Taming the Beast

by Andrew Grey

  “I don’t understand all this,” Beau said, still pale.

  “What’s there to understand? They weren’t happy with my decision and thought they could bully me into getting something that’s impossible… and ridiculous. Besides, it’s not my life’s goal to make them happy.” Dante dropped his fork to the table. “I don’t owe them anything. Not one single solitary thing. I keep the factory running, do good work for the town, give back all the time… and I’m vilified. Well, they can take a flying leap, and I do intend to speak to the supervisors on Monday, make sure they know that this sort of thing will not be tolerated.” His heart rate finally began returning to normal, and by the time he picked up his fork once more, he realized Beau wasn’t in the room just before he heard the front door close.

  Chapter 4

  BEAU HAD been second-guessing himself for three days. He’d always been taught not to be rude, but he had truly gotten a glimpse… or at least heard one… of the Beast that night. There had been no care or consideration in his voice whatsoever.

  “Honey, I tried to warn you.” Angie patted his hand lightly.

  Beau was grateful for her sincerity, since it must have taken extra effort for her not to do some sort of I-told-you-so dance. “I know you did.” He just couldn’t seem to put things together in his mind.

  “Then what’s wrong?” Angie pressed.

  The truth was, he couldn’t get Dante out of his head. He kept seeing him as he showed him through the largely empty house, gentle, smiling, even laughing occasionally. “I was so rude….” Beau had also blown any chance he had for securing Dante’s help to expand the services the Center could offer—completely blown it.

  “You just left. That’s so unlike you.” Angie leaned forward, and Beau followed her gaze toward a noise in the hallway.

  “I know. I kind of freaked out a little. The way he talked to those people by the front of his house was so harsh, and…. All I kept thinking was that I was seeing the Beast that everyone keeps talking about, and it was not pretty at all.”

  “Just stay away from the guy and have as little to do with him as possible. We’re all better off if we can survive without him or his money. People in this town have come to rely on it too much, and now they complain about him, but they can’t do a dang thing about it. They need him.”

  Beau nodded slowly. “But he needs everyone else too, and I don’t think he knows it.”

  Angie shook her head. “You know what’s going on here? You’re too damn nice. You see him as one of the people here that you can help, but you can’t. You know that, because he doesn’t want to be helped. You always say that we can’t do anything with someone who doesn’t want our help, and the Beast definitely doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with him.”

  The fire of righteous condemnation burned brightly in her eyes, but Beau knew she wasn’t completely right. Dante had admitted to him that night at dinner that there was something wrong. He was carrying around a mountain full of guilt over something, and Beau suspected it was his wife’s death. But Dante wasn’t going to talk about it, and there was no one to ask about what had happened. So Angie was correct—there was nothing Beau could do to help unless Dante came to trust him enough to confide in Beau with what happened. But after the way Beau left the other night, he’d blown that chance out of the water.

  “Why is this bothering you so much?” Angie asked, raising her eyebrows slightly. “You don’t have some sort of crush on him, do you?”

  “I don’t think so.” Beau wasn’t sure what his feelings were toward Dante Bartholomew. He intrigued him and he was certainly good-looking enough… in every way Beau had seen.

  Angie humphed. “That’s an interesting answer. Do you want to explain?”

  Beau smiled wickedly. “No, I don’t.” Dammit, he was blushing and he hated that. He couldn’t seem to get Dante out of his head, even after Dante’s behavior had left him cold. “I’m confused, okay? And I hate being all mixed up.” Beau smiled. “When we were having dinner, there was this moment when he forgot himself. I don’t even think he realized it at the time, but the tiny lines around his eyes disappeared and his lips were soft and there was this light in his eyes. Dante laughed, and in that second, I thought I might be seeing the real person under the hurt, pain, responsibility, and God knows what else he’s carrying around, and I want to see more of that person. Then I saw him with those protestors, throwing his weight around and—”

  “You thought you’d imagined everything, and the real person was the Beast throwing his weight around?”

  Man, she could hit the nail on the head.

  “I don’t want him to be that person.” Beau turned and walked away from Angie’s desk. He had a pile of work waiting for him on his desk, and it wasn’t going to do him any good to vacillate over Dante. He’d really blown that opportunity.

  HE SPENT the next two hours knee-deep in his paperwork, trying to catch up. Beau tended to let it pile up because he hated it and would rather spend time with the people who came to him for help. That was what he loved. But he needed to do the paperwork that would allow him to do what he enjoyed.

  “Beau,” Angie said, half breathless. “The Beast is out front asking for you. He says he wants to talk to you.” She cocked her lips in a slightly off-kilter way. “He’s carrying flowers.” She snickered and rolled her eyes. “Is that just too cheesy for words?”

  Beau sighed. “Not everyone wants their men to say they care with a visit to the gun club.” He winked, and Angie crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I knew I was going to regret telling you about that date.”

  Beau stood. “Hey, you had a good time, and that’s all that counts. And the fact that you outshot him was completely priceless.” He glanced down at the work he had yet to finish and groaned softly. “Tell Dante I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He sat back down to finish reviewing a grant application before giving it his approval and then went to see what Dante wanted from him.

  Angie sat at her desk, typing and watching Dante at the same time. It was weird how she could work and watch him at the same time… until Beau peered at her screen and saw the gibberish she was typing. He kept her secret as he walked by.

  “Can I help you, Dante?” Beau was proud of himself for keeping things professional and his eyes on Dante’s instead of raking them down to his tight jeans.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately.”

  “My office is right down the hall.” He motioned, and Dante followed him inside the tiny space. It was utilitarian and nothing like the office Dante had at his house. Beau closed the door and sat in the second visitor’s chair, waiting for Dante, who seemed to be searching for his words.

  “I never explain anything to anyone,” Dante pronounced as he handed Beau the flowers. “Explanations are too close to excuses, and my father drilled into me that excuses were unacceptable and apologizing is a sign of weakness.”

  “You know that’s bullshit… right?” Beau smelled the flowers and stifled the sneeze that threatened. He loved flowers, but some of them didn’t love him back.

  “Does it matter? My father pounded that in deeper than the pilings for the Bay Bridge. He never said he was sorry for anything, not even to my mother, and he never stood for any sort of excuses, only logical arguments.” Dante huffed. “Anyway, I don’t do explanations, but I think you deserve one.” He shifted in his seat the way a kid might when he was called to the principal’s office.

  “Why?” Beau questioned. “If you don’t do them, then why tell me?”

  Dante leaned closer. “I don’t fucking know why. But… I think for some stupid reason, I care what you think about me.”

  Beau nodded slowly and thought he might have been given a glimpse, even as small as it was, into how Dante thought about things. “You really don’t care what other people think?”

  Dante shrugged. “Being a leader means thinking for yourself. Yeah, you listen to others, but you have to be the one making the decisions, an
d sometimes they’re hard. So, no, I don’t usually care what people think of me. But I care how you see me.” Dante looked nervous and worked up, fidgeting in his seat.

  “What do you want to tell me?”

  “When I was here working with the kids, I got a phone call. One of the men at the plant, in the accounting department, we caught him stealing from the company.”

  “Is that why you were so angry?” Beau remembered that call and how Dante had sounded. “You were cold as hell.”

  Dante nodded. “The porcelain works has been doing well and sales keep improving, but our profits have flatlined over the last two years and I couldn’t figure it out. Then I got the call that day that John Lederer, the plant head, had stumbled onto something and found the cause. I had the man’s employment terminated. Apparently he told his wife that I let him go for no reason because, after all, I’m the Beast of St. Giles and everything that happens here is somehow my fault.”

  “So they showed up at your house with picket signs….”

  “Yeah. They wanted to try to pressure me to give Greg his job back, but that isn’t going to happen. We’ve tracked down some of the money he stole, but most of it is gone forever. I know what I said to them and how I treated those people, but they had no clue what was going on and they came to my home to send me a message.” Dante paused briefly. “I work hard to carry the family business forward, which keeps the town prosperous and employs most of the families here in one way or another. I could keep all the money and make myself rich, but I send most of the profits to the Foundation, where it’s given back to the community.”

  “Is that all you do?” Beau asked.

  “No. I protect the people in my life. I don’t have many of them, but I guard the people who work for me, and I will not tolerate anyone intruding on what should be my private life. They brought some imagined fight to my doorstep and expected me to roll over and take it. I won’t.”

  “I think I can understand that. But you get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.”

  “Maybe, but people fuck with you less if you let them know that you aren’t going to take it.”

  The near-raging fire behind Dante’s eyes was really telling and helped convince Beau that he had been right: Dante’s life had been incredibly unpredictable and abusive. But Beau wasn’t going to press it right now. Dante wasn’t going to tell him what was behind all of this. He’d kept it bottled up inside for a very long time, and never letting go was too wrapped up in who Dante had become.

  “Was that all you wanted to tell me?” Beau asked, sitting back in the chair. He was used to waiting people out, though Dante seemed like a tough nut. He crossed his legs and got a little more comfortable.

  “I had a good time at dinner… well, before….”

  “I understand.” Beau was getting an idea where this conversation was headed, but he purposely let Dante stumble a little in order to let him decide what he really wanted. Many of the people he worked with had trouble making decisions because they didn’t understand what it was they truly wanted. Others had decisions made for them their whole lives, and part of Beau’s job was to empower them so they felt as though they could make decisions for themselves.

  “Would you like to try to have dinner again?” Dante finally asked.

  Beau nodded. “Yes. That would be very nice. But this time, let’s go out to dinner. There’s a nice restaurant in St. Michaels.”

  “I was thinking that Harriet could make dinner for us again and—”

  “No. You asked me properly, and I’d like to go out like a real person. Give your staff the night off, and we can have some fun.” Beau pulled up his calendar. “I don’t have any appointments tomorrow evening or on Friday or Saturday. We could go then if you’d like.” Beau waited. “I understand why you don’t venture into town here a lot. But I think you’re making a mistake.”

  Dante leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

  Beau thought a second. “Unless you want people to think of you as the Beast?” He was trying to get a reaction from Dante, and instead Dante leaned back and ignored that part of the comment.

  “How am I making a mistake… in your opinion?” Dante was humoring him, which was so clear from the amusement in his tone.

  “People talk about and make up stories about people they don’t know. Ethnic jokes are made about other groups of people. If you went out and met people, let them see you and maybe talk to you, they’d realize you aren’t a monster.”

  Dante closed his eyes. “But what if I am?” He stood, went to the door, and pulled it open. Then he stepped out into the hall, and Beau figured he’d pushed too hard and was already swearing silently at himself in his head.

  Beau lowered his gaze and was about to get up so he could put the flowers in water.

  “Tomorrow night would be nice,” Dante said. “Let me know where you’d like me to pick you up.” He closed the door, leaving Beau in shock.

  He sat still for a few seconds, then snatched up the phone. “Angie, come in here a second.”

  The door opened almost before he hung up the phone. “He gave you the flowers?” she asked as Beau handed them to her.

  “Put them in some water and set them on the front desk so everyone can enjoy them.” His eyes were already starting to water. He tried to stop it, but his sneeze rang through the small room.

  “You didn’t tell him you were allergic, did you?” She took them and stepped out of the office as Beau sneezed again.

  “Of course not. It was a nice gesture, and no one has ever given me flowers.” He wiped his eyes and turned back to his desk.

  She leaned down, inhaling the scent of the yellow and orange roses. “Was that all?”

  Beau wagged his eyebrows and said nothing more.

  “No way? The Beast asked you out?” Her lower lip nearly hit the floor.

  “Angie, we don’t talk about people, anyone, like that here. Please don’t anymore. Okay? This is a safe place, and that means from bullying of any kind.” He shot her a brief but stern look before checking the clock. He had a few minutes for some paperwork before he had a group session.

  AFTER WORK the next day, Beau walked home and climbed the stairs. He liked the place. It wasn’t too old, and the appliances were relatively new. He didn’t have a lot of furniture; what he’d gotten had come from a few secondhand stores. Nothing matched, but he didn’t mind. It was his and the furniture was comfortable. He loved his sofa in particular. It was extra wide, and on cold evenings, he curled up on it under a blanket and watched television as he fell asleep.

  Beau checked the time and hurried to the bathroom. He had fifteen minutes to clean up and dress. He showered fast and pulled on a pair of dark gray dress pants and a pale green shirt. He checked himself in the mirror, grabbed his shoes and socks, then looked out the window for Dante before pulling them on. Then he checked again, locked up, and went down the stairs to the sidewalk. Beau checked his phone for the time and glanced up as a long black limousine pulled to a stop. The back door opened, and Dante smiled out at him.

  “I don’t think this was necessary,” Beau said as he got inside and closed the door, and the vehicle glided away from the curb. “Do you have a driver too?”

  “In a way. Roberts runs the inside of the house, and Juan manages the exterior. He also acts as my driver on occasion.”

  “Doesn’t that make for long days?”

  “Sometimes. But when his son graduated from high school, he used the limousine, and again when his daughter got married. I don’t go everywhere in it, so I don’t need a full-time driver, but I thought it would make tonight special.” Dante sat back as they rode out of town and to the main road that led south down toward St. Michaels. “Is seafood okay?”

  “Of course,” Beau answered as he tried to relax. “It’s what the town is known for.”

  “I made a reservation, but I haven’t been there in a few years. Thankfully Roberts had a suggestion. I hope it’s okay.”

  Dante was acti
ng nervous, and that made Beau rather happy in a perverse way. He reached forward, turning up the air-conditioning a little so he didn’t sweat through his shirt. Okay, so maybe he was nervous too.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you… today… or ever again. Not after how I left.”

  “I was pretty upset when you disappeared. But then, I guess I brought it on myself.” Dante’s leg bounced slightly, and Beau let his gaze travel from his mirror-shiny shoes up his black-clad leg to where the fabric gripped Dante’s thighs. Beau’s mouth turned dry in an instant. “I’ve brought on a lot of my own grief over the years.”

  Beau could have easily slipped into counselor mode, but that wasn’t his role tonight. Instead, he put on a different hat, so to speak, took Dante’s hand, and threaded their fingers together. “Maybe it’s time for you to stop adding to the pile of whatever it is you see as your grief.”

  Dante turned to look at him. “Spoken like a true counselor.”

  “Is that what you think I’m here to do? Is that why you invited me to dinner? Did you want some one-on-one counseling time?” Beau tightened his fingers. “Because that isn’t why I’m here, and all you had to do for that was call and make an appointment. It’s free, in part because of your generosity.”

  “No. That’s not why I asked you out.” Dante huffed. “Sometimes you can be as prickly as anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Beau rolled his eyes. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, and you know it.” He grinned, and Dante followed suit. “There….”

  “What?”

  “You smiled.” Beau reached over and gently ran his fingers over Dante’s cheek, then up into his raven-black hair, its softness lightly tickling his fingers. “You’re stunning when you smile.”