Page 23 of The Beast's Heart

“I’m okay.” I tell him briefly about the past week—the fact that The Beast ishere, our fight, everything.

“You didwhat?” He says of the fight. “I’m starting to think I have no idea who you are.”

I sigh, trying to brush away the hair that keeps blowing into my eyes. “You and me both.”

We talk shop a little about the children. I’m grateful to be able to draw on his experience, even more grateful when he offers to mail me some resources. I promise to check in weekly, weather permitting.

“Are you going to call your father?” he asks.

I stare off at the house, the boulder of guilt settling in my belly. “I doubt he wants to hear from me.”

“Of course he does. He’s really worried.”

“You can assure him I’m well.”

“He’d prefer to hear it from you.”

“I doubt he ever wants to speak to me again.”

Zane clicks his tongue. “You know that’s not true. You’re his golden child.”

“Was, maybe.” I swallow hard. “Uh, listen, if there’s an emergency, the foundation has satellite phones.” There are two—the bulky terminal in the ‘control room’ where Adam spends his days and where the children take calls with their therapists and social worker, and the smaller device in the office that Geoff and Meredith use for their work. “They’ve given me a pager. Anyone who needs to get hold of me can page me and then I can call back.” I give him the number, hoping he won’t need it.

“Sure…” He seems hesitant. “I suppose it won’t do any good telling you to come home?”

“None at all. Even if it weren’t for Dad… I think these children need me.”

“I had to ask.”

“I really do appreciate all this.”

“Make it up to me by staying out of trouble and not starting any more fights with your heel employer.”

“Heel?”

I can practically hear the eye roll. “Have you ever even watched wrestling?”

“I’ve watched Mal playing a wrestling video game?”

He groans. “Heels are the bad guys, the villains. And The Beast was one of the best. People loved to hate him.”

“Well, yes. The stage name says it all, doesn’t it?”

“No, not a stage name. With wrestling it’s not that clear cut. You stay in character off stage too to keep the whole fantasy conflict alive. You know it’s not a competitive sport, right? Or is this news to you too?”

“I know it’s all scripted.”

“Right. Well, the stars who rise to the top in wrestling rise because they’re really good at acting the part. If he wasn’t good at being a bad guy, he wouldn’t have built a name for himself. I really don’t think he’s someone you want to start trouble with. Just try to fly under the radar for the rest of your stay, okay?”

It starts raining on my return journey and I’m shivering by the time I hang my dripping coat on the hook by the door. I go straight to the kitchen to warm up and maybe snag a cup of coffee. Thankfully, there’s already a fire roaring in the grate. My fingers tingle as they defrost in the blissful warmth.

Ray is sitting at the big table, peeling potatoes. Geoff is seated opposite, in the middle of a story. “So I told him thanks but no thanks.”

“And then what?” Ray asks, grinning.

“I left.”

“You didn’t!”

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