John let him get a few feet past him, then grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around, and slammed him back against the bars of the cell.
“What the fu—”
“Shut up,” John said, getting right in his face. “Just shut up.”
Mitch retaliated by ramming his shoulder into John’s chest. But John shoved him back, hard, and held him against the bars with a hand on each of his shoulders. “Only because,only becauseyou did have to scrape me off the floor a few times, I’m going to do you a favor and give you a choice.
“Option one. You can choose to be booked right now, stay in here until you’re arraigned or until you can persuade somebody to bail your sorry ass out. Or, option two, you can go home, wash off your awful stink, and, within one hour, report to the unit, where you’ll call the owner of the place you busted up. You’ll plead with him not to press charges in exchange for covering the cost of repairs. Then, I expect you to be ready toperform your assigned duties. And I had better not smell any gin on your breath or discover it’s not water in your YETI.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“I don’t care if it’s the second coming,” John fired back. He released one of Mitch’s shoulders and pointed an index finger directly at his nose. “Withinone hour, Mitch. If you don’t show up, I’ll issue a warrant. Public intoxication. Assault. Destruction of property. Any damn malfeasance I can think of. And I amnotbullshitting you.” John released him and took a step back. “What’s it gonna be?”
Mitch’s chest rose and fell with outrage. His eyes glittered with fury. Between clenched teeth, he said, “Take a wild guess.”
“Option two? Good.”
“My truck’s at the bar. Unless it’s been stolen.”
John looked over at the speechless officers who’d witnessed the scene. “Return him his belongings, then somebody drive him over to get his truck.” He came back around to Mitch. “See you in an hour.”
Mitch’s heavy-duty SUV was where he’d left it parked behind the bar, and it appeared not to have been messed with. As he pulled onto the road, he lowered the driver’s window because John had been right. He stunk.
He wore the stench of the cleaning agent used in the drunk tank. While strong enough to make your eyes water, it failed to eradicate the rank odors of unwashed bodies, vomit, piss, misery, and despair, all of which seemed to have seeped into his pores.
It was a cloudy morning and all the window shades in his apartment were down, so the rooms were gloomy, but he didn’tbother to turn on a light until he went into his bathroom. The fixture above the sink was bright, its glare unforgiving as it shone down on him. If a casting agent was looking for someone to play the skid row bum, he’d get the part, hands down.
He brushed his teeth ruthlessly, but shaved with care, gingerly guiding the razor around the cut on his neck. The neck of that broken bottle had come perilously close to his carotid.
In the shower, he lathered twice and scrubbed his hair and scalp. Clean and dressed, he checked his watch and figured he had time for at least one cup of coffee, which he was in desperate need of.
He made quick work of brewing one, then, holding the steaming mug in one hand, he used the other to call a number he had on speed dial. His mother-in-law answered.
“Good morning, Mitch.”
“Morning, Mary. I called to apologize for not making it last night.”
She waited for a count of five before responding. Her frequent pauses like that were intended to underscore his shortcomings. “I had told Andrew you were coming. He kept his nose pressed to the window watching for you, asking when you would get here, and whining as it got later. He wound up crying himself to sleep.”
Mitch set his coffee mug on the dining table and pressed against his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “I got held up at work. By the time I got free, there was no sense in driving to Lafayette. Andrew would have already been in bed.”
“You could have called.”
“It got late. I didn’t want to disturb you and Hank. I’m sorry. Now please put Andrew on the phone.”
“Hank is getting him dressed. We’re about to leave for Mass.”
“I know what time Mass starts, Mary. You’ve got plenty of time.”
“Yes, just time enough for a quick hello/goodbye from you that will get Andrew upset again. As happens every time you call.”
“An indication of how much he loves me, don’t you think?”
“I’ve never disputed that he loves you.”
The following five-count pause was to remind him that he’d brought this separation from Andrew on himself.
Then she said, “It sounds like he’s putting up a fuss about having to wear shoes. Hank needs help. Thank you for the apology.”
