Meat Market Anthology

by S. Van Horne

“This is different.” He squeezes my finger.

  “How?” I try to pull away, but he refuses to let go.

  “Because it is.”

  “You’re lying. Nothing about this is different. You’ve probably done this countless of times. This”—I use my other hand to point to the two of us on the bench—”making women feel special, cared for, like they matter.”

  “This is different, Alejandra,” he insists, his voice soft.

  My chuckle is humorless and mixed with a snort. “You’re a pig, you know that. A pig.”

  He whispers something under his breath, so soft, I can’t hear.

  “What?” Again, I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. “Let me go! I’m done here.”

  “You’re my first,” he whispers, each word louder as he speaks. “My first. Okay?”

  “Wait—” Did he just say what I thought he said? My struggles cease. “What?”

  “You’re my first, Alejandra. My first assignment. Despite what you think, you do matter.” His eyes implore me to believe him, but it’s so hard.

  His words turn over in my mind, but no matter how much he makes me go soft and gooey inside, or how much I want his hands and mouth on me, I can’t let go of the fact that he’s a paid escort—a man paid to take women around and even sleep with them.

  “I may be your first, but if I had been anyone else, would you have gone?” Holding my breath, hoping he’ll say no, I await his answer, though I already know that won’t be the case. He couldn’t have known it was me who mistakenly placed the order, yet he showed.

  His eyes search mine. For what, I don’t know. Maybe understanding, but he won’t find any. To me, he’s doing something wrong for money.

  After a moment, he whispers reluctantly, “Yes.”

  My heart cracks, my breath releasing in a whoosh.

  “I would have gone on the date, Alejandra. I can’t lie to you and say I wouldn’t. I—”

  “And that’s what I can never understand.” He loosens his grip. I pull my hand away and stand. “I’m here with you due to a misunderstanding. I never meant to order an escort, but you,” my smile is small, forced, and full of hurt, “you’re here for the money. Any woman is as good as the other, and I can’t accept or understand that.”

  An emotion flickers over his face before it goes slack, blank, emotionless. “Sometimes, there comes a point in your life where you have to make choices, difficult choices. Some you’ll like, and other you’ll hate, but necessity wins out.”

  “Never.” I shake my head, unable to see his reason.

  His eyes, no longer warm and inviting, meet mine. A corner of his lips rises in a dry, humorless grin. Slowly, he shakes his head and stands. With the back of his right hand, he caresses my cheek, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ears.

  “Then,” he swallows, “you’re not the woman I thought you were, Alejandra. And that, my sweetheart, that is sad.”

  With those words, he leaves me standing alone, by the bench where I experienced one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

  ANTONIO

  My chest hurts.

  No matter how much I rub it, the ache won’t go away.

  I throw back my head against my raggedy couch and stare up at the ceiling. Why the fuck did I have to go and fall for her? Why the hell did she have to be my first client? I was resigned to my decision, almost embracing it, then she happened.

  The way she looked at me…now, I feel tainted and ashamed. If this is how I feel with her, imagine how I would feel if my mother discovered my secret.

  Without further thought, I grab my phone and text Jason.

  Me: I’m done. Out. Thanks for the chance, but I can’t do it anymore.

  Jason: Your money?

  He replies, surprisingly, not asking anymore questions.

  Me: Keep it or give it to charity. I can’t take her money. She hates me.

  Jason: I’m sorry, man. So, off the menu?

  Me: Yes.

  I respond, knowing my only chance at making decent cash, and still being able to sleep, is out of the window.

  Jason: Off, then. If you’re low on cash, I’ll front you.

  His offer is surprisingly sweet, not that you would say that to the butcher.

  Me: No, thanks, man. Thank you for offering.

  Jason: Alright. I have to go, I’m swimming in women.

  With that text, our chat ends.

  The picture he paints makes me laugh because I’ve seen the numerous women who frequent The Meat Market, both for actual meat and for the special menu.

  With that thought in mind, I stand and head to the fridge. I rummage through and find several long forgotten dark beers Jax brought over on his last visit. The cap pops off with ease, and I lift it to my lips and throw back. In large, gulping swallows, I let the cold, thick, earthly, and yeasty concoction bubble down my throat.

  After the shitty few months, especially today, I need a beer or two, better yet, the whole fucking lot Jax left. By the time I drink all of them, I’ll be so goddamn drunk, I’ll forget everything, at least for those moments of inebriation. Because I’m back to square, fucking, one.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ALEJANDRA

  “ALEJ, PRINCESA, WHERE HAVE YOU been?” my grandfather greets me when I enter the front room and toss myself onto the couch adjacent to him.

  “Here and there, Abuelo.” The smile I give him is small and forced. How the hell will I tell him I messed up, and he won’t have his precious chorizo?

  “And why are you wearing a dress? It normally takes an act of God to squeeze you into one of those,” he points out, tilting his head in his observation of my outfit. “Did—”

  “Well, you see…” Wringing my hands, I think over my words and decide to just get it over and done with. The cousins are out, so it’ll be easier. “That chorizo you wanted for your birthday, didn’t come in time.” His eyebrows shoot up. “I mean, I ordered it but ordered the wrong kind. I accidently ordered the live, six-foot plus, one hundred and eighty pounds kind of chorizo version. I messed up, Abuelo, and I have no one to blame but myself. I didn’t read the forms. Stupidly, I signed and paid for the wrong order. I’m so sorry.” Unable to hold them back, I let the tears fall.

  Loud, snotty tears trickle down my cheeks. I cry for my mistake, for disappointing my grandparents, and for falling for an escort.

  “Come here, niña.” He waves me over.

  I settle next to him and lay my head on his shoulder, taking in his comforting smell—a mixture of soap and the cologne my grandmother loves. It takes me back to my younger years.

  His now bony frame pressed against me sends fear into my heart. He’s getting older, and, the once larger than life man I knew is more susceptible to falls and injury. Just the thought of anything happening to him or my grandmother, makes me cry harder.

  “Ya, mi princesa. Tell me what is really going on. That chorizo you’re talking about, it came in earlier.”

  “Wait. What?” Pulling back, I look up at him, tears and snot forgotten. “What do you mean the chorizo was delivered? I went to go pick it up a…and it was a man!”

  His eyes narrow. The wrinkled, welcoming face turns to a scowl. “A nice young man delivered it about two hours ago.” He brushes my hair back, his face still hard and unyielding, but his touch warm and soothing. “Your Abuela…” Clenching his jaw, he shakes his head.

  A thought niggles in the back of my mind but doesn’t come forth. My feelings and earlier interaction with Sal muddle my brain.

  “Cecilia Maria de la Rosa!” he roars, surprising me with the strength and volume of that summons. “I’ll take care of this, Alej,” he whispers to me.

  Seconds later, my grandmother hobbles in. “You called.” She raises a queenly eyebrow, giving my grandfather a warning look.

  “Don’t look at me like that, mujer.” He sets me aside and stands as tall as possible, using his cane to hold most of his weight. “What underhanded thing did you do today? And don’
t bother playing the innocente with me.”

  Her eyes veer to me. “Are you feeling unwell, Alej? Should I bring you some applesauce?”

  Shaking my head furiously, I try to bury myself deep in the plush couch.

  “I’m going to throw out that damn applesauce, Cecilia. Now answer me!” He steps toward my grandmother.

  Like the gran señora, grand lady, she stands her ground, knowing Abuelo is all roar and no bite when it comes to the women of his family.

  “For your information, Alejandro,” she stresses his name, a clear indication she’s unhappy with his tone of voice. “I’ve been running—”

  “Woman, running…” He laughs. “You wouldn’t run if your life depended on it.”

  “Don’t interrupt me,” she snaps, smacking his shoulder lightly. “I’ve been getting everything ready for your birthday party. Or have you forgotten, viejo, that tomorrow you turn one year older? You are the older one of us two.” She calls him an old man.

  “I haven’t forgotten, and I’m appreciative,” he grumbles, chastised. “But, you have been up to something. You’ve been walking on clouds since Alej left on that wild errand you sent her on. Now, she comes home crying. Why, wife?”

  “Crying?” My grandmother zones in on me, like a hawk on its prey. “He made you cry?” Her voice vibrates with fury.

  “Y…you knew about this?” No longer afraid of the threat of applesauce, I rise from my seat and wiggle myself to stand between my grandparents and keep them in view. “The Meat Market. The chorizo. The man?” My voice rises with each word.

  “Young lady,” she warns. “Watch it.”

  “Cecilia, what did you do?” my grandfather asks, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Really?”

  “How could you?” Now, my voice is vibrating with anger, and my hands are fisted at my side so I don’t scream in fury, or cry more.

  “I was giving you a teeny, tiny push,” she answers, unrepentant.

  “With an escort?” I shout, feeling like I want to pull my hair out in frustration.

  “A what?” My grandfather’s bellow seems to rattle the room.

  “Oh, stop.” Abuelita waves away our words. “Stop being so melodramatic.”

  “Us?” I ask incredulously. “Melodramatic? We’re not the ones that contracted an escort.”

  “Technically, you did, mija.” She smiles. “But I will admit, I had something to do with that. I’ll,” she raises her hand when both my grandfather and I open our mouths to speak, “explain everything. Just sit down.”

  My grandfather, a veteran to my grandmother’s schemes, settles back in his seat. I, on the other hand, stare her down, but I’m no match for her. After a few seconds, I sit in my old seat, adjacent to my grandfather.

  “Okay, where do I start?” Abuelita purses her lips and tilts her head up, cradling her chin, running through her thoughts.

  “At the beginning would be helpful,” I offer.

  “Well, it all started when I discovered the on-goings of The Meat Market through a little chisme. Remember, Alejandro, I mentioned that to you?” She looks at my grandfather. He nods. “Then, there was that nice young man who helped us, that one time when you were having tests done at the hospital, mi amor. I worry since your father had prostate cancer.” Again, he nods.

  “What time at the hospital?” No one mentioned a hospital visit prior to mine. And what about this rumor? I’ve heard nothing. What are they hiding? Why?

  “That’s a story for another time, mija.” Abuelo answers. “Let your abuela continue. I’m interested to hear about this escort man of yours.”

  “He’s not mine,” I point out.

  “Well, why not?” Abuelita sounds affronted and sits, all prim and proper, across from us. “I worked hard to get that order for you. Do you know how hard it was setting this up with the butcher? He’s not an easy man.”

  “Are you so eager for me to wed, you’re willing to buy me a husband?” My tone is incredulous but also tinged with hurt. “Am I not enough on my own, Abuelita? Do you not have enough faith in me to let me live my life on my terms? I don’t even know whether to be hurt, angry, or both.”

  “No, baby…” she stretches out her hand toward me, but I burrow myself into the couch, trying to get away from her. Her lack of belief in me is…heartbreaking.

  My grandfather closes his eyes and lowers his head. After a sigh, he speaks in a low voice, “Cecilia, what have you done?” He brings her attention to him.

  “I’m only trying to help.” She turns to me and continues, “Alej, mija, I am very proud of all you have accomplished. You’ve come so far from the lost, little girl who came to live with us. The little girl who couldn’t bear being away from us and would even walk into our room in the middle of the night and curl up in our bed, is all grown up. You have grown into an amazing, determined, dedicated young woman. But,” she emphasizes the word. “You’re grandfather and I won’t be around forever. We’re getting older. And,” she says tearfully. “I don’t want to you be alone when we leave.”

  “Stop! Don’t talk like that. You are not going anywhere.” The earlier anger and hurt is forgotten, and I throw myself at her feet, taking one of her hands in mine. The thought of them gone is unbearable. Horrific. Impossible. Saddening. Yet, a real threat because it happened to my parents.

  “You have to be realistic, Alej.” She cradles my face, as I kneel before her seat on the couch, with her other hand. “We’re getting old. Half the time, we can barely make it up the stairs without our bones creaking.” I shake my head. “I want to know you’ll be taken care of. That you will have someone to lay awake at night with. Someone who will take you in hand when you become like me. Someone that will love you more than we love you. My precious girl, you need to stop focusing so much on work and live life. You’ve proven yourself, that you can make it in a man’s world just as well or better than any man, it’s time to be happy.”

  “I don’t need a man, Abuelita. I have you guys, my cousins, and the family.”

  She shakes her head. “But no one to keep you warm at night. Call me old-fashioned, but I want to know you have someone standing beside you, promising to lighten your load for the rest of your life. Someone you can form a family with. Someone for you to share your life with. And that man, the young doctor…he looked to be the one for the job. I saw the way you looked at him. How you went breathless when he took your hand.”

  Shaking my head, I deny it.

  “Don’t lie to us or yourself, mija,” she continues. “I saw how you lowered your eyes in shyness when his met yours. How you straightened your clothes when you thought no one was looking. He caught your attention, and you became the blushing young lady I was when I first saw your grandfather. I just wanted to give you a push.”

  “But an escort, Cecilia,” Abuelo finally speaks up. “How is she to live knowing he’s taking other women out?”

  “Hay, Alejandro.” She chuckles. “Do you honestly think I would allow such a thing to happen? If I’m not mistaken, Alej was his first assignment. Have you forgotten, husband of mine, what it feels like when you think you have no other choice? How it feels to pinch pennies, worrying how you’re going to support your family? Because, that young man is in the same situation we once were.”

  Abuelo clears his throat but says nothing.

  “I can’t, Abuelita. As much as I want to get to know him and see where it leads, I can’t get over the fact he would sell himself.”

  “Alej,” she says my name sharply and firmly. “You have no idea what life is like outside of your world. Not everyone has the luxury of a big, well-off family. Your parents, aunts, uncles, grandfather, and I worked hard to give you and your cousins a better life. Your young man is in a place where we once were. If you can’t understand that desperation sometimes overrides morals in your little black and white world, then you are not grown up enough to deserve him. From all the information I’ve gathered about the young doctor who treated you, and who helped us when your grandf
ather and I were scared during our hospital visit, there is no man I would trust you to more. He’s loyal, hard-working, dedicated, and treats his mother like a queen. Maybe,” she tilts my head up and intently looks into my eyes, “maybe, mija, you’re the one not deserving of him, and that, mi princesa, is a heartbreaking shame because I thought we raised you better than that.”

  ANTONIO

  There is no mercy in this world. None whatsoever.

  The continuous, throbbing pain reminds me why drinking to excess lost its appeal years ago. The loud pounding on my apartment door breaks through into my muddled, aching brain, making things worse. Who the hell could it be?

  A groan escapes as I roll off the couch. My mouth feels like cotton, the light shining through the open blinds stabs my eyes, my stomach wants to revolt, and the continued knocking does nothing to ease the hammering headache.

  With a last push off the couch, I stumble to the door with my head in my hands. I leave the chain lock in place when I crack open the door and lean my weight against it. With one squinted eye, I greet the person on the other side. Dark chocolate eyes stare back at mine.

  “Alejandra…” I half-groan, half-sigh.

  “Sal,” she greets me, her lips forming a hesitant smile.

  Unsure what the hell is going on, I shut the door and unhook the lock. When I reopen the door, I find Alejandra with her fist raised, ready to pound, yet again.

  Her eyes widen, and the color on her face rises. “S…sorry.”

  “Come in.” Moving aside, I allow her entrance.

  She walks into the room, quickly scanning my place before momentarily focusing on the empty bottles on the plastic coffee table.

  “Party?” She turns an inquiring gaze on me.

  “More like a solo one.” Running a hand over my face, I take several deep breaths as I try to understand her presence.

  “Can we talk?” she asks before I can gather my thoughts to ask further questions.

  My hand drops in surprise, and all I can do is look at her. Then, I shake my head, hoping to dislodge the cob webs residing there. “What more is there to say? You said enough.”