Primal Cut

Saturday Edition. A 913-word short story.

Photo by Joe Shields on Unsplash

The moon graced Rico’s black Mercedes as he stepped out to the industrial park. He walked out front, leaned on the hood of the car, and took a moment to breathe in the quiet, cool air of the night. Moments like these were few, so he took advantage of the silence before a job. From the breast pocket of his brown suede jacket, he pulled a thin cigar, quickly stripping it off the band. No way he’d let the guys know what he was smoking these days. No more Fuentes. Hard times snatched away his beloved premium blends.

The factory throwaways with their sweet caps would have to do. A quick cut and a minute to toast, he brought the cigar to his lips and he was away. The puffs of cheap smoke were overpowered by the rankness of diesel and factory fumes, but Rico didn’t care. Smoking before a job was routine, almost mechanical at this point, and he was in need of the extra cash.

His cell phone chirped, vibrating in his pants pocket. The text box popped on the screen as the grayish blue light hit his face in the dark. A deep groan echoed throughout the empty park as he read the name “BITCH" in bold, white letters. He drew in a mouthful of smoke, slowly pushing it out, then chewed on the butt of the cigar for a while as he tried to keep himself from exploding at the sight of that name.

The text read, “Maddie’s going to bed and wants to say goodnight.”

Rico smiled. First time he ever smiled at one of the Bitch’s messages. He hit the dial button immediately. A few rings and he was connected.

“Daddy?” said a sweet, little voice.

“Hi honey. Ready for bed?”

“Where are you?”

Rico sighed. It was a routine question that he answered in a routine way.

“I’m working, honey.”

“You work a lot.”

“It’s for you, honey. It’s always for you.”

There was a pause that went on longer than Rico would have liked.

“Someone has a birthday tomorrow. Do you know who that is?”

“Me!” she said with a giggle. Rico could hear his little girl smile. He heard a woman’s voice in the background, but couldn’t make it out what was being said. The voice was cold and impatient.

“Are you going to my party tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby! I’m looking at your gift in the backseat right now.”

The cold voice in the background snapped, “Say goodnight, Maddie!”

“Momma says I have to go now.”

Rico shut his eyes trying to fight back the tears. A set white headlights pulled up behind his car. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat.

His voice cracked.

“I love you, honey. Remember, Daddy loves you so much.”

“Hang up, Madison!” Click.

Rico was ready to throw his phone when two men, stepped out of the large, white van.

He straightened up. All he could hear was his heart beating. The cigar felt dirty in his hands and he flung away from him, watching it hit the gravel ground.

A short, round gentleman in a black suit and loosened tie approached Rico and threw a sealed manilla envelope so fat with cash it almost burst open when he caught it.

“Is this all of it?” asked Rico. His voice sounding gruff and heavy this time.

“Padrón put an extra five grand for you. He heard the little señorita has a birthday. Wanted to make sure the Butcher’s daughter got a nice gift. ”

The van bounced and shifted from side to side as they heard a whaling scream.

The man in the suit smiled, “Fair warning. He’s a big one. I can tell it’s gonna be messy.”

“They’re all messy, Miguel. Now bring him out.” Rico went to the trunk of his car, popped it, and chucked the money in. He reached in the far corner of the trunk, pulling out long black gloves and a canvas knife roll.

From the unmarked van, the men in suits hauled out an overweight man, balding, beaten, bounded, and naked. They dragged the fat man to Rico.

“This pig owes the house eighty grand. Make him sing,” said Miguel as he lit a cigarette.

The fat man’s face was colorless, dripping in sweat. He lifted his hands tied together in a pathetic plea for mercy.

Rico pulled out an immaculately clean cimieter knife from his roll as Miguel pulled the sock from the fat man’s mouth. His hands fitting perfectly in the grooves created by years of nights like tonight.

“Please,” begged the fat man, “I’ve got a family. Wife, two young kids.”

Rico ignored him as he took off his jacket.

“You don’t have to do this,” the man whimpered.

Rico looked at the pig with the hard, soulless eyes of a hired killer.

“Please!”

Did Rico regret his chosen profession? Or the choices he made in his life? Sure. But those private thoughts of doubt and shame were useless to him now. They would not wash his hands clean of his past sins. They would not fix his broken marriage. They would not make him a good man.

And they wouldn’t bring Maddie back into his life. In the end, he knew he was the sum total of his life choices. He was the Butcher.

Rico tightened his grip on the knife and began carving. He no longer heard the screaming.