by Pat Simmons
She hurried away with a mind to pray for him on Sunday at church. Why wait? She started at that moment.
“Eva.”
Irritated, she spun around, darts aimed and neck craning. “What, Kidd?”
“You mentioned you weren’t married, but are you getting married?”
Frowning, she exhaled. “What?”
As he approached her, she couldn’t help but admire his swagger—cool, confident, and overbearing. His arms were hidden behind his back. “I asked if you’re getting married.”
Squinting, she tried to remember the smart-aleck line he gave her yesterday, but couldn’t. “That is not your concern.”
They engaged in a quiet showdown. The tension was thick, as if two superheroes were battling for supreme power: Wonder Woman vs. Ironman.
When Kidd produced pages from her bridal magazine, she gasped and snatched them from his hands. In her stressed-out state last night, she absentmindedly stuffed them in her book. Hurrying to get away from him, they must have slipped out.
“Ah, thanks.”
What a time for them to appear. How embarrassing. She turned back inside. If I ever get married, it wouldn’t be to a man like you, Kevin “Kidd” Jamieson. Or my possible future brother-in-law, Lance. There had to be somebody in-between.
Chapter Nineteen
Engaged? Kidd had never seen a ring on Eva’s finger or heard her mention a boyfriend. What was her availability? He didn’t believe in gathering information from other sources about an intended target. Kidd asked her a direct question and there was no misunderstanding her answer. Why did he care? Because he wanted her—whether she was attracted to him or not.
Two days later, Kidd was still mulling over his troubles. Between his desire for Eva and Ace’s predicament, his mind was saturated.
Honoring his mother’s wishes—more like her decree—he held out from calling home. But he needed some type of distraction. One of the guys at work had invited him to the Lumiére Place Casino for a night of gambling and entertainment. He was tempted to go, that is, until he got home, where there was a buzz of activity for a Friday night.
“Are you coming with us, Cousin Uncle Kidd?” Kami asked.
“Heading where?” Kidd pulled the untied tie through his collar.
Parke walked up behind him. “Sorry, man, we meant to tell you earlier, but it’s family game night, and we’re heading out to Malcolm and Hali’s. It’s their turn to host it.”
Kidd still hadn’t grown accustomed to the “family” term thrown around so loosely. He wasn’t able to decline when Paden came out of nowhere and ran circles around him, screaming for attention. When Kidd bent down to scoop him up, the toddler took off, squealing.
“Parke, please grab another game besides Life as a Black Man,” Cheney yelled from the kitchen through the clatter of pots and pans.
Lifting a brow, Kidd smirked. “Oh, it’s no game. I can tell you all you want to know about the injustices of life as a Black man.”
“Yeah. Me, too, but that’s not the object of the game. It’s surviving the temptations lurking on every corner to get the keys to the city.”
“A game, huh?” Kidd’s curiosity was sparked.
Parke nodded.
“But you’re not playing it tonight,” Kidd said.
Stuffing his hands in his pocket, Parke glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen door. He leaned closer to Kidd’s ear. “We could, if you insisted. My wife happens to like you. Me, she tolerates.”
“And loves,” Kidd added, a little envious.
“You know it.”
Winking, Parke bent over and blocked Paden from running by him. The toddler squealed again. Pace jumped down the stairs, dressed in a navy polo shirt with bold white letters stretching across his chest, spelling out Team Parke. “Hi, Cousin Uncle!”
Kidd nodded and then squinted. “What’s with his shirt?”
“Oh, we all have one—Kami, Cheney, me, and that little monster there. Since Malcolm and I both have families, we’ve established teams. Come on, you’ll have a good time.”
Kidd didn’t think so. The absence of the polo shirt bearing his name would be a reminder that he was a borrowed Jamieson.
Cheney walked out of the kitchen and reached for Paden. “Hey, Kidd. You’d better get ready if you’re going.”
“I’m not.”
Suddenly, he became the center of attention. Even the baby stopped giggling.
Pace groaned. “Ah, man. I wanted you to be my partner.” Shoulders slumped, he turned dejected.
“Please, Uncle Cousin,” Kami begged.
“Well, I didn’t know anything about it. It’s last minute, and …” Kidd racked his brain for more excuses. “Plus, I don’t have a uniform.”
Cheney frowned. “Yes, you do.” She headed upstairs. Within minutes, she returned with a navy polo with room for his muscular arms. “See, Captain Kidd.” Cheney beamed. “You’ve been part of our family since day one.”
Touched by their thoughtfulness, Kidd was tongue-tied.
“Since you two like to bump heads, I figure game night could be your arena,” Cheney added.
“Daddy’s the captain of our team. You might have to borrow some kids—I mean children—so you can have your own team,” Kami advised. Out-voted, Kidd dismissed the idea of going to the casino in favor of spending time with his family.
Family. He had never seriously contemplated having children. He first had to get a wife, and he wasn’t in a rush to make that happen. At least, not until this week when he saw Eva’s pictures of wedding gowns. All of a sudden, he wanted what some other man had, a fiancée—Eva. But Kidd planned to beat him to it.
Cheney is going to kill or strangle her husband for grabbing that Life as a Black Man board game, Kidd thought, laughing to himself. He was imagining the fireworks, as he trailed Parke’s SUV over the Blanchette Bridge, crossing the Missouri River into St. Charles County.
In the passenger seat, Pace bobbed his head, listening to music from his headset. Kidd was dumbfounded over how he had become the young boy’s idol. It made him want to not only deserve it, but also live up to the boy’s expectations.
“I’m glad you’re coming with us.”
Kidd smiled. “You are?”
“Uh huh. And I’m glad you’re wearing your shirt too. We’re going to beat ’em aren’t we, Uncle Cousin?”
Kidd slowed down to exit on First Capitol Drive, a road that retained its name after Missouri’s capitol was moved from St. Charles to Jefferson City. But St. Charles still boasted some impressive stats, such as the 225-mile Katy Trail and a historic downtown overlooking the river. Kidd was impressed by those tidbits, shared courtesy of Parke’s eldest son. Only for his little cousin would he be willing to cheat to win—maybe.
“Watch out for Team Kidd!” Pace said with his excitement running high.
“Yeah.” Kidd held his hand up for a high-five. Pace slapped it.
He passed Lindenwood University campus as Parke turned onto Elm Street, which was supposed to take them to New Town. The area was a newer development that focused on a “walkable” community situated around natural habitats.
Ten minutes later, the caravan of Jamiesons pulled up and parked in front of a newer home construction. Parke unloaded his precious cargo. Pace was already out of his seat belt when Kidd got out, but waited impatiently for his cousin to open the door so he could join his siblings.
Malcolm and Hallison were standing in the doorway. She was holding MJ’s hand. The little toddler was excited at the sight of his cousins. Eventually, Hallison released him only for Cheney to pick him up and smother him with kisses.
Parke’s parents, Parke V. and Charlotte, brought up the rear. Everyone seemed to have synchronized their arrival time. Parke and his father carefully balanced dishes in their arms. Kidd and Pace’s task was to bring the paper products.
“Oh, no, not another Jamieson team,” Hallison teased, as Kidd stepped into their spacious home and greeted Malcolm wit
h a fist-bump.
“You know it.” Kidd grinned and flexed his biceps.
As the women situated the food on the dining room table, the children dutifully set out the napkins, paper plates, and cups. Pace didn’t participate and remained at Kidd’s side.
Parke shoved Kidd into a huddle with Malcolm and his father, who was fondly known as “Papa P.” Pace squeezed in among them. “Okay, this is the deal. I brought Life as a Black Man. You know they’re going to have a fit, so I need you all to back me up.”
“Got it,” the men agreed in unison and separated, as if they were on a football field or a basketball court.
Kidd scanned the home. Everything looked new—from the window treatments to the furniture—to the shiny hardwood floor. The house resembled a model home until he glimpsed a room down the hallway with toys littering a brown carpet. He chuckled to discover that Hallison and Malcolm were able to contain the evidence of a toddler to one room.
“Okay, everyone, time to eat. Papa P., do you want to bless the food?” Hallison asked her father-in-law.
He waved her off and turned to Malcolm. “This is your castle, son.”
They gathered around the table and linked hands. Kidd bowed his head.
“Father God, in the name of Jesus, we thank You for another family fellowship. We thank You for Kidd being among us today. I hope we have been a blessing in his life, as he has been in ours. Sanctify the food we are about to eat, and let our behavior be pleasing in Your sight. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
After the chorus of “Amens,” Cheney chuckled. “As long as we’re not playing Life as a Black Man, we’ll be fine.”
Kidd cut his eyes at Parke.
“Baby, what game did you chose?” Cheney asked, as she prepared plates for her children.
Parke feigned ignorance. “Hmm. Let me see.” He strolled over to the bag, opened it, and gasped. It couldn’t have sounded any less genuine. “Oops. Look what I grabbed, Life as a Black Man.”
The uproar was simultaneous. Kidd ducked as the first pillow from the sofa flew passed him. It was the most comedic scene he had ever witnessed. Even the children turned on their father. They retrieved the pillows for their mother to reload the ammunition until Papa P. whistled and ordered a cease-fire so they could eat.
“Considering I know my husband, it’s a good thing I grabbed the Oware game. Since its origin is from Cameroon, Africa, I thought you might want to impress Kidd.” She lifted a brow.
“Good choice, daughter-in-law.” Parke’s father nodded. “Although I don’t know the whereabouts of my game that I had as a child, I still might have some of my original forty-eight seeds that are needed to play.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “We should all know how to play this game,” he said, as he connected with every face around the table. “It’s called Awalé in our homeland of Côte d’Ivoire.”
The elder Parke unwrapped the box and pulled out a wooden board that had several pits carved out. “This is a game of strategy for serious adults. One will overtake the other, but the journey is slow and calculated.”
“Aren’t we all playing?” Kidd questioned.
“When one plays, we all play. Even though it calls for two players, it’s a very social game and a good source for African children to learn their math.”
“It’s all about sowing seeds in this game. In this life, you’d better believe God has more than forty-eight seeds,” Parke added.
There he goes again, always interjecting God into a conversation. “What happened to plain old Monopoly, Scramble, or Bingo? Isn’t PlayStation still the game of choice these days?” Kidd asked.
“I like PlayStation, too, Cousin Uncle Kidd. But Daddy says Oware will make our brains big.” Kami stretched. “But Life as a Black Man will make Black people strong. Right, Mommy and Daddy?” She looked to her parents for confirmation.
Cheney winked. Parke grinned proudly and boasted, “Yes, and I’m the reigning king to survive Glamourwood Districts, The Ghetto, Corporate America, and Prison before advancing to Freedom and winning life as a Black man!”
Groans echoed among them.
“Team Kidd, it’s your call. You’re our guest,” Malcolm announced.
Kidd ignored Parke and a few others’ hand signals. “Let me check with my partner.” He squatted, eye level with Pace. “What do you think, cuz?”
Pace’s eyes widened, surprised that he had been consulted. He grinned.
“Remember that video game you want, Son.” Parke jumped in, attempting to bribe his firstborn. Cheney elbowed him.
Cupping Kidd’s ear, Pace whispered, “Jambo! Traders who sell the most to customers in Central Africa during colony time wins.” He turned to his aunt and smiled, proudly.
I guess Milton Bradley isn’t a household name anymore. Kidd frowned with a chuckle. When he was a child, his pastime was bike riding, basketball, or hanging out with his buddies.
As if cued, Hallison left the dining room and went into the hall closet, rumbling through items. She pulled out a colorful square box.
“Yay!” Pace pumped both fists in the air. “Auntee Hali bought it for me when we went shopping.”
“Sounds like a setup to me,” Parke complained. “Traitor. There goes a perfectly good game night.”
As Parke complained, the whole family laughed at his expense. Kidd noted how everyone was paired off. He was the captain with no team unless he borrowed Pace. Truthfully, there was only one person he wanted to be on his team—Eva—and that desire wasn’t limited to a game at all.
Chapter Twenty
In a million years, Kidd never would have guessed that he might enjoy a night of playing games. To him, it was a foreign concept. Although family night with the Jamiesons had been fun on Friday, Saturday night belonged to him. He drove to some hole-in-the-wall sports bar—another recommendation by coworkers—and actually had a decent time. It was almost one o’clock in the morning when Kidd headed back to Parke’s.
As soon as he entered through the front door, Kidd heard a faint sound coming from the back of the house. Curious, he quietly walked in the direction of Parke’s cave. There was no way he was still up. A late night for Parke was ten-thirty, and not a second later.
Images from the television screen caught his attention, but the noise was actually jazz music, streaming from four miniature surround sound speakers. Parke was sprawled on the sofa with Cheney cuddled up next to him. She appeared comfortable; Parke didn’t. Kidd smirked, debating if he should leave them be, or save Parke from a crook in his back or neck.
Parke stirred, which caused Cheney to yawn. His eyes popped open—alert—as if he hadn’t been knocked out in the first place.
“Hey, man. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I heard something and came to investigate,” Kidd whispered.
Stretching, Parke shifted Cheney’s body as she fought against waking. “It’s all right. I was waiting up for you, until she came and bothered me.” Parke grinned, nodding at his wife.
Cheney smiled when her ears registered her husband’s comments. She swatted at Parke’s arm. “Don’t blame me. I came to keep you company,” she accused Parke, while he helped steady her on her feet.
“Well, you both failed. I could’ve been a burglar.”
“Burglar? Ha. I doubt it. I heard the alarm on the front door when you opened it.”
Liar. “Right. Sure you did, cuz.”
“And we have a pretty thorough neighborhood watch team. They practically provide a twenty-four-hour surveillance of the streets in Old Ferguson. But nobody could outdo Grandma BB.” Cheney became quiet and reflective. Slowly, she seemed to muster a weak smile. “She was the ringleader on the block where I used to live. Grandma BB was the inventor of watch mistress.”
Cheney sighed. “I sure do miss her sass. It doesn’t come through as strong on Facebook. She posted on her Stacy Adams fan page this morning that the pickled beets in the joint aren’t worth the wheelchair she needs to get them.” She laughed.
“Her spirits
seem high,” Parke added, “so I guess her therapy’s going well. It’s a shame she won’t let us step another foot in the place without causing a scene.”
“Grandma BB is one of a handful of determined residents. She’s a’wight. I check on her at least every other day. She’ll make it, Cheney.” Kidd tried to placate them.
“I know you’re right. We’ve been praying for her. Maybe God is trying to get her attention. Playtime is over. God is married to the backslider, but Jesus has to be losing patience with that woman. Again, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Yeah, your visit blew my cover. She wasn’t too happy about that.”
“But you’re still here with us and there too, watching over her.” Cheney brushed a kiss against Kidd’s cheek. “Well, I guess I’d better head to bed. Parke, don’t stay up too long. You know my feet get cold.”
After lifting a brow at Parke, Kidd pivoted on his heel and watched Cheney disappear through the kitchen to take the back stairs. “I would say the lady doesn’t want you to keep her waiting.”
“Right, and don’t get used to that. There’ll be no more kisses coming from her. Get your own woman.” Parke didn’t crack a smile.
“You have no worries from me. I’m faithful to my convictions. Anyway, I’m about to call it a night. Good night.” He turned to leave.
“You’re good people. If I thought you were a threat, you wouldn’t be here. Got a sec?” Parke motioned to a chair.
“Actually, I don’t. I’d rather have a pillow and blanket. Whatz up?” Kidd sat and slipped off his shoes.
“We really enjoyed you at family night. We weren’t so bad, were we? I’m hoping you’ll consider going to church with us on Sunday. I’ve tried not to nag you about it, but we would really like for you to accept our invitation. It’s the third one, you know.”
“You’re counting?” So much for no pressure, he thought. Kidd didn’t make a commitment.
“Listen, Kidd, I know we didn’t get off to a good start. And I know it’s been up in the air whether you want to hang around—”
