His head lifted. His eyes scanned the cavernous space that was empty except for him and me, a bunch of furniture and mattresses. Then they came back to me. “Now you’re lying to me.”
Damn. Why was I such a dork?
“Mitch –”
“And not very well either.”
“Um…”
“What are you afraid of, Mara?”
I bit my lip and then answered, “Uh…”
“What scares you so f**kin’ much?” he asked.
Totally a police detective and therefore totally figuring me out. I hated that.
I looked at his shoulder.
“And what did you mean, people like you?” he pushed.
Oh boy.
I looked back into his eyes. “Um…”
“What kind of people are you?”
I took a quick step to the side and then another step back and blurted, “Would you like to see the Spring Deluxe?”
He turned to face me again. “No, I’d like to know why you think I don’t want to be around you.”
I ignored him and stated, “It’s an exceptional mattress.”
He closed the distance between us. When I started to move back, his arm shot out and curled around my waist, halting my progress even before it began. His other arm came around me, caging me in.
In Mitch’s arms again. This time at work. Great.
“Have I ever given you the impression I don’t want to be around you?” he kept at me.
Yes. He had. There was the time he told me I had my head up my ass and all the other times he said it. And the times he told me I was clueless. And not ten minutes ago when he was in the break room with me which was also a time when he shared he thought I was clueless and had my head up my ass.
I didn’t remind him of this. Instead I said, “It’s our highest end model but it’s worth the price. Trust me. You try it, you’ll want to buy it and there’s a possibility that Mr. Pierson will let me give you my employee discount.”
“You’re not gonna answer any of my questions, are you?”
“Lumbar support is very important and the Spring Deluxe provides excellent support while affording ultimate comfort,” I stated instead of answering. And I knew this to be true because I’d experienced it but also because I was quoting verbatim from their brochure.
He stared down at me and I pushed carefully against his arms hoping he’d get the hint, drop his arms and let me step back.
He didn’t.
Instead he said quietly, “Billy’s lookin’ at me like I told him there’s no Santa Claus.”
I closed my eyes.
“You did that,” Mitch told me and I opened my eyes.
“Billy knows there’s no Santa Claus. Bill already told him so he wouldn’t have to buy him presents at Christmas,” I shared more information that cemented the fact that my cousin Bill was indeed an assclown. Not that Bill needed it. His assclownedness was carved in marble.
Mitch shook his head and muttered, “Priceless.”
I pressed my lips together.
Mitch leaned in closer. “I broke through with him. He doesn’t trust anyone except you and I broke through. Then you broke that. You did that, Mara.”
“I’m sure you’ll break through again this weekend, Mitch,” I said softly.
“I’m not considerin’ Billy doesn’t give much of a shit who treats him right. What he does give a shit about is who treats his sister right and who treats you right and he thinks I walked away on Monday and left you to fend for yourself. And he might only be nine years old but he still knows exactly the load you took on takin’ on him and his sister. So now he thinks I’m a dick. And you did that.”
He was right. I did do that. Crap.
“I’ll explain things to him,” I assured.
“Right, bet you’ll be good at that since Billy’s more clued into what’s goin’ on than you are.”
My body stiffened and I whispered, “Can we not go there again?”
Mitch grew silent and he did this to study me again. Then he returned to his earlier theme and asked softly, “What kind of people are you, Mara?”
Mitch was using a soft voice. Mitch’s voice sounded nice soft. If Mitch talked to me soft for long, the jig would be up as in, I’d throw my arms around him and declare my undying love for him. Therefore I decided it was time to give him an answer.
“Not your kind, Mitch.”
His brows drew together and he asked, “What’s my kind?”
“Not my kind.”
“There it is,” he whispered.
“There what is?” I whispered back.
“I was wrong. When you’re in your head, it isn’t a decent place to be. It’s a twisted, f**ked up place to be but you’re so shit-scared to leave it, it’s the only place you’re willin’ to be.”
I put gentle pressure on my hands at his biceps before saying, “I know you’re smart and I know you’re a detective but I also know you don’t know everything. I especially know that you think you’ve figured me out but you don’t know everything about me.”
“Then prove me wrong,” he returned instantly.
“You don’t know it but you don’t want me to do that,” I advised.
“Why? Because you’re not my kind?”
I nodded.
“Then you’re wrong and I’m right. I do know everything about you. Because out here in the real world, there aren’t ‘kinds’ and only someone twisted and f**ked up or just plain stupid thinks there are. Since I don’t think you’re the last one that only means you’re the first two. But you waste your life thinking that way then you’re all three.”
With that infinitely successful verbal strike, he quickly let me go. I teetered as I turned and watched him walk out of the store. I did this with my nose stinging again but this time I wasn’t able to hold back the wetness that hit my eyes and my vision went blurry.
“You didn’t even get close to the Spring Deluxe!” I heard Mr. Pierson call after the door closed on Mitch.
I sucked in a shaky breath. Then to hide my tears, I called back without looking, “Mitch is set with his mattresses, Mr. Pierson!”
“Shame,” I heard Mr. Pierson mutter as a tear slid down my cheek.
It was. A crying shame.
Chapter Nine
I Could Work with This Mara
I pulled into the complex listening to Nick Drake’s “Pink Moon” which was on my Premier Chill Out playlist, the first one I’d made.