Underdog by Euan Leckie Read Free Book Online Page A

and stepped out of the shop into the bright morning sunshine.
    ‘Got an admirer there, eh, Tom?’ joked Sam as he began to serve his next customer, winking at the wiry young man serving next to him. ‘How about we send him off with her next time, Kev?’
    Kevin laughed as he took out a large ham and placed it on the meat slicer. He licked his lips provocatively and blew Tom a kiss.
    Tom ignored the ribbing and got on with picking out and wrapping the meat as each customer was served. It was getting hotter by the minute; the shop swamped with warm air that rushed in through the open door and rendered the air conditioning useless. Tom could feel the sweat forming on his brow, and hoped no-one would notice should a drip fall onto the selection of meats he hovered over.
    ‘Get that door closed, then, Tom,’ ordered Sam when the rush had died down. His face was bright red. ‘You can take a quick break before the delivery.’
    Tom peeled back the fly curtains and stepped into the cool of the back room. Stopping at the fridge, he pulled out a bottle of mineral water and placed it against his forehead.
    ***
    The sun beat down onto his shoulders as he stepped outside. Having undone the top buttons of his shirt, Tom rolled up his sleeves, moving quickly past the bins to perch himself on one of the metal railings that partitioned the delivery spaces. Opening his bottle of water, he drained it thirstily and took out his cigarettes.
    He was halfway through his first smoke when Kevin came out. Tom watched as his workmate opened one of the bins and dropped in a large bag. Kevin took a sniff, then winked at Tom. He lowered the lid and wandered over, taking a seat. Having peeled off the rubber band that tidied his hair into a thick ponytail, he shook his head, his matted ginger locks falling over his face and shoulders. Kevin pushed some strands away from his eyes.
    ‘Got a spare?’
    ‘Yeah, sure,’ Tom replied, making certain only the underside of his arm could be seen as he offered up the packet.
    ‘Ta,’ said Kevin, taking a cigarette. He looked up at the cloudless sky. ‘It’ll be even hotter than yesterday. Proper heatwave on its way, they reckon.’
    As they sat smoking, Tom lowered his shirt sleeves and buttoned the cuffs.
    ‘You’ll boil like that,’ said Kevin. ‘You want to get that shirt off.’
    ‘I’m alright. Don’t want to get burned.’ Tom could feel the sweat beading almost before he finished his sentence.
    ‘It’ll be me that’ll burn,’ said Kevin, raising a milk-white arm. He eyed the sweat on Tom’s forehead. ‘See? You’re starting to melt already. You’ll stink worse than them bins.’
    Tom was just happy that Kevin had not spotted his scars. They were too uniform for him to claim he had fallen into a bush, was scratched by a cat or bitten by a dog. All those excuses were used up long ago. They were even more of an embarrassment than the cuts. He flicked his cigarette away and went back in. Sam was in the back, tying the last string of sausages for the order.
    ‘Come on, Tom. We don’t want to be getting behind. Get yourself changed for the delivery. Oh, and get me some bones. Two bags’ worth. Quick as you like, lad.’
    Tom made his way across the room and opened the coldroom door. Stepping inside the cramped space, he stood still, letting the refrigerated air chill his body. Every inch of the dimly lit store was packed full, the stainless-steel shelves crammed with boxes and trays brimming with various cuts of meat. A smoky smell filled Tom’s nostrils: like bacon crisps, only stronger and fresher. He looked up at the headless side of pig suspended in front of him, its yellowing skin clammy to the touch. The carcass rotated gently on its hook, revealing the sawn-through bones and pink flesh. Pushing it to one side, Tom squeezed his way past the other carcasses, leaving them swinging from the rail.
    Taking a couple of bags from the shelf next to him, he rooted around for the bones. The