by Amarie Avant
“What’s wrong, Kayla?” Cree huffs. “Shit, I’m sorry. I sound insensitive stating that ‘it just happened’.”
“No. I want you to be happy.” I hug him again. “We better eat dinner early tonight. I can’t believe you all want to wake up at the crack of dawn to help with the crops. You’re only here for a few more days.”
Jagger
It took me three days to return. Yes, I was in the country illegally. It’s a usual for me. And the pilot I secured to get me here was told to stay in the area, but he took that as taking other assignments.
Couldn’t go to Trick because he has a week before he is to see his niece.
Technically, Mikayla and I were to go with him.
We are, I tell myself with confidence. She’ll forgive me. She has to. I’ll make her.
My first stop in town is to drop off a duffle bag of money at the church my parents once dedicated their lives to. It’s enough to open the school Alisha had dreams of, and she refused to take it then. I think of it as tipping the scales of karma. Do something good for those people, Mikayla will forgive me…
I’m at the outskirts of Nivean. A local radio station is talking of breaking the soil this morning. Everyone is needed.
Would Mikayla help? No, she’s a Queen, now. Their police hate me. How will I get passed the lands that they’re working to get to the palace?
Last time I visited, I chose to give myself up for Mikayla’s safety above all else. This time, the sun has hardly risen when the streets just outside of town are packed with cars. Navieans young and old have garden hoes and shovels in their hand to soften the soil.
This is good. Mikayla has the solidarity of her people. I drive by slowly, looking at a sea of faces. Then I spot a familiar one. In a flash, I glimpse the guy who shouted for me to stop when I stole his woman.
He’s here. Her parents are, too. The other young woman from the Italian restaurant that flirted with me that night is nearby as well. They’re working the land. I press the breaks right in the center of the road.
Mikayla.
There’s a colorful hair wrap on her head, but a few pieces of her natural curly hair kisses along her jaw and cheeks. She’s in a long skirt that drapes over her curves and a shirt tied against her breast.
Then I can’t see her any longer because people are staring at me. Some in curiosity, others in anger.
I hop out of the car.
“Hello,” I greet them in Xhosa.
No response.
Before I can run across the field, two police officers stop me. The one who was related to Abayomi Okeke and another one I’ve never meet. Their guns are trained on me.
“You are not welcome here!” Mr. Okeke’s voice booms.
I hold up my hands. Just as I had before. “I need to speak with your Princess,” I grit out in as friendly a voice I can muster.
“Our Queen! She doesn’t not want to see you.” The other man says.
Mr. Okeke comes closer. “I don’t want to put you down in front of the children. Go or I will!”
I can hear Mikayla’s curious tone as she starts through the crowd. “What is–”
With the gun in my face, I react instantly. I grab his arm, twist it just enough to apprehend his weapon. The magazine falls, the bullet in the chamber pops up next. I’ve disengaged the other man just as the citizens make room for her.
“What are you doing here?” Mikayla glowers. “Mr. Johansson, you have been exiled from my country and that still stands.”
“I have to talk to you, Mikayla.”
“You completed your mission. Take another one.” She scoffs.
Now there are five officers beside her. They look to Mikayla for orders.
“Don’t do it, uthando lwami. Unless you tell them to shoot, I’ll probably get two maybe three down. They’ll have to shoot to kill because I’m going to talk to you!”
There’s murmuring.
“Did he just call her love?”
“Yes, he called her ‘my love’!”
Her beautiful gaze darkens. “I said I love you, Jagger. In front of a woman I have loved and respected since I was born. In front of an elder of my nation and another man I now consider my friend. You told me–”
“I lied!”
“Fuck you and your lying ass!”
One of the officers asks what they should do.
I step closer to her and now I’m staring at the barrel of five guns.
“It’s okay.” Mikayla murmurs to one of them.
“Mikayla,” I gesture, hardly able to breath. “When I met you, I loved two things. Two things only.”
“I can pretty much guess. No wait, it has to be three. Cars. Your job. And above all, yourself.”
“I agree. You taught me what it meant to give a damn about something again. I told you about my grandfather.”
“That doesn’t get you sympathy.”
Damn, what happened to my sweet, innocent uthando lwami? “I never realized why, until you said he died of a broken heart.”
“Still doesn’t get you compassion, Jagger. You had that already. From day one, I was dispensable to you. Now, if you’d like to apologize be done with it. It will be too hot to work soon.”
I pull off my button up. “I’ll help.”
“No.”
“We could use help,” MamLalumi says.
I grin at her. “Thank you, MamLalumi.”
“We have it covered,” Chumi cuts in as Mikayla makes her way back to her spot and much of the crowd disperses. He reluctantly adds, “But if you must, make your case while you work.”
I glance at him, bewildered.
“You didn’t pass the same test I gave Mikayla. She should’ve fought for her people on the first night. You didn’t have much to do to fight for her love last week. Although, I understood your reasoning was to help her focus. But you do now.”
I move passed the rows that are already being dug. I ask her cousin, who is next to Mikayla now, for the shovel. She and the rest of Mikayla’s family weren’t aware of our argument in Xhosa. But she readily holds it out, while warning, “You’ve put my cousin through a lot of danger in the past, Humph! I knew it was you from day one. You fix it, or I have some very good friends back in Long Beach. It’s a very long plane ride to you, but they’ll get here.”
Brittany lets go of the shovel. Their guy friend chuckles.
Joyce Bryant nudges her head to her daughter with a smile.
She knows everything….
“Really?” Mikayla asks through a harsh breath as she continued to put her forearms into it.
“I can help you,” I tell her, attempting to step behind her.
“You have your own. If you’re going to work, then work.”
I start next to her. The ground is hard and unyielding. Chumi was accurate about the fight in Mikayla now as she has to be digging deep just to complete what she has done.
“I don’t know how to fight for your love, but that’s okay. I’ll learn,” I begin.
Her exerted breathing is all the response I receive.
“I will fight even if it takes forever to win you over because then, I’ll be fully versed on how to keep you happy.”
She grunts. “And if it takes forever and a day—“
“I’ll do that.”
“Ha, we'll be old and dead before I forgive you.”
“You remember my mentioning my mother, Alisha. She was named after the midwife. She was what people would call a good Christian woman. Whenever I’m working, I use something of my parents. Windhoek was my father’s favorite beer brand.”
Mikayla continues at her task.
I press my boot onto the head of the shovel and dig deep into the ground. “Then I met you and as I made our reservations, you reminded me of her. Of this goodness I once knew.”
“Jagger, just stop…” she murmurs, “you’re just trying to get sympathy. But I know that you are a selfish man, and I guess,” she shrugs. “I’m a challenge. You want me now. Bu
t, for how long?”
There hasn’t been a day that has gone by in my adult years that I haven’t put myself first. I try a different tactic. “When I got my job, my father tried to talk me out of it.” I mention how he had the same job as me. Though I don’t say assassin, Mikayla understands.
“He changed because of her.” I tell Mikayla. Searching for a similar hope in her.
“That was them.”
Every part of me wants to go animalistic, ape shit crazy, grab her and take her to a place meant for just us. Just like I did when I abducted her, I got her alone. It helped.
I continue to be civilized and tell her all about my parents. “They needed money. I took every assignment. It made me a worse man for a good cause. My father found out. Wouldn’t take a dime. He told my mother who asked me to repent, for almost eight years I wasn’t in communication with them.”
“What happened?” Mikayla asks. “You’re clearly in the same field as you were when she begged you to stop.”
“They died. The job is still there,” I shrug.
Mikayla puts down the shovel and wipes her hands. She sighs. “Jagger, I cannot help myself, I love you.”
I start to reach for her until she adds, “Every part of me wants to believe you love me, but I… I’m not sure if it’s a mixture of me stuck in the twilight of you saving me–”
“Saving you?” I rub the stubble of my chin. “All I’ve done was place you in harm’s way.”
“You brought me here… you might have taken the scenic route, but I’m home because of it.”
Her words fill me with a rush of relief until she continues with, “I like that your mother changed your father for the better. But I have an entire country of people to put first now, Jagger.”
“No… no… don’t say that. I’m right here, Mikayla. It hurt so bad letting you go. I didn’t think I was good enough for you. For this.”
Mikayla
Hearing his parents story makes me want to let Jagger back into my heart. How desperate am I to be in his strong embrace? The thick clutches of his arms that kept me safe and made me feel total euphoria every time he touched me with his strong, scarred hands. Hell, he made me feel that and every other emotion under the sun.
“You scare me, Jagger.”
Now he’s growling and he’s intense and I’m almost suffocating myself not to give in. “How do I scare you?” he all but barks in a hushed whisper.
“You screwed me over, for a car, Jag,” I murmur as low as I can so nobody else has to hear. Yet my cheeks are burning with humiliation. This is what Jagger does to me. Breaks me down and makes me want to run to him when my mind warns that he’s the worst for me.
I want to know that he will fight for us without it having to be a challenge.
That doesn’t make sense at all, I know. It’s something that I cannot explain. It’s better to see him in action. Or a lack thereof. I don’t want Jagger digging trenches, which he clearly did for almost an hour before starting to talk about his parents.
He’s a beast.
Only when mentioning his mom was he refined. That’s the man I want to love. The one who isn’t trying to claim me because I got away.
“I did,” he finally agrees, speaking of the car. “I made a mistake. Can you blame me? I didn’t know you yet.”
I lick my lips and silently pray that the tears don’t fall from my eyes. “I forgive you. But what you did attests to the type of man are. I forgive you, Jagger, please understand that. But as far as pushing through and continuing the craziness of loving you…” a murderer when I’m counted on by many as their Queen… “I cannot. Well, I do love you, Jag. I just have to focus and work on me.”
He huffs like a jaguar who has just ran the entire stretch of the universe. Tired. Angry. It hurts me that it hurts him.
I’m stuck in limbo. We both know the Jagger I’m accustomed to is bad for me. He’s so good at being bad.
“Alright, I will prove it to you. That I might not have royal blood in my veins, but you, Mikayla, are mine.”
***
“You cut your hair,” MamLalumi clucks. My mom is at the tiny stove in her home.
It’s my American family’s last night here. Guess what she’s doing?
Cooking. Obviously. No Tupperware available in MamLalumi’s home. Of all the homes I’ve been invited to for dinner, and just to commune with my people, my old babysitter has the least updated one. So instead clay pots scatter around the table.
My mom checks on the oxtails, saying, “Yes, she cut that hair. Girl, First Corinthians says long hair, it is her glory.”
“Thanks mom,” I glance at MamLalumi unsure how she will take the vastly different belief system. She just smiles.
“So you denied the boy?” MamLalumi asks.
“What’s with the tag-teaming between the two of you?” I nod, rubbing the tears from my face. “Yeah, Jagger didn’t listen though. He says he’ll keep trying. We will see how long that lasts.”
“Your father broke up with your mother. She came to me crying about it.”
Again I glance over at my mom, worried that the talk of another mother would hurt her feelings. She’s busy as a bee, yet I know she still has one ear on us. ”What happened?” She actually asks before I can.
“Your grandfather. Makuachukwa brought Bannan home during college break and the King looked him up and down—he didn’t see a different race, mind you—he just followed the elders predictions about who she should marry.”
“Ohhh…” I groan.
“And your mother trampled on Bannan’s heart until she realized she couldn’t live without him…”
I sigh heavily. I’d like to believe the same was true for Jagger. Did he have a sudden epiphany that no other would love him just like I do? Yet, I gave my heart to him entirely too soon, too easily. “How did she get him back?”
“When they returned to college after break, she did the little things. You rarely see that. Usually the man breaks the woman’s heart and he’s a buffoon.”
My mom agrees. “Exactly, they always give the same tired line.”
MamLalumi nods. “But with your mother. It strengthened their love…”
***
Over the next few weeks, Jagger sends me gifts. A diamond earring and necklace set that’s so expensive, security is sent to drop it off.
I returned it.
That wouldn’t qualify as the little things MamLalumi had mentioned about, when it came to my parents. Had to be more than 20 carats and didn’t speak to my heart.
Next, there are stuffed elephants covering the front yard of the palace. I smile, aware that he’s been watching. Learning about me and my zany Abayomi.
This gesture is special and provides gifts to the young children in the village, but I’m afraid still.
He’s a headstrong man. Does he want me until he has me?
Jagger
Two months later…
Nothing that I have done in the past months has helped me win back Mikayla’s heart. And every day without her I swear I’m unable to breath.
For the past two weeks, I’ve helped the church with the upgrades that I funded. The church leader was surprised to see me there one morning. But I figured, maybe if I could connect to what my mother loved, her God, I could learn a thing or two.
My father had no qualms with taking a life.
And he changed for her.
So I’ve worked at laying the foundation for the new school. I’ve helped facilitate an auto mechanic course, for young people in need of a trade.
I’ve kept good and fucking busy. Waiting for a lightbulb to pop into my head, because flowers and chocolates have not made Mikayla mine.
Yeah, that was last month. Exotic flowers that grow only in a certain season. I took a trip to Switzerland for the chocolates. Guess a thank you should’ve been enough, but when Mikayla called to thank me for them and declined dinner, I punched my hand into a wall.
I glance through the X Member profiles fo
r the latest contracts. All the volunteer work hasn’t gotten me any closer to my desire.
A scientist named Edith Branch pops up. Glancing at her beautiful face and full lips makes me laugh. Instantly I recall Mikayla’s words about finding another female mark. She’s gorgeous, yet I only want one woman. Besides, someone wants Edith murdered and I may have found the woman of my life by bending my rules. This isn’t one of them I’m willing to break.
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket.
I slip it out. My hand clenched around it as I see it’s Trick, instead of Mikayla calling.
“My niece is fully recovered. I’m sending a private jet to you tomorrow for her soccer game. You ready?”
I close my eyes and lay my head onto the couch headrest. A few days prior to when I should’ve met with Trick, his talkative niece, and Mikayla for the kids match, she sprained her ankle. Tricks niece has been out for almost the entire season. Truthfully, I don’t want to go.
Trick saved my ass in Nevada. But, I’ll have to explain to the girl exactly why I’m there, again, without the princess I should’ve saved.
“Yeah, Yeah,” I respond. “You texted me last week. I haven’t forgotten.”
***
The next morning, I call Mikayla. “How’s your day going?” I lean against the counter in the kitchen waiting for the coffeemaker. I almost begin to twirl my wrist but there’s no gun in my hand.
“My day is going well, but it’s only just begun. You call me at night, Jag, without fail. I told you how I was just eight hours ago. How are you?”
“Me?” I chortle. “Fucking dead without you, uthando. You know that.”
“Alright, let’s not follow the norm. No how are you, yada, yada, yada, because I distinctly recall you providing the same response on numerous occasions. Jag, you aren’t dead. How are the plans for the church?”
No time for taking it slow, I order, “Mikayla, what can I do to have you back?”
“How are the plans, Jagger?”
“I could just kidnap you again. Tie you up and keep you hostage until you love me.”
“I love you, Jag. Now, tell me the names of five people you’ve worked with at the church where your mother used to assist?”
