Calculation.
He stepped away from the grill.
Both hands remained visible.
The officer walked toward it.
Smoke rose around him.
Burgers hissed.
The metal grate was hot enough to shimmer slightly above the coals.
The officer looked down.
Then toward the homeowner.
“Got anything illegal out here?”
“No.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Weapons?”
The homeowner’s eyes moved toward the patio.
A kitchen knife lay beside the cutting board.
Ordinary.
Nothing else.
“No.”
The officer examined the grill.
Then the tables.
He opened one cooler.
The homeowner spoke immediately.
“Please don't search my property.”
The officer looked back.
“I’m checking for alcohol.”
“You already know there is alcohol.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don't consent to a search.”
The officer smiled.
“Everybody becomes a lawyer when police show up.”
The homeowner stayed quiet.
The second officer looked increasingly uncomfortable.
He spoke for the first time.
“Maybe we should just get the music turned down and clear.”
The lead officer turned.
“What?”
The younger officer shifted.
“I said the complaint was noise.”
The lead officer stared at him.
Then looked back at the homeowner.
“See?”
“Even my partner thinks you people are being loud.”
The homeowner’s wife stepped forward.
“We weren’t loud.”
The lead officer pointed at her.
“I’m not talking to you.”
The Black homeowner’s expression changed.
Very slightly.
His wife noticed.
She knew that look.
Not rage.
The opposite.
The moment he became more controlled.
He said:
“Do not speak to my wife like that.”
The officer smiled.
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The attitude.”
The homeowner looked around.
Nobody understood what the officer meant.
The officer continued.
“Big guy.”
“Crowd around you.”
“Think everybody here is going to protect you.”
The homeowner said:
“I don't need protection.”
“Really?”
The officer moved closer again.
The homeowner did not retreat.
The grill popped behind them.
Fat dripped onto coals.
Flame briefly climbed through the grate.
The homeowner smelled burning meat.
He almost laughed at the absurdity.
His burgers were actually burning now.
His wife had finally been right.
The officer pointed toward him.
“Hands where I can see them.”
The homeowner raised both hands slightly.
“Here.”
The officer looked dissatisfied.
“Turn around.”
Several people reacted.
His wife spoke.
“For what?”
The homeowner lifted one hand toward her without looking away from the officer.
A small gesture.
Stop.
She understood.
The lead officer said:
“Turn around.”
The homeowner did.
Slowly.
The officer stepped behind him.
The homeowner felt hands near his waistband.
Pat-down.
He remained still.
No weapons.
No contraband.
Nothing.
The officer stepped back.
The homeowner turned again.
“Are we finished?”
The officer looked toward the crowd.
One guest was holding up a phone now.