The Wife With No Hands (Part 1)

From behind the refrigerated display case, Larry looked around the butcher shop his family had owned for three generations. He sighed at the thought of their legacy coming to an end. In five days the bank would own the building and auction off everything from his great grandfather’s hand crank meat grinder to the brand new industrial sized band saw he had financed two years ago.

On the day the final notice had arrived, after Larry realized he could not meet the requirements outlined by First National to save the business, he guessed his great grandfather had rolled over in his grave. His stomach turned every time he thought about it. And he still didn’t have the heart to tell his mother, not that she’d remember. Her Alzheimer’s was getting worse, and she sometimes didn’t recognize Larry or his wife Theresa.

Larry released the cash register drawer and it slid open, hitting him in the stomach. The same fifty dollars in change he had put in it that morning still sat untouched. Not one customer had entered the shop all morning despite the words Going Out of Business Sale he had painted in big colorful letters on the store window.

He slammed the drawer shut on his thumb. “Fuck!” he screamed, but more out of a need to express his frustrations.

The swinging doors to Larry’s left burst open. His wife Theresa entered from the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice just as sweet as it always was.

Larry held up his throbbing thumb and pursed his lower lip into a pout.

“My poor baby.” Theresa rushed to him and took his hand in hers. She kissed his thumb ever so gently while looking into his eyes with compassion, and at the same time a wink of flirtation. “I’ve got just the right medicine to fix that.” She arched her back and leaned her hips in closer to her lover.

Larry was wanting to surrender to her gesture for a little play time in the office but held back. “There’s no one to watch the shop,” he said before giving in to his impulse to kiss her passionately.

They broke their embrace only when they heard the sensor on the shop door ring, announcing a customer. As they turned to see who had arrived, Larry felt Theresa’s fingers dig into his forearms. “Go in the back,” he whispered to her at the same time giving her a slight nudge.

Theresa silently returned to the kitchen.

“Mornin’ Jimmie,” Larry said, “what brings you in?”

Jimmie Chick pointed backward with his thumb in the direction of the shop window. “I hear ya gotta pretty good sale going on,” he replied, his voice deep and commanding.

“Oh, yeah.”

The man stood scowling at Larry, his hands held up at chest level, positioned with fingertips to fingertips to show off four similarly oversized diamond horseshoe rings. All together with a wide gold bracelet hanging off his wrist, Larry jokingly thought that he might be blinded by the glare from the florescent lighting, reflecting off the jewelry. Larry also struggled to maintain his poker face while he wondered why any man would consider wearing a purple suit.

Chick approached the display case and looked inside. “Slim pickin’s,” he said.

“Well . . . going out of business and all.” Larry let out a nervous snigger and hoped the horseshoe rings wouldn’t end up crossing his jaw.

“I told you I could help you with that.” Jimmie Chick’s voice shifted to annoyed.

“I couldn’t put you out like that, Jimmie.” Larry thought how the man owned enough of the neighborhood thanks to lost bets and unpaid loans people had made with the thug. He’d rather gouge out his eyes than be indebted to Chick in any way, especially considering he fancied Larry’s wife.

Larry and Theresa had known Jimmie Chick since they all attended high school together. Larry remembered how Theresa had two unique qualities back then: she was the prettiest girl in school and she had no interest in Jimmie Chick. No matter how hard Jimmie tried, he could not win Theresa heart. She wanted Larry instead.

For ten years, Chick had tried to steal Theresa away from Larry countless times. When the man finally realized he was fighting a losing battle against Larry—the respectable man—he had done everything in his power to destroy Larry’s reputation and ability to care for Theresa. Larry worried Chick was winning.

“What if I let you in on a sure thing,” Chick said, “a bet you can’t lose?”

“You know I don’t gamble,” Larry replied.

Chick frowned. “I tell you what. I make this bet for you and if you do lose, you don’t have to pay me back.”

Well, that’s a sucker bet, Larry thought, then cautiously replied, “I don’t know, Jimmie. I can’t expect you to take a loss like that.”

Chick paused and scratched his chin. “Then how about if you lose, I take what you have in the back.”

So that’s what he wants, Larry thought. My equipment. So he can sell it for a profit. Larry put two and two together and suspected Jimmie had offered the same bet to the Williamson’s, young newlyweds who had owned a hair salon three doors down from the butcher shop. He shivered remembering the rumors about the couples unfortunate luck, showing up with bruises they insisted were from a car accident one week and having their shop ransacked and robbed a week before they had gone out of business.

Larry’s eyes widened. He now realized, Jimmie will hurt us if I refuse the bet.

No matter what, he would not let Jimmie hurt Theresa. And there was still an active insurance policy until the bank took the shop. “That’s all you want?” Larry asked.

“If that’s what you’re willing to give,” Jimmie winked and held out his hand.

Larry winced as he shook on the bet.