Voodoo [H.S.]

Two

After we made the necklace, I came up with the idea to do this for other people. I know the way I felt when Lacey died, and knowing there was a way to keep her alive in a way inspired me. Jim and I started the business at home, only doing online requests until it grew. Eventually Jim started taking merchandise from other vendors and then finally integrated his side business once we bought the building we're in now.

And that leads me here. Putting a client's pet snakes into an alcohol solution so they can be put in a resin mold later.

The day goes by uneventfully, the jingle of the door going off every few minutes or so. It's the start of summer, meaning we have a lot of tourists and college students exploring downtown Seattle. Business usually picks up around the start of May, and then our slow season starts about October, so we are right at the beginning of the busiest season.

Normally Jim handles all the customers up front, unless it gets busy or he's down in the basement handling his shipments for his side business. There is a small hole cut out in the swinging door to the back room I'm in so I can hear everything that goes on in case I'm needed. That's the only thing I hate about this job. Working with customers.

No, I don't care about how your day was. I don't care that you're going to come back to the store. I don't care that you're never coming back to the store. I don't care to hear your entire life story while you dig for your money you should have prepared by now. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care.

The door jingles for the hundredth time today and I hear a familiar, loud voice come through this time.

"What the FUCK is up Jim!"

"Zayn — we got a shipment downstairs ready to be packaged and sent-"

"Jim, Jimmy, Jimothee, Jimbo, Jimbo Slice-"

"Zayn!"

"Did anyone tell you that you look pretty today? Because you do, you look very pretty." I can practically hear Jim's eye roll from back here, knowing how he is. "Let me go say 'hello' to my dear friend Harold first— Harry! I know you're back there!"

His voice gets closer while he talks to him, and I look up just in time to see the door fly open, Zayn walking through to observe the work I've done.

"Hey, lookin' good kid! You'll never fuckin' guess who I saw the other day."

"Don't call me kid," I frown, taking my gloves off and throwing them in the bin behind me. "Who?"

"But you are a kid! A kid to me," he laughs. "I saw James Harris! You remember that guy?"

It takes me a second, but then I remember the familiar name. "From the group home yeah, I used to steal his sodas from his room. Dumbass never caught me."

"Oh he definitely caught you and still remembers, we had a drink at Eddie's and reminisced on the good ol' days. He also remembers you fucking his girlfriend," Zayn snickers, picking up a small mason jar and almost dropping it, giving me an oops face.

"Fucking his girl... oh. Yeah. Whoops," I shrug. "They were never going to last."

"Well he still wants to beat your ass for it. Don't worry I won't let him," he winks at me, walking forward to the shelves in front of him to grab a pair of tweezers, pushing the ends together repeatedly.

Zayn primarily works downstairs, packaging and shipping items for Jim when he needs it. He also occasionally comes in after close to help stock the shelves.

He only comes back here to fuck with me.

"Fuck off," I roll my eyes. He's only three years older than me, which seemed like a huge age gap when when we were fourteen and seventeen, but now that we're twenty six and twenty nine there's practically no difference at all. Zayn's always acted as an older brother, and protected me even when he aged out of the system, but I've learned how to fight my own battles over the years.

"So, what's the move tonight? I know you don't have plans so don't try and pull that shit on me!"

"I do have plans tonight, asshole. Booty calls," I raise my eyebrows with a smirk, looking back down at my work.

"Is that the same girl from last week? Harry, come on love, you're better than that."

"Come on, she wasn't that bad."

"After you fucked her and kicked her out, she came right back to the bar and threw up on herself. She's sloppy." He gives me a look that says you know I'm right.

"Yeah she is," I laugh, wiggling my eyebrows. "I agreed because she doesn't bitch when I kick her out."

"Whatever you say lil bro. I better get downstairs before the old man has a bitch fit on me. You still owe me a night out after bailing on me last week!"

"I don't owe you shit," I say under my breath. Zayn is the loudest god damn person I know. Wherever he's at, is where the party is at. Which means nights out with Zayn, leads to me brooding over a drink while he gets louder as the night goes on. We're complete opposites, but I think he and I balance each other out.

On the bright side, girls dig the whole moody thing I've got going on. I can usually convince someone to come home early with me, fuck, and leave all before 2am.

I hear Jim mutter something to Zayn through the door, and Zayn yelling back, "When have I ever let you down? I'll be in the basement, just holla if ya need me!"

I get the snakes situated in their jars and move on to my next project, which is moths being made into framed resin portraits. This is one of my favorite things to do. The work is time consuming and tedious, but I find it so relaxing.

As soon as I get everything out I need I hear my name being called through the door.

"Harry! Can you ring up this customer? I can't lose what I'm doing here to change it back to the POS system."

Fuckin' Christ.

Whatever, I know it's not that big of a deal. I just hate being taken out of my headspace to deal with this shit.

I swing the door open a bit dramatically, walking over to the terminal and putting in my information to open the system. I barely notice the girl in front me, but as I grab her items I see she has pink hair. Very original. She's probably just another tourist, bringing home "cool" souvenirs to her friends.

At least she's quiet.

I finish scanning her items, a rat skull and some vertebrae, and look at her expectantly.

This girl has the bluest eyes I think I've ever seen in my life. They don't even look real.

She quickly realizes it's time to pay and digs through her bag to find her wallet. "This store is really cool. I'll definitely be back soon, thank you. Do you actually do all the taxidermy in house, or do you just sell them?"

Sigh.

"Mhm," I say simply, throwing her receipt in the bag and walking back to my work, immediately forgetting the interaction. I hear the door jingle as the door swings shut, just to swing right back open with Jim standing in the doorway.

"Has that girl with the pink hair come in before?" he asks, squinting his eyes like he's thinking about something.

"Uhh, maybe? I don't know, you're out there more than I am. You tell me." Why would I know this? Why is he even asking me?

"She just... looked familiar. It's not important.
Thanks Harry." He lets the door swing behind him, returning to the counter.

Old man is going fuckin' senile.

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i promise it picks up after this and the chapters get longer just stick with me <3