Fairplay, Denver Cereal Volume 6

by Claudia Hall Christian

  “You mean the money and the girls?”

  “No, everyone says that,” Jeraine dared to look at her for the first time. “How can it be hard for you, It? You gots everything. Well, what I gots is a whole lots of nothing.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Tanesha took a step toward him.

  “You ever go to McDonald’s when you’ve just cashed your check and you’re hungry?”

  “Sure.”

  “How do you feel when you’re done stuffing yourself?”

  “Sick and hungry.”

  “That’s how I felt every single day.” Jeraine dropped his head to look at the ground. “Mom’s pissed at me; she won’t speak to me even when we’re in the same room. She didn’t raise me to do all those women, all those drugs, all that booze, all this crazy crap. My parents have been married almost forty years. I used to think my Dad was stupid for giving up the life to come home and live with Mom. But sitting in that cell? All I wanted was to spend forty years with you, to be the man you once thought I’d be.

  “But I’ve stuffed myself so full of all that crap that I am that crap,” Jeraine said. “You are what you eat. That’s what Seth told me. I spent so much time around blood suckers eating up their false adoration, I become false. The only way a man can become true and healthy is if he knows his flaws and holds them close to him. Seth said that too. And what flaws does Mr. It have?”

  For once, Tanesha didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m flawed Tanesha,” Jeraine said. “Badly, deeply flawed. And I have a long way to go. A long way. But I love you. I always have. I thought all of this would impress you. But plastic crap only impresses plastic people. Seth says that and he’s right. He’s right about everything.”

  Tanesha tilted his head up so she could see his face. His face was wet with tears. She touched his cheek. These weren’t tears of sorrow, but tears of relief for finally speaking his truth.

  “I won’t ask you to marry me again,” Jeraine said. “How about if I make you breakfast? Will you stay for breakfast? I took cooking classes at the Institute of Culinary Education in New York.”

  Tanesha scrunched her face up.

  “Yeah,” Jeraine said. “I can cook a lot of disgusting food.”

  “Do you have any food here?” Tanesha asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jeraine jogged into the kitchen.

  “You don’t know?” Tanesha asked.

  “Not ‘til I look,” he yelled. He stuck his head into the hall to say, “Nope, no food.”

  “Get dressed,” Tanesha said. “Gran will be up in a few minutes. You want to eat real food? Be real people? You should eat my Gran’s breakfast. See how you feel. She’ll serve it to you with a slab of humble pie, but you deserve it.”

  Smiling, Jeraine jogged back to his room to change. When he came out in jeans and a T-shirt, she shook her head.

  “Uh huh, you’re going to my Gran’s house,” Tanesha said. “You better get dressed.”

  Shaking his head, Jeraine went back to his bedroom. He came out in a blue suit, shirt and tie. Tanesha nodded.

  “I’m not driving in your pimp mobile,” Tanesha said.

  “How are we going to get there?” he asked.

  “I’ll drive,” Tanesha said. Catching his look, Tanesha added, “My junker is good enough for you and your fancy suit.”

  Smiling at her back, he followed her into his private elevator. When they reached the garage, he felt a flood of panic.

  “You will marry me though? Right?”

  “Let’s just start with seeing Gran again. You know she’s going to want us to go to her church.”

  Before she left the elevator, she kissed him. She hadn’t intended to, but she kissed him. His eyes looked over her face and he kissed her.

  “Come on,” she said.

  She took his hand and led him to her car.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Saturday afternoon—1:45 P.M. MDT

  “Ready?” Jacob asked Jill.

  She glanced at him and turned back continued staring at the building. They were sitting in her Lexus SUV outside Blane’s doctor’s office on the Anschutz Medical Campus. Katy sat behind them in her car seat turning the pages of a new picture book.

  “What if…?”

  “We came to get answers to any and all what ifs,” Jacob said.

  “How did you get him to come in?”

  “He likes Blane and said he’d do anything to help,” Jacob said. “We’re also major donors to his foundation that provide transplants for people without resources – kids, homeless people, foster care.”

  “We are?”

  “As of two hours ago,” Jacob said.

  Jill smiled.

  “Did Jeraine really spend the day digging up the sewer line at Tanesha’s Gran’s house?”

  “After escorting Tanesha’s Gran to church, he sure did,” Jill laughed. “That’s where we went before we came to get you. I had to take a picture of Mr. It in his fancy suit up to his eyes in dirt.”

  “They know that’s kind of what I do for a living?”

  “Oh trust me, Gran knows. She wanted Jeraine to do it,” Jill smiled. “And he did without question. He came inside, showered, and took them all to lunch. He’s going to call you this afternoon to get the parts to repair the sewer. Tanesha is beside herself.”

  “What about that doctor?” Jacob asked. Their eyes turned to stare at the building again. “Wasn’t she dating a doctor?”

  “Cam? You remember he showed up the night Saint Jude… died?”

  “I remember.”

  “He was looking for Tanesha to tell her that he had been relocated,” Jill said. “Turns out he’s in Witness Protection. That was the answer to all the Cam mysteries. The U.S. Marshals came and took him away that night. Tanesha hasn’t heard from him since.”

  “That’s weird,” Jacob said.

  They continued to stare at the building.

  “I thought we were going inside,” Katy said.

  Jacob took Jill’s hand and kissed the spot on her hand next to her thumb.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  He nodded. They got out of the SUV. With Katy between them, Jacob and Jill went inside.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY-ONE

  Father

  Saturday afternoon—2:15 P.M. MDT

  Feeling tired but proud, Jeraine sipped his milk shake and turned onto Curtis Street. He smiled. From a block away, he could see the pile of dirt he’d moved that morning.

  And then, a tall muscular man stepped on top of the pile of dirt, his pile of dirt, the pile of dirt he’d spent most of the day creating.

  “Who’s that?” Jeraine asked Tanesha.

  From a block away, Jeraine saw the man unbutton and take off his work shirt. His muscles popped under his white tank top and his skin was so black it shone almost blue. When the man turned to place his folded shirt on the porch, Jeraine got a look at his face.

  He knew exactly who was standing over his trench.

  Rodney-Smith.

  Jeraine swallowed hard.

  When he was three or four years old, Rodney-Smith had been arrested for raping and murdering some white girl downtown. Jeraine’s father was sure Rodney was innocent but no one would listen. The police had no witnesses, no evidence, nothing. That didn’t matter. Nor did the fact that Jeraine’s Mom and Dad had taken a second mortgage out on their house to pay for an attorney for him. Rodney-Smith had gone to prison for life.

  And Jeraine had never heard the end of it.

  “If this can happen to a good man like Rodney-Smith, it can happen to any of you,” she’d say. “They see your guilt all over your black skin.”

  If there was one person who’d made him into Mr. It, it was Rodney-Smith. Jeraine was not going to be like Rodney-Smith. No sir. No way. He made sure he kept out of the sun or used sun block to make sure his skin would never get so black. He kept his women clean, happy, and dark. No white woman was going to tell any tall tales on Jeraine. He had a p
osse of men who kept his image and business clean.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered hearing that Rodney-Smith had been exonerated. He couldn’t remember when he’d heard that. Didn’t matter. DNA evidence proved that some psycho killed that white girl and a bunch of others. At the time, he’d wondered if his Dad’s cop buddy Seth was involved. But he didn’t think about it for very long. Someone brought him a cocktail and the women were lining up to take a ride in his bed.

  Who cared what happened to his childhood boogie man Rodney-Smith?

  Jeraine pulled the car to the curb and jumped out. He wasn’t afraid of the man. Not him. No way. Pulling himself to his maximum height, he marched across the yard to where the man stood. Rodney-Smith’s head turned at his approach. Jeraine’s mind flooded with thoughts. He should say… He was going to say…

  When he got close to the man, he felt only panic.

  “Did you dig this hole?” Rodney-Smith asked.

  “What’s it to you?” Jeraine asked.

  Rodney-Smith’s eyebrows went up. Jeraine heard a car door slam. Rodney-Smith’s eyes flicked toward the sound before turning back to Jeraine.

  “Sure, I dug up the sewer at my fiancé’s house,” Jeraine said. “A man’s got to take care of his woman.”

  Rodney-Smith’s eyes filled with amusement.

  “You think that’s funny?” Jeraine asked.

  Rodney-Smith’s hand moved at lightning speed. Jeraine flinched thinking the older man was going to hit him. Rodney-Smith opened Jeraine’s right hand to reveal fresh blisters. The older man shook his head and turned to look at the hole again. Unsure of what to do, Jeraine looked in the hole too. A truck with the radio blasting one of his songs pulled up to the house. The music shut off with the low rumble of the truck.

  “Are you going to marry this man?” Rodney-Smith asked someone behind him.

  “He’s asked a few times,” Tanesha said.

  Rodney-Smith looked at Tanesha and nodded. Jeraine’s mind began chanting: Don’t say it; don’t say it; don’t say it. He silently begged Tanesha not to tell Rodney-Smith the truth about them.

  “He says you’re his woman,” Rodney-Smith said.

  “See an ear tag on me?” Tanesha laughed.

  She came around Jeraine to hug Rodney-Smith. Jeraine was so surprised he stepped back.

  “You know him?” Jeraine asked.

  “We’ve met,” Tanesha said.

  Rodney-Smith chuckled at Tanesha’s response. She picked up Rodney-Smith’s work shirt and went into the house. Hearing footsteps behind him, Jeraine turned around to see three young black men coming toward them. Jeraine groaned.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Rodney-Smith asked.

  “Fans,” Jeraine said. “They follow me everywhere.”

  Rodney-Smith looked at Jeraine and laughed. Somewhere between a chuckle and a cough, the laugh came from deep inside the powerful man. Jeraine turned to look at him. Rodney-Smith’s eyes went to the young men walking toward them. He gave them a curt nod.

  “You’re not a very good liar,” Rodney-Smith said. “Lying is a full time job, son. If I were you, I’d give it up. Come on, I have gloves and bandages in my truck.”

  Rodney-Smith pointed the young men toward the hole and walked to a battered red Chevy truck. Jeraine was too intimidated by the man not to follow him. The older man opened the passenger door. Jeraine stood on the sidewalk while the man dug through the back of his truck.

  Another truck pulled up. A male voice yelled something in Spanish. Thinking the man was talking to him, Jeraine was about to yell: ‘Speak English. This is America,’ back, when Rodney-Smith responded in Spanish. Four Hispanic men got out of the truck and grabbed shovels.

  “What are they doing?” Jeraine asked. “I worked all morning on that hole!”

  Rodney-Smith turned around to look at Jeraine. He opened his mouth to say something. Seeing Jeraine’s belligerence, he chuckled and began lancing Jeraine’s blisters. Rodney-Smith put something on the blisters then wrapped gauze and tape around his palm. Jeraine was amazed at how much better his hands felt. Used to being served, Jeraine didn’t bother to thank the older man. Rodney-Smith chuckled.

  “A man’s hands are his most important tool,” Rodney-Smith said. “You’ve got to learn to take care of your hands first.”

  “Why do you care?” Jeraine sneered.

  “Because you say you want to marry my daughter,” Rodney-Smith said.

  “You’re her father?” Jeraine snorted. “Some father. You let her live in those disgusting places with that ‘ho of a mother. She…”

  “How many kids do you have?” Rodney-Smith’s face shifted to prison yard hard.

  “Two.” Jeraine was so surprised by the question the words just popped out.

  “Know their names?”

  “It ain’t like that,” Jeraine said. “Them bitches tricked me into getting pregnant so they could take my money.”

  “Some father,” Rodney-Smith said. “You see these men?”

  Rodney-Smith grabbed Jeraine’s shoulders and turned him around. Jeraine looked into the yard. He was keenly aware of Rodney-Smith’s huge muscular hands just inches from his neck.

  “They’ve just worked an eight hour shift,” Rodney-Smith said. “You know why they’re here?”

  Jeraine shook his head.

  “My boss asked me to stop by and take a look for him. He’s at the doctor with his baby. I told these men I was coming here after work. They came to help,” Rodney-Smith said. “They have families. They have children. They worked damned hard today. I didn’t ask but they’re here because someone they trust might need their help.”

  Jeraine watched the men talk to each other then set to work.

  “My family was robbed of me,” Rodney-Smith said. “My wife felt like she had no choice but to sell herself to take care of our child. We might sit here on this sunny day, all these years later, and discuss all of her options. But at that time, in this place, my beautiful, loving, kind wife believed her only option was to sell her body.”

  Jeraine watched the sinew on the older man’s neck shift as he ground his teeth at the words.

  “Your father tried to talk her out of it. I tried to talk her out of it,” Rodney-Smith said. “But she was done trusting people to help her family. She knew that she and Miss T were on their own in this cruel world. Our baby lived in those awful places, saw horrible things, and suffered unspeakably until I manned up and called my mother-in-law for help.”

  “By that time, my wife was too far gone. The woman I loved with every breath in my body was gone.” Rodney-Smith gave a kind of cough to cover his sorrow. “My mother-in-law could only take Tanesha.”

  Before Jeraine’s eyes, his mess of a hole transformed into a tight and tidy trench. In five hours of digging, Jeraine had uncovered five feet of sewer line. These men dug a foot of trench apiece in the five minutes he’d been standing here.

  “I was in prison,” Rodney-Smith said. “What’s your excuse?”

  “You’re not hearing me,” Jeraine said. “They don’t want me to be a father. They only want my money.”

  “And what do you want?” Rodney-Smith asked. Jeraine had never considered the question.

  “Sounds to me like you’re the one in prison,” Rodney-Smith leaned close to him. “You better man up, and right now, if you want a chance with my daughter. Put those gloves on, let these young men show you what to do, and get this job done.”

  The older man’s deep black skin glinted. Jeraine could smell Ivory soap on the man’s skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered flying up into the sky only to come down into the safe strength of this man’s hands.

  “You and Miss T were an item when you were babies,” Rodney-Smith said. “She’s been waiting for you to grow up. But she’s near done waiting. She’s going to medical school in a few weeks. You know how many men live their whole lives dreaming of meeting a woman like Tanesha? A beautiful, smart, doctor woman like her?�
��

  Jeraine had some idea of how many men would kill for a woman like Tanesha.

  “Are you going to stay in your own prison? Or are you going to join us men in the free air?” Rodney-Smith looked him up and down. “Trust me, you don’t want to face every day without the only woman God meant you to love. You don’t want to live with that kind of pain.”

  Rodney-Smith walked around him and across the yard. Jeraine watched the older man laugh at something the young black man said. They both looked over at Jeraine and he blinked.

  This was the moment.

  He could walk across the yard and spend the day doing ‘slave work’ with ‘low lifes.’ Or he could call a cab and return to his penthouse life. His eyes flicked to the house. Tanesha and her grandmother were watching from the front window. For a moment, he longed for the cozy comfort of a long hot shower, an hour in the hot tub, a massage, and a woman or two. He glanced to the street.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tanesha leave the window. He didn’t have to look to know he’d failed her. Again.

  He closed his eyes.

  “Hey, It, whatcha waiting for?” one of the young men asked.

  “I’ve got a shovel right here,” the other young man said.

  “Don’ worry,” a Hispanic man said. “We left plenty of dirt for you.”

  Laughing at himself, Jeraine went across the yard.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Saturday afternoon—3:35 P.M. MDT

  Jacob shook Blane’s doctor’s hand. He nodded to the transplant expert and tissue typing doctors. Putting his arm around Jill, they walked to the elevator. Katy was sound asleep on Jill’s hip.

  “Would you like me to take her?” Jacob asked.

  “Katy?” Jill looked down at her sleeping daughter. “There aren’t going to be many days of this. I’m trying to enjoy it while I can.”

  “Because of the liver transplant?”