Meat Market Anthology

by S. Van Horne

  I turn off the engine and sit for a minute, gazing out the window and into the back of my garage. “I need to talk to Jason,” I tell the empty car.

  I stroll up to Jason’s office, let out a slow breath, and raise my hand to the door. I give the wood two quick raps and wait for him to answer. I’ve always looked up to my cousin Jason. Growing up, he and his brother Jax were like brothers to me. Our mothers are sisters.

  After working in New York for several years after college, Jason moved back into town to take over his grandfather’s butcher shop when he died.

  When I graduated with a degree in marketing, I had wanted to branch away from my father’s PR company to make a name of my own, but that never happened. Six months after graduation, my father suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. I inherited his company and rapidly learned it was closing in on filing for bankruptcy and destroying the reputation my grandfather had cultivated.

  Then one night, we were hanging out at The Brown Bottle, and I told him the struggles I was having cleaning up the company. Jason shocked the hell out of me by telling me he used to sell himself for money in college. It was never a secret he was a man-whore; but what floored me was that he got paid for it and that he was able to pay for some of his college debt. After my initial shock wore off, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. That was just over two years ago, and it’s something I now regret.

  Jason’s answering, “Come in,” is audible through the door. I step in, shut the door behind me, and then lean against it. Jason motions for me to sit in a folding chair. I assess the chair in question; it won’t hold my large frame. I’ll break the damn thing. I glance around the room, noting the picture of him and our grandfather, and I chuckle at the plants that I know my aunt gave him.

  Jason raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with my plants, Zayne?”

  “Nothing…nothing at all.”

  He leans back in his black, leather chair. “Is there a reason why you’re here, or is it just to be a pain my ass?”

  “I…um.” Words escape me. I mean, how do you tell your cousin and boss that you can’t get a fucking erection to save your life? I blow out a long breath, steeling my resolve. “I’m having problems with my…” I rub my hand over my face, “performance,” I quickly spit out.

  Jason tilts his head with a look of bewilderment. “Like, what do you mean ‘performance’?” He air quotes.

  I scratch my fingers through my hair. “I’m having trouble with…you know…” I wave my hand down at my crotch.

  Jason leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers under his chin. “No, Zayne, I don’t know what you’re talking about, please explain.”

  “Jesus, you’re not gonna make this easy on me.” I cover my face, and Jason snickers.

  “Just spit it out, I don’t have all day,” he goads.

  I suck in a long, deep breath and exhale. “I can’t keep it up anymore.” There, I said it, I’m a thirty-year-old, healthy male in my prime, suffering from impotence.

  I glance up to see Jason’s beet red face, with tears pooling in his eyes. “Motherfucker, I’m serious about this.”

  Jason’s guffawed laughter echoes off the walls. I sit on the questionable chair and stare him down, waiting for him to calm his fit.

  “Man, am I getting punked?” he asks between his chuckles, swiping a tear that escaped.

  I push out of the chair, seething that this fuck-face thinks he’s getting punked. I grasp the doorknob. “I knew this was a waste of time.” I yank the door open—

  “Wait, hold on.” Jason stands and plants both hands on his desk. “You’re serious?” It was more of an exclamation than a question.

  I close the door with a slam and wince, I didn’t mean to shut it that hard. After returning to my previous position leaning against the door, I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Holy shit! You are serious, like this is a problem?”

  I meet his surprised face with my sullen one. “Yeah, I’m serious. Two nights ago, I was with a customer and barely finished by the skin of my teeth.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “For about a year, it started after my thirtieth birthday. I’ve done everything I can to fix the situation, outside of seeing a doctor. Nothing has worked.” My eyes start to burn from lack of sleep.

  “Can you think of something that happened back then that changed?” He sits back down in his chair and picks up a pen and twirls it in his fingers.

  I shake my head, but secretly, deep in my marrow, I know the reason why. Marnie. The one name that excites me and weakens me. The guys know who she is, but they don’t know the extent of the obsession I’ve had for her for over a decade.

  “Is it a woman?” I wince at the question because it was too close to home. “So, it is. Maybe the one that you told us about a while ago.” He raises his brows and tilts his chair back.

  I rub the back of my neck. Fuck him and his perceptiveness. “Okay, yeah it’s about her. After my thirtieth birthday, I went and crashed at my office.”

  “Okay, I remember that you were so shit-faced, Jax and I carried you to it and had to strip you out of your suit.” I roll my eyes at him, but he continues, “If memory serves me right, we even offered a nightcap, to which you puked all over yourself.”

  Jason continues to snicker as I stare and wish him his untimely death. “So, after you guys left, I went sifting through my desk—”

  “Drunk as a skunk?” he interrupts.

  “Yes, just shut up and let me finish! Christ! So yes, I was sifting through my desk and a photo I had forgotten was in it slipped out. It was of her and me about twelve years ago. She was so beautiful, so perfect for me. I just sat there, the world spinning from the vodka, and all I could think about was if we stayed together, would my life be different? Then, out of some sick compulsion, or the whiskey I started into after the vodka, I may have stalked her on Facebook.”

  “May have, or did you?”

  “I did, and she’s back here, in Chicago.”

  Jason snaps his chair upright and pulls in closer to his desk. “And…”

  “That’s it, I didn’t message her. I know she’ll despise me for what I do to make extra money. Marnie was a very naïve girl back then, believed in sex after marriage.”

  “Because of this, you can’t get a hard-on?”

  “Yup, pretty much.”

  “You’re fucked in the head.”

  I place my head in my hands and mumble, “Don’t I know it!” while Jason hums “Another One Bites the Dust.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  MARNIE

  “THERE, ALL DONE.” I STAND, press my hands into my back, and stretch. Two pops in my spine tell me I was hunched over for too long. I gaze around at the kitchen in my new townhouse and smile. The granite countertops accent the stainless-steel appliances perfectly, and I love the antiqued white of the cupboards. I glance outside to my small back yard. It’s big enough to hold a picnic table, grill, and probably two chairs. Turning around, I kick the cardboard box that held my dishes and silverware to the back door. The kitchen is still bare, no personality yet, but at least it’s all unpacked.

  After starting the dishwasher, I leave the kitchen and sit in front of a big box labeled “living-room.” I gently open it by peeling back the packing tape. I pull out all the bubble wrap, then I reach in and grab a few framed pictures. One is of Ashley and me right after she had J.J. He was so tiny, it took a few threats from Ash before I could hold him. He snuggled right into my arm like he belonged there. With a slight smile, I place the picture on the mantle. The next one in my hand is of J.J. right after I moved back to Chicago. He’s sitting in grass, scowling and lifting his feet up. I don’t think he liked the feeling of grass on his feet, but the scrunched face he made was priceless. I place that one next to the first.

  The third one is of the first bouquet of roses I ever received. I had just passed my driving test, and my best friend, at the
time, Zayne, tackled me to the ground and shoved them in my face. I had screeched at him, and all he told me was he wanted to make sure I saw they were my favorite flower color, blood orange. The coloring of the flowers was so unique, the tips of the petals blood red, then bleeding into a warm orange. I absently rub my fingers together, remembering the softness of each petal. When I got home, I took a picture of them so their memory was preserved, and so I would remember who gave them to me.

  I gently place the old frame on the opposite side of the mantle from the other two. As I pull the leg of the backing down, a small picture falls into my hand. I turn it around, and my breath escapes; it’s a picture of Zayne. He was my high school boyfriend, my best friend, my first love, and well…my first everything. I sigh and sit on the couch. The picture is of Zayne and me at a bonfire. I’m sitting on his lap, and he has both hands wrapped tightly around me. His eyes sparkle from the flash of the camera. His smile is bright and happy.

  I move my attention to the younger self in the picture. I remember sitting there and thinking what was I doing with this guy? He was popular, the quarterback; he was everything. I don’t know how I caught his eye, but I did.

  Zayne Thompson was your quintessential hunk. He was tall with reddish hair that was unruly when it was long, but he always kept it short. He had the most beautiful, piercing blue eyes; I swear they looked straight into my soul. I felt small when I stood next to him, which was a feat in itself as I stand five foot nine inches. His presence dwarfed me and gave me a sense of safety.

  We first met in our senior year. He was failing math and was on track to lose his football scholarship. One day, I was in the library studying, of course, when he came up to me. He asked me—ME—to tutor him to help him keep his college scholarship that was promised to him when he graduated. Over the school year, I tutored him and got to know him. Soon, we were hanging out outside of school. He had a killer sense of humor and enough self-confidence for the both of us. His quiet authority made me feel like I belonged to him. We fell in love and were inseparable.

  I smile sadly at the picture; a tiny tear falls to my cheek. “You never would have cheated on me,” I tell the picture as if I’m talking to him. “You would’ve loved me with every breath.” Feeling embarrassed that I’m speaking to a photo, I roll my eyes at my cheesiness, but deep in my heart, I know he would’ve. I walk back to the mantle and carefully replace the picture behind the frame backing. I spend the rest of the day unpacking and cleaning, but I find my eyes tracking back to the picture.

  It’s Friday and the end of my first week at my new job. Ready for the day to be over, I sigh as I gently drop into my desk chair. I have been on my feet all day, from greeting clients, to filing reports and dictating emails for my new bosses. I never thought being a secretary for an accounting firm would be exhausting, but I’m hoping a position in the advertising team opens.

  “Hi, Marnie.” I glance up to see one of my bosses, Andrew Morton, smiling down at me. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re handling your first week here. It’s a lot to take in at first.”

  I nod in agreement; the fast pace of this office is a lot to take in. This is the first time I’ve seen him close. He’s tall and fills out a three-piece suit very nicely. His dark hair is slicked back with an edged-out part line and trimmed eyebrows that outline his warm whiskey eyes. To say he’s handsome would be an understatement.

  I give him a gentle smile “Thank you, Mr. Morton, and yes, it’s a lot to take in, but I already feel like I’m getting the flow of it.”

  He returns a matching smile. “Please, call me Andrew. I’m not as stuffy as the other owners here are.” I let out a little chuckle and nod. “Well, Marnie, for your first week, you did well. Go home and enjoy your weekend. See you on Monday.” He waves and turns for the front door.

  I power down my computer and tidy up my desk before grabbing my mug from this morning’s coffee and heading to the small kitchenette. When I walk in, Tina and another girl I haven’t met yet are gabbing at the sink.

  “Excuse me,” I murmur softly. Both of them step back to let me through.

  “Hi. Marnie, right?” the other girl asks.

  “Yes, I’m Marnie, nice to meet you.” I place my cup into the sink.

  “I’m Melissa, and I just started as a CPA here.” Her smile brightens her brown eyes.

  I angle my body to her. “I just started here, too.”

  “Tina and I were just talking about something to do over the weekend and she enlightened me on a shop called The Meat Market. Have you ever heard of it?”

  I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. Is it a new restaurant or something?” I glance to Tina.

  “Oh, honey, I think you need to sit down, but first, take these cards.” Tina hands both me and Melissa a card with the name “Jason” on it along with a number.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MARNIE

  THE NEXT DAY, I’M IN my house, pacing back and forth, with my arms crossed over my chest, and my fingers playing with the fabric of my tank top. Curiosity has gotten the best of me, and I can’t stop thinking about this Meat Market. The card Tina gave me sits in my purse, beckoning me to it. All I have to do is reach in and grab it. The stories Tina told Melissa and me both intrigued and repulsed me. How can the idea of a man selling his body for money make me so hot? Maybe it wasn’t the fact of him selling himself, but more what the man did to Tina and for other women…how he satisfied them and met their needs. I’ve never been sexually adventurous; Tyler had, on occasion, called me frigid. I’ve just never been comfortable enough to explore what I truly want in bed. My arms drop to my sides in frustration. I glance to the laundry that’s sitting on my living room floor. Maybe a mundane activity will clear my head.

  Into my second basket, a knock on my door, followed by the door opening with shuffling feet, has me jogging into the kitchen. Ashley breezes through with a wave while J.J. toddles behind her. “To what do I owe this visit?” I ask her with an eyebrow raised, but I’m really happy for the intrusion.

  She opens my fridge and grabs the whole milk. After twisting J.J.’s bottle open, she fills it. With her hip, she shuts the door and hands my adorable nephew his bottle. “We were in the area and wanted to say hi and see how you are settling.” She smiles at me and walks around the downstairs. “I like what you did with the place, definitely needs more pics of me and J.J.” She scans over my sparse pictures on the mantle. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.”

  I snicker at her as I grab a bin filled with baby toys for J.J. to play with. “I love your concern for lack of pics of you and him.”

  Ash settles down on the floor, allowing J.J. to climb over her. “But really Marn, how are you? How was your first week at the firm?”

  I sit down next to her, take J.J. in my arms, and inhale his sweet baby scent. “It’s going. The house is feeling more like home, but needs some more personal touches. And as for the job…well…it’s different. Going from working at a magazine to an accounting firm is an adjustment, but advertising is advertising no matter where.”

  She nods. “How are your coworkers? They nice, or do I need to come there and whoop some ass?”

  I guffaw at her over-protectiveness of me. “Stop it, they are nice.” I toss around the idea of telling her about the card that’s burning a hole in my purse. “Well, they did tell me about a local business I should look into.”

  I glance to her green eyes, then back to J.J.; uneasiness settles when I hear her question. “What about this business? What’s wrong? You seem upset about something.”

  I inhale long and spew out, “There was girl at work who told me about The Meat Market, but it’s not just a meat market, it’s a male escort service that offers anything you want. She gave me a card with a Jason’s number and told me to call and ask for Pork. Tina, the girl who gave it to me, told me a story of this pork guy and what he did to her and…and…” I can’t finish the sentence, because I feel my body ignite with embarrassment and heat. I’m so co
nfused.

  Her wide eyes stare back at me. “Okay, wow, so you just call and set up like a date and have sex with a guy?”

  “Um…yeah, I guess.”

  Ashley takes a minute, staring off with a pensive look on her face. When she returns her attention to me, she asks, “Well, you gonna call?”

  “What!” I squawk, scaring J.J., who had fallen asleep in my arms. He begins to wail and squirm.

  “Hold that thought while I grab some baby food for him.” Ashley gets up and heads to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she brings the car seat and a small tub of baby food.

  I stare at it. The label reads “beef stew.”

  “Eww, he likes that stuff?” I holler over J.J.’s hungry screams.

  “It’s not his favorite, but he’ll eat it.” I gently place him in his car seat and tuck the burp cloth under his chin. Ash opens the food and an odorous smell of pureed beef assaults me.

  “Oh, buddy, I’m sorry.” I gag.

  “Okay, back to the problem at hand. Are you gonna call them?” she asks while feeding J.J. the offending meal.

  I sputter my answer, “I…I…didn’t think about it. No…no, I don’t think I will.”

  “Why not.”

  “They’re male escorts, paid to have sex with women, Ash.” Again, my cheeks heat and a sheen of moisture covers my palms.

  Ashley sizes me up and down, still feeding a now quiet J.J. “The way I see it is that you’ve been single for several months now and not one male has come sniffing around your flower garden. So, it’s either they have and you turned them down, or you haven’t been out enough.”

  My mouth gapes open, then closes, then opens again. Ashley starts to giggle and so does J.J. Ash turns to him and says in baby talk, “Somebody needs to get into Aunt Marnie’s flower garden, don’t they? Yes, they do!”