Page 58 of Dragon in Boots

“You’re correct. I would not call.” Damien smiled. “Why do that when a video is worth a thousand words?” He held up his phone and displayed the video he’d taken last night during strip Twister.

In Belch’s defense, his eyes had never wandered, nor his heart that Damien could see. Belch simply liked playing naked games. Then he started crying about how much he loved his wife before he threw up and passed out under the table.

I guess every man has to blow off steam. Even a god.

“Tailor?” Belch said.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for not squealing. I really do love my mate, but the constant workouts are difficult. She’s like a health machine. I’m a party machine.”

“Not all couples are a match made in the heavens. I understand.”

Belch sighed. “Some are made of broken parts from different planets.”

Maybe that was the problem with him and Sky. “Do you think it is possible for such couples to make it?”

“Make it?” Belch asked.

“You know, to the end.”

“I have no fucking clue, tailor. But I’m wise enough to know that guys like you and me are lucky to find a woman who loves us at all.” Belch began pushing the attendant call button. “Tequila! Tequila!”

“Stop that.” Damien pulled his hand away. “What do you mean ‘like you and me’?”

“Dude,” said Belch, “I’ve been here a very, very long time, and there are three types of men. The ones who are born rock solid, the ones who improve with age, and the ones who just are who they are.”

“Which one am I?”

“You are who you are.” Belch scratched his balls inside his underwear.

Damien looked away. (A) He did not want to see Belch’s hairy balls for the hundredth time. (B) Hearing a god, no matter how deranged or itchy, say something so damning about him hit hard. Mostly because Damien did not disagree.

Until recently, Damien had blamed his shortcomings on the rage demon living inside. He always said that he would be a different man if freed from this dark being.

But that was a lie.

The last time the demon had been let out “to play” was at a party in Miami, where Damien met with a client’s sister. She was getting married and wanted Damien to make the dresses for her and the bridesmaids. Damien found himself cornered by the bride-to-be, who demanded sex. When he refused, she threatened to tell her brothers that he’d forced himself on her.

Initially, Damien told himself that the demon broke through on its own and slaughtered her along with the entire wedding party, but the truth was thathe’dlet the demon out. The entire family belonged to the Russian mafia, and a part of him wished them dead. Not because they were bad, which they were, but because he saw himself reflected in this family of cutthroats. He saw their lack of compassion, their greed, their taste for finer things. He saw everything depraved in himself at that party, and he did not like it.

So he let the demon out.

And now they were all dead.

Well, except for the person sending letters and photos, threatening to expose me. Likely a security guard or neighbor his demon had missed killing.A fight for another day.

The point was that Belch’s comment summed up Damien perfectly. He was not rock solid nor trying to be a better man. Damien simply was who he was: a bad man. And sitting in a shop, making suits, would not change that.

“Maybe that explains why I keep attracting such dark, unsavory creatures into my life,” he said to Belch.

“Yeah, well, without shit, there’s no fresh air.” Belch burped in his face.

“You are vile.” Damien waved his hand in front of his face to dispel the horrid smell.

“But see?” Belch laughed. “The only reason you like fresh air so much is because it’s not a mouth fart. There is no light without dark. No joy without sorrow. No blowjobs without dirty whores. Or a new car for your wife.”

Damien frowned. “I’m not sure about that last one, but I see your point.” Belch was attempting to point out that not everyone got to be on the “right side” of the coin. Some were destined to be on the dark side of things. “But what if I don’t want to be the sorrow any longer?”

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