Page 102 of Never Never

“You say you’ve done this before?” I ask Wendy. And lived, I add mentally.

We’ve been trying for a good twenty minutes here by the loft couch, and not a single nail has been cut. On the ground next to me is some kind of trimming/cutting tool that we ordered online and looks like it could cut brad nails as much as dog nails. I’m lucky I still have all my fingers.

“Yeah,” Wendy says, but there is a kind of fake cheerfulness to her voice. I give her a look, and she withdraws a little. “Okay, well, technically, my brothers used to do it, but⁠—”

A pang twists in my chest. “Okay,” I say on a sigh, “Let me just…” I spread my fingers in the air, then press my hands to my forehead. “…get my bearings a little.”

I stare at the floor and let my pulse calm down a bit. I’ve been jumpy, too jumpy since the casino. Since having a panic attack, I remind myself. And…other things. I’m not sure why I thought giving a jittery greyhound a manicure would be a relaxing way to spend a Saturday morning, honestly. Maybe the same reason I assume Fox is taking her to the library later: because when Wendy asks, it’s hard to say no.

Besides, when I’m done, I’m going to the beach.

“It’s okay if you can’t,” Wendy says gently. “Maybe I can ask one of the guys.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” For some reason, I don’t want to go begging for a man’s help on this. And not just because⁠—

My mind goes blank even as my neck gets hot. Thinking of Blue. And Fox. And Kit, even, maybe. I swallow.

Wendy looks at me from where she’s sitting on her knees. “They are stronger, Tink,” she says. “I mean, statistically speaking. Coach says that people with higher testosterone build muscle more easily because⁠—”

“I know, I know,” I say, biting back a smile, at the fact that Wendy seems to idolize Zuzu. Such a weird upbringing this kid is starting to get, I think: drawing lessons from a tattoo artist, kickboxing from an Albanian mafia princess, and dog grooming with me. “It’s just the principle of the thing. I told you I would help, and I’m doing this keeping my promises thing now, remember?”

“Yeah.” Wendy ruffles Nana’s ears, and Nana obliges by plopping to the ground and rolling to her spine, paws in the air and skinny chest and tummy available for pats.

Although it would be easier for two guys to do this, I think. I glance up at Wendy, who’s got a faraway look in her eye as she strokes Nana’s belly. Like she’s in another time and place entirely.

“Do you miss them?” I say softly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want,” I add quickly. “It’s just…you don’t talk about them very much. Your brothers.”

Wendy scratches Nana’s ribs intently, not meeting my eyes. “There’s just not a lot to talk about, I guess,” she says, lifting one shoulder.

“Right,” I say quickly. “Of course. No one’s saying you have to. But you can. If it would make you feel better.”

“Mhm,” Wendy says absently, still stroking Nana. “I know.”

It’s uncomfortable, how little she’s giving me. Especially for a kid who’s usually such a chatterbox, for better or worse. I feel the need to fill the silence, to press on.

“I will figure it out, Wendy,” I say. “I promise. I know I haven’t been making the quickest progress or anything, but I care. I really do. And I don’t want them to have just died⁠—”

“It’s okay,” Wendy says abruptly. Now she looks at my eyes. “Um, sorry.” She chews her lip. “I just mean…I just mean maybe it’s not really that important after all.”

“What?” I say, genuinely confused. “It’s not important to find out who killed your brothers?” I sit up a bit straighter. “Wendy, it could be something big. Someone might be stealing from them—from you, really, since you’re their family,” I correct. “And if Hook is involved, then⁠—”

“I don’t care,” Wendy says quickly. “I don’t. About money or whatever. That stuff doesn’t matter.” She snaps her mouth shut and breathes hard through her nostrils. “It’s probably better just to drop it.”

“But—” I start.

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” she goes on. “It’s not like you…They were your brothers. Maybe I’d just rather start over. And not dig all that stuff up.”

All that stuff, I think. All what stuff?

For the first time, I wonder if Wendy’s maybe not telling me the truth.

Outwardly, I just nod. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks emotional, angry or sad, I can’t tell. Maybe both. That happens, when you’re ten. And three-quarters.

“You know what?” I say. “Totally fair. Let’s just try and get these nails cut, okay?” I reach over and give Nana’s belly a scratch of my own, and I’m just reaching for the nail-clipper thing when I see a pair of boots enter from the staircase.

Pan.

I nod, but that’s it. No need for me to be a dick. Last time I saw him, he was storming out of the room after seeing me make out with Fox on creeper-shot security footage. And sure, maybe I told Blue to keep it rolling just to provoke him. Provoke him into what, I wasn’t sure.