, and more sweat seeped down my back. What if he came out and recognized me? What if he refused to sell me anything, and chased me out of town? What if he found out I came to town with Art, and alerted the Valuncias?

I eyed the door. I could still make a run for it. I would tell Art that he didn’t have any of the meats we needed and he would be none-the-wiser.

Footsteps echoed from the back and I stayed put. I needed this. I’m the manager now.

“What can I do for you?” the man asked, as he pushed back the curtain.

The lanky man had to stoop under the doorway to walk through. He stood as tall as Art, but his long limbs added a couple inches to his appearance. He reminded me of an Amish man, with his black chinstrap that ran down his face. It was the only hair on his head besides his eyebrows.

Crimson splotches stained his white clothes, and they looked fresh.

A scarlet name was stitched onto his apron, but I couldn’t make out the cursive writing.

“What can I help with?” he asked again, and I realized that my mouth still hung open. I hadn’t said anything.

I tried to swallow, but I had no spit left.

“I’d like to buy some deli meat. Five pounds of ham, five pounds of turkey, and five pounds of corned beef please,” I said, and he threw an inquisitive look at me.

“What do you need all of that meat for?” he asked, and leaned down to face level.

Shit.

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