INT. ST LAWRENCE MARKET – DAY
Martin strolled past the long display of fresh meat. Lean loins and fat marbled steaks like caused his mouth water. The hanging sausages, tight and dry smelled incredibly spicy. He couldn’t decide what he wanted but the fifty dollars in his pocket was for something really special. Winston, the man behind the counter in a hair net and dirty white smock, approached him as he was eying the rib eyes.
“Hello. You’re back! Can I get you two of those?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve had them and they’re great but I want something different today.”
“I’m looking for something really different.”
“Hot Genoa salami.”
“Had it. What do you have that’s exotic?”
“Icelandic shark. It rots in a hole on a beach for a month before they eat it raw.”
“It’s a little pedestrian. You’ve got nothing else?”
Martin heard it. He knew he heard it. He caught eyes with Winston and they both sussed each other out wordlessly.
“Sixteen years. Then we aged it another three.”
“How was it raised?”
“Suburban. Skateboard kid which is usually a little tough but he died in a three car pile up.
“As natural as human gets.”
Martin chewed on his cheek. He looked down at the beef steaks on display and tapped the aluminum counter with this hands. They looked good. They looked fresh. He could just get one of those.
“Can I try a piece?”
“Of that beef steak?”
“Oh, of Charlie.”
Martin hesitated and let that sink in. “Yes, of Charlie.”
Winston squatted down and opened a large white styrofoam container. Inside were vacuum sealed bags, some with large hocks and some with little strips. He ripped open a small packet that contained thing strips. He handed one to Martin who bite into it.
“Wow. You dry this yourself? I’d love to learn to learn how to do that.”
“You could come to my place and I’ll show you how.”
“That would be amazing. How’s tomorrow night?”
“Great! You’re so helpful!”
“I’ll write down my address. Come alone.”