Rebecca Grayson, 27 years old, 5'3”, 132 pounds had never cooked before in her life, but she had invited Reginald Wilkins, 32 years old, 5'10”, 126 pounds, over for dinner at her place on the night of their three month anniversary. Reginald and she had been seeing each other for the good part of four months, but he had never seen the interior of her humble abode. It was shrouded in mystery. She had only seen his a couple of times as they spent a lot of their time out and about: concert halls, art galleries, poetry readings, theaters, etc. Reginald was a fan of the arts, and how could he not be with a name like that? He was uncertain of Rebecca’s own propensity for the arts, but she never complained.
Reginald’s palms sweat as he steered his way down the highway to make it to her suburban house. He arrived with a few minutes to spare, surveying the area. Every house looked exactly the same, and arriving at hers, he realized she had the standard model too. She lived in a bricked bungalow with an arched roof overhanging it. She had flamingos and gnomes as lawn decoration on her well-trimmed lawn, although it could always use a little more water. There were flower beds full of begonias, pansies, marigolds, and many other colorful flowers with rose bushes sprouting in the middle of all the flowers. It seemed like a pleasant and ordinary house. He noticed that her house had the brightest and most numerous flora in the street, but each residence seemed miles apart. He had never asked her what she did for a living, but his curiosity grew.
As soon as he finished pulling up the driveway, Rebecca flung the front door open, the side smacking against the brick of the house to a loud thud. She held her arms out towards him and shimmied her body.
“You’re here!” she squealed in excitement. “I’ve been waiting so long!”
“I thought you said 8:00,” he said. “I’m a little early. Surprised you were here to greet me.”
“I was really excited,” she stated. “Come in! Come in!”
She sprinted towards the car, standing beside his door, a manic grin on her face as she teetered on her toes. Her fingers rapped the glass and pitter-pattered their way across the window. Reginald had never seen Rebecca so energetic or enthusiastic about anything since they began this stint.
“What’s with the ants in the pants?” Reginald asked.
“Can’t a girl want her boyfriend over her house?” she rebutted.
Right as he opened the door, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out towards, her. He managed to close the door even as she hauled his scrawny body into her house. She skipped with glee to her front door and shoved him into the house. She peeked her head out of the house and looked in every direction before closing the door.
“Expecting something?” he inquired.
“Aren’t you full of questions today, mister?” she retorted. “I thought I heard a noise. Sorry for giving you anxiety. Relax. Take a load off. I’m about to start cooking the steak.”
“Oh, I thought you’d be done by now,” he said. “I thought I smelled some meat as I came in.”
“Probably your imagination,” she told him. She led him to the couch and pushed him down as soon as his knees buckled against the edge, and she bent at the hip to speak to him. “Now, be a good boy as I prepare the meal.”
She righted her posture and hopped to the kitchen. There were no walls separating her living room from her dining room and kitchen, although the kitchen did have an island and counters separating it from the rest of the house.. The walls on the far right of the house had two doors, which he assumed were the bedrooms. She had both of them closed, and he didn’t want to snoop around. Scented candles decorated every spare surface, and she had several of them lit, a thousands scents wafting through the air.
He was a little concerned about her demeanor. Ever since he had met her, she had been a demure and quiet girl, not one to wear her heart on her sleeves or act very affectionate. She had barely touched him in those months. She seemed like a completely different person. She had also always dressed rather conservatively, sweaters and dress pants, but here she was, in a sundress with a floral apron on top. He felt underdressed with his jeans and t-shirt.
In the kitchen, Rebecca stood over on the counters, feeling the steak cut in her fingers. She opened a drawer and removed a paring knife from the dish rack, slicing pieces of excess fat from the meat. She smiled at him as she peppered the food. Twisting the knob, her stovetop came to life. She placed a pan on top of the lit burner and dripped an ounce of oil over it. During her entire process, she never took her eyes off Reginald. The steak squealed when she finally placed it on the pan, a cloud of smoke forming over it, concealing her face for a moment, but he could still feel her eyes on her. He heard something sizzle, but he couldn’t see what she had added to the mix.
“So, do you cook often?” he asked.
“I’m not much of a cook, but meat is easy enough,” she said. “I’ll probably nuke some frozen veggies for us to eat along with this. Hope that’s okay.”
He nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Have you done this for all your boyfriends for the third month anniversary?”
“Most of them,” she explained. “Only the ones who passed the test.”
“And I passed?”
“With flying colors.”
“Was it a difficult test?” He cocked his eyebrows.
“Sort of…”
“Oh, was mine not as rigorous?”
“Eh. I had mostly been dating lugheads before you. Thought I’d try someone a little more intellectual.”
“Oh, are you saying I’m not a lughead?”
“Your sinewy limbs say otherwise.”
“But they passed the test?”
“They weren’t part of your test. Yours was different.”
“What was my test then?”
“Can we drop the subject?”
“I’m just curious. I want to know.”
“Food’s ready!”
“A distraction, huh?”
She rolled her eyes and slammed the plates down on her miniature dining room table, rattling both the plates and the table.
“It was supposed to be the main event anyway,” she said. “Let me serve up some drinks too. Is wine okay?’
“It’s more than okay,” he responded.
She uncorked the bottle of pinot grigio and swigged it around in the glass. Rebecca gently placed his glass in front of him, making sure not to spill any of it. He cut up his steak and shoveled most of it in his mouth, almost choking on it in his haste.
“Drink,” she commanded. “Don’t want you to choke. Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tipsy. I’d love to.”
She giggled after saying that, causing him to blush. He picked up his glass and sipped a bit. It was a dry white wine, and he could taste something else. He drank a bit more to figure out what the bitter aftertaste was.
“Do you not like it?” she asked, leaning over.
Reginald noticed that she hadn’t touched her wine or her food.
“On a diet?” he joked.
“Something like that.”
“What is this weird taste in my drink?”
“Oh, nothing. Probably the rohypnol.”
“The ro…”
He felt dizzy and lightheaded, slumping over his chair. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and the last thing he saw before he hit the ground was Rebecca’s gleaming face hovering over him.
Reginald woke up with a splitting headache. He tried to move his hands to massage the throbbing part of his head where he had impacted with the ground when he fell over but he found his wrists restrained. He heard humming from his right side and tilted his heavy head over in that direction. Rebecca busied herself on a work bench, sharpening some blades to her tune. She had medical scrubs, a hairnet, gloves, and a mask on.
“What’s happening?” he asked her. “What ya doin’, babe?”
As he spoke to her, he felt the urge to plug his nose as a repugnant stench came from the corner of the room. He slanted his head towards the source of the odor and saw a male mannequin out of the corner of his eyes. It had separate parts from different models as the skin colors of the limbs, chest, and face didn’t match.
“I see you’ve met my ubermensch,” she said. “I didn’t want you two to meet like this. I guess I should’ve used a stronger drug.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve had a lot of disappointing encounters with men. I don’t know if I told you that.”
“You didn’t say much.”
“On purpose. That was your test. I wanted to see how much you knew. See, I got the body parts for my perfect boyfriend over there from exes. They were usually athletes or bodybuilders. I had a type. But then I realized most of them discussed anything but gains and whey protein, so I couldn’t use their brains. God, some of them had terrible pieces too. I think this beauty is composed of ten men.”
“And I’m lucky number eleven?”
“Oh, yeah. I couldn’t have my perfect man being a dullard. I always liked a man with brains, and you have plenty.”
“Was that my test?”
“God, so hung up on that. I hope you’re not so one-track minded once I restart your synapses in a new body. Maybe if I’m the track.”
“But why go through all the trouble of dating me then?”
“Ugh. Yes, the dates were the test. I feel like I’ve explained this pretty much. I usually didn’t have much trouble tricking the others to come into this basement and strap themselves onto the exam table, so I devised this dinner.”
“To drug me and then remove my brain.”
“Yep, I even bought a scooper for this one.”
“You’re sick.”
“Whatever. I should’ve taped your mouth shut while I was at it, but I didn’t think you’d wake up so quickly. What a bother. I’m sure I have some sedative around here.”
“I thought you were different. You seemed so charming.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure you did. I don’t remember you asking me what I thought ever, but you’re really knowledgeable and clever. I hope I can train that brain to care about something less dull when I restart it.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works. Either way, it smells like your plan will fail. Your lover boy is decaying.”
“Technicalities. That’s what a trip to the hospital will be for once I mesh all the pieces together.”
“You’re not even making sense now.”
She huffed, grabbing a syringe and a vial she had lying on the bench and filling the syringe with the liquid in the vial. She stomped her way to where Reginald rested and injected the liquid into his neck.
“Your brain still works for seven minutes after your heart stops, and that’s all the time I need. Nighty night.”
Reginald’s throat choked up. A lump formed and he gasped for air. The asphyxiation took him over, and he felt his eyes droop closed. The world around him faded and everything went black.
Rebecca stared up at her creation. Yes, Reginald had had a point when she mentioned that decay was setting in. She could smell it from the kitchen most days, but she had learned to mask the scent as best she could. Reginald was the final puzzle piece, but her project had taken a good year to complete. She usually killed the guys after a week or two if they met the right conditions, detaching whatever part she most desired from them. Reginald had been a hard pick since she wanted someone whose brain she could eventually mold but who had a lot of smarts to begin with. She finally found him, and his doubt had angered her. She deserved the best, and he couldn’t see that. He and the rest of the men who had died were going to have a higher purpose: her perfect lover.
She had to move quickly now, as his brain would become completely unusable in a matter of minutes, so she attached car battery terminals in the right spots and flicked a switch to start the juice in her basement. Electricity surged through the wires and into the Ken doll she had created: muscular arms for cuddling, taut legs for long walks on the beach, a broad chest to rest her head on, a handsome face she’d never tire of with steely gray eyes that would stare into her soul, a mess of brown curls to run her fingers through, an alert brain for conversations, and a pert butt for her own visual enjoyment.
Her dream was coming true; the muscles twitched and spasmed as the current reached them and the body convulsed as if having a seizure. She stared in a wide-eyed wonder as the corpse shook. Her master plan had worked. But suddenly, the body stopped convulsing and smoke rose from the appendages. The scent of burnt flesh filled the room. Rebecca’s eyes watered from the inhalation. She didn’t know if she was crying solely from the smoke or because she was disappointed as well.
She knew what she had to do now. She shut the electrical contraption off and went upstairs. She’d have to scrap this man and start work on another one. She’d have to move quicker this time, but she couldn’t give up on finding her self-made soulmate. She stepped up the two stairs leading back to her kitchen from the basement and with a quick glance back at the failed experiment, she grinned and shut the lights off.