Savage by A.J. Llewellyn

Author:A.J. Llewellyn [Llewellyn, AJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
Publisher: MLR Press
Published: 2016-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

To prove to myself that I wasn’t crazy, I took photos of the building’s exterior. It was so strange to see it without the wolves. Yes, there was a sensible explanation…maybe, but what if there wasn’t? I’d check the online images and call the gallery’s owner at a more reasonable hour.

It was close to six by the time I got back to my neck of the woods so I decided to stop at McDonalds and get myself a pancake breakfast. The drive-thru at the restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard was closed due to some voice-over system glitch, according to the hand-written sign posted on the black box beside the ordering menu. I grumbled and groaned and pulled into the parking lot. The restaurant had just opened and was doing brisk business already.

I was halfway across the parking lot when a black Honda almost mowed me down. The driver was wearing a pink jacket. She was blonde. I shook my head, mentally slapping myself. It couldn’t be the elegant panhandler. Lots of women wore pink jackets and drove Honda Civics.

She parked and trotted into the restaurant right behind me. I glimpsed her reflection in the glass door as I joined the line at the counter. She dovetailed into the women’s restroom with a small bag and…holy cow, a red suit over her arm. I blinked.

When I reached the counter I got chatty with the food server.

“The lady in the pink suit…she just went to the restroom…do you know her?” I asked.

She kind of rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Last of the big spenders. She comes here every morning, washes herself…practically has a bath in there, changes her clothes…” She leaned closer to me and I got blasted by her bad morning breath. “She even washes her smalls in there. Then she buys herself a small coffee and maybe a breakfast sandwich. She’s all about the dollar menu, that one.”

Bingo…this had to be our woman. I kept my expression black. “Why do you put up with her?” I asked.

The woman’s irritated expression faltered. “She’s homeless. They took her kid away from her a few weeks ago. We feel sorry for her. We all know she’s trying to hang on to her job.”

I nodded. That tallied with the reports that she’d gotten more aggressive with her panhandling in the last couple of weeks. I grabbed my pancakes and tray and walked outside. I took note of her vehicle registration number. I took a photo of her car then returned to the restaurant. I ate my pancakes at a table where I could keep my eye on the restroom, the counter line and also the exterior of the restaurant. She was in the can for almost half an hour.

When she emerged, she eyed the line. There were two now and neither moved. She didn’t skip a beat. She walked right outside, the pink suit over her arm, her bag over her shoulder and some wet garments in her left hand kept at a discrete, low angle.

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