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“Hello,” I say. The first thing I notice about her is that she’s shorter than most girls. Curvy in a seductive way. Her green eyes are intense.
“Hi,” she says shortly, looking toward the door that Roger walked through.
“How can I help you?” I ask without looking at her. I continue to carve the meat.
“I’m waiting for the owner. I need to talk to him. He’s just gone in the back.” She seems very confident for someone who has no guards. That intrigues me. Why doesn’t she have guards?
It's a bit cheeky if you ask me.
“I’m his son. You can talk to me.” I glance at her, and our eyes meet. There’s something about the way she looks at me. She’s definitely a snake in the grass, like all Sokolovs.
“You’re his son?” she asks.
“Yeah, I just got in for my shift. So if you need anything, you can ask me. I know the entire history of this place.” I glance at her.
“I’m going to be the new owner once the transfer is done.”
I try not to look surprised, but inside, I’m heated. They are buying the butchers. Little fuckers.
“I want access to the business files to decide the direction I want to take this butchery.”
“The butchery makes a good income,” I say. “It’s busy, in a good area, and a lot of people trust the meat that comes from here. I wouldn’t mess with it too much if you want to continue to keep the income.”
“I don’t even know if I want to keep it as a butchery,” she says plainly.
I look up sharply. “Why not? A butchery serves a community.”
“So do many places. The area has a few butchers, and I might want to liven things up a little.” She looks around. “Can you take me to the business files or not?”
“I can,” I say. “Let me just finish here. Why don’t you have a seat while you wait?”
She looks at me skeptically but finally sits at the little table where Roger normally sits down when he’s doing the finances or having a break. She crosses one leg over the other and impatiently taps her top foot in the air.
“When I’m done, why don’t I give you a full tour? That way, you know what you’re getting. Then I’ll take you to the files in the back,” I say, slicing through the meat quickly.
“Aren’t you scared you’re going to cut yourself?” she asks curiously.
“I’ve cut myself plenty in the past. It’s how I have learned to avoid doing that,” I say. “Though I tend to cut others when they interfere with what I’m busy with, you know what I mean.”
“Don’t put your hand where someone is cutting meat, I guess?” she says. “Which is stupid to do. You could lose a finger.”
“Or sometimes an eye, depending on how irritated I am,” I joke. She doesn’t look amused.
I finish cutting the meat and set it aside for Debbie to package. I wash and dry my hands before removing the apron and motion around.
“This is obviously the front of the shop where we keep all the meat we’re selling. You’ve got several display fridges along that wall, and that wall and the display fridges that add to the front counter here where we keep our more specialized cuts for people to choose from.”
I motion for her to follow me. “Built in the sixties, this place has been passed down from generation to generation. Which means it’s sad that it’s being sold. Being a family-owned business and all. Nothing worse than a small family business selling out.”
“Yes, well, things evolve,” she says from behind me.
Through the door, I stop her. “This is the disinfectant station. Here, you can disinfect before you touch the meat or work with the food. Hair nets are a must when working back here, but you’re not going to be touching meat, so we won’t ruin those perfect curls.”
I lead her into the large refrigerated room. “Here’s where the magic happens,” I say, meeting her gaze and grin. Here is where everything is cut, chopped, prepped, and ultimately stored before being put in the front of the shop. This way.”
“This is one of three big freezers where we store the full animals before they are cut. We also put cuts back in here if we have too much out front and need to store it. This one is for pigs, that one for lambs, and that one for beef. There’s a small fridge for other animals like chicken, rabbit, ostrich, etc.” I motion around.
“Upstairs is where my family lives. I’m assuming we’re going to have to move out?” I look at her curiously.
