by Pat Simmons
“Me too! I’m not going to stand by and let anybody mess with my niece,” Eva said with fire in her eyes, forgetting technically, Kami was a little cousin, but this was not the time to refer to the family tree.
“And nobody will on my watch,” Grandma BB said, striding toward them in her signature men’s Stacy Adams shoes. I can post Chip and Dale at your school. One text, and they’ll make them misfits run away whining.”
Despite the rough-and-tough exterior, the sassy senior had a soft spot in her heart for Kami, as did everyone else in the family. Being the only girl for a long time had its benefits. Everybody was protective of their little Kami, and there was nothing like the fury of the Jamieson men when it came to family. Unfortunately, Grandma BB took it to another level. She taught Kami to speak her mind uncensored.
“Ah, no.” Cheney squinted at her former neighborhood nemesis who had wiggled her way into Cheney’s life. To say the two women didn’t hit it off when she moved next door to Grandma BB was most accurate. When a truce was called, a deep friendship blossomed until it developed into a grandma and granddaughter type relationship. “I wish you had come to your dad and me, or your brothers.”
“Then my friends at school would be right that I’m a baby!” Kami jutted her chin. “I was doing okay, proving myself to them that I’m a grown up.”
Bowing her head, Cheney closed her eyes. Her daughter always seemed so wise and mature. Her reasoning was off base. This was not a little girl problem that Cheney could kiss and make it better. God, I need guidance. Queen cleared her throat and spoke with her sultry drawl. “Kami needs a change of environment.” She paused. “If it’s okay, she can spend the summer with me to think through this Tango situation.”
Perking up, Kami’s face glowed. “Can I, Mom?” She bounced on the ottoman in the seating area outside of the banquet room.
Kami seemed to come alive. She idolized her forty-year-old cousin who she considered an aunt. Kami even hinted at naming her first daughter Princess in honor of Queen.
“Let me talk it over with your father first.” The teenager might not claim Parke at the moment, but until she was of legal age and while she still bore the last name Jamieson, Parke had the last word regarding decisions about their children.
Bowing her head, Kami twisted her lips. “He’ll say no,” she mumbled.
“Yes,” Parke’s steady, low voice boomed, startling them all. How long had he silently stood nearby? Without another word, he pivoted and marched back to the banquet room.
“He hates me,” Kami said softly.
No, he’s hurting, just like you, Cheney thought. Lord, please fix what’s broken.
Family night was a bust, but Cheney dared not state the obvious, although she was sure others would agree. Their gatherings were more than a social event. Each family invested time and research to come up with twenty questions for the Black history and Bible games. Other times, Parke’s father would hold everyone captive with his vivid stories that always had a life lesson.
After the mood shifted, Cheney couldn’t remember all the questions, answers, or comments, but she knew #TeamKidd won. Eva’s competitive nature edged out #TeamMalcolm in a bonus round to name the first Black couple to compete in a Winter Olympics: Vanessa James and Yannick Bonheur of France. #TeamParke knew that, but were too distracted to play, including Kami who wasn’t happy that she was stripped of her cell phone and Tango being gone by the time the ladies returned to the room. Did her daughter really think the young man would be invited to stay?
Once they arrived at home, Cheney tried to engage Parke behind the closed doors of their bedroom. “Babe...” she began, but he cut her off.
“Let her go.” He held up his hand before rolling over in bed, then he had the nerve to turn off the lights.
Cheney blinked as darkness covered their room. No private discussion about family concerns? Cheney always refereed disagreements between the boys and her husband. He did the same between her and Kami. But this? What was the protocol for mending the crack between Parke and Kami? Father and daughter had a relationship that most teenagers would envy.
Cheney exhaled. Nothing would be resolved tonight. Besides, family night always led to couple fun night in the privacy of their bedroom—the whispers of love, the giggles of delight, and the heart-to-heart pillow talks. They played intimate games that kept their marriage alive and fresh. Their fourteen-year-old marriage was full of romance and going strong.
The wind teased the sheer curtains hanging from the French doors that opened to a second-floor balcony where a small table was set for two. Their fine china, chilled sparkling grape juice, and a bouquet of flowers awaited them.
Cheney’s heart was breaking. This was her family God had created after His own heart. Parke wasn’t fooling anybody, especially her. When it came to his family, he protected them at all costs. She could count on one hand how many times he granted Kami or the boys permission for a sleepover.
First, Parke checked the sexual offenders’ list near the house where Kami wanted to stay. If it was all clear, he would drop her off and ask to speak with the father or other man living in the home. It embarrassed Kami, but their daughter would appreciate it later in life.
Kami was coming of age. The best they could do was pray she wouldn’t succumb to worldly trends, but seek God in her life. A tear slid down Cheney’s cheek, and her pillow absorbed it. She wasn’t a quitter, but a fighter. She wasn’t about to hand her daughter over to the devil to sift as wheat. She thought about Luke 22:31–34 where Jesus gave Peter a heads-up that Satan had him on a hit list. Jesus had prayed that Peter’s faith didn’t fail. Scooting up, Cheney sniffed and wiped her face. She would do the same thing. The devil wouldn’t steal her family or her husband.
She shoved Parke. “Mr. Jamieson, I know you’re not asleep. You owe me a bedroom date, and I don’t care what is going on outside these doors, you will not deprive...” As she fussed, Parke shifted in bed until he turned on the bedside lamp and sat up. The indifference lingering in his eyes surrendered to love and longing as he leaned forward and swallowed her ranting in a kiss.
“Hush, woman. You protest too much.” With that said, he wrapped her in his arms.
She smiled. Let the bedroom games begin.
Chapter Three
Kami had to talk Tango. When she returned to the banquet room, her boyfriend was nowhere in sight. What happened to him? If her brothers or uncles hurt him, she would never speak to any of them again. She had dared not ask her father who demanded she hand over her cell phone when she returned. It was part punishment for her disrespect—he had said—and protection from the likes of Tango. Why couldn’t anyone understand she had to talk to her boyfriend?
The night before, Kami thought she had another chance to plead her case when Pace peeped his head into her bedroom, turned on the light and entered uninvited.
“Hey, you all right?”
She blinked in annoyance. She wanted to stay in the dark. “Do I look all right? I’m not,” she wanted to scream, but was too drained to argue. “Leave me alone.”
As expected, Pace did the opposite. He flopped on the foot of her bed.
“Hey, I’m sorry how everything went down tonight.”
She squinted, then twisted her lips, wondering if she should believe him. It was the most embarrassing moment of her life. Kami didn’t want to talk about it.
“To be honest, I didn’t get good vibes about Tango when he came to get you. As the big brother, I should have stepped up.”
“You’re not that much older than me. Not even a year. Plus, I was here first, so technically, I’m the oldest in the house.”
It was a contention between them for years. Kami was adopted first. She resented when Pace came to live with them and took away some of her attention. Pace was actually Parke’s biological son who had ended up in a foster home before being adopted.
Their parents broke up their squabbles when they were younger. Throughout the years, they’d slowly buil
t a respect of each other as siblings.
“Whatever, I was walking while you were learning to crawl,” was his standard comeback.
She sighed as the ache in her chest continued to spread. “Doesn’t matter, your father is putting me out anyway.”
Until tonight, Kami never had to worry about a place to stay, what to eat, her allowance, or what clothes to wear, but the threat from Parke... She cringed. She never called her father by his first name. Would he really put her out?
“You’re so dramatic,” Pace said. His deep voice was starting to sound more like their dad’s. “Our father said you can go to Oklahoma for the summer with Cousin Queen.”
“She’s Aunt Queen to me, and yes.” She scooted up in bed. “You heard dad—him—say he was going to put me out.” She never struggled with saying “dad” before tonight, so she didn’t understand what was going on with her.
“Yeah, I heard him, but mom and us boys wouldn’t let him. Seriously, that Terrence guy was a loser. I’m saying that as your brother and a guy. You could do better, sis—a whole lot better, and I’m going to make sure of it.”
“Now who’s being dramatic?” She tried to smile, but the heaviness of her heart wouldn’t allow her to lift her lips.
He stood to leave.
“Thanks for checking on me...ah,” she paused. “Can I use your cell phone?”
Pace shook his head.
“C’mon. I just want to talk to him. Explain. Three minutes tops.” Kami pleaded, pouted, and tried to conjure up tears.
“Nope. Sleep well, Miss Drama Sister.” He strolled to the door, turned off the light, and walked out.
Kami woke Saturday morning exhausted and with a slight headache. Is this what a hangover feels like? She and Tango had sipped on a bottle of wine he had taken from his older cousin’s house. It wasn’t strong, but had a sweet taste to it.
No, that wasn’t it. She didn’t sleep more than a couple hours at a time during the night. Her shame and her father’s scolding from the previous night flashed before her eyes. Why did it have to end like that?
All she could think about yesterday was seeing Tango that evening on a real date. She was seventeen and wanted to look grown and prove she wasn’t the baby the girls at school called her.
The evening had been perfect. Kami smiled, thinking about the happy memories. She felt goosebumps when Tango held her hand during the drive to the matinee. Once there, the movie they wanted to see was sold out and the next one wouldn’t start for another hour and a half.
“I got an idea,” Tango said.
“What?” Kami’s curiosity piqued. They had a few hours before family night.
He grabbed her hand. “Come on.” Twenty minutes later, they were in the U City Loop at Two Doves, waiting for matching tattoos. She could hear her father’s voice.
“Kami, the Jamiesons don’t follow fads. We’re trendsetters. Don’t mar your body with tattoos. When you grow up, you’ll be glad you didn’t.”
No. She shook her head. She wasn’t a baby any longer. She was almost grown and wouldn’t regret this, she tried to convince herself.
A big muscular guy, almost scary, stepped out from behind a door. He scanned the small sitting area, then grinned. Tango stood and the two met halfway and performed some strange handshake ritual. “You back for more?” Suddenly, he seemed to notice Kami. “Who do we have here?”
“Artist, this is my lady,” Tango introduced and reached out. Kami stood and came to his side and grasped his hand.
Her heart fluttered when he claimed her as his.
“Hi,” she had whispered, trying not to be shy, but the way Artist was staring her up and down made her feel naked. Tango wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
“Where would you like me to paint your artwork? Leg, arm, back, or breast?” He winked.
Gnawing her lips, Kami gave it some thought.
“Our wrists,” Tango had answered for her.
“Okay, but something small,” she added.
“First time,” Tango joked to the man, but she didn’t see the humor. She was taking a huge step to defy her parents to prove she was grown—to herself and the girls at school.
Artist offered suggestions of animals, caricatures, shapes, and endless possibilities, causing Kami to second-guess her decision. Tango must have picked up on her hesitation.
“How about something simple?” When she nodded in relief, he said, “How about I get one that says Hers, and you get one that says His?”
Kami bit back a grin and nodded, loving the thought of the world knowing she and Tango belonged to each other. “Okay.”
Artist ushered them in a room.
Tango took Kami’s hand and squeezed while Artist concentrated on scripting Hers on his arm. It looked painful, but Tango didn’t flinch. He already had other tattoos, so he was probably used to it. “See, baby. Nothing to it.”
She grimaced. He offered to get the wine from the car. Artist said he would look the other way since she was underage. Kami agreed. She swallowed more and braced herself for the first contact with the tattoo needle. It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, but it stung. The scratching on her skin felt eerie as the needle vibrated along a path to paint His on her wrist.
Unlike Tango’s tattoo, it seemed like hers took forever until finally, Artist wiped peroxide on it, then covered it with a small bandage with instructions on how to protect and clean it for the next twenty-four hours. The His tattoo looked so dark against her faint skin. It really stood out where it was hardly noticeable among the others on Tango’s brown skin.
“What time is it?” When they told her, she freaked out. When had an hour turned into almost two? “We’d better go.”
This was not how she planned her first date—late to a family gathering, a tattoo, and buzzed. She had hoped when they walked into the banquet room, she could mingle and her father wouldn’t notice the time.
Uh-oh.
His head turned and he made eye contact with her as soon as she and Tango opened the door.
Kami sniffed. Things kept going downhill. After making a grown-up decision about her tattoo, her father said things to make her feel like a two-year-old again. She snapped, trying to prove she wasn’t a little girl in front of Tango.
Kami rubbed her eyes to wipe away the tears. Remnants of the black eyeliner were on her fingers. She couldn’t believe she’d sassed her father like that, but he had to respect her choices.
Shifting in her bed, she turned on her side and faced the window. Sunshine was peeping through her curtain, but Kami didn’t welcome it. Her mood was dark, and she wanted the world to mourn with her. She was losing control of everything—even her plans for the summer. Like that, she was banished from the home. At least Aunt Queen seemed excited to have her. She snapped her fingers for emphasis.
Her slight headache was developing into a major one from straining her brain to relive yesterday.
Maybe she could eat breakfast and go hide before everyone else was up. On second thought, maybe she could hang out with Grandma BB all day. She would always have an ally with Grandma BB. If they were really related, Mrs. Beatrice Tilley Beacon would be her great-grandmother, but everybody called her Grandma BB—even her grandparents.
Kami detangled herself from the cover and stepped out of bed. She crept into the hall bathroom and washed the makeup residue off her face. Despite a good scrub, her black eyeliner lingered. Next, she combed out the curls and brushed her hair into a long braid. When she stared into the mirror, the glamorous woman from last night was replaced with someone who barely looked old enough to drive.
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she silently screamed at her reflection.
After a quick shower, she slipped on her jeans and a T-shirt, then tiptoed downstairs. The house was still quiet. When she turned into the kitchen, her father was sitting there sipping coffee.
Did he hate her? Her heart pounded with anxiety. Bowing her head to avoid eye contact, she mumbled, “Good m
orning, Dad” to test the waters.
“Morning.” He didn’t look her way.
His curt response indicated there would be no “Good morning, baby girl.”
Yep, she had messed up big time. Suddenly, Kami’s appetite was waning until a loud growl erupted from her stomach. Usually her father joked, winked, or smiled. They always said something silly or acted goofy when it was just the two of them.
Shoulders slumped, she strolled across the room to the refrigerator. Opening it, she grabbed the milk carton and turned around. He was still ignoring her. She sighed. Next, she selected a bowl and box of cereal. When she joined him at the counter and sat on a stool, her father stood.
“Daddy, I’m sorry—”
“I accept,” he said, cutting her off.
Twisting her lips, she didn’t know what else to say to clear the air between them. “Can I spend the day at Grandma BB’s?”
“Sure, but you can’t drive. I don’t want you to take a detour to some place where you’re not supposed to be. Have your mother or brother take you. You can spend the night.”
Wow, like that? He monitored her activities carefully. Now, he didn’t seem to care. Not only had she lost her phone privilege, but her car privilege too? “That’s not fair.” A floodgate gushed from her eyes. He was getting rid of her. As she sobbed, she felt arms wrapping around her. They weren’t strong and muscular, but soft.
“Hey, it will be okay,” her mother whispered and smoothed her hair.
“Daddy doesn’t like me anymore.” She looked up and searched the kitchen. They were alone.
After a soft chuckle, her mother kissed her forehead. “Your father doesn’t know how to stop loving you. Now,” she said, releasing Kami, “eat something. I’ll drop you off, but I don’t know about spending the night. We all need to be at church in the morning.”
Did God hate her too?
Once Grandma BB opened the door, Kami collapsed into her arms. At least she had an ally. Wrapping her arm around Kami’s waist, Grandma BB guided her to an overstuffed chair in the living room. Patting her leg, she forced some tissues in Kami’s hand.
