In the House of Spite Ch. 03

Her Halloween was a working day. No big deal. She loved making money. With the boss' permission, she put cute dog-sized costumes on the dogs. Nothing uncomfortable. Gunner got a light vest and a soft hat that weakly imitated a bumblebee. Baby Blue got a fairly stupid cow hoodie.

Any remaining awkwardness had been packed away and ignored. Pearl felt comfortable looking Mr. Booker in the eye now. Time really did heal wounds, or at least the silliest ones.

The house was in pretty good shape. She found herself doing mostly lighter work. Dusting, vacuuming, and playing around with the dogs to keep them from going crazy. She even played music on her phone and danced with them. Each dog got to take turns getting on their hind legs and putting their front paws in Pearl's hands, hopping and stepping around and around. They loved the attention. They also loved the belly rubs that came when Pearl got tired of it all.

In the middle of the day, as Pearl was eating her lunch, she realized there wasn't much left to do. She considered texting Mr. B to ask if she could go home early, but then she thought she could just make up busy work for herself to keep the hours. She wouldn't get paid a whole day for only half a day's work. Why not stay? Maybe she could text the boss and ask if he needed her to go on any errands? But then he'd know that she didn't have much to do and he'd send her home.

When she was taking the last bites of her sandwich, she heard the front door being opened. Then Baby Blue ran up to see his Daddy. Boss was home early.

He sauntered into the kitchen with a cheeky little smile. He looked like he'd just beaten someone in rap battle or something. "Hey there. Good news." He took some strips of paper out of his pocket. "Someone gave me some coupons for dog food."

"Oh that's nice." Pearl smiled and stood up. "Dog food can be really expensive, especially for the big boys."

"I wonder when the expiration date is," he mindlessly said as he held the coupons up to his eyes. "I want to go shopping tomorrow." His eyelids drew back. His tone became hurried and hectic. "Shit. They expire tomorrow. I'll have to go back to town today."

"Would it be worth the gas money to go?" Pearl asked.

Shrugging, putting the coupons in his wallet, Mr. Booker said, "Sure, as long as I buy other stuff too. Want to come with me?"

Pointing her head at the punch clock, deciding to be honest, Pearl told him, "I should probably clock out. Things are cool here, and I don't want to waste any more of your money."

Slipping his wallet into a back pocket of his jeans, the man said, "Okay, clock out, but you're still welcome to ride with me. You can get your own shopping done and save on gas."

Pearl hesitated for a bit, a hand on her hip. Then her shoulder quirked up and she agreed. She didn't have anything better to do. She clocked out, got paid, and joined Mr. Booker in saying goodbye to the doggos.

Off to Walmart!

The inside of Mr. Booker's truck was decently clean, if cluttered. Lots of loose receipts. A few one dollar bills and some change in random spots. A few old magazines. Things like that. The air freshener hanging on the rear-view mirror was giving off a pumpkin spice scent. Wonderfully appropriate.

The driver's seat was pulled so far back that if there was a passenger behind Mr. B in the back seat their legs would probably be snapped in half. He looked very comfortable there, like a ruler in a sedan chair, except for the whole "hands on the steering wheel" thing.

Pearl looked through the window on her side and tried to let her mind wander, but the driver was apparently feeling talkative.

"Hey, I really appreciate that you've been working here. I mean, I just handed you the key to my house, and you haven't stolen anything. I don't think you even took any of my lemon bars." He was referring to packaged, fiber, diet things that came in surprisingly lovely flavors. His favorites were the lemon bars.

"Hm? Oh, well I'm glad to have the job." She tried to sink back into her imagination.

He yanked her back out. "Your house is sacred, and trusting someone to go into it, especially someone that's not even family, that really is something. It means a lot."

"I guess so." She crossed her legs and looked ahead. The road was mostly empty. "But I feel like you're complimenting me for trying to be a decent human being. It doesn't feel right."

"Oh." He sounded a little bit offended, but not so much that he'd turn angry. "Okay." He cleared his throat. "My mama said you used to have a boyfriend."

Her foot making little circles in the air, Pearl said, "Your mama and my mama talk a lot. So that makes sense."

"Mind if I ask what happened?"

Her upper body declined as she wrapped her arms around herself. A sticky, slimy pain emerged under her ribs. "Car crash. Drunk driver rammed into him."

She heard the hissing rushing past his teeth. "Shit, Girl. I'm sorry."

"He was a good man." She took in what she hoped was a bracing breath. "But I guess all I can do is go on."

"Yeah. Guess so."

A few more blessed moments of silence were enjoyed, or at least Pearl enjoyed them, and then Mr. B spoke again.

"So, how do you feel about soul food?"

"I never even learned what that is." The new subject had her forgetting her sadness. "I've heard about it for years but what is it, exactly? What dishes are there?"

She turned to look at him. His brow was knitted in thought. "Uh, fatback, black-eyed peas, collards," his finger tapped the steering wheel with each thing he listed, "okra, cornbread, hush-puppies, banana pudding, cobbler."

Her dark eyebrows rising, her face loosening a bit, Pearl said, "That's soul food?! All this time I thought it was some special stuff mostly Black people ate, but really it's all just stuff I grew up eating."

A little smirk grew on his face. "My mama's going to make a bunch of food for the church homecoming. You going?"

"I don't know." Her hands went to her lap, fingers laced. "I only go to church because my parents want me to. Their house, their rules."

Lacking any sass, not even a hint of judgment, Mr. B said, "Maybe you should move out now that you got some money in the bank."

"Sounds good. I need to look into that."

They were just getting into civilization, a place where there were a little bit less trees and more buildings. Mr. B said, "You know, I'm really the same as you. I only go to church to keep the family happy. Sometimes I almost have to fight to get them to leave me alone when I want to skip a Sunday."

"I guess even when you have your own place, some people will still tell you what to do." Pearl was happy to know her parents weren't quite like that. "I'm not trying to insult anyone in your family, but I can't stand it when people get out of line with me. Just because I look like I'm twelve doesn't mean that you can be rude to me, not that it's okay to be rude to children."

As he stopped at stop sign, Mr. B said, "You look like you're sixteen at the youngest, not twelve."

"I guess I shouldn't complain about it. I'm a woman. Women usually like to look young, and men usually like it when women look young."

The turn signal flashed. There was a clicking noise. The man made the turn then went on a very curved route. "I'm not going to argue against that." There was half a laugh in his tone.

A happy, fuzzy, safe feeling snuggled in Pearl's belly. She assumed the conversation was the origin. It was so refreshing to have a normal talk with someone she wasn't close to. It was nice. It made her feel like the world was so much more hopeful than it really was.

They talked about completely unimportant things until they were at Walmart. In the store, they each took a shopping cart. But, much to Pearl's secret relief, Mr. Booker didn't separate from her. Whenever he had to go somewhere, she quietly followed, and he behaved as if this was the most normal, most acceptable thing. Pearl had heard about women being kidnapped, forced into vans, and yes this had happened at Walmart. Convenience and grocery stores too. Those women had mostly been alone. Pearl was glad to be near a dude, especially a big dude.

There was one moment, though, where they were apart. They were in the middle on an aisle, and Pearl forgot to be vigilant. She pulled her cart down the aisle, close to an end, to look at something she wanted. She picked it up to examine it more closely, and then she changed her mind and put it back. She happened to hear someone walking by, to her left where the end of the aisle was.

She looked up to that direction.

Mr. B had just ... walked on past her. He didn't even have his cart. Stupidly, Pearl stared at him, wondering about where in the world his cart was. He went a few aisles ahead and moved off to a place where Pearl couldn't see him. That was when she finally thought to go and ask him. She took a few steps, but then she was stopped by a voice.

"Where are you going?"

What?!

Her body hair stood on end. Goosebumps and everything.

Mr. Booker was ... behind her?

She turned to look up at him. He had a box of something in his hand, probably crackers.

"Wait, you were right there?" Pearl said with a high-pitched voice.

Completely and quietly nonplussed at her words, he made a slightly uncomfortable smile as he looked down at her. "What do you mean? I was over where the Ritz are. I didn't go off anywhere."

"But I just saw you up ahead," she said as she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.

"Must have been someone who looks like me," he said with a jerk of his shoulder.

"Oh." Pearl went back to her cart. "That makes sense. Everybody has at least one doppelganger."

Some more time went on. Eventually, they walked up to a huge stretch of candy. Of course the prices were marked up. Halloween and all that. Wanting a bag of Blow Pops for herself, because why the hell not, Pearl left her cart for a moment and reached up to tug on a particular bag.

A mini avalanche of candy bags followed, creating a pile on the floor. Pearl gave one of her throatiest exhales. Mr. Booker just waited some feet away, playing around on his phone. After making sure her purse was secure on her shoulder, Pearl started cleaning up after herself, putting bag after bag back on the shelf. Sometimes, a random customer would approach the area, clearly wanting some candy. She'd hold a bag up and ask if they wanted it, and sometimes they'd take it.

Just when Pearl was finished, a single bag in her hand, there was an unexpected force, a pulling on her shirt. She squealed as she was forced to turn around.

Oh no.

Another stereotype.

Mid-2000s asymmetrical bob on her head with the chunky bleached streaks. Big black shades on her tanned face. A pair of white Nike sneakers. French manicured fingernails. Eyebrows that were plucked so thin that they were nearly hidden by the shades. Big, pale pink lips. And a crying boy, close to throwing a tantrum, whose hand was being held by the mother.

"Excuse me," the mother said with a very uppity tone, her free hand on her hip, "I've been trying to get your attention for ten minutes! Where are the video games?"

Her eyebrows and mouth contorted in pure awe of the audacity of this bitch, Pearl stepped back and put the bag of Blow Pops back on the shelf. A protective hand on her purse, she told the mother, "I think they're near the toy aisles."

"Well," the mother said with plenty of haughtiness, "don't just stand there. Show me!"

What in the fresh hell?!

Some of her typical sweetness draining a little, Pearl said, "I'm kind of busy."

"Don't talk back to me! You should be fired!" This bitch even stomped her foot! "Where's your manager?! I demand to speak to your manager?!" Every new word turned shriller.

Pearl's eyes popped. This kind of thing only happened in stories people tell on the Internet, not in real life. Right? "Ma'am, I don't work here."

"Yes you do!" This crazy woman was so stubborn! And the constant whining of her kid wasn't making the situation any more bearable. "You were handing out candy to everyone!"

Pearl had enough. "Leave me alone." She made to go to her cart, but that bitch decided to grab her again! Pearl saw that Mr. B stepped in as if to try to calm the situation, but her hidden temper was too powerful. She never gave Mr. B the chance to do anything.

Pearl's voice rose in so many octaves, and so much shriller than the mother could've ever imitated. She grabbed that woman's shoulder and drove her into the ground. The child was a regrettable casualty. He ended up falling down too. Pearl didn't want that to happen, but in her mind it was the mother's fault.

"DON'T YOU EVER PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME YOU FUCKING KAREN!! DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME!! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!!"

The boy did in fact throw a tantrum. He pulled out of his mother's now limp hand and ran around in circles, screaming about how he wanted Minecraft. A fine game indeed, but that wasn't a good way to ask for it. As for the mother, she got back to her feet and tried to scream back, but Pearl's intense acrimony and righteous wrath was pretty overpowering.

"NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU FUCKING SOCCER MOM BITCH!!" Pearl even pointed at the shocked woman's face. Her stupid sunglasses were askew. "I DON'T FUCKING WORK HERE!! I'M NOT WEARING A UNIFORM!! I WAS JUST MINDING MY OWN DAMN BUSINESS AND YOU DECIDED TO PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME?! NO!! JUST BECAUSE YOU OPENED YOUR LEGS AND GOT A CREAMPIE DOESN'T MAKE YOU SPECIAL!! YOU DON'T GET TO ACT LIKE A BOSS BITCH JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT A BRAT!! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE BEFORE I KNOCK YOUR HEAD TO THE FLOOR!!"

Then, aside from the wild boy, who was now throwing random products off of shelves, not even distracted by the candy, it was pretty damn quiet. Pearl was panting. Her face was dark pink. From just behind her, she heard Mr. Booker say with a breaking voice, "God damn." Then she heard him laugh. A wonderfully rich laugh.

Of course a manager showed up not long after that.

Some arguing ensued. Then security footage was consulted. The Karen was kicked out for harassing other customers. Pearl was still in an acidic mood, and she said, "She's lucky I didn't stomp her fucking uterus into a pancake!!"

Mr. Booker's response was to gasp, say, "Oh shit," and then bend over, holding his belly, and laugh so hard he couldn't breathe very well.

In the truck, on the way back to his house, Mr. Booker was still trembling. Pearl was still angry, but not at him, obviously.

"Holy fuck, Girl. I didn't know you had all that in you. That was beautiful."

After a sigh, Pearl admitted, "I get it from my mama. She doesn't seem like it, but she has a legendary temper. She used to get in fights when she was in school. Well," here, she shrugged, "so did my Dad, but my mom was more likely to start fights. She wasn't a bully or anything. She just didn't like it when people talked shit." Pearl suddenly remembered something. "Once, I was watching Pokémon, and the match wasn't going so well with the main character."

"That whole thing was basically dog fighting but with magic monsters, right?"

A single nod, and she said, "Yeah. Mama saw it and asked, 'Why don't that boy just go over and pop the other boy in the mouth?'"

"Oh?" He glanced over at her for just a moment, then looked back to the road. He had such a sneaky grin. "Your mama said that?"

"She did the same thing when I was watching a Disney sitcom. Some teen girl said some rude stuff to another one, and my mom said, 'That girl needs a pop in the mouth.' Mama didn't get why they didn't just fight. Most parents say kid's stuff is too violent but my mom always thought there wasn't enough violence."

His fingers loosening a bit around the steering wheel, the man said, "Holy shit I love your mom right now."

"Well anyway, I'm sorry you had to see that mess at Walmart, Mr. Booker." Pearl lightly patted her cheek, wondering how long the extra heat would remain in her face.

"You can call me Darren. It's fine."

Pearl thought about if for a few seconds.

Darren.

Darren Booker.

Nice guy.

"I'll still call you Mr. B sometimes."

He laughed again, but much more softly.

***

It was dinner time at Pearl's parents' house. Porkchops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Lovely and cozy. She chatted with Daddy about politics. They didn't agree on every little issue but they did agree on most things. They even liked the president. Later, Mama started talking about something Mrs. Becky Lee Booker, Darren's mother, had said. It was pretty funny. Then Mama casually mentioned something that Pearl hadn't known.

Darren Booker was married once, and he'd divorced his now ex-wife.

"Wait," Pearl said as she put her fork and knife down, "he was married? I had no idea."

"Oh yeah," Mama said. "She ran around on him. He caught them in his own home, in their bedroom."

"Disgraceful," Pearl commented with a shaking head.

Absolutely disgraceful indeed.

Pearl thought about that for a long time. Mr. B hadn't seemed particularly bitter. Nope. He seemed cheerful, even completely satisfied. He was probably glad to be rid of the cheating bitch. Pearl hoped he hadn't gotten screwed over in the divorce. But since he was living so well in that big house, it was highly likely that he was able to keep everything in check.

The next time she was at work, Darren came home early, and Pearl prepared a little snack for him. A folded slice of bread with peanut butter and a glass of milk. Then, as she rubbed on Baby Blue's big head with her fingertips, she gently said, "I hope I'm not being rude by asking this, but I heard that you had a divorce. Is that right?" She kissed the top of the Pit Bull's head. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me about it. It's none of my business, and I really shouldn't ask anyway. I'm just so curious. It's driving my crazy."

He wasn't offended at all. Resting in a recently purchased recliner, kicking back and putting his feet up, he told Pearl, "Yeah, I was married. I walked in and saw another man's shoes in the house." He bit into his bread, chewed, swallowed, then took a gulp of his milk.

He smacked his lips. "Ahhh. I was renting a trailer then. Didn't own it. I recorded them with my phone and showed it at court. That bitch didn't get spousal support. As for this house," he made a sweeping gesture here, "I bought it after the divorce. She's not entitled to any of it." Another sip of milk. A drop remained on his chin for only a moment before he wiped it away with his bare sleeve. "The best part is that we'd been looking for houses while we were married. She'd been looking forward to having a house just like this one."

Pearl let out a long whistle. That's how impressed she was. Baby Blue nuzzled her face and licked her as if he thought she was whistling at him. "Awww, cute Baby! You're just full of sugar!" She calmed him down and said to Darren, "I'm sorry you went through all that."

"I'm not," he said after he finished off his mini-sandwich. "I got rid of her, and now I think I know women a little better."

"Is that right?" Pearl got up and put a hand on the small of her back.

"Yep. Now it's a lot easier to see which ones are good and which ones aren't worth your time."

"That makes sense." Pearl started walking off towards the kitchen. "Lots of bad ones out there."

***

Pearl didn't go to homecoming at that church her parents went to. She didn't feel right taking food from those people. It felt like an insult to them. She thought only the devout should take food from the church. It didn't mater how much her parents asked. Pearl simply refused as politely as she could.

Thanksgiving at home was more successful. They had enough leftovers for weeks. Pearl considered packing up a bit for Darren, but the next time she was at his house she found a near-fuck ton of food in his fridge. His parents had apparently made enough to feed a neighborhood, and they'd been determined to share.