Law Man

Chapter Three Messes

It was a week after the Mitch Incident.

My candles were lit and I was lying on my couch listening to my Chill Out at Home Premier Edition, the first of the Chill Out playlists I’d created. Al Green was singing “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” and I was doing nothing but listening to him sing and drinking a glass of red wine.

I didn’t know if Mitch had come over Sunday night because I wrapped up my pizza and took it to work. I put it in the fridge in the break room and took it to Roberta’s after work. I cooked it in her oven and both Roberta and I managed to eat a piece before her children decimated it. I hung out with Roberta watching action movies until it was way late and I needed to get home before I was too tired to operate a motor vehicle.

Incidentally, this proved my pizza kept prior to baking.

Roberta asked about pizza with Mitch mainly because she was curious but also because it didn’t bode well she was eating Mitch’s pizza. I told her that Mitch hadn’t been able to make it. She looked about as disappointed as I felt.

Okay, maybe not that disappointed. Since I felt the need to scan newspaper ads to find an apartment somewhere on the other side of Denver from the one in which I lived across the breezeway from Mitch. But not before I became an alcoholic in order to numb the pain.

But she did look really disappointed.

Luckily, I’d worked the next two days and found reasons to get home later than normal. Both nights this effort proved unnecessary as his SUV wasn’t there when I got home.

Wednesday, however, I was off and that night at five thirty there came a knock on my door. I went to the door and looked through the peephole to see Mitch standing outside. He didn’t look happy. He looked impatient and maybe a little angry. When I kept looking and he kept looking angrier, I stopped looking and put my forehead to the door again. He knocked again. I didn’t move or make a noise.

He stopped knocking and when I pulled in a breath and chanced a look through the peephole, he was gone.

There was no more from Mitch. He didn’t come back even though for the next three nights when I got home, later than normal each time, his SUV was in the parking lot.

It was now Sunday, my day off. Since I ran all my weekly errands after work, I could hole myself up in my apartment, clean, putter around and avoid even the possibility of running into Mitch. I also avoided the phone that day and the many times throughout the week that Brent and Bradon and LaTanya (who, clearly, B and/or B told about Mitch and pizza) had phoned, left messages and texted – all asking about Mitch.

I definitely had to move.

On that thought, my phone rang and I really wanted to ignore it but I didn’t. It might be Lynette and I could use talking to Lynette. I’d known her since seventh grade. She’d get it about Mitch. She wouldn’t agree with it but she’d get it. I was toying with calling her anyway. We talked once a week at least and we were due.

When I got to my phone, I saw my caller ID on my house phone said Stop ‘n’ Go - Zuni.

I felt my brows draw together at the same time I felt my heart speed up. I picked up the phone, beeped it on and put it to my ear hoping B and B or LaTanya hadn’t headed out to some Stop ‘n’ Go to wangle a conversation with me. I was hoping more that whatever it was wasn’t about Billy and Billie.

“Hello,” I greeted.

“This Mara?” a gruff male voice asked.

“Um…yes,” I answered.

“You know some kids named Billy and Billie?”

I felt panic seize my chest.

Just as I feared, it was about Billy and Billie, my stupid, lame, petty criminal cousin Bill’s kids.

Bill had followed me out to Denver which was something I didn’t need. When we were kids, I loved Bill. He was fun and funny and we got on great. When he got older, he wasn’t so easy to love. Mainly because the way he had fun and the way he dragged me into it and got me into trouble was no longer so great. He’d never stopped liking hanging with me. I’d stopped liking hanging with him. I left Iowa to escape my crazy Mom (whose sister was Bill’s crazy Mom) but also to escape Bill and his antics. Unfortunately, Bill followed me.

Also unfortunately, in the ensuing years, Bill had two kids with two different women. Both women wisely took off. Both women were the kind of women that when they took off, they left their kids behind. Which were precisely the kinds of women with whom Bill would hook up.

So Bill had Billy, his son who was nine. And also Billerina, his daughter who was six. Yes, he named his daughter Billerina. Seriously, he was stupid, lame, a petty criminal, a joke and so much of all of these he didn’t realize he was also cruel. Bill called her Billie, thinking it was funny because he was stupid, lame and not very funny.

I loved those kids and I spent as much time with them as I could. They were the reason I was able to get home late twice that week since I went to go visit them.

Unfortunately this time came with spending time with Bill. But I loved them enough to put up with their father. Seeing as I was the only solid adult in their life whose love came unconditionally and without a shitload of dysfunction attached to it, they loved me.

Also seeing as Bill was the idiot to beat all idiots, sometimes shit happened and during those times, I was always dragged in. I didn’t want Bill’s shit hitting the fan and splattering his kids. Unfortunately shit was happening more frequently lately and my normal concern was escalating to panic.

“Yes,” I answered the gruff voice.

“You their Ma?” he asked.

“No…I’m a family friend,” I answered. “Are they okay?”

“The boy said you’re his guardian. You his guardian?” the gruff voice asked.

“Um…yes,” I lied. “Um…we, uh…got separated –”

“Right, whatever. You need to come get ‘em. They’re hungry. Stop ‘n’ Go. Zuni.”

Then he hung up.

I closed my eyes. Then I beeped the phone off and flew into action.

Billy and Billie ran away a lot. Well, Billy did and he took his sister with him.

Billy had somehow managed to get himself a smart gene in the gene cesspool he’d been offered. At nine, he knew the life he’d been born into was not a safe life to live. Maybe he got this gene from me for I’d also figured my shitty life out early (around the age of four) and felt the same way. Billy had also somehow managed to get himself a loyal and sweet gene which meant he took care of his sister.

Billie had managed to get mostly adorable little girl genes. Which apparently were strong and coated you with Teflon so that your shitty life could bounce off you and you could only see the wonders of the world. She thought I was wonderful. She thought her father was wonderful. But mostly she thought her brother was wonderful.

Two out of three weren’t bad.

I blew out the candles, turned off the music, grabbed my purse and hightailed it out of my apartment. I was rushing hell bent for leather, my head down, my mind consumed with this problem.

This was the fourth time in half as many months that Billy had tried to run away taking Billie with him. In other words, Billy’s great escapes were escalating. Something was not right in the Bill, Billy and Billie household, more than the normal not right. It was becoming clear that I was going to need to wade in. I didn’t want to wade in with Bill. Wading in with Bill meant that shit might get stuck to me. But I couldn’t leave Billy and Billie in a situation that was worse than the normal not right. The normal not right was already pretty freaking bad.

“Whoa, Mara, Jesus!” I heard right before I slammed into Detective Mitch Lawson near to the top of the stairs.

He went down two steps, me going with him. He threw his arm out and grabbed the railing. I was moving so fast I couldn’t stop so my body collided with his. To steady myself my hands automatically lifted to clutch his shirt at his chest. His other arm wrapped tight around my waist. He managed to stop us from both tumbling backwards down the steps to possibly break bones or crack open skulls when we hit the cement sidewalk.

When we teetered to a stop, I looked up at him.

Nope, a week away and he was no less gorgeous. Indeed, that close, he was even more gorgeous than ever.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said again, trying to take a step back.

His arm around my waist tightened and not just a little, a lot. So much that even though my torso was already resting against him from chest to belly this tightening made it so my torso was plastered against him from chest to hips.

“What’s the hurry?” he asked.

“I…” I hesitated not wanting to share anything with him. But I really did not want to share that I had a hick, stupid, lame, petty criminal for a cousin. And I further did not want to share Bill was the definition of Not A Great Father whose kids I had to rescue again. “Need to be somewhere,” I decided to say.

His eyes moved over my face and their movement was doing funny things to my belly at the same time my heart was tripping over itself due to our proximity. This was because I’d just discovered his body felt as hard and muscled as it looked while my two precious second cousins were hungry at a Stop ‘n’ Go.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Fine, I just need to be somewhere.”

“Your face doesn’t say everything is fine,” he replied.

“It is,” I lied again.

“It isn’t,” he returned.

I stopped clutching his shirt and pushed against his hard chest.

“Really, Mitch, I have to go,” I told him.

“Where?”

“I need to pick something up.”

“What?”

I stopped pushing and glared at him, beginning to lose my temper mainly because the gruff voiced guy said Billy and Billie were hungry.

“Would you let me go? I’ve got to be somewhere.”

“I’ll let you go when you tell me where you’ve got to be and why your face is pale and you look freaked.”

I lost a bit more of my temper. “It’s none of your business,” I said. “Really, let me go.”

His arm gave me a squeeze and his face changed from looking kind of curious and definitely alert to still definitely alert and kind of pissed.

“Four years, I see you and every time I see you, you’re in your own world. Goin’ to work, comin’ home with groceries or from the mall. You’re never in a rush but you’re always in your head and I can see that’s a decent place to be.”

I blinked at him, shocked he paid that much attention.

“Now you’re sprinting down the stairs, not lookin’ where you’re goin’ when you’re always careful to look where you’re goin’ and you’re in your head but wherever you are in there, it is far from a decent place to be.” I was still staring up at him but now unblinking and I felt my lips had parted. He went on, “You got a problem?”

“I –” I started to lie but stopped when his arm gave me another squeeze, pressing the breath out of me.

“And don’t lie,” he warned.

I took in a breath. Then I thought of the kids. Then I decided I probably shouldn’t lie because clearly, I was right about police detectives. Even though he didn’t know me, he had finely honed skills where he could totally figure me out and know when I was lying. He wasn’t going to let me go until I told him the truth. And I needed him to let me go for a variety of reasons.

“Family problems,” I explained honestly.

“Bad?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Annoying.”

That was a fib rather than a lie since I wasn’t certain it was bad. I just figured it was getting there.

“You need me to come with you?” he offered.

“No!” I blurted too fast and too loudly and on a desperate pull against his arm that made him give me another squeeze keeping me right where I was.

When I calmed enough to register the look on his face I realized my mistake. I should have kept cool and paid attention to him. Close attention. For he still looked very alert, he now looked very pissed and he’d added a narrow-eyed, alert, angry disbelief which I knew for sure was not a good addition.

“Now, sweetheart,” he said in a soft, dangerous voice, “I’m thinkin’ you just lied to me.”

Oh boy.

Mental note: if given the chance again, never but never lie to Detective Mitch Lawson.

“Not really,” I evaded (not a lie). “This happens sometimes.”

“What happens?” he asked and I figured he was good at his job, especially in the interrogation rooms.

“I have a cousin, he’s…well, he’s kind of a mess and he’s got two kids. I’m close with his kids and sometimes I need to…” I searched for a word, found it and said, “Intervene.”

“What kind of mess is he?” he asked.

“What kinds are there?” I asked back.

“Lots of kinds,” he answered.

“He’s all those,” I answered too.

He studied me. Then he muttered, “Shit.”

I took in a breath, put minor pressure on my hands at his chest and whispered carefully, “Mitch, I really need to get to the kids.”

He studied me again. Then he said, “Right.”

Finally he let me go and stepped down another step. Again I felt that crush of disappointment at the same time I felt relief.

I felt these for about half a second. Then his hand curled around mine and he tugged me down the stairs toward his SUV.

I followed because if I didn’t, the determined way he was moving, I knew he’d start dragging me.

“Um…Mitch?” I called, he lifted his other hand and I saw the lights and heard the beep of his locks opening on his SUV.

Oh boy.

“Mitch?” I called again as he led me to the passenger side.

He didn’t answer. He pulled me around the door and opened it.

“Uh…Mitch,” I said again and he used his hand in mine to maneuver me into the door.

Then he spoke.

“Climb up.”

I twisted to look up at him. “But, I –”

Mitch cut me off, “Climb up.”

“I think that I –”

Suddenly he was in my space and there wasn’t a lot of it seeing as he was a big guy and we were wedged between his truck and the door. I had to put my hands up again in an automatic effort to fend him off. But they only made it to his (rock hard, by the way) abs before his face was all I could see and my body, heart and lungs all stilled as I stared into his eyes.

“Mara, climb…the fuck…up.”

Oh boy.

I was in trouble and I was in trouble because Detective Mitch Lawson, close, pissed off and bossy was hot.

“I can take care of this on my own,” I assured him. “I’ve done it before.”

“I’m a cop,” he announced suddenly.

“I know,” I told him.

“I know you know. What you might not know is I’ve been a cop a long time. That means I know all the kinds of messes people can be. You’re not a cop,” he informed me. “So, you tellin’ me your cousin is all the kinds of messes you know means he’s probably all the kinds of messes I know and there is no fuckin’ way I’m lettin’ you get in your car and drive into a mess. Now, Mara, climb…the…fuck…up.”

“Okay,” I agreed instantly because close, pissed off, bossy Detective Mitch Lawson was also pretty freaking scary.

He slammed the door behind me. I buckled up as he rounded the hood and swung up beside me. He’d backed out and we were motoring forward when he spoke again.

“Where are we goin’?”

“The Stop ‘n’ Go on Zuni.”

Mitch nodded and guided us through the complex.

Mitch and I lived in a middle income apartment complex east of Colorado Boulevard. It had a fantastic pool, clubhouse and gym. All of the people who rented units in our complex, along with all of the people who owned the built very close together, middle income homes in the gated community across the street, used these as an added benefit to their HOA.

Our complex was known throughout Denver as the singles hotspot of apartment complexes and I had to admit, it was kind of the truth. Rent was high enough to keep out the riffraff. Everyone who lived there was a professional working their way up the ladder or someone who did pretty well at whatever their job was and got paid pretty well to do it. The complex was attractive, attractively laid out and attractively landscaped. It was a haven for the active suburban single. The greenbelt and creek had jogging-slash-bike trails, plus stations where they had sturdy equipment that you could do decline sit ups, pull ups and stuff like that. The pool had a gorgeous, nearly unfettered view of the Front Range. It also had two hot tubs, the clubhouse bar was close and you could drink around the pool. All highly conducive to the singles scene.

Since what normally happened was that you hooked up with someone while in the apartment complex (as B and B and LaTanya and Derek did), lived with them there then moved to the housing development across the street when you got married, the community was also kind of incestuous. If you lived there long enough, everyone knew you and you knew everyone.

I didn’t move there to be a single in a singles nirvana. I moved there because I liked the look of the place. It was quiet, close to the mall and downtown, the apartments were spacious and the units had lots of green space between them. I also moved there because I loved pools and had a freakish need to be tan for as long as I possibly could be, weather permitting. Me tan slid me up to a Three Point Five, or at least I fancied it did.

“You wanna tell me what we’re walkin’ into here?” Mitch broke into my thoughts to ask a pertinent question.

“My cousin’s name is Bill,” I answered. “And he has a nine year old son and a six year old daughter and their names are Billy and Billie. Billy, the boy, with a ‘y’ and Billie, the girl, with an ‘ie’.”

I felt Mitch’s eyes on me before I felt them leave me and he flipped on the turn signal.

“You aren’t laughing,” he remarked after he’d turned out of the complex and I’d said no more.

“I’m not laughing because it isn’t funny and it isn’t funny because I’m not joking,” I replied.

“Shit,” he muttered, already knowing exactly what kind of mess Bill was.

And Mitch was right. Bill, Billy and Billie’s names said it all.

“Anyway, Bill isn’t a great Dad so occasionally Billy packs up Billie and they run away. They usually don’t go very far and once they get there, they talk someone into calling me. I go get them. We have a chat. I get them food because their Dad doesn’t remember to feed them. I take them back to their Dad. Then I have a chat with Bill, leave and come home.”

This was most of it, not all of it. I didn’t share that every time I left, I considered kidnapping my cousin’s kids. I also considered a phone call to Child Protective Services. And lately, I considered that I lamented the fact that I hadn’t kicked their drunk, stupid, lame Dad’s ass before I left.

“So they ran away, they’re at the Stop ‘n’ Go and they called you,” Mitch deduced.

“Yep.”

“Where’s their Mom?”

“Moms, plural and they’re both long gone.”

Mitch had no reply to that.

I decided since he’d been pretty angry and I wasn’t certain if he was still angry but I was guessing he was that I would share a little more. Maybe being forthcoming would shear the edge of his anger.

“They have no family in Denver and Bill is my only family here so I’m their only family here. That’s why they call me.”

“That isn’t why they call you,” Mitch returned immediately and I turned my head to look at him.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“That isn’t why they call you,” Mitch repeated.

“I heard what you said,” I told him. “I just don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, you’re a brother and sister with two different Moms, both who took off, a Dad that’s such a mess at nine years old you’re runnin’ away and your Dad’s cousin is a woman whose smile lights up her whole face and her laugh ignites a room, you want that in your life. So you run away and call her in hopes that she’s gonna give you that light and warmth to fill your life.”

I stared at his profile as he drove and I felt my heart beating in my throat but my stomach had clenched so hard I found I couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t recall ever smiling at him, not a real, unabashed smile and I definitely never laughed around him.

“I’ve never laughed around you,” I blurted stupidly.

He glanced at me then back at the road before saying, “Sweetheart, you’re with Brent and Bradon or LaTanya and Derek, I can hear it through the walls.”

Ohmigod!

“So you’re saying I have a loud laugh,” I noted.

“No,” he said with what sounded like extreme patience. “What I’m sayin’ is you have a gorgeous laugh. I’ve heard it. I like it.”

Ohmigod!

That couldn’t true. He was just being nice and since I couldn’t deal with him being nice…er we needed to move on.

“My smile doesn’t light up my whole face. It’s wonky,” I informed him.

“It isn’t wonky.”

“It is.”

“Mara, it isn’t. You don’t smile at me like you mean it because you’re always too freaked out to let yourself go. But I’ve seen you at Derek and LaTanya’s smiling like you mean it. I’ll take your smiles even when you don’t let yourself go because they work really fuckin’ well. But I’ll tell you, when you let yourself go, they’re fuckin’ fantastic.”

I forced my eyes to look ahead and I forced my brain to find an explanation for this madness.

“You’re just being nice,” I whispered.

“I’m a nice guy,” he agreed. “But I’m not bein’ nice. I’m bein’ real. And now what I’d like to know is why every time I give you a compliment, you freak out and twist it into something bad.”

“I don’t do that,” I denied.

“I told you, you had good taste in music and you immediately jumped to the conclusion that it annoyed me because you played it too loud. How do you go from someone saying you have good taste in music to it being a complaint about you playin’ it too loud?”

I had to admit that sounded absurd.

“Um…” I mumbled.

“Same with your laugh. I say I like it, you take it as me sayin’ it’s too loud.”

He needed to quit talking.

“You need to quit talking,” I blurted and wished I could clap my hands over my mouth because I sounded like a fool.

I should have lied to him earlier. I should have kicked him in the shin and run away. I shouldn’t be in his SUV with him. I shouldn’t be anywhere near him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I bet you need that.”

My head jerked to face him. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he asked, “Why’d you stand me up on Sunday?”

Uh-oh.

“I didn’t stand you up.”

He glanced at me again and I felt his anger, which had dissipated, start to fill the cab again.

He looked back to the road and said, “Mara, we had plans. Pizza at seven thirty.”

I looked back to the road too and said, “I don’t really want to talk about this.”

“Yeah, I bet you need that too.”

I ignored what he said and told him, “I need to focus on what I’m going to do with Billy and Billie and what I’m going to say to Bill.”

“Yeah, I know, you need that too. You need to focus on anything other than what’s goin’ on with you.”

I fought back the urge to clamp my hands over my ears and chant “la la la” and decided to stay silent.

“Why’d you stand me up?” he repeated into the void.

“I didn’t. You said you were coming over but I didn’t agree.”

“You stood me up.”

“I didn’t.”

“Mara you did and you did it, essentially, twice.”

My head jerked to face him again and I snapped, “No, I didn’t!”

He shook his head and muttered, “Jesus, you got your head so far up your ass it’s a wonder you can breathe.”

“Pardon?” I hissed.

“You heard me.”

“Yes,” I bit out. “I did and what you said was not very nice.”

“No, baby, it wasn’t but it was the fuckin’ truth.”

Was I sitting in Detective Mitch Lawson’s SUV fighting with him? Two Point Fives didn’t fight with Ten Point Fives. It was against all the laws of the universe. How did this happen?

“I don’t have my head up my ass!” I snapped somewhat loudly.

“You live in a whole different world,” he retorted.

“Do not!”

“Oh yeah, sweetheart, you do.”

I crossed my arms on my chest, looked forward and announced, “Well I’m glad to know you can be a jerk. It’s easier to deal with a hot guy who’s a jerk than it is to deal with one who’s unnaturally nice.”

Of course I sounded like a fool but I didn’t care. I always sounded like a fool and anyway, he’d told me I had my head up my ass. What did I care that he thought I was a fool?

“Finally, I’m getting somewhere,” Mitch returned. “All I gotta do is be a dick to you, you let go and a little of that Mara Light shines through. What now, Mara? I keep bein’ a dick to you, you let me get my hands down your pants and the only way I can keep that privilege is continue to treat you like shit? Then eventually you’ll kick me to the curb and it’s a self-fulfilling prophesy that all men are dicks? Is that how it goes so you can retreat into that cocoon you’ve built around you and rest safe in the knowledge that you’re makin’ all the right moves?”

My head swung to face him again. I was breathing heavily because he was, indeed, being a dick and he’d intimated he wanted to get his hands down my pants, which was insane.

“Are you insane?” I asked with my voice pitched high.

“This is what I know. I’m nice to you, you’re scared as shit, you barely speak without ums and uhs and at one point you ran away from me, literally. I’m a dick; you got no problems communicating with me. Is that an insane conclusion?” he asked, shook his head at the windshield and answered his own question. “Fuck no.”

“Can you explain exactly why you were so all fired up to take me to Billy and Billie? Is it so you could be an asshole about not getting to taste my pizza?” I asked acidly and with very bad timing.

We’d come to stop at a red light which meant he could turn his full attention to me. This he did, with his arm draped on the steering wheel and his eyes locked to mine.

Then he said, “I hope I got a little window into Mara World and this gets through because it’s really fuckin’ important,” he growled, at least as angry as I was, maybe angrier. “I don’t want to taste your pizza, Mara. I don’t give that first fuck about your pizza. Clue the fuck in, sweetheart, before you wake up at eighty-five years old and wonder where your life has gone.”

I stared at him, or more like glared at him and shot back loudly, angrily and with a fair amount of exasperation, “Then why’d you make such a big freaking deal about the pizza?” I hesitated then finished on a near shout, “Twice?”

He glared back at me and his glare was pretty scary. Luckily I was so angry I didn’t care.

Then he closed his eyes, turned his head away and muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

I faced forward and informed him, “The light’s green.”

I heard him pull in a deep breath.

Then we were moving forward.