by Pat Simmons
“Sasha, I’m not feeling well.”
“Too much partying?” she asked jokingly, knowing Talise never missed work or showed up late.
“I wish that’s all it was. I’ll call my customers and see if they won’t mind another stylist doing their hair today. Or maybe they’ll want to reschedule.”
Sasha agreed and reassured her, “Feel better, hon, we’ll take care of your clients. I won’t let the girls steal them.” She laughed and disconnected.
Next, Talise contacted her customers, explained that she was under the weather and gave them an option. Three decided to reschedule, one said she was going to cancel anyway, and the other two didn’t mind a one-time stylist change.
After that task was over, she lay in the bed and stared out the window. Everybody deserved a pity party every now and then. And, at the moment, Talise was suffering with a heartbreak hangover.
The day didn’t get any better. Ace still hadn’t returned her call and Talise needed to vent. Unfortunately, there was no one available. At least Lois would return tomorrow and she could talk to her.
By late Saturday night, with no word from Ace, Talise was calling him all kinds of names for his uncharacteristic behavior. She texted him: R U Ok? I missed UR call this morning. Call me.
Signing on to the Internet, she checked her email account. Sinclaire had left one, suggesting a video chat through Skype at ten o’clock that night. Eastern Standard Time. That was six o’clock in the morning in the Middle East. Checking the time, Talise quickly logged into her Skype account. It was already twelve minutes past ten. Hopefully, her sister was still online.
It wasn’t long before Sinclaire peered closer to the monitor. She looked like a dentist checking for cavities. “Are you okay?”
“I wished I had listened to you.” It was as if Talise’s tears had been waiting for her to connect with Sinclaire. Then, all of a sudden, the dam broke. Sniffing didn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face. Laying her laptop aside, Talise got off the bed and went into the bathroom. She returned blowing her nose.
Sinclaire appeared thoughtful. “Sis, regardless of the outcome, baby or no baby, God is there for you. If this man cares about you—”
“He does.”
“Then if he loves you …”
Recently, Talise thought she saw love beaming from his dark brown eyes, but on the previous night, it was as if a dirty contact lens blocked her view. She sighed. “I hope so.” Then she broke down again.
“Hey, sis, hey,” Sinclaire coaxed Talise to face the computer. “It’s okay. We’ll see what the doctor and the Lord says.”
“What? So I can cry all over again? I’d rather get it out of the way now.”
“You’re so dramatic. I’m here to fight a real war with guns and improvised explosive devices, and you’re having a tug of war battle with your emotions.”
“What are you talking about? This is a battle—a battle within myself. I am truly scared. I wish I could pick up the phone and call Mom. At least Lois will be back soon, and I can get her take on this.”
“Don’t, Talise. Be discreet about your business. Wait until you see your doctor and you know for sure. Promise me, sis,” Sinclaire ordered, as if she was a drill sergeant in the army.
“I miss Mom too,” she went on. “But you have me by phone, email, or Skype. And you said you haven’t heard from him? Is that like him to be inconsiderate, especially knowing what you’re going through?”
Talise shook her head. “This isn’t like Ace at all. I’ve called him and left a message and I texted him. It’s like he disappeared.”
Frowning, Sinclaire had a thoughtful expression. “I’m withholding my comments until after your doctor’s visit. Then I’ll start praying that he comes to his senses before I get to him.”
Chapter Three
Why is my son packing like he has to get out of town by sundown? Ace’s mother wondered. Sitting quietly in a chair watching him, Sandra Nicholson drifted into deep thought as she began reflecting on her life. When she was twenty years old, naïve and in love, Sandra gave birth to Kevin Jamieson. She was an unmarried woman. Five years after that, out of sheer stupidity, she gave birth to another adorable baby boy, Aaron Jamieson. Now, thirty-three years later at age fifty-three, Sandra remained single.
Their father, the man she loved, Samuel Jamieson, played her like a fool. At the time of their affair, he had been married. Of course, she didn’t know that until years later when a bill collector called her in an attempt to track him down. Samuel had stayed with them for brief periods off and on.
The scoundrel had been hitched twice and had spawned eleven children, including her two. Sandra didn’t know if she was blessed not to have been counted among the wives or cursed because she didn’t have even a part-time father for her boys.
At the same time, Samuel was adamant that his boys carry his last name. She gave him no argument on that. However, growing up, Ace and Kidd’s given name was always a cause for embarrassment when she had to complete forms or introduce herself. Sandra was convinced it was a source of shame that caused her sons to lash out in negative ways.
Things slowly began to change when their cousin Cameron arrived in Boston to attend MIT. He had tracked Samuel Jamieson down through genealogy methods. Once he earned her sons’ trust, Cameron told the story of their shared connections to a royal African tribe. The last name suddenly didn’t seem worthless anymore.
Still, to this day, Sandra didn’t know what to make of the nicknames their father attached to her children. Where did he come up with the name “Kidd”? She later wondered if it was simply because he couldn’t remember the boy’s name.
She had learned early on the reason for Aaron’s “Ace.” Whenever Samuel paid a visit, he played games with the young boy. Ace innocently recited numbers to his dad. Then Samuel would turn around and gamble with those numbers and win.
Unfortunately, this deadbeat dad secured Aaron’s future with that silly “Ace in the Hole” nickname that she detested. It seemed as if it influenced her younger son to follow in his father’s path in more ways than gambling and winnings.
With God’s grace and as much dignity that she could command, Sandra did her best to rear two strong Black men. Physically, she succeeded; spiritually and emotionally, she failed miserably. How could such sweet little boys grow up to become angry Black men?
Regretfully, her definition of a mother’s love had been to spoil them. In those days as a young single mother, she worked as many hours as she could. When her children began to grow up, she gave Kidd the responsibility for being the man of the house and protecting his baby brother.
The pressure of having such a big task may have proved too much for a young boy. In hindsight, she realized it was a bad move because Kidd took it to the extreme and developed an unruly attitude. It seemed to work for him, so Ace followed in his footsteps. Both boys resented anyone who tried to exercise authority over them.
Years later, as fully grown men, Ace and Kidd had become as different as night and day. Where Kidd proved he could be tamed, Ace still had to be where the action was—good or bad.
Hearing him upstairs rumbling through his things and packing bags, Sandra paused in her reflections and took a deep sigh. Ace had been out of control most of his life. He was a strong-willed child and bull-headed teenager. It was surprising that she had any hair left on her head because of his drinking, fighting, and gang affiliation. Anything to test the nerves of a single parent—Ace had tried it.
Yes, rearing children alone was a task she wouldn’t recommend to any woman—young, middle-aged, or older. Boys need their fathers—period. If only he had given more of himself, even a philanderer like Samuel may have had some redeeming qualities. One would never know since he died several years earlier while living with his third family.
Sandra’s mind shifted to the major change that took place after her older son relocated to St. Louis. Cameron had helped to orchestrate the move with the aid of his older brot
hers, Parke and Malcolm. Two years ago, Kidd married a feisty young woman.
Eva not only put him in check, but she managed what had been impossible for Sandra. Eva had led Kidd to Christ. Before Jesus saved him, Kidd spoke his mind and dared anyone to argue with him. Now he was a level-headed man with a reverence for God and Sandra couldn’t be more proud of him.
On the other hand, Ace was close-lipped, preferring to keep people guessing about his thoughts. Included in his everyday wardrobe, he plastered on his poker mask. Since reaching adulthood, Ace has been almost as reckless as his absentee father in his social life.
And the women—typically, she knew about them only after Ace had moved on to the next one. There were a couple of exceptions, though, women who claimed to carry his lovechild. It came out later that those children weren’t his. Ace would defy anyone to try and trap him into marriage. Unfortunately, her son had been on the fast track to beat out some celebrities’ boastings of sleeping with the most women.
Enough was enough. She needed answers. Standing over Ace with her arms folded, she started, “Let me understand this.” Watching him contine to pull clothes from drawers and yank shirts off hangers, she continued, “For two years, your brother has been trying to lure you to St. Louis. You’ve always had an excuse. Now you’re packing up everything you own and some of my stuff too, as if an angry mob was running you out of some racist town before sundown. What’s going on, Aaron? Do you owe a gambling debt?”
“You’re kidding. Right, Mom?” Ace gave her a dumbstruck look. “I left that kid’s stuff behind years ago when I started classes at Roxbury Community College.”
She was far from being placated. “I know you still go to that Twin River Casino in Rhode Island.”
He didn’t break his rhythm and kept packing. “I can play Black Jack without driving across state lines. Pop didn’t call me ‘Ace in the Hole’ for nothing.”
Sandra had made up her mind when her sons were small not to badmouth their father. But at that moment, several choice words were bombarding her mind.
“Aaron, don’t even think about taking my pedicure kit. Buy your own toenail clippers.” She paused. “Have you considered driving? You wouldn’t have to cram so much stuff into your suitcase. Take your car.”
“Nah, bags fly free, remember?” He kept a straight face while mimicking the Southwest commercials. “Plus, I’m in a hurry to get there. Other than that, I don’t want you to drive a rental car for a week while your Kia is in the shop. Drive my Charger. I’ll come back and get it later. I don’t know why you use that shady mechanic in the old neighborhood anyway.”
Sandra refused to get off the subject. “Did you and Tay have a fight?” It was her turn to maintain a poker face. She didn’t want to appear overly nosy knowing she was already on the verge.
That seemed to get his attention. Whipping his head around to face her, Ace stared. He was clearly crafting his response.
“Nope, she’s a nice lady, but it’s over. It’s time for a change and I’m moving on and out.”
Read between the lines, she told herself. On Friday night, her son walked out the door relaxed and happy. Surprisingly, he returned a few hours later spooked. His irritability stayed with him throughout Saturday. On Sunday morning, he rebuffed Sandra’s invitation to attend church. Now, Sunday night, he’s preparing to leave town.
Exasperated, Sandra didn’t enjoy this round of twenty questions. “What about your job here?”
“I called my boss at home earlier. Melvin couldn’t believe I finally caved in to the enticement to take the St. Louis position. He’ll process the paperwork for my transfer tomorrow morning.
“Come Tuesday, I’ll be sitting behind a new desk in my own office. It’s a promotion with the opportunity for more advancement. Plus, I couldn’t turn down the sizeable raise. It’s a dream job, Mom.” He turned away and mumbled, “And a new hiding place.”
Chapter Four
On Monday morning, Talise was near ballistic level when her gynecologist’s office called and rescheduled her Thursday appointment to Friday. She had barely been hanging on by a split end.
Plus, she had ruined a recent manicure after a mental meltdown without the comfort of Ace’s arms. It was the first time since officially becoming a couple that they hadn’t been together during a weekend.
Whether he delivered her lunch at the salon on Saturday afternoons or treated her to entertainment at the House of Blues on Saturday nights, they enjoyed each other’s company. It wasn’t unusual on Sunday mornings to brunch at Liberty Hotel, the renovated former Charles Street Jail.
Sometimes, for the remainder of their Sundays, they were hole-up in a suite. She sighed, realizing that was how she got into her possible condition in the first place.
When Lois returned on Sunday night, Talise was in the bed where she had pretty much resided since Friday. Her roommate chatted nonstop about her shopping excursion and showed Talise some great bargains she’d snagged. Lois went on endlessly, telling her about the great price she and two other friends were able to get for a Broadway play. Smiling, Talise went through the motions.
“So what did you and Mr. Jamieson do while I was gone?”
This time, Talise followed Sinclaire’s advice and didn’t say a word about her suspicions. “Oh, Ace and I had dinner on Friday.”
“What exotic restaurant did he take you to?” Her roommate’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
Talise scrunched up her nose and forced herself to play along. “I cooked a romantic meal here.”
“Did you two have a sleepover?”
Picking up her pillow, Talise aimed it at her roommate’s head. “You know better. I wasn’t about to break our number one rule: no overnight guests.”
Lois shrugged and replied, “Just asking.” She grinned happily and took her purchases to her bedroom.
Four more days, and then Talise would know whether she had something to tell Lois. Of course, since Thursday was her regular off day, and her appointment was moved to Friday, she would have to make up the missed hours at work.
On Monday, her concentration was at a premium she couldn’t buy. Mustering a smile, Talise acknowledged two customers standing at her counter. “Hi, may I help you?” Again, she attempted to banish her personal drama to the wayside.
“I missed my plane to New York. Is there any room on the next flight, and how much extra will I have to pay?” A petite woman with silver hair asked. Talise noticed her generous smile and candy red lipstick.
She tapped into the terminal and waited for the information. A line quickly began to form. It was going to be a busy Monday.
“Good news. There are seats available. Let’s see if I can do something about the cost.” Manipulating fees, Talise was able to limit the up-charge to twenty-five dollars. The woman and her companion walked away pleased.
On autopilot, she moved to the next traveler. One by one, they kept coming. Whenever there was a lull in passengers, Ace’s handsome pretty boy looks came back into her mental view.
He had all weekend to digest the possibilities. Why hadn’t he called? Although Talise was attracted to Ace, Marilyn Rogers didn’t rear two foolish girls. She didn’t chase after men. Never having been a desperate woman, she wouldn’t allow the outcome of her current situation to change that.
On the surface, Talise wore the smile and uniform. Mentally, she struggled to focus. The more she tried to take control, the more her mind disobeyed, drifting back and forth with thoughts about Ace. Nevertheless, she was a professional and continued to do her best while working alongside her fellow ticket agents.
Momentarily immersed in her musings, she found herself reliving the memories from the previous month’s hour-and-a-half drive to Foxwoods Resort Casino in Connecticut. In eager anticipation, she had rescheduled some regular Saturday clients to free up her time for the weekend getaway with Ace.
Although the man didn’t seem to be an addicted gambler, he knew how to play and win. Whether it was Black Jack, Poker,
or the slot machines, Ace always seemed to hit the jackpot. Even more interesting, Talise was bewildered by his generosity. During the entire time, he made a surprising, endearing gesture with his winnings. He turned every dime over to her. It had been hers to play or keep.
“This is a lot of money,” she had said in amazement. Placing it securely inside the zipper pocket of her purse, her last count was at three thousand dollars. When she couldn’t close her mouth, Ace kissed her.
“It’s just Benjamins, baby. You canceled your Saturday clients for me. It’s the least I can do to make it up to you.” The light of excitement in his eyes had shined brightly. Her heart had melted.
Clearly it would be obvious to any casual observer that Ace was completely at home in the casino environment. The next day they feasted on the hotel’s international buffet and danced for hours in the Sunset Ballroom. In Talise’s estimation, they had partied like rock stars. As their weekend drew to a close, Ace wouldn’t leave before stocking up on junk food for the road trip back home from his namesake Aces Up Snacks.
With a sudden flash of remembering where she was, Talise caught herself and straightened her posture. It was a good thing the Southwest ticket line wasn’t busy at the moment. Only a few travelers had interrupted her thoughts. That was fine with Talise because she was quite preoccupied with her reverie.
Smiling to herself, she reminisced snuggling up to Ace on the drive back to Boston. Their words were few as Gerald Albright and Paul Hardcastle serenaded them all the way to her apartment on Durham Street.
That next morning, instead of hopping on the Silver Line bus to Logan Airport, she had driven to the bank on Mass Ave and deposited her balance of twenty-eight hundred dollars.
Yes, altogether, Talise was smitten. She had begun falling for him not long after they started dating—and she was still falling. Not just because of the things he did or said, but the intense way he looked at her, following her every move. He wanted to spend all of his free time with her and she had no problem with it.
