Milo had parked out in the street in front of one of the meters. It was broken, but he tried putting the quarters in anyway. Instead of taking the change, it kept spitting them back out into his hand.
Another quarter. “Huh,” he said. Another quarter.
I loved my brother, but the way he lived made no sense. No rules, no lists. No caring if his bills got sent to collections or if his truck ran out of gas on the highway and he had to walk three miles in the Florida heat to get a refill. He once told me he’d be happy to live in a tent if it meant never keeping a job. Often he slept until noon and stayed up until dawn reading books in bed. As a lifelong control freak, I found it infuriating. I’d never be the kind of person who could stop caring. Brynn had loved his complete lack of anger and outrage. I get enough of that from you, she said. Let him just be Milo. Like a warm glass of milk. Wholesome and happy.
“I’m gonna go talk to the lady,” I said. “Find out where she wants us to deliver the package.”
Milo dropped in another quarter and, when it rolled out, put in a fifth. “‘Deliver the package’? You make it sound like we’re dropping off a kilo of cocaine.”
“What do you think’s inside the boar?”
“You’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe we’re related.” He stuffed the quarters in his pocket and leaned back against the truck. “I think this thing is busted.”
“No shit.”
It was weird outside in that part of town. It didn’t feel like old Florida. The sidewalk had been power-washed into submission and no plant life remained, aside from a row of very small cacti set in the gravel that trimmed the edge of the building. The door that led into the gallery was darkly tinted with an intercom placed next to the handle. I pushed the red button on the bottom. It buzzed and the latch clicked open.
Milo and I looked at each other and laughed.
“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call the police.”
“If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m leaving and you can walk home.”
Inside was a solid thirty degrees colder than out on the pavement. It was dimly lit and the floors were painted black. The space was disorienting, and I thought that said a lot about Lucinda Rex—that she was the kind of person who’d want you confused; maybe the type who’d set up a situation so that when you stumbled out the end of the corridor, she’d be there waiting for you, perfectly cool and collected. I was always impressed with people who could think that far ahead. Though I planned out everything, my life was somehow made up of an endless series of unwanted surprises.
The hallway opened into the actual warehouse. Large objects sat draped with tawny canvases. A few nude mannequins leaned against the far wall. Some were missing legs, others arms, and one contorted body in the corner had no head. Light installations dangled from the ceiling, set to strike the walls and the floor and the mannequin bodies.
Lucinda walked out from the back dressed all in black. “Great, you’re here. Where is it?”
There was a compelling quality to the way she held herself, so erect a rod might have been jammed into her underwear. I immediately felt myself shifting, trying to stand taller in my dirty clothes.
“It’s still outside. I wasn’t sure how you wanted to do this.”
“Just cart it through the front.” She stared at me without blinking and I tried to stare back the same way, then looked at the floor.
I was always drawn to a certain kind of energy. A specific kind of woman, one who was self-assured and knew she could do and have whatever she wanted. Lucinda smiled, all teeth and strong jawbone and beautiful hair. I walked back down the hallway quickly, trying not to smudge up the floors.
Back outside, Milo was checking on the boar. “He looks good. Kinda cross-eyed maybe.”
“He always looked cross-eyed.”
We unstrapped the tarp and lifted it up and over. Milo climbed into the truck bed and pushed the mount forward until I could pull it off the end. We got it through the door and moved down the long hallway. Boar hair sprinkled everywhere.
“You can put it over here.” Lucinda stood in the far left corner of the room, next to one of the canvased objects. Just knowing that she was watching me made my hands tremble. I was forced to clench them hard into the boar’s rear.
Once we set it down, I wished we’d never brought it. It looked out of its element and much smaller than it had in the shop, where it had always sat like a king lording over its lesser subjects. I thought of Brynn and how her hand had once touched its leg, fingers sliding up the bone now encased in fur.
Lucinda crouched and assessed the tusk that had broken. Her skirt rode up high, exposing a lot of thigh—she had great legs, sinewy and strong, lines of muscles standing out until I could see where they connected with tendon, slipping over the joint. “This looks much better. Very clean. I can hardly see the break now.”
“Good. I mean, thanks.”
Milo narrowed his eyes. He knew, I could tell, and it made me feel stressed out. He was watching my hands, which were scrunched around the hem of my shirt so I would stop wiping my palms on my jeans.
“So what are you gonna do with him?” He patted the boar on the rump. Dust flew up and hung suspended in the air.
“He’s part of an installation. I was hoping your mother would be interested in collaborating.”
“Our mother?” I couldn’t imagine what our mother would do in an art gallery. The only public art she’d ever engaged in was face painting at the fall festival. She freehanded everything: animals, robots, monsters, fairies. The kids lined up around the building for her.
“I’d like to see if she’d participate.”
“I don’t think—”
“Here. Just give her my card.” Lucinda handed me one. It was black and embossed with white writing. When her hand touched mine, I could feel how tough she was; the strength in her fingers, the long, lean line of her forearms. Even seeing those small muscles made me want to slip my hands along her body and feel for the rest of them. Every time I found a woman I was really interested in, I started thinking about her in terms of how I might disassemble her. It was unnerving.
I cleared my throat and stepped back, examining the card. “I’m not sure she’ll want to participate.”
Milo reached toward the tarp next to the boar and lifted a corner. “So what you got under here? This place is pretty empty.”
“Please, don’t touch anything.” Lucinda took the corner from his hand. “Have your mother call me, I’d love to speak with her.”
“Sure thing.” Milo nodded and looked at me, motioning toward the doorway.
“Oh, and I’d be very interested in looking at the other animals you’ve got displayed in your shop. Let me know if you’d be willing to part with them.” Lucinda smiled broadly, and I could nearly count all the perfect white teeth in her head. In her black business suit she looked like a beautiful, dangerous predator. I imagined her mounted on a branch, crouched over an unsuspecting herd of deer.
Sometimes I hated the way I was. That I could look at an incredibly lovely woman and picture her mounted like a dead animal made me wonder what was wrong with my brain.
I moved toward the door. “Call if you need anything else, or if you need help with the boar.”