“Yes, Sarge!” he called back in the nicest voice Johnny had heard him use all morning.
“Got the hots for sargie,” Taylor whispered when Isla was out of the room. “He said he doesn’t, but I think he does. Do you wanna have a blast around the woods later? I’m pumped.”
Johnny shook his head. “Can’t. Said I’d help Maman at the restaurant, Bonnie’s called in sick again and they’re short on waitstaff.”
Taylor sighed. “No rest for the wicked. Want me to drop you off?”
“Please.”
The day slipped into night, and although Johnny could tell Taylor was kicking himself about injuring the old wolf, they ended the shift feeling pretty damn pleased with themselves.
He’d expected Taylor to drop him off and go home, but he came back an hour later in a change of clothes—a pair of grey jeans that clung to his arse, Johnny’s old Converse and a black T-shirt.
Rather than making himself useful, Taylor was in the process of being crushed by Gabriella onDance Dance Revolution. Theold arcade machine flashed and beeped, and was about the only thing that fit inside the tiny storage room at the back of the restaurant.
“Hah! Loser!” Gabriella cheered when the scores came up.
“Tay! You said you were gonna win this time!” Marty called, sipping on a can of Fanta from his position on an upturned bottle crate. Clementine sat on another opposite him, textbook on one knee and a notepad on the other.
Taylor was sweating. Like, really sweating, and he crouched down to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. “I thought I had it,” he said, breathing hard as he looked up at Johnny. “But she’s… oh my God, she’s…”
Johnny leant against the doorframe, smirking. “You’ve never had it, dude. I thought you’d been letting the kids win all these years, but you really are just that shit.”
Marty hopped up, patting Taylor’s back as he handed him a fresh drink. “Even I’m better than you.”
“Yeah, alright,” Taylor said, disguising a scowl behind the rim of his can.
“If you just lift your legs eighty-seven millimetres higher and improve your reaction times by about three and a half seconds, youmightstop coming last,” Clementine said, tucking the pencil behind her ear. “It’s just a rough estimate, mind you.”
“Cheers, Clem,” Taylor said, reaching across to flick her knee.
“Right!” came Maman’s voice as she bustled in through the doorway. She had her bright pink hairnet under her arm as she readjusted her braids into a tight ball. “Quick break. We’ve got a table of ten coming in and they’veallordered the nyamangoro. Some TikTok challenge or something.”
Johnny lifted a tray of food from one of the waitresses as she passed, and he shared the bowls and plates out. Beef and pepper skewers with bowls of spicy jollof rice. It was brightorangeand he could already tell that it would probably singe Taylor’s delicate nostril hairs.
They all ate together, the kids sprawled across the arcade machine whilst he and Taylor perched on the bottle crates.
“This is some good beef, Maman,” Taylor said, biting a chunk off the skewer.
“Eat the vegetables too,” she said, handing him a bowl of greens. “And in exchange I need you to pot-wash. We’re falling behind.”
Taylor licked his lips. “Will do.”
“But before that,” she continued, plopping onto Johnny’s knee. He kissed her cheek and rested his chin on her shoulder. “How did it go today?”
She was looking at Taylor, but he seemed to be doing his best not to look at her. When Taylor didn’t answer her gaze slid to Johnny.
“It was good,” he replied, then explained about the lost wanderer.
Maman pressed a hand over her chest. “You rescued someone? Oh, Tay, that’s?—”
Taylor shook his head, his leg beginning to bounce. “Yeah, after I broke her sodding hip. Honestly, I can’t?—”
“Don’t you say it,” Maman said, slapping his knee. “You were about to say you can’t do anything right.”
Taylor looked away, voice growing quiet. “I broke her hip.”
“And saved her life,” Johnny added, running a spoon around the inside of the rice bowl. “The only person I saved today was the girl on table six from a shitty date.”
