Page 5 of Filthy and the Beast

“You okay there, slugger?” Reggie asks, because yeah, I’m still gaping.

“My fucking back,” I grumble, eyes on the floor. “Come in.”

“Just thought I’d drop Damian off, make sure you got settled together.” Still supporting my back, Reggie guides me forward. I hate needing the help, but at least I can take more than baby steps this way. “And of course I’ll be by every few days to run your stretches with you.”

“Whoa, this place is huge.” Stepping by my side, Damian talks fast as he looks around the century-old mansion, gazing at the high ceilings, wooden furniture, and framed photos and newspaper articles from my long-dead boxing career. “Like, really huge. Probably the biggest house I’ve ever been in. And was there a garden in the back or something? You’ve lived here a long time? All by yourself?”

I squint down at him. After a long pause, I grunt out an answer. “Dogs.”

“Dogs!” Damian echoes, excited. “Reggie said. I’ve always wanted to get dogs, but my moms are cat people. Once I moved out, I was living in the dorms, and then in apartments. And you know how landlords are. Plus, it is a lot of responsibility. What are their names? What kind are they? I bet big ones, right?” He glances down the corridor, toward the heavy door leading to my quarters. “Are they back there?”

I frown. “That is off-limits.”

Reggie clears his throat. “I think he means to say you’ll stay in the guest quarters. And the dogs are probably in the garden, right?”

“Garden. Yeah.”

My head pounds, the pain creeping from my spine to my skull. I nevertryto act like an asshole. But I’m a man of few words. If Damian is going to live and work here, he’ll have to put up with that.

Wonder what’s in his suitcases. Would he have brought stuff to make cupcakes?

No. That’s ridiculous. No one would put groceries in a suitcase.

Fuck, my whole body hurts.

Leaning against the dining room table and shaking Reggie off, I try again. “Guest quarters.” I point at the stairs leading to the unused wing of the house. “Garden.” I point to the rear. “There’s a small kitchen upstairs, but help yourself to this one. Someone comes on Mondays to clean.”

There. That’s better. My niece Nat will be glad to know I was welcoming for once. She’s always pushing me to make friends.

“I’ll holler if I need you for something,” I grumble. “And don’t go in there,” I add again for good measure, gesturing toward my quarters.

Damian puffs his cheeks, then purses his lips and blows out his breath. “Okay, cool. Got it. Dogs in the garden, nothing to see behind the mysterious door, and I don’t have to worry about cleaning up after myself.” He laughs warmly. “Just kidding! I’m pretty tidy, all things considered. And Reggie explained. I, like, help you out when you yell. Get stuff for you, offer my arm if you fall. He taught me how to stabilize my weight to support you. Sponge baths?”

My nostrils flare as Reggie laughs. “He’s joking about the sponge baths.”

I grunt. “Right.”

While he talks, Damian keeps looking around. His eyes are big and shiny behind his glasses.

Distracting.

“And don’t worry about playing nice for me. I know you won’t anyway. Reggie explained you come across like ayou know what, but you wouldn’t hurt anyone. And I trust Reggie. He’s a really good judge of character. He can sniff people out.”

I don’t know what to say, so I turn to Reggie.

He shrugs. “I’m kind of like a dog in that way.”

“Hey, you never told me about the dogs.” Damian's words speed up again. “You probably can’t walk them now, right? Feed them and stuff? I know this gig doesn’t require me to help take care of them for you, at least not exactly, but trust me, it would be my pleasure.”

I would never trust another person with my girls.Never.

But theydoneed their exercise. Though the garden is big enough to run around, after only a day, they’re already getting bored.

Eyeing my pasta all morning from their spots on the rug.

Dog food bags are so damn heavy, too.

I try to think through the pain, but I can’t come up with a compromise. Instead, I mumble, “Guard dogs.”

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