by Andrew Grey
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the Beast got his own people to help us.”
Beau shook his head and held his temper, taking a deep breath. “Dante is going to try to help us. He gives plenty to support our work.” He saw he wasn’t getting through, so he changed tack. “What if the rumors are wrong? You never impressed me as the kind of person who judged people based on talk. You help everyone here, and you’re going to turn your back on him?”
“Dang you…,” she muttered and then groaned. “Fine. I’ll be nice to him.”
“Just treat him like you would anyone else. You don’t need to treat him special.”
She nodded. “But if he’s mean to any of the kids, or to me, so help me….”
“I don’t think you need to worry about him being mean to anyone, unless it’s the mayor. Then it’s no holds barred.” He had to smile, and Angie pursed her lips.
“That little nugget was all over town in five minutes. I wish I’d have been there to see him put that old goat and his lemon-sucking wife in their place.” She sighed once again, mirth filling her eyes. “Okay. I’ll give him a chance….” She held up her index finger. “One.”
Smiling, Beau left her to get back to work while he went to find his group of kids.
One of the programs he’d instituted since coming here was for families. Addiction affected more than the addict. Their spouses, children, and parents all suffered in one form or another. His biggest success had been with the youngsters. Beau had set up one room in the facility specifically for them, with bulletin boards, brightly colored walls, and puzzle-square carpet. He wanted kids to feel comfortable in the space when he met with them. Beau worked with the school and parents to help these kids get the support they needed. He only had them a few times a week for a couple of hours, but he loved his work and wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Mr. Beau,” Bobby called as he entered the room. Bobby hurried over and Beau knelt down for a hug, then got one from each of the kids in turn. “Did he get the cookies we made?”
“Yes, he did, and I’m told he liked them.” Beau leaned close. “He’s going to come in for our next meeting and help out. So you all need to be nice to him.”
“He’s a beast,” Kendra said, her arms folded over her chest. “My mommy said so.”
“You’re just a goody-two-shoes know-it-all,” Hank told her, then stuck out his tongue.
“That’s enough of that,” Beau said gently, even though he agreed with Hank. Kendra thought she knew everything about everything, and whatever her mother said might as well have been a pronouncement from God. “You don’t need to come next time if you don’t want to, but Mr. Bartholomew is going to help us.”
“Will he bring ice cream?” Bobby asked. That was why Beau loved these kids so much. There was little guile in them. They said what they were thinking and what they wanted.
“I don’t know. But that isn’t why he’s coming.” Beau stood and got the kids into a circle. Most of their time together was playtime, with him asking a few questions. He had to tread carefully, as some of these kids were still half scared of their own shadows. When the kids first came to him, they were aggressive and misbehaved a lot. Kendra was the newest addition to the group, but her acting out took the form of always having to be right. It was annoying, but she was getting better, right along with her mother.
“But he’s mean,” Kendra said softly.
“Has he ever been mean to you?” Beau asked, then waited while she muttered her answer and lowered her arms in defeat. “We should listen to Mommy and Daddy, but it’s also okay to make up your own mind about people.” He smiled, and Kendra gave him a tiny grin. “Now, let’s do something.”
“I want to make a picture for Mr. Dante,” Bobby said before rushing over to the table with the tub of colored pencils. Beau got him some paper while the others decided what they wanted to do. Some of the kids liked to play on their own. Bobby was one of those. His father had become addicted to painkillers after back surgery, and at times he’d gotten aggressive when he needed the pills he didn’t have.
“How is your dad?” Beau asked, sitting next to Bobby once Angie came in and started the others in a game of duck, duck, goose.
Bobby nodded but didn’t answer right away. “He scares me,” he finally answered without looking away from his picture.
“Is he angry, like before?” Beau hoped he wasn’t using again. It was a constant threat for these kids. Just when things got better for them… they rode a roller coaster of sobriety and relapse.
“No.” Bobby continued coloring and then put down his pencil. He turned, lower lip quivering, tears pooling in his eyes. “Daddy says he wants to get married… and not to Mommy. Kendra says that means I’m going to have an evil stepmother like Cinderella did.” He threw his arms around Beau’s neck and held him tight. “I don’t wanna have an evil stepmother.”
There were times when Beau wanted to laugh. He knew he couldn’t, though. “Have you met the lady your daddy wants to marry?” When Bobby nodded against his shirt, he asked, “Is she nice?”
“She made me gluten-free cookies. She said she’s a nurse at the hospital.” Bobby sniffled, wiping his nose with his hand.
“If she’s nice, then she can’t be evil. She’ll be your stepmother, yes. But she doesn’t sound like she’s evil to me.” Sometimes kids, especially the ones who had seen true hardship, took stories too much to heart.
“But what if she turns evil? She isn’t a stepmother yet.” He pulled back a little to rub his eyes.
“I don’t think she’s going to turn evil. Does she spend time with you and your dad?” Beau asked, and Bobby nodded. “Do you like her?”
“She’s nice. She took me on a bike ride. We raced and I won. She laughed and said I was going to grow up strong like my daddy.” Bobby blinked.
“Then I think she’s going to be a good stepmother. I had one of those.”
“You did?” Bobby asked as though he’d never thought about it.
“I did. My mommy died when I was your age, and my daddy got married again. Her name is Rose and I love her like she was my mother.” Beau had been very lucky in that regard. “No evil at all. Though she did take away my NES when I was naughty, but she always gave it back. She’s a very nice lady, and it sounds like yours is going to be too. Why don’t you draw a picture for her?” He gently held Bobby until he moved out of his arms and went back to drawing.
“Is he okay?” Angie asked once Beau left Bobby to his task and the kids were playing their game.
Beau nodded and sighed. Dealing with the emotional load the kids couldn’t was sometimes the most difficult part of his job. These kids were innocents, affected by the actions of others. “How is the game?”
“Fine, though they’re going to get tired of it soon.”
“Then let’s have them color on their own. We can ask each of them to draw a picture of their mother or father. Sometimes those pictures can tell us a lot about what’s going on in their heads. Words can be hard for them, but they can and do express themselves.”
Beau got things ready while Angie ended the game, and then the kids came to the tables. They set to work, and Beau talked to each one in turn, asking them how they were doing and getting hugs, sometimes drying tears, especially from Kendra, who was a bundle of nerves and fear once he got under her façade.
By the time the morning was over and the kids had been picked up, Beau was exhausted. He slumped behind his desk in his tiny private office to clear his email and see to what else needed to be done. The benefit a few weeks earlier had brought a nice influx of cash, and the drive continued to bring in donations. So at least for now, they were doing fairly well, though just barely staying on budget.
A knock pulled him out of his review of the Center’s finances. “It’s open.” He set the spreadsheet printout aside and smiled as an older gentleman came in. “May I help you?”
“Hello. I’m Roberts. I work for Mr. Bartholomew.”
“Yes,
I talked to you on the phone.” Beau kept his smile in place. “Is there something I can help you with?” He motioned to a chair, and Roberts sat down slowly.
“We are set to volunteer in a few days, and I thought it best to see you and determine if there was anything that you’d like us to bring or provide.” He tugged his suit coat until it was completely wrinkle-free. It made Beau feel underdressed in his red polo shirt and khaki pants.
“You don’t need to bring anything. We appreciate you being generous with your time.” Beau stood and walked to the door to close it. “I get the feeling there’s something you want to talk about.”
Roberts nodded. “I know the rumors that float around town. I hear them—we all do. But I don’t believe any of them.”
Beau nodded carefully. “I don’t put much faith in rumor either, though it seems most of the town does.” He gathered his papers into a small pile to clean up his messy desk. “Were you here when the incidents that seem to be the source of the rumors happened?”
“No. Mr. Bartholomew’s father passed away a little over three years ago, just before the incidents, though his father’s passing does figure into some of the rumors. I came to work for Mr. Bartholomew after his father died.”
“What is it you’re trying to say?” Beau asked, furrowing his brow.
“I’m asking that you give him a chance.” There was genuine affection in Robert’s eyes, and that sat very well with Beau. If he could engender such loyalty from the people who worked directly with him, then that told Beau a great deal about the man himself.
“Mr. Bartholomew is coming here to volunteer and to give of himself. That is something I always appreciate. Some of our programs wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the countless volunteer hours given generously and selflessly. I appreciate Mr. Bartholomew agreeing to volunteer.” Beau was beginning to wonder just what he was getting himself into. Never in his life had so much fuss been made over one person’s choice to spend a few hours at the Center. Heck, he was starting to wonder if a presidential or royal visit warranted this much fuss.
“Thank you.” Roberts stood, and Beau followed suit. “Mr. Bartholomew wanted me to ask if the children will be here the day he’s coming.”
“Yes. I thought he’d work with them. He seemed to hit it off with Bobby at the dinner, and Bobby’s been asking about him.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Roberts left the office, and Beau closed the door after him, wondering what in the heck all that was about. He didn’t have much time, though; his next appointment was in ten minutes, and he needed a chance to get ready.
The rest of the day was one appointment or group session after another. The demands on the Center had continued to grow since his arrival because of an increase in various street drugs. Beau was exhausted by the time he left the Center, well after most people had had dinner. He stopped at a diner to pick up an order he’d called in and took it home to the apartment the Center provided for him just two blocks away.
He trudged up the stairs and inside the one-bedroom, three-room place. He had a small living room, kitchen, and bedroom, plus a large bathroom, which made the apartment worth all its other challenges. He locked the door, grabbed a bottle of water from the mostly empty refrigerator, and sat on the sofa to eat his club sandwich and salad.
He’d just finished his salad and was unwrapping his sandwich when his phone rang. “Hi,” he said brightly when he answered.
“Are you okay? You haven’t called in a while, and your father was worried.” That was his stepmother’s code for she was worried and had to call.
“I’m just fine. Been really busy, too busy, since the fundraiser.” Which they had attended. “I’m getting plenty of volunteers, including the town’s most elusive citizen.”
She gasped. “You mean that beast man? Everyone at the dinner was talking about him. He apparently killed his wife because he got tired of her, so he wouldn’t have to give her half of what he has in a divorce.” She clicked her lips. “You be careful of that man. I didn’t like the look of him.”
That was strange, because Dante Bartholomew was more than easy on the eyes. “You have to be kidding…. He’s take-me-out-and-shoot-me gorgeous, and you know it.” Dark hair and eyes as deep as the earth, rich olive skin that gave him a touch of the dreamy, and a body that could only be hinted at under those clothes.
“You are not allowed to be smitten with him.”
“Smitten?” Beau laughed. “I love your words sometimes.” She read a lot, mainly mysteries, and right now she must be reading Victorian stories of intrigue and drawing rooms. “No, I’m not smitten, and I don’t like it when people call others names.” He cleared his throat. “His family foundation gave enough in that one night to pay my salary for the next year.”
“I’m just saying—”
“That you listened to idle gossip,” he said, giving her a little dose of guilt.
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” she countered. “And everyone was talking about it. I heard the story from three different people.”
“That may be, but I saw something else.” Beau couldn’t say quite what it was. He’d only been with Dante for a few hours, but he didn’t see a killer in those eyes. He’d seemed shy and hadn’t talked to many people at all. It was clear Dante had a temper, especially with the way he took on the mayor, but most of the night he’d been quiet and rather withdrawn. Maybe still waters ran deep—and in this case, dangerous—but Beau’s gut told him there was something else going on.
“I see. Is that your professional opinion?” she snipped at him.
“Nope. But it is mine and I’m allowed to have it.” He grinned. “Oh, I have to tell you. I used you as an example today.” He relayed the crux of what Bobby had said without telling her his name or getting into much detail.
“I’m glad I’m not in the evil category.” She chuckled. “Downright relieved, as a matter of fact.”
“Me too.” Beau sat back, looking longingly at his dinner. “I need to finish eating.”
“All right, honey. Call us when you get a chance.”
She hung up, and Beau put the phone on the table, instantly wishing he’d kept talking to her. The apartment was quiet, lonely, and didn’t yet feel like home. This wasn’t his first job, but it had taken him far enough away that it felt like it. He turned on the television and ate his sandwich. Once he was done, he took care of the paper and dishes before settling on the sofa to watch a movie, but dropped off to sleep well before it was time for him to go to bed.
THE DAYS slipped by in a whirl of activity, and Beau had no idea why he was nervous. People were volunteering to help, which happened all the time, but for some reason, he was keyed up about Dante coming in.
“Settle down. This isn’t a visit from His Holiness.” Angie sat at her desk, doing her normal work. “Do you like this guy or something?” She made an ewww face as soon as she said the words. “Look, I don’t care how dreamy he looks. You are not allowed to… whatever… God, don’t make me say it… just no!”
Beau grinned. “So you think he’s dreamy?” he teased just so he could watch Angie get all red in the face.
“That’s what you took away from that?” She looked on the verge of having a fit. Beau had to stop himself from laughing.
“It’s what you said.” He sighed dramatically. “And you’re right. He is dreamy and I wonder…. Those tuxedos hide everything… but….” He fanned himself, and Angie sprang to her feet.
“You are not allowed to….” She glared at him. “You meanie, pain in the ass! You are so not allowed to tease me like that.” She waved her finger at him, and Beau grinned like an idiot. At the very least, his nervousness was gone.
“Come on. Give me some credit. I don’t even know the man, other than talking to him for a little while.” Besides, he wasn’t going to go into the fact that Dante Bartholomew obviously traveled quite a bit and met a ton of people. He could have any good-looking man he wanted, as long as they weren’t from St. Gil
es, apparently. Why would he be interested in someone as plain and… well…. Beau pushed the thought from his head. He didn’t need to go into his issues at the moment. And he certainly wasn’t going to be showing them to Dante. “Besides, I never said anything about being interested in him other than having him help here at the Center. The rest of it was all on you.”
Angie cocked her grin just a little. “It’s a gift.” She winked.
“I’ve heard it called many things, but never that.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.” She turned away, then quickly spun back. “And speak of the devil,” she whispered, the smile falling from her lips as Dante entered the building through the front doors and approached the desk rather hesitantly.
“Hello,” Beau said. “I’m Beau. We talked at the dinner.”
“I remember.” Dante shook his hand. “Do I need to sign in or something?”
Angie handed him a form, and Dante filled it out, signed it, and handed it back.
“I’ve never done this sort of thing before. What do you want me to do?”
“Well, Bobby has been asking about you.” Beau motioned down the hall, then paused. “Actually, he keeps asking if you’re going to bring ice cream with you.”
“Harriet will be over in half an hour, and I’m told she made an entire batch to share. I expect that everyone in the Center will probably go into a sugar coma by the time she’s done.” Dante smiled, and danged if he didn’t light up. His teeth were perfectly white and his smile was infectious, making Beau smile as well.
“We’re right down here,” he said, leading Dante to the room. “The kids will come here in a few minutes, and they stay for a couple of hours. I talk to each of them to see how things are with them, and if you can organize some games and activities with them, that would be great.”
“What games? What sort of things do they like? I don’t know any games.”
“They like to color, and there are plenty of board games that will work. Just be yourself.” Beau felt sorry for the guy; he looked lost. “These are kids who have had a hard time of it already. Their parent or parents have substance-abuse issues. Some of them have mixed feelings about their parents. They love them, but they hate them too because of what they’ve done.”
