“I’ve heard your Pop talk about how hard he and your Mama worked and sacrificed to get what they have now. Your father didn’t take a dime from his family to start Ramsey.”
“They worked so their children wouldn’t have to.” Georgia threw back.
Felix threw his legs over the side of the bed and clutched his hands. His jaw muscles flexed as anger set in yet he tried his best to stifle it before asking the question he already had the answer to. “Does that mean you won’t come with me?”
“If it means givin’ up a pretty cool lifestyle to struggle everyday… then no, no I won’t come Felix.”
His expression harbored no anger then. She’d been honest and he’d expected nothing less of her.
Georgia’s nails curved deep enough to draw blood from her palms as she watched him. Her eyes were wide, following his every move. He turned to drop a kiss to the corner of her mouth and then left the bed to collect his clothes.
Georgia felt her heart plummeting then scrambling back up to her throat before it plummeted again. She watched him moving around the room. She wanted to stop him, but couldn’t make herself speak the words.
As he dressed, she memorized the range and power of his dark muscular frame. Desperately, she tried and failed to shut down the voice that told her it’d be a very long time before she enjoyed the sight of him again.
Fully clothed, Felix turned studying her sitting crossed-legged and beautifully naked in the middle of the bed. The intensity in his dark stare spoke volumes-it was saying good bye.
“I love you G.”
Georgia waited until she heard the front door close before burrowing beneath the covers and indulging in a long cry.
R
~CHAPTER NINE~
Jasper couldn’t have looked more stunned than when he opened his front door and found Carmen Ramsey on his step.
“Jeez,” he hissed, tugging her in while checking for any onlookers. “What the hell are you doin’ out here?” He slammed the door shut.
“I was concerned.” Unfazed, she locked her hands behind her back and took a cool survey of the room. “My mother was concerned,” she clarified with a shrug, “wants to know how you’re getting along out here.”
“And she sent you to check on me?” He couldn’t believe it.
“No. I came out here on my own.” She folded arms across her gold sweater and fixed him with a sour look. “I’ll bet my brother hasn’t been out here to see you, since
Mama sent him with that food. Hmph.” The look on his face told her she was right.
Nervously, Jasper edged fingers along his sideburns. “You can’t stay Carm.”
“I only wanted to come see how you are. If you need anything, to talk…” She moved closer, the swish of her skirt sounded loud in the room.
“I’m okay.” He said, though he’d appeared to consider her offer for a moment.
Carmen appeared crestfallen. She’d hoped with all the talks they’d shared, he was perhaps feeling a little more at ease with her. She could tell he was nowhere near okay. It didn’t take much more than observing the dark surroundings to tell that was a lie.
No one could be okay in such a sorrowful environment. Her expression said as much when she turned to fix him with a knowing look.
“Shit.” Dropping the act, Jasper took refuge on a newspaper-littered sofa.
“Can’t we get out of here?” She tucked a leg beneath her after joining him on the couch. “How many times have you been out since…”
She didn’t quite know how to continue and took another scan of the dim, musty room. In a far corner, stood a table lined with trays, plates, cups- she saw one of her mother’s worn casserole dishes and gasped. The table held all the dishes of food people had been sending. None of it made it beyond that room.
Carmen jumped when something big crawled from one of the overturned cups. She jumped again at the sound of Jasper’s voice.
“I been rinsing out most of the stuff from the spicket on the side of the house.” Newspaper rustled when he slid down the sofa. “Can’t make myself go in- go in there.”
“Jasper,” Carmen went back to join him, “why won’t you let anyone help you?”
“Fuck that.” He stood, fists clenched. “No body wants to help me- the few that have only did it because of Miss Marcella. Please thank her for me.” His voice softened.
Carmen took his hand and pulled him back to the sofa. “You can thank her yourself. She’d love it if you came over for dinner.” Several dinners, actually, Carmen thought knowing her mother would be horrified by Jasper’s haggard appearance.
“Her concern isn’t phony.” She curled a hand about the collar of his shirt. “Neither is mine.” Boldly, she leaned in and kissed him.
Frustrated by anger towards the town he called home, misery over his mother and anguish over his status in life, Jasper was too unsettled to do what he should. He couldn’t resist Carmen’s advances.
Growling something indecipherable, he met her kiss with a fire that should have stunned her, yet she was meeting it with a formidable heat of her own. They fell back to the sofa kissing, grinding against one another. Carmen arched closer, silently offering herself to him. She bit her lip on a trembling moan when he opened the front of her dress. She was almost afraid to move for fear that he’d stop circling his thumb about a nipple firming through the delicate lace of her bra. When he suckled the nub through the fabric, she ground against him more feverishly.
Jasper tugged her legs apart, opening her to him. A renewed sense of desire exploded within him once his arousal was settled snug against her.
“Jas,” she pleaded, easing aside one cup of her bra.
His mouth was on her breast an instant later but when she locked her legs behind his back he withdrew and cursed himself.
“What?”
“You’ve got to go Carm.”
She tilted her head trying to make eye contact. He wouldn’t look her way. “Why Jasper?”
Jasper kept his gaze averted and smirked. “Let’s start with how old you are Carmen. Hell, we can start with how old I am.”
“That doesn’t matter.” She tugged his sleeve when he laughed and started to move away. “My folks were teenagers when they got married.”
“I’m twenty and you’re fourteen Carm.”
“Six years, so?”
“Dammit girl, your family’d kill me if they even suspected this from me.” He finally gave her the benefit of a shocked stare.
“Don’t make me ask you again Carmen.” He groaned when she remained silent and motionless. A minute later she was leaving.
***
The scene with Carmen acted as some sort of catalyst for Jasper. He suspected it was nothing more than unsatisfied ‘horniness’ that filled him with a wealth of energy needing to be spent. Whatever the explanation, he managed to get the house in order- scrubbing the food crusted pots and casserole dishes with a gusto that could have worked off the mightiest frustration. Jasper even ventured into the kitchen where he scrubbed away remnants of the murder until the area gleamed. He made an effort to pack away some of his mother’s things. That task however, proved to be a bit too emotional and he called an end to the housework there.
In a freshly sanitized bathroom he showered and changed. Then, he settled back with his favorite Ray Charles’ album and was reading when his next visitor arrived.
Praying it wasn’t Carmen again (he wouldn’t have the strength to resist her twice in one day) Jasper pulled open the front door and grinned at Felix who stood on the other side.
“How you doin’?” Felix asked when they drew out of a long embrace.
Jasper shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”
“I’ll say.” Felix smiled while taking in the pristine state of the living room. His brows rose a tad when he spotted the book on genetics lying over the arm of the sofa. “What the hell?” He waved the hefty book toward his brother.
Again, Jasper’s shoulders rose beneath his blue V-neck sweater
. “What brings you by?” He asked.
“You know me well.” Felix muttered not surprised that Jasper wouldn’t buy him stopping over for an idle chat. He sat in the armchair flanking the sofa and braced elbows to knees.
“I’m leavin’ town Jas. I asked Georgia to come with me, she turned me down. Guess that’s all over.” He slammed a fist to his palm. “Hmph, you’d think with all the years together she’d trust me to take care of her.”
“She’s a Ramsey. They’re…different.”
“That’s crap.” Felix waved off the words. “I’ll never buy that ‘people with money are different’, mess.”
Jasper’s mind was on Carmen. “Different and better.”
“Bullshit.” Felix waited to make eye contact with Jasper. “Bullshit,” he repeated, “’Cause money or no money, your boy Marcus is still a phony jackass. You’re a thousand times better than that scumbag nigga.”
Jasper had to laugh. “Glad you approve of me, brotha.”
Felix only joined in on the laughter for a second or three. “It stings Jas. The way she turned me down like that- at least she was honest about why…but, hell I love her.”
“Maybe it’ll do you good to go.” Jasper took his place on the arm of the chair Felix occupied. “Maybe she’ll see what a mistake she made and when you come back, she’ll beg you to take her with you.”
Felix was already shaking his head. “I don’t plan on comin’ back. Don’t gimme that look.” He said, feeling Jasper’s glare. “You’ve said the same thing more times than I can count.”
“It’s different for you. You got Georgia and respect.” Jasper turned his head. “Besides that, you love her too much to stay gone forever. I could leave and never be missed.”
Felix forgot his woes for the moment. “Man, when you gonna get over that worthless feelin’ you always carry ‘round?”
Jasper walked over to the sofa and collected the book he’d been studying. “When I’ve earned respect by creating it.” He turned the book over in his hands.
***
Summer, 1961~
Nestled below the fold in the Wednesday Business section of the Savannah Chronicle, was a brief yet important article featuring the eldest Ramsey son. Quentin Ramsey had made good on his promise to push Westin to the forefront of the family. The article announced the Ramsey patriarch’s plans to expand the lucrative family-owned business to the other side of the country with West leading the way.
The small article generated a real buzz around conference tables and breakfast tables as well. Whites and blacks alike speculated on the future of the Ramseys. No doubt the next article on Ramsey business moves would be far lengthier and definitely above the fold.
“So that’s what you and Pop’s father/son trip was about back in fifty-eight?” Marc slapped the newspaper to the breakfast table that morning.
Westin cast a blank look toward his brother. Eventually memory set in and he couldn’t believe the boy’s memory as he recalled the Seattle trip in 1958. To quell the other kid’s pleas to come along, Quent told them it was a special getaway for West as he was the oldest.
Marcus was fit to be tied and turned his anger on his father. “So when’s my announcement comin’ Pop?” He folded arms across his pin-striped shirt and hooked his hands beneath the suspenders he wore. Confrontation eked out of the stance like a tangible thing. “With West on his way out, guess it won’t be long, right?”
“West isn’t on his way out.” Quentin didn’t bother making eye contact with Marc. Instead, he calmly continued eating his grapefruit half. “West’ll be leading the establishment of Ramsey in Washington State but he’ll also start having more of a say here at the headquarters as well.”
“All that?!”
“Marcus.”
Quieted for a moment at the sound of his mother’s warning call, Marc smoothed a hand across his jaw while beginning a pace of the dining room.
“This ain’t right, Pop. It’s time I had a place.”
“I offered you a job last year remember?” Quentin added more sugar to his fruit.
“That shit?!”
Marcella stood and landed a powerful slap to the back of Marc’s head. The suddenness of the blow stunned her sons and her husband. “You sit your lanky ass down,” she seemed to hiss.
“No respect is why you got no job.” Damon smirked, but sobered instantly and was prepared to do battle when Marc stood again.
Quentin dropped a heavy fist to the table and silenced everyone effectively. “If you crave a place at Ramsey, there’s one waitin’ in the youth department.” There was no trace of love or even like in the depths of his dark eyes. “Prove yourself there, you might move up. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.”
Houston; seated next to Marcus, knew his brother all too well and laid a hand across his knee urging him to keep quiet.
The girls arrived in the dining room just then and quickly sensed the tension in the air.
Georgia leaned close to Carmen. “Damn, what the hell did we miss?”
***
Much later, Houston found his brother in the most unlikely place- the rec room the boys had begged their father to construct. Houston was sure Marc would have driven off somewhere, but there he was pounding away at one of the boxing bags in the center of the room.
Houston paused on the steps leading down into the room. “You alright Marc?”
“Does it look like it?!” Marcus landed several rapid blows to the worn bag.
Houston turned to leave.
“Hous?! Sorry man.”
Houston made a reluctant decision to turn back toward the room. Marc’s moods changed as often as the wind. Still, he met his brother at the base of the stairway and worked to unlace the gloves when Marcus raised his hands.
“We gotta stick together Hous. It’s obvious sides already been chosen.”
“I don’t know why you’re surprised. West is the oldest.”
“It’s about more than that,” Marc used his teeth to tug away the loosened gloves. “Pop hates me.”
“Marcus-” Houston silenced himself at the brief hurt he glimpsed on his brother’s face.
“I always knew it. If it wasn’t for Ma… he’d have probably sent me away long time ago.”
Houston fidgeted with the neckline of his T-shirt. He dared not say that much of the reason for Marc’s unrest lay at Marc’s own feet.
It wasn’t necessary for Houston to speak his mind. As usual, Marc read his younger brother easily. Angry; but knowing he’d need loyalty within the family- especially family who could be controlled, Marcus clapped Houston’s shoulder.
“It’s my own fault. I could’ve been a better son.” He groaned, massaging his neck while faking acceptance of responsibility for his actions. “No wonder everybody hates me.” He added for good measure.
“I don’t hate you Marc. You always got me.”
“Thanks man, thanks…I didn’t mean to go on, but there’s no one else I can talk to.”
“That go both ways, Marc?”
“Sure.” Just then however, Marcus appeared more interested in selecting which bench-press he wanted to work on.
“’Cause there’s a girl…I like her, but…well…”
Marcus chose a bench and finally gave Houston the benefit of his attention. “Have you talked to her?”
“Not really,” Houston kicked the toe of his sneaker against the wall. “She doesn’t even know my name-doubt I’d have the guts to tell her let alone do anything else.”“Ah…” Marc’s expression turned sly as if he understood what the issue was. “So you’re afraid you won’t be able to um…rise to the occasion?” He rolled his eyes when Houston’s stare was blank. “Don’t sweat it. By the time I’m done you’ll be oozin’ confidence ‘round any chick you meet.”
“Well I-”
“Gimme time to work out the details, then we’ll go from there.” He waved toward the weights. “Gimme a spot.”
***
Winter 1962~
“Sh
e can vomit all over herself for all I care.”
“Hell Ross, she’s your sister. You can’t do her like that over some society Negro.”
Rosselle Simon’s sneer rumbled from her voice, through her eyes to the stiffness in her back. “You think I don’t know you’ve had him between your legs, too?”
“And what about you?” Clea Simon didn’t deny the accusation. “Have you made out any better because of it?”
A creak outside the bedroom door caught their ears then. Rosselle rushed over on tip toes and whipped the door open to their baby sister in the act of eavesdropping.
Josephine dared not scream when Rosselle’s nails dug into her skin.
“How much did you hear lil’ bitch?” Rosselle whispered once she’d dragged her sister into the room and slammed her against the door. Josephine was sputtering and gasping for breath too much to answer. Ross balled a fist to coax a response.
Josephine prepared herself for the blow while thinking of an excuse to give her parents. Abuse from her two eldest sisters had become almost as natural for her as breathing.
Fernelle Simon ambled from the bathroom just then. “Y’all leave Josie alone,” she groaned clutching her head and stomach simultaneously.
Clea forgot about Josephine and went to stare down at Fernelle who’d taken refuge on one of the dainty pink and white striped armchairs that surrounded a round white coffee table- a handmade gift from their father. The arrangement was set before the windows in Fern’s bedroom.
“Well? Are you?” Clea blurted.
Ross left Josephine by the door and went to hear the answer as well.
“I think so.” Fernelle’s response could barely be heard.
It was enough for Ross who let out a curse only to have Clea shush her.
“What are you gonna do?”
Fern tugged her robe together. “I’ll have to go see him.”
“Idiot!” Clea raged.
“What do you expect him to do, Fern?” Rosselle knelt before her sister. “Hmm? You think he’s gonna give you a ring and a room in the Ramsey mansion?”
The Ramseys Boxed Set Page 164
