Kristen Ashley - Law Man

I looked back at the group and saw Mitch was right. Mr. Pierson had his arms straight out to his sides and he was herding a sniping Mom and Aunt Lulamae toward the door with Roberta and LaTanya at his back at the same time I was wondering when Mr. Pierson became “Bob” to Mitch.

I called him Mr. Pierson because he was my boss but he was also Mr. Pierson, a father figure, like your best friend’s Dad who you wished was your Dad. But Mitch was the kind of guy who held authority not just because of his job but because of how he generally was so I didn’t suspect many men were “Mr.” anything to him but he was Detective Lawson to them. And he was a guy and Mr. Pierson was a guy and that was just the way of the world.

It hit me that Mitch was Mitch to Mr. Pierson and Mr. Pierson was Bob to Mitch because they’d formed a bond in order to protect me like they were doing just then and that whoosh went through my belly yet again.

So I whispered, “Mitch,” and his name came out heavy with meaning.

Mitch heard it and understood it and I knew he did when he said softly but quickly, “Remember what I said last night about the way it’s gonna be?”

“Yes,” I said quietly.

“Well, that’s the way it’s gonna be. I’m keepin’ you safe. Bob is dealin’ with this. You do your job, you sell mattresses, you come home, we eat chili and I deal with shit that makes you unsafe. Whatever shit that is and however you’re unsafe. You with me?”

That was a good question.

Was I with Mitch?

“Baby, you with me?” he asked into my silence.

I stared unseeing at the action in front of me, considering this question that maybe I was giving more weight than he intended it to have and then my mouth made a decision before my mind caught up.

“I’m with you, Mitch,” I whispered and it was his turn to be silent.

From his silence, I knew that he knew the weight I’d given his question.

I held my breath.

Then he ordered gently, “Go and sell mattresses.”

I pulled in breath. Then I saw the police cruiser pull up to the front door. Then I saw my mother see it and then I heard her screech, “What the fuck? Not again!”

Mitch heard it too.

“Cruiser’s there,” he muttered.

“Marabelle!” Mom shouted as the cops folded out of the car. “You call that stick up his ass cop boyfriend ‘a yours off your aunt and me.”

I took my phone away from my ear, thanked God for the first time in my life there were no customers in the store and tried to be as well-mannered as I could be when I called back, “No! And especially no if you keep saying that about him!”

“Is there a problem here?” one of the newly arrived police officers asked and Mr. Pierson strode forward nodding.

“Jesus! Can’t I talk to my own daughter?” Mom shouted.

“Stick up my ass?” Mitch asked in my ear, again sounding like he was smiling.

I closed my eyes.

“Marabelle! Get over here and talk to these cops!” Aunt Lulamae demanded.

“Mara, sweetheart, you stay right where you are. Those officers have been briefed,” Mitch ordered.

“Right,” I whispered to Mitch.

“Marabelle!” Mom shrieked.

“You okay for me to let you go or do you need me to stay on the line until they’re gone?” Mitch asked in my ear.

I opened my eyes and watched both Mom and Aunt Lulamae snapping at the officers, Mr. Pierson, Roberta and LaTanya while somewhat resisting the officers instructions and therefore they pulled out their handcuffs.

So my answer was, no. No, I was not okay for him to let me go while watching my mother and aunt get handcuffed at the same time my boss and my two best friends watched it too.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

More silence then, “You want beer or wine with chili?”

I blinked at his question as Roberta and LaTanya smiled as the officers shoved my handcuffed mother and aunt toward the doors. This happened while Mr. Pierson stared at them like he’d been talked into going to an avant-garde play he did not get and didn’t much like and I asked distractedly, “What?”

“Beer or wine with chili?” Mitch repeated.

“Um…”

“Beer goes better, baby, but you want wine, I’ll get you wine. We drank all I had last night so you gotta tell me if you want more.”

“Beer’s fine,” I told him.

“You want me to get somethin’ for dessert?”

“Uh…”

The officers were opening the backdoors to their cruiser.

“Ice cream?”

“Um…”

The officers were shoving Mom and Aunt Lulamae in.

“A frozen apple pie?”

“Uh…”

The officers were closing the doors on Mom and Aunt Lulamae.

“The kids and me could swing by Tessa’s Bakery and get cupcakes.”

I’d had those cupcakes, more than once, therefore I stated instantly, “Cupcakes.”

“Right.” And in his tone was another smile.

The officers were climbing in the front of the cruiser.

Then he said, “Got Billie another teddy bear.”

The cruiser started to pull away as I asked, “Pardon?”

“Before I went to get them from school, swung by Target, got her another teddy bear.”

I moved to the counter and put my hand on it because suddenly my legs were trembling.

And they were trembling because Mitch went out of his way and got Billie another teddy bear.

But they were also trembling because he knew I’d lied about being fine for him to let me go. And my guess was that he was a busy guy but he was still taking his time to talk to me in an attempt to divert my attention from my trailer trash relatives and the mess they were making of my life. And since he was a busy guy, I knew I was sucking more of his time with all that was going on with Billy, Billie, Bill, him bonding with Bob and instigating Operation Take out the Trash and then some.

Therefore, when I had my hand in the counter to hold myself up, I told him softly, “They’re gone.”

“Good,” he said softly back.

I pulled in a steadying breath.

Then, still talking softly, I said, “I’m okay now, Mitch.”

“Good,” he repeated, also still talking softly.

I pulled in another steadying breath.

Then I whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” he whispered back.

“I’ll see you tonight,” I told him.

“Now, that makes it worth it,” he replied, causing another belly whoosh then he said quietly, “Later, honey.”

“Bye, Mitch.”

Then I heard him disconnect.

I flipped Mr. Pierson’s phone shut and lifted my head to see my crew was all back and their eyes were on me.

I took them all in and said, “I’m so sorry. They –”

“Not another word, Mara,” Mr. Pierson cut me off firmly. I looked to him and his hand came up, his fingers curled around my bicep. He stepped in close and said gently, “Not another word, dear. Don’t think about it. Mitch and I have it all sorted.”

He held my eyes, squeezed my arm, smiled at me then let me go, carefully took his phone from my hand and walked toward the back and his office.

I turned and watched him go.

Then I turned back to see both Roberta and LaTanya staring at me.

That was when I bit my lip.

And when I bit my lip, LaTanya looked down at my mouth then up into my eyes then ordered, “Right, the juicy stuff first and that’s what’s goin’ on with you and Mitch. Then we’ll get to the Roller Derby Rejects. Now, sock it to me.”

Roller Derby Rejects.

That was funny.

And what was funnier, but not in a humorous way, was that both Roberta and LaTanya were not looking at me like I was a Roller Derby Reject or worse, stunned, shocked and disgusted at learning from whose loins I’d sprung. They were looking curious (very) and, well, like Roberta and LaTanya.

Not only that, Mr. Pierson didn’t either. He just told me he and Mitch had it sorted in a way it sounded like he was honored to be in on Operation Take out the Trash.

And so I took in another steadying breath, looked at two women who meant the world to me and my mouth made another decision before my mind caught up.

“Mitch is into me, I’m into him and I think I was switched at birth,” I announced, Roberta and LaTanya both stared at me for several seconds then they both burst out laughing.

And when they were done, I shared.

That’s right, I shared.

Some of it I had to share between dealing with customers but I shared it.

All of it.

And when I was done, they no longer looked curious but they still just looked like Roberta and LaTanya.

Two women who meant the world to me.

Mitch and I didn’t come up with different names for Operation Take out the Trash over chili, cornbread and cupcakes seeing as Mitch was helping Billy with his homework and Billie was inexplicably and unusually grumpy. This took all my attention between bites of delicious chili, cornbread and, finally, cupcake as she grumbled, griped, moaned and misbehaved.

Mitch made good chili, by the way. There were four different kinds of beans; it was spicy, meaty and flavorful but not too hot and he topped it with grated cheese that was all melty. The cornbread was awesome. And cupcakes from Tessa’s Bakery never disappointed partly because the cake was rich and moist but mostly because she always topped them with a mountainous swirl of frosting.

I decided it was Billie’s broken sleep last night that was making her grouchy and I was with her. I was tired too. Except I couldn’t be grouchy with a grouchy kid on my hands and Mitch close.

Finally, we got them ready for bed and in bed, something that was usually not a chore, they were good kids. Billy didn’t put up a fuss but Billie was whiney and recalcitrant and I was a lot more tired when I finally got her settled and, while I read to her, she dropped off, clutching her new teddy bear.

And it was after that I wandered back into Mitch’s living room to see him on the sectional, beer in hand, long legs stretched out, feet up on the huge ottoman, a baseball game on his flat screen but his neck was twisted and his eyes were on me over the back of the couch.

“She down?” he asked quietly and I was tired, worried about Billie, worried about everything else and hoping Billie got a good night’s sleep and still his question made my heart flutter.

It was simple but intimate. His concern for Billie mingled with concern for me wrapped around a familiar kind of question a father asks a mother, a husband asks a wife.

I liked it. The simplicity and intimacy of it was beautiful and it was more beautiful coming from a handsome man, a good man, a nice man who was sitting in his awesome sectional in his gorgeous living room with his eyes warm on me.

I thought all this.

But I said, “Yeah.”

Then, tired, worried, suddenly alone with Mitch, feeling weird about where I was, what I was doing and how quickly all of it happened, not to mention what Mitch had said to me that morning, I considered my options of what was next. And this was where I should sit on his sectional.

I decided the safest bet was as far away from him as possible so that was where I went. He was in the middle of one side of the sofa. I sat close to the armrest on the opposite side.

He watched me do this and his lips twitched but he didn’t move.

It wasn’t lost on me that the last time we had a moment of alone time in a living room while a baseball game was on TV, we’d ended up in a clinch. And I was tired but it was still early-ish. And lastly, going to bed meant going to his bed.

So I had to kill time and do it not ending up in a clinch.

To accomplish that, I blurted the first thing that came to mind, “You have good taste.”

“What?”

As I spoke my eyes were on the ottoman while I shifted to curl my bare feet under me and leaned against the armrest but when he asked his question, I looked at him.

“You have good taste,” I repeated and his brows went up in question so I haltingly explained, now feeling weirder, “You, um…dress really nice and your, uh…apartment is really nice too. I mean, uh…you have really nice furniture.”

To that comment he asked strangely, “You know Design Fusion?”

I tipped my head to the side and asked back, “The store in Cherry Creek North?”

“Yep,” he answered.

“Yes,” I answered.