After breakfast one morning a few days later, Mercedes said to me, "I hope you're up for dinner at my family's house."
"Yeah, sure," I said. "Should I carry my service pistol?"
Quite seriously, she said, "I'm not sure. Are you on call today?"
"I'm always on call. The dangers of being a G-Man."
Mercedes smiled, despite herself. "Well then, Mr. G-man, I'll leave that up to you. But the reason why I want you to come with me is so you can meet my grandfather Luther."
"Ah, yes, you've mentioned him many times. Sounds like a good man."
Mercedes smiled but didn't say anything at first.
"When is dinner, anyway?"
"Four-thirty this afternoon. Mom knows we can't stay too late. I thought we'd arrive about four."
"Sounds good."
* * * * * * * * * *
I followed my partner into the interrogation room, and closed the door.
At the table sat a young black man, who couldn't have been more than seventeen if he was a day, trying to look defiant and cool instead of scared shitless like I knew he had to be.
For our safety as much as his, he was handcuffed to the chair.
My partner Michael Jefferson sat down, smoothing his tie down as he did, opening a file folder.
"Alright, Mr. Tyrone Mitchell. Here's the thing. We've got you for transporting crack cocaine across state lines. You see, when you do anything illegal, and take it across state lines, that makes it a federal crime."
The boy was suddenly a lot less defiant.
That's when I said, "Bet your friends didn't tell you that, did they?"
The boy kept his silence. But I saw his eyes dart around the room.
My partner said, "Look, son, you look like a fine boy." He looked at me. "Doesn't he, Zach?"
I nodded. "Yes. A fine boy. Your mother should be proud."
"Very proud. All we need is the names of the people who got you into this terrible mess-"
Suddenly the boy said, "Look, my moms and my little sister Mercedes is gonna be evicted from the apartment if she can't pay her rent."
I said, "And so you decided to help your friends transport some drugs, right?"
"He said it would be easy money. Just drive the vehicle to a certain address. Even gave me part of the money."
I said, "So you were just trying to help out your mom and your sister."
"Yeah! I wasn't doing nothing violent!"
My partner said, "Well, son, here's what we can do. If you can give us the name of your 'friend,' we can drop the charges of transporting narcotics across state lines."
Then I said, "And we can see about getting you a job."
"Yeah, a fine upstanding young man like yourself."
The boy licked his lips nervously. He looked at me, not my partner. "You promise?"
"This is all being recorded," I said. "I'll even take you down to HR myself."
I slid a notepad across the bare metal table, and a pen. The boy started to write.
Out in the hallway a few minutes later, my partner, who is black himself, said, "That was a good thing you did, Zach."
I smiled modestly. "What can I say?"
"Well, I'd better see about getting these charges dropped. Then you can take the boy to HR."
"Sounds good." Then my cell rang. "Zachary Jones."
"Baby, it's me."
Instantly I smiled. "Hi, Mercedes."
"I hope I haven't called at a bad time...."
"No, not at all."
"I just wanted to call and make sure you can still make it to dinner this afternoon."
"Yeah, I can make it. I just got something to wrap up here and then I'll be on my way."
"Okay, baby. Be careful, please?"
"I promise."
"I love you, baby...."
"I love you, too, Mercedes."
Half an hour later, the boy's charges had been dropped. As I escorted the boy out into the hallway he said, "Why?"
I stopped. "Sorry?"
"Why you doing all this for me?"
I wasn't about to tell him 'because your sister's name is Mercedes'. I just said, "Never you mind. Let's get you over to HR, shall we?"
"Yes, sir."
* * * * * * * * * *
A couple of hours later, right at 4, I pulled my car up to the curb and parked.
Mercedes was still dressed for work, just like I was, except she looked a lot prettier than I did, wearing a tiered, floor length bright canary yellow sundress and matching flat sandals, her shiny black hair down for once.
I noticed the cross was still gone. Had been for the last several days.
I killed the ignition and sat there for a minute, until I felt a warm hand on my arm.
I looked up.
"Don't be nervous. Not everyone in my family hates you."
I cracked a lopsided grin. "Yeah, that's good to hear."
She patted my arm. "Come on. Let's go inside."
I got out of my car, went around to the other side and helped Mercedes out, then pressed the button to activate the alarm.
Together, holding hands, we went into the house.
As we came in the front door, Mercedes looked around. The house was empty and quiet. "Hello?"
A female voice said, "In here, baby."
With a tug on my hand, Mercedes followed the voice into the kitchen.
We entered the kitchen to find a woman puttering about the kitchen. Mercedes looked just like her.
Mother and daughter hugged, rocking side to side.
Mercedes said, "Where is everyone, Mom?"
"Oh, the boys are across the street, playing ball. I got dinner in the oven." Suddenly she noticed me. "Well don't just stand there, boy, come over here and give me a hug!"
Quickly I complied.
"Mercedes, child, is this the young man I've heard so much about?"
She said, "Yes, momma."
I stuck out my hand and said, "Zachary Jones, ma'am."
"Nice to meet you, Zachary. Are you treating my daughter right?"
I grinned, despite myself. "I think so, ma'am."
Mercedes smiled. "Yes, he is, Mom."
"Zachary, if I may call you that, come over here and try my macaroni and cheese. It's an old family recipe." She took a metal spoon, stuck in a steaming pot and handed it to me.
I took it, and stuck it in my mouth. Instantly I made good noises.
She said, "Good, sweetheart?"
As soon as I could swallow, I said, "Ma'am, this is just like how my mom would make it!"
It was as if a spell had lifted.
"Child, don't call me ma'am. It's Bobbie."
"Okay, Bobbie. This is really good!"
Bobbie beamed at me. "Thank you!"
Not even a minute later, there was a bustling noise, followed by loud laughing, as the boys came home from the park.
Mercedes went to the living room, me following her.
Sure enough, those same three boys from the other night were there, with another boy I didn't recognize, about the same age as Shawn Michael.
Mercedes went up and gave him a hug. They talked about sports for a few minutes.
Then Shawn looked at me and said, "Good to see you again, sir."
I took his proffered hand. "And you, Shawn. I do hope you haven't broken into any other houses lately, have you?"
He cracked a broad grin, although it quickly faded. "No sir."
Mercedes, beaming proudly, said to me, "Shawn Michael, tell Zach here what you want to major in when you go to college."
"Law enforcement. I was hoping you could write a letter of recommendation for me."
"I will do that, Shawn."
And then suddenly, the room got very quiet.
A deep male voice said, "Who the hell let this white cracker in my house?"
Mercedes defiantly said, "I did."
The silence was thicker somehow.
I turned to Mercedes' father and said, "I do have a name, sir."
He gave me a look like he was trying to keep his disgust from showing through. "Yes, and right now it's 'get out of my house before I throw you out.'"
In a deadly calm voice, I said, "Go for it."
We stared at each other for a full minute.
Suddenly another male voice said, "What's all this fussing about?"
Mercedes immediately went to the sound of that voice - an elderly man, leaning on a cane, his hair long since gone completely gray, but he still stood tall and proud despite the cane.
"Grandpa Luther, are you alright?"
"I'm just fine, child. And who is this strapping young lad?"
"Grandpa, this is Zach. I've told you about him."
The old man reached out with his free hand, I took it. He had a pretty solid grip.
The old man gave me a thorough once-over. "Yes, yes indeed, she has told me a lot about you."
I just said, "Nice to meet you, sir."
"You serve, son?"
"Not in the military. Police for ten years. Then the FBI."
"That's alright, son, you serve our community. Can't say the same for my son here. Supposedly a man of god, yet his car is better than most everyone else's in his congregation."
I suppressed a chuckle.
The old man continued, "Served in the Marine Corps myself. Twenty two years. Wanted to enlist right after Pearl Harbor, but I wasn't old enough. Had to wait until I was graduated from high school first. Momma woulda' torn me a new one otherwise."
Luther hobbled over to the couch and eased down with only a slight grunt. Then he turned to Mercedes. "Now, what is this I hear that you have disowned my son?"
Mercedes swallowed. "Grandpa. Father sent these three young men here to break into Zach's house and rough him up. And I happened to be there in the house at the time."
