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Eddy

Eddy made a lot of money this year and he’s going to make more. He can see a structure to things, now: people, institutions, certain days. All he has to do is walk up and hold out his hands.

The tailbrain’s paid for itself a dozen times over, and it wasn’t cheap. Eddy buys clean yellow Peruvian, keeps a string of boys, eats real horse steak. He can even afford the icy wash that wrings his muscles clean every morning.

Eddy doesn’t know how to ask his tailbrain what his body does at night, but even if he did, he wouldn’t.

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