Taming the Beast

by Andrew Grey

  Dante knelt down. “What’s your name?” he asked, paying little attention to the people moving around him.

  A man tried to pass and stumbled as he bumped into him. “You should look what you’re—” His words cut off abruptly as Dante drew himself up. Surprise and fear warred with each other, and the man turned and headed off the other way without another word. Dante shook his head and turned his attention back to his young escort, kneeling down once again.

  “I’m Bobby, and I’m supposed to sit next to you.” He pulled out his chair and climbed onto it, then sat upright, looking completely uncomfortable, and Dante wondered if he’d been instructed on exactly how he was to behave tonight. “They had a contest at school and I won, so I got to come, and then Mr. Clarity asked me if I would stay with you and look after you.”

  “I see. Well, you’ve done a good job.” Dante smiled and looked up as others joined him. They all seemed a little unsure.

  “Mr. Clarity,” Bobby said as the stunning man Dante had seen earlier approached. “Did I do okay?”

  “Yes. You did great.” He patted Bobby on his shoulder and then raised his intense gaze to Dante. “Beau Clarity.” He extended his hand.

  “Dante Bartholomew.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Bartholomew.” They shook hands. Beau’s grip was firm and dry.

  “Dante, please.” They both sat down as servers spread throughout the room with the first courses. “Have you been here in town very long?” he asked, needing to say something. The others at the table were talking among themselves, including Mayor Grant and his wife. He was nice enough, Dante supposed, but his wife always looked like she’d been sucking on a lemon and couldn’t find her lips any longer.

  “About six months. The Center wanted to offer counseling for people who were trying to end their substance abuse, so I applied. They helped me move here and even found me a place to live.” Beau smiled at him, and suddenly, even with the air-conditioning turned all the way to winter, Dante seemed extra warm. He drank most of his water and did his best not to pull at his collar.

  “That’s good. I’m glad the Foundation was able to help.”

  A throat clearing on the other side of him drew his attention, and he turned to Mayor Grant.

  “We’ve put forward a city beautification project that we were wondering if the Bartholomew Foundation would like to undertake.”

  Dante stifled a huff. “What sort of project?”

  “We wanted to acquire large stone planters for the main street to fill with flowers and greenery.” Mayor Grant smiled and showed Dante a picture of what he had in mind.

  “Who will maintain them?” Date asked, knowing the answer already. “The same people who don’t maintain the play area at River Rock Park, or the people who’ve let city hall deteriorate to the point that you want to build a new one?” Dante leaned closer. “I suggest you figure out how you are going to improve and maintain what you have.” He met the mayor’s steely gaze with one of his own, baring his teeth slightly. “Better yet, I understand you’re going to run for another term. I suggest we need some new blood. You obviously aren’t up to the task.” He watched as Mayor Grant turned completely white, and his wife leaned forward.

  “How dare you…!” she sputtered.

  “I’m a citizen like anyone else, and I’m entitled to my opinion. Besides, I certainly didn’t vote for your husband.” He turned away as Jerry Hansen, the most likely mayoral challenger, grinned to beat the band. “Whoever does the job is going to have to learn to live within their own budget and do what is best for the entire town, not just their own hardware store.” He shot another glare at Mayor Grant, whom he’d always thought of as useless. Dante and the Bartholomew Foundation provided a great deal for the town, but over the years, the town had come to rely on it for everything and had forgotten their own stewardship, at least in Dante’s opinion, and that was going to end.

  Dante turned back to Bobby. “Do you know what we’re going to have for dinner?”

  “Roast beef and potatoes and beans.” Bobby made a face. “I don’t like beans.”

  “Bobby,” Beau said gently.

  “Why not? They’re good, and they make you grow up big and strong. My mom always made me eat my green beans, and look at me.” Dante sat up straight, and Bobby’s eyes widened.

  “These are green and yellow beans together,” Beau clarified.

  “Even better. The yellow ones make you smarter. I really like those. And it’s good to be smart.” Dante nudged Bobby. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you eat all your beans, then after dinner, I’ll see if they have any ice cream for dessert.”

  Bobby shook his head. “There’s cake.” He pushed out his lower lip. “I can’t have cake. It has gluten in it.” He turned away, his little shoulders drooping.

  “I see.” Dante pulled out his phone and made a very quick call to Harriet at the house, then began to eat. When he was done with his starter, his salad was placed in front of him, and he ate it slowly. The lady from the other couple, who had been quiet so far, asked him about what the Foundation did. “It’s to better the people and community of St. Giles and Maryland in general, though we localize our work to the Eastern Shore. We take proposals from anyone and evaluate them for community impact and need.”

  “Do you get anything out of it?” she asked.

  “I own the porcelain works, and half the profits go into the Foundation. We invest the money and then arrange to distribute the earnings through our projects. The principal is never touched, and so far it has grown each year through contributions.” Dante finished his salad and glanced at Bobby, who was carefully eating one piece of lettuce at a time.

  “I’m Clyde Harrison, and this is my wife, Jean. I’m a second-shift foreman at the porcelain works.” He reached across the table to shake hands, and Jean did the same. They both seemed nervous, like if they said one wrong thing, Dante would fire him.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jean.” He turned to Clyde. “I’ve seen you at the plant.” He thought for a second. “You were the one who came up with the idea to reroute the laboratory-ware line last year. That was a great idea, and it’ll be done next month. We figure it will save us quite a bit.” Dante had already arranged a bonus for him, but he’d let that work through the channels.

  The conversation died, and Dante turned to Bobby, who had eaten about half his salad and seemed to be finished. “Are you done?” Dante asked him, and Bobby nodded. The servers collected their plates and brought the dinners.

  “Do I have to eat all this?” Bobby whispered. “Mama says I have to clean my plate and not waste food.” He looked at him and then at Beau.

  “Just eat what you want and have some of the beans.” Dante winked, and Bobby took a bite of the beans and ate a few before starting on the rest. Beau helped Bobby cut his meat, and then the kid ate like a trooper. “Is it good?” Dante asked.

  Bobby grinned, nodded, and went back to eating. Dante took a few bites and ate a little of the roast beef. It was okay. The potatoes weren’t exceptional. He ate the vegetables and enough of the rest to make his hunger abate and then waited for his plate to be cleared.

  As the conversation in the room increased while the courses were changed, Dante excused himself and left the room. Roberts stood waiting for him. “Harriet added some ice to make sure this stayed cold.”

  “Thank you.” Dante took the small cooler bag and carried it back into the banquet room. Pieces of cake had been distributed, with one sitting in front of each place, including Bobby’s, taunting the poor kid. Dante moved the cake aside and opened the bag. He took out a bowl of Harriet’s homemade chocolate ice cream and set it at Bobby’s place. “Guaranteed gluten-free.”

  “Thank you!” Bobby said and began to eat like he hadn’t just had dinner.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Yates said after taking the dais. “We want to thank each of you for coming tonight and supporting the St. Giles Community Rehabilitation Clinic. This is a relatively new
service that we are pleased to offer, and with your ongoing support, this program will continue well into the future.” Everyone clapped politely. “I’d especially like to thank Dante Bartholomew and the Bartholomew Family Foundation for their donation of the first $50,000 of our fundraising efforts. They agreed to match the first $50,000 in donations, and I’m pleased to report that as of tonight we have surpassed that goal, thanks to all of you.” The applause grew more intense. “Now, I’d like to bring up Beau Clarity to tell you a little about the programs offered and what you’re helping bring to the community.”

  The applause rang out, and Beau stepped up on the small stage to stand behind the podium.

  “I want to welcome you all here tonight. You are supporting programs that help people with substance-abuse issues deal with their problems so they can return to leading productive lives. Alcoholism and substance abuse don’t just affect the user—they affect us all. Their families, coworkers, and everyone else in their lives. Tonight, through your generous donations, you are helping families come back together and helping to heal wounds that would otherwise tear people apart. So I want to thank each and every one of you for your generosity, and especially Dante Bartholomew, who has joined us here this evening.” Beau motioned to where Dante sat. “I’d also like to ask one more thing. Supporting the clinic financially is wonderful and we appreciate it, but volunteering and becoming part of our programs is equally appreciated. We have plenty of opportunities, and we are grateful for all the help we can get. Thank you.” Beau stepped down and took his seat once again.

  Dante ate his rubbery cake and kept to himself, checking his watch and wondering how soon he could go home. The rumor mill had taken a break so far, but he could see people looking at him and talking. Dante wanted to tell them to mind their own business, but it wasn’t going to do any good.

  Bobby had finished his ice cream and left the table to join the few other kids in the corner, where one of the adults seemed to be organizing them for something.

  “We could really use your help,” Beau told him. “I know you give plenty of money, but some of your time with kids who come in for therapy would be wonderful. Substance abuse affects the entire family.”

  Dante felt himself pale. “No.” He managed not to scream the word and checked his watch yet again. It was way past time to get the hell out of here and back to his quiet house. He’d done what they wanted and put in an appearance. He’d been nice. Of course, he’d also told off the mayor, but that was just the cherry on top of the evening. “I am very busy. But I am pleased the Foundation was able to support your good work.”

  Dante was about to make his getaway when the group of kids filed onto the stage.

  “Mr. Bartholomew,” Bobby said, holding out his hand.

  Dante stood and walked up to them, and Beau joined them on the dais.

  “The children were told about your matching gift to the Center, and they made you something.” Beau smiled, and each of the kids likewise had a huge grin. Beau stepped to the back of the stage and brought out a gold-framed drawing. “Each of the kids drew a picture of themselves, and we had the drawing framed for you.”

  Everyone applauded, and Dante took the colored pencil drawing framed in gold-painted macaroni. “This is very special. Thank you all so much.” He didn’t know what else to say as six small, grinning faces looked back at him. “I’ll put this up in my office so I can see it every day.”

  They filed off the stage, and Dante carried the frame back to his seat. He set it on the table and got a drink from a passing waiter. He downed the scotch and then picked up the frame before finding Yates and saying good night.

  He had never been so happy to slide into his car in his life. He placed the frame on the back seat and drove home as quickly as possible, pulled the car in front of the house, and went inside.

  “How did it go?” Roberts asked.

  Dante took off his tie and jacket and handed them to him before going into his office and closing the door. Sometimes life really sucked. Not that he didn’t deserve whatever cold shoulder and whispered conversations he got. He poured a large glass of scotch from the bottle in the cabinet near his desk, sat back in his chair, and figured tonight was a good night to get drunk.

  A knock on the door halted the glass on its trip to his lips. “I had the car put around in the garage, and this picture was on the back seat.”

  “The children gave it to me tonight, and I told them I’d put it up in my office.” Dante drank half the glass of scotch, the liquid slipping smoothly down his throat. He waved his hand. “Just find an appropriate place for it.” He waved his hand once again, and Roberts left the room. Dante poured himself another glass and did his best not to let images of the intensely attractive Beau Clarity run though his mind like a parade of horniness. The man was something else, and maybe with enough to drink, his smooth voice and the fire in his eyes would abate and Dante would be able to forget them.

  DANTE SAT at his desk, looking up from his work and right at the framed picture the kids had given him. Every time he took a break, there it was. When he’d told Roberts to find an appropriate place to hang it, he hadn’t really meant on his office wall right in front of him, where he saw it every time he looked up.

  For the last two weeks, he’d seen it and even stopped to gaze at the children’s drawings of themselves, and damn it all if he didn’t think of Beau and his intense eyes every time. Beau wasn’t handsome, or even generally good-looking in a conventional way, but he had spirit and fire and was willing to let them show. Dante had done his best to bury himself in work and in the preparations for his upcoming trip to Europe. He’d originally planned to leave in a week, but orders and the work they’d need to do at the plant to fill them had delayed his trip. So instead of going to London first, he’d moved that stop to last and kept the rest of his itinerary intact.

  Roberts knocked and then entered Dante’s office with a tray. He set a cup of coffee on the edge of the desk, along with a plate of cookies. They were the oddest-looking cookies he’d ever seen, more oblong than round, and a little lumpy.

  “Did Harriet make these?” If she had, he’d begin to wonder if she was starting to slip.

  “No. These were sent to you from the children.” Roberts pointed to the drawing on the wall. “Apparently you were nice to one of them at the dinner and he wanted to say thank you. He and his friends baked some cookies for you, and Mr. Clarity had them sent over.” Roberts left the office, and Dante picked up a cookie and took a small bite. They were good, if a little dry, but nice with the coffee.

  He looked up and saw the picture. “Roberts…,” Dante called, and his office door opened, Roberts entering once again. “Please call the Community Center and tell Mr. Clarity that I’d be willing to volunteer… say, on an afternoon or evening later this week, to help out.” Dante smiled because he knew that somehow Roberts had a hand in this. “In fact, we’re all going to volunteer, including Harriet.” Misery loved company, after all.

  “Very good, sir. I’ll make the phone calls and schedule it.” Roberts turned and left the office.

  Dante went back to work, strangely excited about seeing Beau again. He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or one of the stupidest notions ever conceived. But it would make Yates happy. Yes, that was it. He was doing this to help improve his image in the community.

  Dante told himself that over and over all afternoon in the hope that he’d eventually come to believe it, but he wasn’t sure it worked.

  Chapter 2

  “YOU’VE GOT to be kidding me!” Angie said after Beau got off the phone and told her about his conversation. “The Beast of St. Giles is going to come here to volunteer some of his time?” She shuddered, and he had a feeling it wasn’t for dramatic effect. “There is no way you can allow that. And he’s going to work with the kids? He’ll have those sweet little things traumatized beyond all recognition.”

  “He was great with them at the dinner. Bobby likes him and even sent him co
okies.” Beau stepped to the desk where she was handling some of the mountains of paperwork that helped keep them funded. Angie had great skill in getting money out of turnips… and everyone else.

  She gasped. “You’ve only been here a few months, so you probably haven’t heard what he did. He was married, and his wife died… let me see… almost three years ago. People say they were never in love and only married because his father forced him to just to get his inheritance, and after he got it, they say he killed her. The authorities investigated, but he had too much money and influence… and got off.” The last part was hissed under her breath.

  “You believe these rumors?” Beau looked down his nose.

  “I don’t know. Sometimes rumor is a bunch of hogwash, but often there’s a nugget of truth that started it. The thing is, I don’t want to be the one to find out.” She turned back to her computer. “Just let me know when he’s going to be here so I can work from home.” With that pronouncement she returned to her work.

  Beau didn’t know what to say. He had no facts to back the rumors up, but other than probably wanting to be alone and not the target of rumor and speculation, he hadn’t seen anything in Dante that he read as beastly. Well, other than putting the mayor in his place, which from what he’d heard wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  “Angie….” He hardened his gaze until she looked up at him.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “This is a crisis and counseling center. We help everyone, and if Dante Bartholomew is willing to give of his time for us, then we’re going to take it and make sure he feels welcome.” He leaned over the desk. “That means treating him like we do the rest of our volunteers. Apparently he also gave his entire household staff the day off so they could help us here as well.”