Putting the phone away, he patted Wendy’s shoulder. “Well, luckily for you, Taylor is an expert at chatting shit. No fake boyfriends needed.”
Wendy laughed, and she licked the corner of her mouth as a tear trickled down her cheek. “Sorry,” she said, blowing her nose. “Usually I’m fine, but sometimes… usually after a weekend alone, it just gets to me.”
Johnny nodded and pulled out his phone again.Scratch that. Please can I book the table in the window? Three people, bells and whistles?
Maman text back almost immediately.Of course.
He nodded and sent a text to Taylor.We have a date on Saturday. You, me, Wendy. Make sure you shave and iron a shirt.
He could have just told Taylor all of that in person, but seeing as the other alpha was doing his absolute best to be as evasive as possibleagain,he thought it best to write it down.
All he got back was a thumbs up. Johnny let out a hard breath, unreasonably aggravated by that.
“Right, come on,” he said, putting the car into reverse and turning it towards Applewood Heights. “Give me a tour of this shithole so we can forget about dead wives and being in love with our best friends.”
A wobbly smile spread across Wendy’s face. “I knew it. Iknewyou had the hots for Taylor.”
If only she knew the half of it.
They passed a naked woman reclining on a deckchair in the middle of a mini roundabout. Except, the deckchair was a line of rolled-up pizza boxes and the woman was actually a blow-up sex doll.
“Wow, this place really is a dump,” Johnny said, slamming on the brakes as a shirtless middle-aged man stepped out into the road. He gave them a deep, patronising bow as they drove past, and Johnny seriously considered stopping and carrying out a search to see if the man had any drugs on him.
However, he could see the way Wendy’s fingers fidgeted in her lap, so he decided to let it go.
“I did tell you,” Wendy said, letting out a relieved sigh. “It’s not the same as the rest of the town, is it?”
Johnny tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m surprised Falkington doesn’t have more of an interest in this place.”
Wendy laughed. “What, in the convicts’ social housing crisis? Pft. That sounds like too much hard work for the local MP, don’t you think?”
“Why don’t we ever get call-outs here?”
Wendy shrugged. “They police themselves. Why call the cops if it’ll risk one of them getting locked up again? They don’t bother us and we don’t bother them. Law of the jungle.”
Sighing, Johnny glanced in the rearview mirror, doing his best to ignore how the shirtless man had taken to aggressively shooting them the middle finger.
“Except now theyarebothering us, because they’re storing drugs in people’s houses.”
Wendy nodded, grinning. “I still prefer Taylor’s theory that Jill’s a raging drug dealer.”
“Do you actually believe that?”
She tutted, tapping the back of his hand. “Of course I don’t. I might be old but I’m not stupid. Anyway, look out, wanderer on your right.”
Johnny pumped the breaks just as a small shaggy wolf limped into the road. It had a glassy, unfocused expression and its tongue lolled from the side of its mouth. Wendy unbuckled her seat belt, but Johnny held up a hand. “I’ll go.”
Getting out of the car, he pulled on a pair of gloves and walked over to the wolf. “Hello?” he said, touching the top of its head. It turned stiffly to look up at him, a string of cloudy saliva dripping from its mouth.
“Can you hear me?” Johnny said, running a thumb over one of its crusty eyes. When the wolf shuddered violently, Johnny pulled his hand away and realised the tips of his gloves were wet. He sniffed his fingers, nostrils flaring at the sweet scent.
Not another one.
“Fuck,” he said, gently pinching the wolf’s scruff and leading it to the side of the road. It collapsed onto its belly, and Johnny rolled it onto its side.
The car door clicked open and Wendy got out. “I’ve called for an ambulance,” she said, sinking onto the kerb next to the old wolf. “We’ll get you some help, alright, love?” The old wolf whined, but it was impossible to tell if it understood. Johnny dropped to one knee and ran hand through the wolf’s scruff. It was thin, barely any body mass beneath the shaggy fur.
There was a quiet cough, followed by the sound of footsteps on the opposite pavement. Looking up, Johnny saw a man strolling across the road in front of them. He had an uncannily familiar crooked jaw, wonky nose and a thick mop of dirty grey-blonde hair. The man looked at them, then at the wolf, then back at them before putting a cigarette to his lips and lighting it.
