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            She wore a tear-dropped pendant around her neck, wreathed in gold.  It was an amethyst, the most exquisite he had ever beheld.  She moved forward, making her way toward him.  She was the embodiment of all the brightness Ryan lacked, the sapphire-eyed avatar of every terrestrial desire.  She’d undoubtedly heard every pick-up line conceivable, and seen enough tears shed by would-be suitors to drown them both.  Whatever meager attempts to impress Ryan might manage would be no more to her than an amusing exercise in futility.  Women as beautiful as her were like drugs in men’s lives, which was why Ryan despised them, but also why he could never pass them by.

The front doors fell shut behind her.  Their gazes locked.  For a fleeting moment Ryan glimpsed something in her countenance that startled him.  She seemed to steal his soul and secrets, then give them quickly back.  He dropped his magazine on the floor and stood, leaning across the sales counter.  “You must be looking for me,” he said.  “Because you’re too pretty to be here looking for any other piece of meat waiting to be taken home.”  He threw his head back and burst with laughter.

She observed him with a reticent gaze.

Ryan’s laughter faded slowly to an uncomfortable chuckle and awkward silence.  He finally cleared his throat.  “I’m swimming upstream today,” he said.  “What can I do for you?”

She studied him before responding.  “I hope this isn’t how you greet all your customers.”

“Just those privileged few I wish to dignify with my incredible sense of professionalism.”            

She raised her eyebrows.  “I take it you’re the man in charge.”

“That’s right, if it’s to you I owe the pleasure.”

The butcher store was called the Exchange.  It sat quietly on the outskirts of downtown Salt Lake City, where Ryan worked alone each afternoon.  It was the only butcher store left in the Valley that hadn’t been run out of business by the larger one-stop grocery chains.  It was a quaint store, with quiet customers, where tranquil days passed by that took no notice of the chaotic world around them.

Ryan extended his hand.  “I’m Ryan,” he offered.

She eyed him carefully, glancing from his buckskin boots to his eyes, and finally took his hand.  “I’m Symantha Feirloh,” she informed him.  She seemed to speak with a faint accent, as if she were French or Italian ages before.

He looked at her pleasantly.

Symantha finally smiled and looked down to the poultry display.  “So, Mr. Heart,” she said calling him by his last name.  Odd.  Had he told her his last name?  Did she see it on his jacket when she came in?  He hadn’t seen her look that direction.  “I’m hoping you can help me with something.”  She stepped back to focus on him.

Something sinister was in her eyes.  Ryan swung his gaze downward to avoid it, helplessly traveling her hourglass figure the entire way.  “I hope so too.” he said.  “What can I do for you?”

“It’s a fairly large order,” she said.  “How much is beef?”

“Well, that depends on whether you want ground beef, roast beef, hamburger patties, steaks, a—”

“How about uncut?”

“Uncut?” Ryan asked.  “Well, everything’s cut to some extent.  Even the larger steaks in the freezer are chopped before packaging.”

“Right,” she said.  “How much for a side of beef?”

“A whole side!” Ryan exclaimed.

Symantha nodded, looking forward.

A side of beef was an incredibly large order, unheard of.  It was half the entire slaughtered cow.  After being butchered, the animal was split, or boned, down the spine in halves called sides, and shipped across the country on meat trucks to be again divided into steaks, ribs, etcetera; by butcher stores and packing houses.  Never before had Ryan taken such a large order.  He stared at her questionably.  “You realize how much that is, right?  It would fill twenty home freezers.”

She nodded again, biting her lip.

Ryan leaned back from the counter.  “Well,” he said motioning to three white industrial freezers against the wall.  “We’ve got a couple of sides packaged into primary cuts in those.  We could haul them out to your car, but I don’t think they’d all fit.”  He was thinking as he talked.  “We could deliver them, or if you know somebody with a truck—”

“I have a short-bed Toyota in front,” she said.  “The white one behind me.”  She motioned to a small truck outside.

“Okay,” Ryan said looking out the front of the store.  Sure enough, there was a white Toyota pick-up with a small lift parked in front.  “I guess that should do it.”  He looked at her for a moment, choosing his words carefully.  “What in the world do you need that much beef for?  Must be a hell of a barbeque you’re having.”

A shadow crossed the room.  “To keep some hungry men alive,” she replied.   “How much will it cost?”