Guilty By Association

by Pat Simmons

  “I wouldn’t say that too loud. Black Eye has a short temper, and he’s not empty-handed.”

  “I never leave home without mine.”

  Kidd looked Cameron up and down. “I’ll be in touch.” He walked out without looking back. Kidd would never admit it to anybody, but he liked Cameron, whether he was a Jamieson or not.

  Chapter One

  A month later, Kidd still hadn’t reached out and touched Cameron—as the nostalgic AT&T commercial jingles suggested. Regardless of whether he was too stubborn or proud, his mother called him ornery. It was the principle of the thing.

  As far as Kidd was concerned, it was too late to connect with that side of the family. Of course, his stubbornness didn’t stop him and Ace from bonding.

  There were more pressing matters. If things didn’t get any better soon, he would have to relocate to find work. He took money out of his 401(k) for the down payment on his mother’s condo, even though she could have easily afforded it without him.

  It was Kidd’s bribe to get her out of a rough neighborhood. She was his mother, and he took care of his own. That’s what a real Jamieson man did. Even if he lived on the West Coast or in Australia, he would still send money home.

  Stretching out on the sofa after another exhausting day of attending job fairs and filling out applications, Kidd had to find another way to supplement his severance pay.

  Most of the time, he earned his money honestly. His childhood dream had always been to collect antique cars. He got the fever once he and his friends started tinkering with anything on four wheels. It wasn’t long before he was known as the neighborhood mechanic, so making money was never an issue. When the bug hit him, he would cross the border into Connecticut and gamble at MGM Grand Casino.

  Even though money had never been a problem, things were changing. He sighed. Although his eyes were closed, Kidd could hear a pin drop. Having a keen awareness of his surroundings was a skill he had picked up from living in the ghetto until he was in his late teens.

  Kidd heard the car before the garage door was activated. His mother was home from work. A few minutes later, her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor. Sandra Nicholson’s actions were so predictable. She dumped her purse, keys, and whatever else she was toting on the counter near the back door.

  “Good evening, son,” she said, seconds after walking into the living room.

  “Good evening, Ma.”

  Leaning over the back of the couch, Sandra kissed his forehead and hugged him. When she came around and sat next to him, she asked, “Any leads?”

  Kidd shook his head, knowing she was referring to a job.

  “Kevin Lawrence Jamieson, there’s one thing I can’t stand, and that’s a moody man. Now open your eyes and look at me,” she demanded, then softened her voice.

  The authoritarian in her worked since he was a boy. As a thirty-one-year-old fearless man, who once lived on his own, he still obeyed as a sign of respect. His deference was also fueled by the knowledge that Sandra Nicholson would fight him like a man if she had to.

  At fifty-one, she was still beautiful. She could be a cougar or an heiress to an old tycoon. Either way, the man would have to pass Kidd’s security check.

  “Maybe it’s time for Plan R—relocate.”

  Before they could get into a deeper discussion, Ace turned the lock in the front door. He strolled in with Cameron, and two other guys brought up the rear. Before any introductions, Kidd ID’d them. He thought he and Ace favored each other but the three stooges were obviously Cameron and his brothers. Their resemblance was uncanny.

  Kidd sat up, crossed his ankle over his knee, and stretched his arms across the back of the couch.

  “Hey, bro,” Ace greeted. “Hi, Mom. These are Cameron’s brothers, Parke and Malcolm, from St. Louis.” He grinned, as if he had just found stray animals and brought them home to keep.

  Sandra stood and smiled. “Hello.”

  “How are you, Miss Nicholson? I’m Parke Jamieson VI,” he said, taking long strides and introducing himself with a handshake.

  What family, outside the British monarchy, keeps track of numbers behind their names like that? Kidd wondered.

  “I’m Malcolm. We’re this knucklehead’s older brothers.”

  Sandra laughed. “Oh, you have one of them too.”

  Reluctantly, Kidd stood and welcomed his guests. “Whatz up? I’m Kidd.”

  After the men made themselves comfortable in the living room, Sandra headed into the kitchen to warm up leftovers for their company.

  Parke was the first to speak. “Kidd, Cameron has been telling us a lot about you and Ace.”

  “Well, it’s secondhand information.” Kidd shrugged.

  “Ace and I agree that you’ve been extra moody lately. I know the job market in Boston has taken a hard hit, so I came up with the perfect solution—my brothers,” Cameron said, proudly.

  “Kidd, if you want to come to St. Louis, you will have a job—professional or technical—with a top salary. Plus, free room and board for as long as you want … or four months, whichever comes first,” Parke offered, while Malcolm just watched him.

  Kidd grunted. “You two traveled all the way from St. Louis to offer me a job?”

  Sandra stopped banging pans. “Praise God! Thank You, Lord Jesus! Thank You!” she exclaimed, hurrying from the kitchen.

  “Actually, you can choose from three jobs. All you have to do is say the word and we’ll set things in motion … and it will be yours.”

  “I’m saying the word.” Sandra jumped in. “My eldest analyzes things too long.”

  “I don’t need handouts.” Kidd’s nonchalant attitude didn’t seem to faze Parke or Malcolm.

  “We’re staying for the weekend, so I’m hoping we can get to know each other better. Swap stories, you know—”

  Parke’s iPhone interrupted him. “Excuse me. Yeah, baby.” He listened for a minute and then frowned. “What is she doing in the emergency room?” Parke stood and walked to the door for more privacy, keeping his back to the group.

  All discussion ceased while everyone tried to follow the one-sided conversation. “She shoe-whipped somebody?” Nodding a couple of times, Parke mumbled something and disconnected.

  “Is everything all right?” Malcolm asked.

  “Yeah. Some guy tried to rob Grandma BB. She beat him up real bad and then waited for the ambulance to come. To make matters worse, she rode inside with him to make sure he didn’t regain consciousness.”

  Malcolm nodded and chuckled. “Of course she didn’t tell the police that those were her footprints all over him.”

  “Of course not. She’s still on probation for another six months.”

  Kidd didn’t see anything funny.

  “Is she okay?” Sandra inquired. Her genuine concern was evident by the expression on her face. “Do you need to get back home?”

  “That old woman is tough,” Malcolm answered, shaking his head.

  “Yes, she is. Grandma BB called my wife for a ride back to the shopping center to pick up her car. That woman has more drama than a television show.”

  No old person would get into that much trouble. Kidd was convinced Grandma BB was a nickname for some tough, young sistah. After all, who would believe a person named Kidd would be a thirty-something year-old man and more than six-feet tall?

  Parke clapped his hands as if to resume the prior exchange. “So, Kidd. What do you say? Use the weekend to get to know each other?”

  “No” was on the tip of his tongue. Kidd had planned to hang out with Black Eye on Saturday night. He had no intentions of changing his plans for the Jamiesons, until his mother and brother shot down every one of his excuses. Outnumbered, he finally conceded. “I’ll think about it.”

  After that, he was no longer the center of the conversation, so his mind wandered. Boston was home. Did he really want to start over and leave his mother without his protection? Ace would be here, but his carefree lifestyle most times overruled his common s
ense.

  The group eventually gravitated toward the kitchen where their chatter continued over black-eyed peas, beets, cornbread, and smothered pork chops. Kidd found himself smiling when Ace recalled some of their mischievous childhood deeds. It was late when Sandra called it a night. Not long after that, Cameron left with his brothers.

  When Kidd awoke late Saturday morning, his mother was whipping up omelets, waffles, and sausages for brunch. As if cued, Cameron rang the bell at the same time Sandra was setting the table. Like the previous night, he and his brothers said grace before everyone dug in.

  Kidd noticed how his mother seemed pleased as the Jamieson brothers spoke highly of their wives and lovingly about their children. When they pulled out their cell phones, Parke and Malcolm whizzed through a collage of photos that made Kidd think he was visiting a photographer’s website.

  After stuffing themselves, no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave. As the day progressed into evening, Kidd found himself having a good time. Parke and Malcolm declined an offer to go clubbing with Ace and Cameron, so nobody went anywhere. It was another late night of talking. This time the discussion was around sports: the St. Louis Cardinals and the Boston Red Sox.

  On Sunday afternoon, Kidd tagged along as Ace and Cameron drove his brothers to the airport for their flight back to St. Louis. When he returned home and walked through the door, his mother’s downcast face and misty eyes instantly put him on guard.

  “What’s wrong, Ma?” He had to repeat himself before she answered.

  “It’s Black Eye.” She swallowed hard. “He’s dead. He got shot multiple times last night.”

  Kidd felt the blood drain from his face. Yeah, he knew people who had gotten gunned down in gang fights and such. That’s why he tried to keep a handle on Ace, but Black Eye?

  “Not Black Eye.” He choked. They attended grade school together. He cleared his throat. For as long as Kidd could remember, he and Black Eye always had each other’s back in the neighborhood.

  “It was an ambush, the news said. Black Eye didn’t have a chance,” his mother reported. Then, turning her attention to him, she begged, “Kidd, please take a chance. Pack your bags and give St. Louis, or anywhere, a try.”

  Dazed, Kidd couldn’t speak. He and Black Eye were supposed to be together last night. If it wasn’t for the Jamiesons’ visit … He shivered, not wanting to think about it. “What about Ace? He’s the one you should be worrying about, Ma.”

  “I’ll get rid of him next. I don’t want the same fate that happened to Black Eye to fall on you. What if …” She paused and took a deep breath. “Those jobs in St. Louis … look at the relocation as a blessing in disguise. Prove that you can be a better man than your father.”

  But Kidd didn’t believe in disguises. If a blessing was to be had, then it should be out in the open. As far as competing with his phantom father, Samuel Jamieson? It didn’t take much to outdo him. But if he decided to accept Parke’s offer, what drama would be waiting for him in St. Louis—with people like Grandma BB around? “I’ll check it out.”

  Chapter Two

  St. Louis, Missouri

  Barely a month later, already there was trouble in Kidd’s promised paradise. He shifted on the sofa of Parke’s magnanimous turn-of-the-century home in the historic neighborhood of Ferguson.

  At the moment, he was being chewed out royally by Parke’s wife, Cheney; Malcolm’s wife, Hallison; and another woman whose identity escaped his memory. They were livid because he refused to accept or retain any of the jobs they labeled as great opportunities.

  Other than having the fear of God somewhere deep, deep down inside of him, he wasn’t afraid of man or beast. But a double dose of beautiful, tongue-lashing, long-legged females—with their hands hoisted on their hips, shooting darts his way—somehow made Kidd rethink his fearlessness. Their mug shots resembled his mother when she was about to take down him and Ace, once they began to tower over her as teenagers.

  Even a pint-sized, adorable little girl named Kami stood staring at him with her arms folded. With two thick braids and wearing a karate outfit, she was the spitting image of her father. Without saying a word, the group’s expression conveyed their sentiment: “Looks are deceiving. We’ve got just enough ’tude to back up our demands.”

  “My father-in-law was cordial when he learned you walked away from that factory position. He had been tirelessly pursuing it for you since the day you got off that plane. Although Papa P. held his tongue,” Cheney smarted off. “Parke will be steaming that you did it again—turned down a job that hundreds of people want.”

  “Same here,” Hallison added. “Malcolm even tried to set up an office position for you, and you declined it.”

  “I don’t have a hubby yet, but if I did, he would have their back,” the third woman chimed in. “I see a beat down coming your way.”

  Kidd grunted. “If you’re a fortune teller, then I’m sure you’ll see I’m not the man down,” he said smugly. It irritated him that he couldn’t recall her name. “And, you are again?”

  “Part of this family.” The woman was a looker: cute, shapely … and White. There’s no way she could be a blood relative, could she? She triple-popped a wad of bubblegum to indicate the question-and-answer period had just ended.

  “Really?” Kidd baited her.

  “Never mind that, Imani,” Cheney said. “Our husbands are a piece of cake compared to a woman’s wrath.” She added, snickering, “Put it this way, you might want to start shaking in your boots right about now, because we happen to love our men. And we’re not going to let anybody take advantage of them—including another Jamieson.”

  “Just in case you don’t want to listen to them, I’ve got my rig outside, and I’d be happy to repossess that nice ride of yours. Give me any reason. As a matter of fact, I don’t need one.” Then Imani added proudly, “I haven’t earned the company title of ‘repo woman of the month’ for nothing.”

  He contained a smirk at their bogus terrorization. What a joke, and they professed to be peaceful, loving Christians. Kidd sneered. He didn’t doubt many people tangled with these Jamiesons, but he was just as much a reckoning force single-handedly.

  Acknowledging their month of hospitality was probably about to expire, Kidd decided to speak his mind. “Your family sought me out—not the other way around. I was happy in my Hyde Park neighborhood in Boston.”

  “Mommy’s talking. Don’t interrupt,” Parke and Cheney’s daughter, Kami, warned. “Please.” Then she shifted into a martial arts stance and looked for confirmation. “Right, Mommy?”

  “Thanks, sweetie.”

  Kami beamed when Cheney nodded and gave her a heartwarming smile.

  Is there a law against spanking someone else’s child? he wondered. In fact, he was about ready to strangle everybody in the room. If they had owned a bird and a dog, Kidd wouldn’t spare them either.

  “You ladies must think I’m a kid—”

  “That’s what your name implies. What kind of nickname is that anyway?” Imani tempted him for a response.

  “Don’t let the nickname fool you. Last time I checked, I’m old enough to drink and drive.”

  Kidd flexed his muscles. His father—whenever he made an appearance—addressed Kevin as “kid,” as if he couldn’t remember his name. When Kidd’s younger brother came along five years later, Samuel tagged Aaron as “Ace.” That nickname claimed the younger Jamieson to be his father’s “Ace in the hole” when Samuel gambled. What Kidd couldn’t understand was why his deadbeat dad was adamant about them having the Jamieson last name. What a joke.

  Soon, Ace began calling his big brother “Kidd” as an endearment, and it stuck. Even the neighborhood children labeled him “Kidd.” Considering how much he disliked his father, Kidd didn’t know why he didn’t nip that name in the bud before he reached puberty.

  Although at times, the name did have its advantages. How many people would feel threatened by someone named Kidd? That was until they saw him. His six-f
oot-three inches and two-hundred-plus pounds of bulk could back up whatever he said.

  Kidd eyed Imani. “Regardless of my first name, it’s the last name you all seem to appreciate. So don’t test me.”

  Not surprisingly, their husbands chose that moment to open the front door and enter with more force than necessary. They stalked into the living room as though they were the new sheriffs in town. Malcolm strolled over to his wife and planted a kiss on Hallison’s cheek, while Parke fixed his attention on Kidd. Standing face-to-face, the two cousins matched in height and build.

  Kidd lived by two rules. The first: never bring children into the world without a commitment of marriage. That one was thanks to his father. The second: never fight with family, was courtesy of his mother. “Family always has your back,” she would say. However, judging from the way Parke’s nostrils were flaring, something in this family was about to change.

  Parke growled like an attack dog. “What is your problem? Your Jamieson family food stamps are about used up. I have to work,” he said, thumping his chest, “and Cheney likes her job. Even my children clean up behind themselves for an allowance. And here you are passing up job opportunities. From now on, please feel free to contribute to the household income. The Bible says if you don’t work, neither shall you eat, so I guess that’s one less plate at the table.”

  “I’m not a heathen, Parke. I may not go to church, but I do own a Bible, so don’t start quoting Scriptures to me.” As far as Kidd was concerned, the Bible was for reading in specific situations. At certain times, usually after some tragedy hit—like Black Eye’s funeral—or if he was in desperation mode, he would refer to it. In his mind, this wasn’t one of those times, so Kidd didn’t bother to pack it.

  Parke’s good graces were exhausted. Twisting his mouth, he looked like he was furious with his cousin. “Good. Glad you’re familiar with 2 Thessalonians 3:10. Let me add a footnote. In my house, if you don’t work, not only will you not eat, but you won’t sleep here either.”