Law Man Page 8

  I moved into her, kissed her forehead then exited the bed and went to my bathroom, yesterday evening playing out in my head.

  Suffice it to say things at Bill’s did not go well. In fact, they went worse than I could have imagined because things at Bill’s were worse than I ever imagined.

  This was not because I lost it or Bill lost it when I shared with him that I intended to get custody of his kids. Though he did lose it but not because I told him I intended to take his kids from him.

  This was because Mitch lost it. I knew I didn’t want him to know about Bill, Billy and Billie and how all that reflected on me and him losing it only proved I was very, very right.

  Even so, this had been surprising. I didn’t know Mitch very well but I’d seen him get angry. I’d heard him get angry. And he could be a jerk when he was angry.

  Then again, I didn’t know just how bad things were at Bill’s.

  And they were bad.

  You see when we walked into Bill’s, he was on the couch and he was high as a kite. His eyes were glassy, his body limp and his limbs not in his control. There was an open bottle of half-drunk vodka next to some drug paraphernalia on the dirty, cluttered coffee table in front of him.

  I stared at my cousin, frozen in shock. I’d never seen him like this. I’d seen him drunk, of course. I’d even seen him drunk around his kids, though infrequently. I’d also seen him high, back in the day, and guessed he still partook but my guess was he partook of weed. Not what would necessitate him having the kind of drug paraphernalia he had right then. I’d never seen him high like this and definitely not high around his kids

  He didn’t hide his liquor from me or his kids which was something I didn’t like. I knew how weird and uncomfortable it was seeing a parent drink all the time, drink until they were fall down, crazy, stupid and sometimes mean drunk. And I didn’t want that for Billy and Billie. But it wasn’t illegal and to my knowledge it didn’t happen very often.

  I’d never seen the drug paraphernalia. Not ever.

  Seeing Bill sitting on his couch getting stoned, not worrying that his kids were gone and not out searching high and low for them but instead getting drunk and high pissed me off to no end.

  Also, I’d tidied their house that week, twice, and it looked like it hadn’t been picked up or cleaned in the last decade. How it could go from relatively clean and tidy to a disaster in a few days was beyond me but it did. The proof was spread out before me.

  But I couldn’t think about any of this. I had to think of the kids who I didn’t want to see this. So I turned to them saying, “Kids, go to your room.”

  To this Billy, his eyes on his Dad, his lips in a mini-nine year old kid sneer, replied, “This is no big deal. We’ve seen this before, Auntie Mara. We see it like, all the time.”

  I froze again for half a second at learning this knowledge before my eyes moved to Billie to see she didn’t seem overly perturbed by the state of her Dad. Although she was standing very close to her brother in a way that it appeared she was seeking some sort of protection. The only hint she gave that she was uncomfortable was her ankle twisted to the side and her little girl hand was clenched in her brother’s. I turned back to my cousin and on my turn I saw that Mitch was examining Billy and Billie and his jaw was rock hard.

  Then Mitch, too, turned back to Bill and growled in a voice that sent a chill up my spine, “Your kids are gone, you got no food in the house but you can get your hands on smack and vodka?”

  Bill blinked up at Mitch then blinked at me then grinned a wonky (not adorable) grin and slurred, “Hey, beautiful Mara.”

  “Bill –” I started but Mitch interrupted me.

  “Get their shit,” he ordered tersely, my head whipped to him and that was when I noticed he was losing it. He was holding on but only by a thread. I knew this because it wasn’t only his jaw that was rock hard, his entire face was.

  “Pardon?” I whispered cautiously.

  He was digging into his back jeans pocket but his eyes never left Bill when he said to me, “Get their shit.”

  “Mitch –” I began and his gaze sliced to me.

  “Get their shit,” he snarled. “All of it.”

  He then pulled out his phone and I thought maybe I should make an effort to tame the suddenly savage beast.

  “Maybe while I talk with Bill, you could help them –” I started to suggest and Mitch leaned into me and I stopped speaking because at that moment the thread on his control snapped and he roared, “Mara, get their shit!”

  I blinked in the face of his anger as my heart stuttered in my chest.

  I thought this was my scene, my struggle, my fight and Mitch was along for the ride. What I realized in that moment, staring in the face of his fury was that I was not in control of this situation and there was no way I was going to gain control. No way at all.

  That was why I whispered, “Okay, Mitch.”

  He flipped his phone open with sharp, angry movements, holding his entire body tense while he did it like if he didn’t he wouldn’t be responsible for what his body would do.

  Then he hit some buttons as Bill said on a wince, “Dude, keep it down. What the fuck?”

  “Shut your mouth,” Mitch ground out, eyes to his phone, face hard.

  Bill looked to me. “Who’s this fuckin’ guy and what’s his fuckin’ problem?”

  “Right now, I’m your problem, assclown,” Mitch bit off, his eyes cutting to Bill.

  I glanced at Billy and Billie. Billie was staring wide-eyed at the proceedings. Billy was fighting back a grin.

  Oh boy.

  Maybe I should try to gain control of the situation.

  “Mitch,” I said, sidling closer to him, “maybe you should –”

  I didn’t finish again because his eyes cut to me again and he asked on a dangerous whisper, “What’d I tell you to do?”

  I stared up at him frozen to the spot. Okay, that answered that. Mitch was in charge.

  I nodded and turned to the kids. “All right guys. Let’s go get your stuff.” I moved to them. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Billy grinned at me then tugged his sister’s hand and they moved down the hall. They shared a room which was okay for now considering their ages but it was just okay. Billy was getting old enough he needed his own space and it wouldn’t be long before it was borderline inappropriate for a brother and sister to share a room.

  I wondered what the rent on the three-bedroom townhouses at the complex was as I searched for some kind of luggage or bags. Though I knew this would be fruitless as I knew there were none and I was right. They didn’t even have garbage bags, something I discovered upon tidying one of the million times I tidied. I always meant to remember to buy some and, being me and being a dork, I always forgot.

  I found a load of plastic grocery bags (Bill clearly not the kind of person to worry about the environment). By the time we filled these with Billy and Billie’s not so abundant collection of clothes, shoes and toys, I found they barely had any soap or shampoo. I added a quick pit stop to the store on my evening’s agenda. Then we trudged out to the living room carrying the bags only to find there were two police officers in the room.

  “You brought a cop here!” Bill shouted when the kids and I hit the room and I looked at my cousin to see he’d lost his drugged lethargy. He was pacing agitatedly and awkwardly while he eyed the cops and me.

  “Bill –” I started.

  “Mara,” Mitch called and I stopped talking and looked to him. He was holding out his keys. “Load up the truck.”

  “But –” I began again.

  “I can’t believe you brought a fuckin’ cop here!” Bill yelled, he was up but his coordination was not so good and he was mostly fumbling around. I didn’t figure he was much of a threat, what with him being drunk and high and three cops being in the room.

  “I’ll deal with this,” Mitch caught my attention. “Load up the truck.”

  My eyes went to the uniformed police officers before goin
g to Mitch. I was thinking this was not good. Bill was an idiot but he was my cousin and he was the kids’ Dad. There was good in him somewhere, I knew it. I just needed to stop screwing around living in denial and find a way to jumpstart him by pulling out the good so he could get himself sorted. I needed to remind him how we used to talk about how we wanted our lives to be and how we’d dreamed and schemed of making them something better. I just needed to make sure Billy and Billie were safe while Bill sorted himself out and I was thinking my plans might be foiled if Bill was thrown into jail because of me.

  “I think –” I started to say to Mitch.

  His eyes narrowed before he clipped, “Baby, load up the fuckin’ truck.”

  The uniformed police officers were both studying me with what appeared to be weirdly intense interest but I was again frozen in the face of Mitch’s fury. It was then that Billy moved forward, calmly grabbed Mitch’s keys and headed to the door carrying four bags full of clothes and shoes. Billie followed her brother.

  There it was again. I was not in charge.

  Damn.

  I glanced at Bill and followed Billie.

  After the first round I made the kids sit in the truck while I got the rest of their stuff. When I opened the door and walked in, Bill was ranting, flailing and struggling with the police officers. He did this while Mitch glared at him, his phone to his ear, his other hand to his hip. I scurried through the house to go and grab some more bags.

  On trip three, the last of the trips, I heard Mitch say in his phone, “Give me a second.” Then he called, “Mara,” and I looked at him. “That it?” he asked, dipping his head to the bags I was carrying.

  I nodded.

  “Don’t come back,” he ordered. “Stay in the truck with the kids.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “You freakin’ bitch!” Bill shouted at me. I tried not to look at him but I had to look at him so I looked at him to see he was cuffed and sitting on his couch, bouncing clumsily around. His eyes were shooting daggers at me. “You freakin’ bitch!”

  “Mara, out to the truck,” Mitch demanded.

  “I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” Bill yelled. “My fuckin’ family. Flesh and blood! You bitch!”

  “Out to the truck, Mara, now,” Mitch clipped.

  “Fuck you, Mara!” Bill screamed at me. “Fuck you! You just bought yourself trouble, you bitch!”

  I looked at Bill and explained, “Bill, they haven’t eaten all day.”

  “I’ll fuck with you!” he shouted.

  “Mara, out to the truck,” Mitch ordered but I ignored him.

  “Somewhere inside you, you have to know they deserve better. You know how you’re making them feel. You know you don’t want to make them feel that way,” I said softly to my cousin.

  “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Bill yelled loudly to me.

  “They’ve been gone for hours. They came in, Bill, and you didn’t even look at them. Now you’re not even asking about them,” I pointed out and Bill scowled at me.

  Mitch started toward me with a warning, “Mara.”

  My head jerked to him then I looked to my cousin who was glaring at me, too far gone to let anything penetrate. Then I nodded and turned to the door.

  And as I walked out the door, I heard Bill shriek, “You’ll regret this, you bitch! You’ll regret it! I swear to fuckin’ Christ you’ll fuckin’ regret this!”

  I closed my eyes hard and walked swiftly to Mitch’s truck luckily making it there mostly blind.

  Mitch came out before the officers led Bill out and we were away.

  “Everyone okay?” Mitch asked into the silent cab when we’d made it to Speer Boulevard.

  “Oh yeah,” Billy answered with a smile in his voice which made me feel slightly better.

  “I’m okay,” Billie answered uncertainly which made that slightly better fade away.

  I stared out the side window. I was terrified out of my head for a lot of reasons and wondering what on earth I was going to do next.

  “Mara?” Mitch called.

  I kept staring out the side window, focused on my terror.

  Mitch’s fingers curled around my knee and squeezed. “Sweetheart?”

  “I’m okay,” I lied to the window.

  We got home and Mitch and Billy unloaded the truck while Billie and me (well, mostly me), separated darks, lights and whites before we started loading up the washer.

  When they had it all in, I announced, “Billy, you’re in the second bedroom. I’ll pull out the futon later. Billie, you’re with me.”

  “Yippee!” Billie cried, that Teflon fortress clearly having clamped tight around her and life was no longer scary and uncertain, it was wonderful again. She was on an adventure, on Billie vacation. She’d always liked visiting her Auntie Mara’s house.

  I ignored Mitch who scared me normally but his behavior at Bill’s scared me more than normally and continued my pronouncements.

  “Before we deal with sleeping arrangements, we have to go to the drugstore.” I turned to Mitch. In an effort to dismiss him politely from his self-appointed duties, I told his shoulder, “Thanks for everything. Uh…we’ll talk tomorrow?”

  “What do you need at the drugstore?” Mitch asked and my eyes slid to his.

  “We’re okay now,” I assured him. “I’ll pop by tomorrow –”

  “I didn’t ask if you were okay. I asked what you needed at the drugstore,” Mitch replied.

  “Um –” I mumbled.

  Mitch, who was standing at the mouth of the hall, walked to where I was standing in the middle of the hall by my stackable washer and dryer. He did this while Billie, who was standing beside me and Billy, who kept his place where he had been standing beside Mitch at the mouth of the hall, watched Mitch move.

  When Mitch made it to me, he got close, my head tipped way back, his chin dipped way down and softly he said, “Mara, sweetheart, I asked what you needed at the drugstore.”

  “The kids need shampoo,” I whispered because with him that close it was all I could do.

  “Right,” Mitch whispered back, immediately turned and asked the hall at large, “Who’s comin’ with me to the drugstore?”

  I blinked in surprise at his back.

  “Me!” Billie shouted and skipped after him.

  “I am too,” Billy added and fell in step beside him.

  The kids shot out the door and turned left toward the parking lot. Mitch turned at the door and gave me a warm grin. Then he was gone.

  I stood in the hall amongst a bunch of piles of kid laundry on the floor and I stared at the door long after they left.

  They came back over an hour later when I had the futon out and made up for Billy to use. Load one was in the dryer and load two was in the washer.

  There was a drugstore not five minutes away so by the time they got back, I was worried. I was in the kitchen inventorying my grocery supplies as I didn’t think, leaving Bill in cuffs with two officers of the law, that the kids were heading back there anytime soon. And kids needed food.

  When they came back, I didn’t have to wonder what took them so long considering both kids raced in carrying a big plastic Target bag each. Mitch was carrying four, not to mention, he had a brand new car booster seat.

  I watched Mitch set the booster seat on the floor by the wall next to the front door. Then my eyes moved and I stared at the kids who ran directly to my couch and dumped their bags then I stared at Mitch.

  “That looks like a lot of shampoo,” I remarked but a new kind of whoosh was surging through the region of my belly. This had to do with the Target bags, the booster seat and the warm look on Mitch’s face as he followed the kids into the house.

  “Look Auntie Mara! Look! Look! Look!” Billie shrieked, digging frantically through her bag, finding what she was looking for, she turned. Her arms were straight up in the air. I saw she held a piece of plastic on which dangled supremely girlie ponytail holders with what looked like plastic butterflies attached t
o them. They were clenched in one little girl fist and equally girlie barrettes, with what looked like hearts and stars, were clenched in the other. “Mitch bought me butterflies!” she screeched.

  The idea of super hot, super gorgeous, super masculine Detective Mitch Lawson buying girlie hair shit made my mouth drop open. My gaze slid back to super hot, super gorgeous, super masculine Detective Mitch Lawson who was dumping his bags on the bar.

  I managed to hide my shock before his gaze came to me.

  “Please tell me you bought shampoo,” I said to him.

  His eyes smiled and he opened his mouth to speak but Billie tossed her prized hair shit aside and started digging through her bag again. She was pulling stuff out at random all the while informing me, “He got me girl shampoo and he got Billy boy shampoo and he bought Billy new jeans and he bought me a jeans skirt and it has a pink ruffle at the bottom!” she shouted breathlessly and then kept going. “It matches the pink t-shirt with the flower on it.” She pulled out the t-shirt, whipped around to me, stretched the tee out on a muddled diagonal across her front and gave me a wonky grin. “Isn’t it pretty?”

  It was. It was adorable. Furthermore, I didn’t know there were such things as girl shampoo and boy shampoo. Shampoo was shampoo. Wasn’t it?

  My eyes slid back to Mitch. He was leaning against the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room and he was watching Billie while smiling.

  Oh God.

  “It’s very pretty, baby,” I said to Billie as she clutched the shirt to her chest like she wanted to graft it to her skin, leaned forward and breathed, “I know!” Then she whirled back to the bags.

  I decided to get some order so I told the kids, “All right, sort out what’s what. Billy take your stuff to your room, help Billie get her stuff to our room and anything that needs to go in the bathroom, put it in there. All right?”

  “Yeah, Auntie Mara,” Billy agreed, looked to his sister and said, “Come on.”

  Thus started bag rustling and running back and forth into various rooms. This I ignored because I needed to get something straight with Mitch.