Page 66 of Junkyard Dog

Realizing she wasn’t in the mood to talk, Max got comfortable and turned up the volume. She kept her eyes on the movie without watching it, her mind drifting between her upcoming shifts and her growing laundry pile before it would inevitably loop back to Alex. Working the extra hours had been counterproductive to her plan to eliminate him from her head. Instead of filling her days and nights, it had given her hours of solitary drive time to think and had exhausted her to the point where she was no longer able to actively pursuenotthinking about him.

She sank further into the sofa, tucking her legs up. “So did he say anything about us?”

Max crumpled the empty chip bag and threw it onto the coffee table, ignoring it when it rolled off the edge. “Nope. His brother filled me in after Thomas dragged Alex into the kitchen.”

*

Alex passed Thomasthe night’s receipts and continued to stock the beer fridge under the bar owner’s watchful eye. “I’m fine. All good.”

The elderly man opened the till and began counting the bills. “I should probably fire you for that ridiculousness tonight,” he stated, lifting the tray to pull the larger denominations out. “But it’s Max, and I’ve had the urge to smack him around myself a few times.”

He snorted and closed the fridge, using the counter to heft himself to his feet. “It won’t happen again,” he said as he stacked the coins. “I don’t usually snap like that.”

Writing down his count, Thomas folded the paper and slipped it into the bank deposit bag. “Can I ask?”

“Charlotte and I just decided our arrangement wasn’t working out,” he mumbled, the reality of it knocking him in the gut as he said it aloud.

Thomas eyed him, zipped up the deposit bag, and tucked it under his arm. “I assume from your mood it was her decision?”

“Mutual,” he replied, staring at the stack of resumes under the till. “I’ll finish up here and lock up.” He gave Thomas a tight smile. “An hour or two of scrubbing down table legs should burn off any remaining aggression.”

“I’ll clock you out for three and leave your pay up beside the till.”

Alex moved methodically through the bar, washing down every surface he could reach until his muscles ached and his feet were protesting. Collecting the soiled rags, he straightened up the last of the clean bar glasses and prepped the bar for the next morning.

Ice loaded.

Cutlery wrapped.

Billfolds and menus stacked.

He pulled the collection of resumes out from under the till, scrawling a quick note about his top choices as he added the wad of cash Thomas had left out for him to the pile. Scanning the stock of bottles under the counter, he selected four, tucking them under his arm before he walked out of the lounge and set the lock code for the last time.

*

Charlotte parked hercar on the small gravel path and reached into the back seat to grab her stash of water bottles, bowls, and a small cooler. She balanced the items carefully under one arm while she tugged the hem of her shorts down and adjusted her shirt. Slipping her keys into her back pocket, she slipped a bright blue collar and leash over her wrist and began the hike to the top of the rocky ridge to the south.

“Where are you, boy?” she called, watching the scuffed path for the animals that were waking as the sun’s peak waned. “I brought steaks and water.”

Glancing back to ensure her vehicle remained in view, she continued the climb, calling out every few minutes until she reached the end of the established pathway. She sat down on a rock, carefully filling the water bowl and opening the cooler to pull out the steaks she’d cooked up earlier in the day.

“Come on, puppies,” she grumbled. “Not-Butch, I know you want this.”

The desert was slowly coming to life, the ground scattered with small reptiles and snakes beginning the hunt for their nightly meals. She scanned the terrain, puncturing the quiet evening with intermittent whistles and calls until a low, clear howl carried across the land in reply.

She continued to whistle in response, smiling when the dog mimicked her tunes, his voice growing closer until she caught sight of him stalking over the rocks to her left, black collar hanging around his throat and his leash swinging from his jaws.

“There you are, boy,” she said, lifting the bowl of steaks. “Where’s your buddy?” Butch approached her tentatively, keeping just out of her reach. “Hungry?”

She lay the bowl down, nudging it toward the beast with her boot. He sniffed it and looked up at her, his eyes obscured by his long fur.

“Go on,” she urged. “Where’ve you been hiding all week?”

Butch dropped his leash beside the bowl and tore at the meat as he watched the terrain, his ears up and twitching. When he finally finished the last of the steak, he pushed the bowl back at her, his head bowed.

“I knew you’d be hungry,” she cooed, exchanging the empty bowl with the water. “Max says I’m nuts for doing this. But you know what? Screw Max.”

Butch snorted, lapping at the water.

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