It wasn't so much an invitation as a blackmail attempt. "It would mean so much," Jinx insisted. "Mary's so quiet about her friends." Marshall suspected this translated to Jinx learning much, much more about Mary's friends.
Shit. Marshall wasn't even sure how Jinx got his number. Maybe she pinched Mary's Blackberry while Mary slept; he hoped not. Marshals kept a lot of sensitive data on their persons. Data he considered far too sensitive for functional alcoholics like Mary's mother to handle wisely.
This also reminded him that Mary's birthday was coming – and Mary was always a bitch on her birthday. That temper only worsened since her mother appeared, and he expected that the presence of the woman who brought Mary into the world was not something that Mary herself appreciated.
Stan's phone rang a moment after Marshall extracted himself from Jinx's questions about why a handsome guy like him did not have a date to her daughter's party. "How can I help you, Mrs. Shannon?"
Shit. They were both going to catch hell for that one. Marshall didn't need to look busy – a federal marshal is always busy.
When Mary came back from her witness check-in, it only got worse. She threw her gun in her drawer with enough force that Marshall thought it might release. He already knew not to ask her the problem. If he asked, Mary would tell him, in detail, along with her present opinion of him, his mother and his place in the known universe. The diatribe usually ended in a variation ranging between "numbnuts" and "moron."
Stan approached, phone still in hand. Yes, they were both in trouble, especially now that Stan experienced Jinx firsthand. "My sister's coming!" Mary shrieked. At this, their boss immediately turned heel and left the room.
At least they were both off the hook for the whole Jinx getting a hold of non-public WITSEC work numbers. But between Stan's wrath or Mary's tantrum, Marshall preferred the possible suspension that Stan offered. Not that that kept him safe – Mary still knew where he lived.
On Mary's birthday, Marshall had three intakes from the previous week to check in, a pending case the next week and a whole lot of financial piles to transfer so witnesses could do things like eat. Even so, he was excited to pick up the Ukrainian witness. He even went online to brush up on his Russian. At last, a chance to use it! It might make up for his secret disappointment the day the Berlin wall fell.
That was the first of many strikeouts that day.
And Mary was in rare form. He volunteered to do her paperwork for her in part to avoid her buffet of angry outbursts. When she snapped at him about Santoro's kid, he wondered if he needed to start seeing his own witnesses on the sly. Yes, a strikeout day.
Especially when Mary returned to their office to report that she smacked an indian in the Johnson.
"Haven't we done enough to those people?" Haven't you done enough to me today? he added silently.
Just in case, he also bookmarked the site for the local tribal council. The file on his browser said "References." Each one linked to a site where he or Stan might expect to field a complaint about Mary.
Looking back that evening, Marshall considered the best part of his day getting slapped by the housekeeper. He meant to say "You look lovely" rather than the more … overt…statement that the online ASL guide revealed he actually said. He almost went back to ask for her number or email, but Mary was off with the phone.
Damn, did Mary give good phone.
At the birthday party, he kept a beer in his hand that he never drank. Although technically both he and Mary were off duty, he remembered the Ukrainian witness who needed groceries, even if Mary forgot. Besides, he could have canceled the birthday party, and would have – right up until Mary snapped at him about his witnesses.
Oh hell no, she got to suffer, too then.
He circulated the party, observing. Jinx, of course, loved to chat up everyone, especially some guy with an eye patch. Stan seemed charmed by her. But no one really asked about Mary.
He asked three or four people how they knew Mary. "Oh, I'm a friend of her mother's." Most were drunk. One thought her name was actually Sherry. He wished Raphael were there, because then at least he could talk baseball.
Marshall surreptitiously poured his beer on the ground, and felt too happy to take off when Mary came thundering out of the house with a terse, "Let's go."
It wasn't really her party anyway.
Things got closed up nicely on the Santoro case, and WITSEC was safe for another day. That police detective asking if Mary was seeing anyone during the end game was just the weird cap to the weird day. Who the hell thinks about a date when you're booking someone? Then again, Marshall had never met a cop that dressed like that guy, either.
When Mary pulled up in front of the 7-11, he turned to her. "I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is no."
"Fine," Mary snapped. "I'll pick out the porn magazines for our witness myself."
A moment later she popped her head back through the window. "Uh, what's the one that's all about the breasts?"
Marshall kept his eyes on hers. It had been a long day, and she was still wearing that tank top. And he was, after everything, still a guy.