Then I whispered, “Operation Take out the Trash?”
He sounded like he was smiling again when he replied, “It’s not good but it’s all I got right now. We can come up with better names tonight.”
That actually sounded fun.
“And what’s your plan?” I asked.
“The first part is gettin’ them outta there, gettin’ them in here and makin’ sure they didn’t do that to your apartment. The rest, I’ll tell you tonight over chili.”
“Okay,” I said quietly, still liking the idea of having chili with Mitch at his place that night even if it meant talking about my aunt and mother.
“And another part of the first part is Bob takin’ care of this situation so you don’t have to. I’m guessin’ he’s waded in. You let him deal with it and you hang back.”
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 f**k? 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.