Page 38 of Spike

The Mitchell’s housewas impressive enough from theoutside, but the inside was like something straight out of one of those glossyhome décor magazines. The huge, open-style home was decorated to the nines,much like one of the two women standing in the kitchen. And although her backwas turned to me, and it had been eight years since I’d last seen her, Iinstantly recognized Sherri Mitchell’s bottle-dyed, fiery red mane.

“You’re squeezingmy hand,” Trixie hiss-pered.

“Oh, shit, sorry,”I replied, loosening my grip.

As we approachedthe kitchen, I could hear Sherri Mitchell giving instructions to the otherwoman in the kitchen. She looked to be Hispanic, in her early sixties, and shewas wearing an apron.

“And please,Celeste, let’s double check those water glasses for spots. We don’t want arepeat of the dinner with Councilman Beyer, do we?” Sherri asked in a tone thatmade my flesh crawl.

“Of course, MissSherri,” Celeste said, with a slight smile and bow.

Sherri Mitchellwas dressed from head to toe in yellow and appeared to be wearing jewelry inand on every possible place she could. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings,and to top it all off, a jewel encrusted gold jaguar broach, pinned to thelapel of her well-shoulder-padded jacket.

“Hi, Celeste, youlook beautiful,” Trixie said as we approached the large island in the center ofthe kitchen, before going over and giving the woman a huge hug. She thengreeted her mother. “Hi, Mom, you look perfect as always.”

“Don’t be silly,”Sherri replied, as if her daughter had told her she looked like a bedazzledbanana.

I mean, that’swhat I was thinking but kept that shit to myself.

“Mom, Celeste, I’dlike you both to meet Spike. He’ll be joining us for dinner tonight.”

“Yes, your fathertold me,” Sherri said, sounding less than thrilled about the news. “Hello,Spike, it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s wonderful tosee you again, Mrs. Mitchell.”

Sherri looked toTrixie then back to me with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Spike was one ofthe boys who attended the Beach Blanket dance the church hosted at the end ofmy senior year.”

Sherri paused fora few moments before snapping to. “Yes, of course I remember. All you kids growup so fast I don’t always recognize you, that’s all. Were you involved in theStudent Ministries group with Christine?”

“I—”

“No, mother. Hewas one of the young men we were hosting from Lakewood,” Trixie said.

“Lakewood Church?”Sherri asked. “I’m sorry, that doesn’t ring a bell. Who’s your pastor there?”

“Lakewood YouthCorrectional Facility,” I corrected her.

Sherri’s smiledipped. She was far too polished to let it fully drop, but I definitely saw itdip.

Sherri put herhands to her hips. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re the one I caughtsneaking around the kitchen that night, aren’t you?”

“You have anexcellent memory,” I replied.

“Yes, she does,”Trixie said. “So, I’m sure she’ll remember that I asked you for help, and thatshowing up in the kitchen that night was all just a big misunderstanding.”

“Why are youtalking about me like I’m not here?” Sherri asked.

Trixie chuckled,ignoring her mother’s exasperated comment. “Mother, that dance was a millionyears ago, and I’m a grown adult woman now.”

“A fact you’vebeen keen to bring up a lot lately.” Sherri was talking to her daughter, butshe was staring straight at me.

“All I’m sayingis, let’s welcome Spike to our dinner table with open, loving,Christianarms, shall we?” Trixie challenged.

“Yes, of course,”Sherri grumbled.

“Excellent.”Trixie’s face beamed and I wondered how in the hell it was possible that thiswoman came from the parents she had. “Spike, I’d like you to meet Celeste.She’s the sixth member of our family. She was a second mother to all us kids,and we’d all fall apart without her.”

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