Free Monster in My Closet by R.L. Naquin Page A

Undaunted, Andrew stuck his hand out.
    “Nice to finally meet you, Maurice.”
    Maurice stared at the hand for a few ticks before shaking it with a delicate grip. “Nicetomeetyou,” he said, the words tumbling over each other in a rush. He released Andrew’s hand and disappeared into the house.
    I watched him go, my eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Well, that was weird. He’s usually so…outgoing. “
    Andrew’s face was thoughtful. “I used to date a guy like that. He was friendly as hell until somebody he didn’t know showed up. Then he’d clam up and wouldn’t talk to anyone. Maurice will come around. You’ll see. I’m too damn charming for him to resist me for long.” He winked.
    I looked Andrew up and down, a little surprised. I took in the yellow Polo shirt and creased designer jeans, the tone of his voice, the jewelry he was wearing. Ah. Of course. I snickered. “How the hell did you get past my gay-dar?”
    He grinned. “You’ve been a little busy. It’s not like I introduce myself that way.”
    “Well, no, but I’m glad I’ve been too preoccupied to start checking out your ass or dangling my cleavage at you. That would be humiliating.”
    “It’s okay.” He turned around, facing the driveway, hands on his hips. “Go ahead. Check out my ass.” He looked over his shoulder at me, waiting.
    I shook my head and snorted. “Yes. Very nice. You could bounce a quarter off that baby.”
    * * *
    I was unsurprised by Andrew’s steady hands and gentle treatment of the brownie family. What I didn’t expect was how quickly they took to him. He spoke with a slow, calming voice and checked their tiny bodies for bruises and scrapes. Aaron and Abby appeared to have escaped physically unscathed. Molly had cleaned up, and without the dried blood, was in much better shape than I had thought. Fred posed a problem. Not only was Andrew not a doctor, he didn’t have a mini x-ray machine on him to determine the extent of Fred’s injuries. After scrutinizing the color of Fred’s arm and making him move his fingertips and shoulder, Andrew decided to immobilize it with a scrap of cloth as a tiny sling.
    “Keep an eye on it, Molly,” he said. “If any part of it changes color, or if he doesn’t improve, call me and I’ll come right back.”
    Molly looked at her oldest son and frowned in worry. “Tell him to keep it in the sling. If you do not specifically say it, he will forget. On purpose.”
    Andrew laughed and looked at Fred. “Don’t move it until I come back and tell you to take off the sling. Deal?”
    “Deal.” Fred looked miserable. Injured pride was the emotion I was getting, not self-pity. I had the strong feeling that Fred was accustomed to taking care of his family.
    I followed Andrew to the kitchen and watched as he ground up a variety of pungent-smelling, mysterious herbs, liquids and greasy stuff.
    He made tea and poured it into a shot glass for them to dip their tiny Barbie cups into, then slathered two kinds of mystery goo on little Pepto-pink plates. I made a face as I helped him pile the smelly load on a small tray.
    “I thought Christmas Sweat Sock tea was nasty,” I said.
    Standing outside the closet, Andrew explained each item. Fred and Molly were to drink the tea for pain and for stress. The goopy stuff was a poultice, though I was clueless as to what that meant. I hadn’t seen any chicken parts go into it, so poultry and poultice must be unrelated. I, apparently, was an idiot. The brownies knew exactly what to do with the gunk.
    The one with all the leafiness to it was patted along Fred’s possibly-broken arm.
    “It should reduce swelling, and if bones are broken, it’ll help them knit faster,” Andrew said. He tied the tiny sling in place and gave Fred a cheery smile. “Better in no time, Fred.”
    Molly’s goop was a little more delicate to apply. Andrew enlisted Aaron’s tiny hands to help smear it over her black eye and along her hairline where she’d been