He stopped up the drains and set the hidden sump pump in reverse. The tank was so overloaded, the pump wouldn’t make any real noise until the level hit bottom. Curdled, septic, black blood wormed through the grates under his work table and fanned out over the floor. He fought a dry-heave and plugged his mouth with his fist. Stepping around the sludge, he took another moment to admire its grotesquery and happily cringed at the rotten reek. The containment around the bleed floor would not suffice for long. With the pump going full bore, this biological gruel would cascade over the berm in about ten minutes.
The Sticker hoped it flooded Bailey’s pristine office before the jackass even woke from his nap. It would be a downright crime not to witness that, but he’d stuck around here long enough and getting going was a better idea.
From the bed of his pickup, the Sticker watched a blood soaked Gerald Bailey trudge out to the parking lot. The Sticker laughed and unfortunately some Scotch went down the wrong pipe. He coughed out through his watering eyes and tried to clear his sinuses. After cursing a bit, he regained himself and scanned the parking lot for another trace of any of the misery he might have caused. Bailey’s headlights went on and he wheeled his truck around in the darkness.
So much for my fun. Wish I could see the full cleanup effort tomorrow.
“Well done,” said a voice.
The Sticker almost dropped his bottle of Black Velvet. “Jesus kid, what in the hell are you doing here? Holy shit!”
Tasha Willing stood at the very threshold of dusk. Her green eyes shone. “I heard about what happened and I just wanted to drop by to express how angry I am, on your behalf.”
“Heard? How?”
Tasha wound her hand in circles. “All sorts of ways out there to reap information. That’s not why I’m here, though. Now that you’re free, I’d like to present an opportunity. May I sit?”
The Sticker pressed his lips together and shook his head. Little kids made him uneasy, but calling this girl different from most kids was a colossal understatement. He sidled over. “Sit, but park it way over there. I’m not gonna be framed as a pervert.”
Tasha hopped up and smoothed her suit pants down. “May I have a tug on that?”
Looking down at his Scotch whiskey, the Sticker simpered. “So you’re determined to get me arrested?”
“That’s pretty cheap stuff and it would be better with a little water, but I’ve had a longer day than you can imagine.”
The Sticker glanced around. “Well I didn’t see you take it…” He handed over the bottle.
Tasha tipped the Scotch back, swallowed and ran her tongue over her teeth. “Rough stuff, but it’s better than the air around here.”
He quickly took the bottle back. “Yes, one big cow pie.”
“Indeed. Now sir, I’d like to talk about that job—”
“Just cut out the game, kid.”
“Tasha.”
“Just cut it out, Tasha. I’m not in the mood for talking or playing pretend.”
“I can find you any job you like, anything you like.”
The Sticker glanced up to the sky, gradually dissolving of all light except for a few stars. “Unbelievable,” he whispered. How had he managed to lose his job and take on a midget-sized stalker all in one day?
“I’m not lying. Dead serious here.”
“Okay,” he said, lifting the bottle, then dropping it back down on his knee. “Doesn’t matter what the job is, but how about something far the hell away from here? How ‘bout that for starters, little girl?”
“You’ve lived in Azusa your whole life.”
“How did you…? Oh forget it. Yeah I have, and I ruined my marriage by staying, so… shit why am I saying this stuff to you?”
“I’m the Master Recruiter. I can find you a job somewhere else. That’s a non-issue. What do you believe you’re good at? I already know your abilities from reading your file, but what you believe is more important.”
He opened his mouth and snapped it shut.
“You aren’t going to scare me if you say killing,” Tasha noted.
The Sticker hopped off the tailgate. “Please get down.”
“We’re just talking here.”
“Get down, now. I need to go home.”
Tasha slid off the truck and folded her arms. “But really. What now, Slaughter Man?”
That was a good question, but not one with a simple answer.
“I’ll be okay. Thanks for caring. Really. It was nice meeting you. Never met a whiz-kid before.”
“Me neither.”
He laughed dryly and shut the tailgate with Scotch still in hand.
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” she said.
“No, don’t.”
“Hey, I think you can appreciate keeping a boss happy.”
“Might be able to appreciate it, but I’m not very good at it lately.”
“Yes, well, I still don’t know what you think you’re good at.”
“Well, I wasn’t just going to say killing before,” he told her and rounded his truck. He opened his door and looked back at the indistinct slaughterhouse. “It’s the being numb part that I’m really good at.”
Tasha gave him a tiny smile as she fell away, into the night.
He slowly stirred at her touch. The Sticker had been drunk the past three days. He vaguely remembered a call last night from a representative of Sunshine State Natural Meat Products inquiring about the discharge of hazardous waste in his work area. The call was intense and legally intimidating (to say the least) and it wouldn’t have been a surprise to open his eyes to a fresh-eyed young cop bent over him with a wakey-wakey grin.
But instead, the Sticker saw the one and only person he wished it to be.
Annette fell away from him and sat at the worn swivel chair in front of the computer. Her dark hair was shorter, more styled, and she wore a flowered blouse that revealed enough cleavage to quicken his pulse. He knew though. By her darting eyes and sullen face, it was obvious. She wasn’t here to take him back. So he couldn’t work himself up to any peak, only to plummet off the side when she left.
“You come over for the last of your clothes?”
She nodded.
“Did you get my email?”
“I haven’t been online for a few days,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied.
“What did it say?”
He propped up on the couch with one quivering arm. His head felt like a site of constant underwater demolitions. It would have been painless to vomit right now. A morbid part of him fancied puking all over Annette’s beautiful blouse and those tits she flashed so cruelly in his face.
“What’d it say?” she repeated.
“Nothing.”
“Why did I know you’d answer like that?”
“Probably because we were married…”
She kneaded a knot in her neck. She got those when she was tense. Other than her apparent awkwardness in the moment, she looked great. Her skin was a richer, bronzer color. Natural though. She’d been to the beach or somewhere outdoors recently. He wanted to tell her but silenced himself before the words formed.
Like some sort of social martyr, her eyes politely drifted away from the table where all his empty beer cans and obliterated bottles of booze congregated. “I just wanted to say, before I go—”
He sat up straight. It felt like someone shot him through the temple with a poisoned arrow. “Yeah?”
“Anyway, I just wanted to say, and this isn’t to over-salt your wounds—”
“Hey, I’m not wounded,” he snapped.
Her eyes handled him like a mother with a child. “I haven’t stopped caring about you, just so you know. I always care. That hasn’t changed.”