by Fiona Zedde
"Why? I like how you look in my clothes." Hunter chuckled. "It marks you as mine."
Sinclair politely showed her the middle finger.
"Later. We have somewhere to be right now."
At the barbeque, they walked out of a sprawling British colonial style house to a backyard full of Hunter lookalikes. Women, boys, old men, little girls, all various versions of Hunter, possessed of some feature she wore all too well; the dark skin, the fleshy mouth, even the look of cynicism that Sinclair thought was cultivated. Now she had proof that it was genetic.
"No surprises, huh?"
"What? This is a barbeque."
"With your family."
"So what? They don't act like deranged wildebeests or gnaw on each other in front of company."
"I'm not amused."
"Yes, you are." Hunter grinned. "Come on. Let's go say hello."
She marched Sinclair straight over to a slim, pale-skinned woman who stood over a bowl of punch looking at it like it was the worst disaster since disco. Her expression changed once she saw Hunter. She hugged the dark woman as if she hadn't seen her in months.
"Good to see you, prodigal Hunter. We haven't seen you over here in a while."
"Well, you know, work for the university keeps me busy."
"I know you work at home so don't try that on me, young lady."
Hunter had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I'm not here five minutes and you're already making me feel bad."
"Well, if you came around more often-" the older woman made a dismissive noise. "Let's not get into this old argument in front of your guest." She turned toward Sinclair, extending her hand. "Since my niece is too rude to introduce us, my name is Eunice Keller."
"Uh, sorry. Aunt Eunice, this is Sinclair."
Sinclair put on her most polite smile. "Good to meet you."
"Are you the new girlfriend?"
She blinked at the unexpected question. "I'm just here for another few weeks."
"That's not what I asked you."
"Aunt Eunice, stop." Hunter tucked Sinclair behind her and gave her aunt a stern look. "She's here to have a good time, not to be badgered by you."
"Darling, we all want to know. We're concerned about your happiness." Eunice brushed Hunter's cheek with the back of her fingers.
"I know, but ease off. Please. If you treat all the girls I bring over this way then you'll never see me safely married off."
"What girls? You never-"
"We'll talk more later. I have to say hi to everyone else. Bye." Hunter pulled Sinclair away, but not before she saw Eunice's look of amused speculation.
"Is this going to be an obstacle course?"
"Not really. She was the most important person for you to meet. Everyone else will come over to us in their own good time." She released a sigh of relief. "Now it's time for food!"
More family members did come up to them as the afternoon wore on. Most were merely curious, looking at Sinclair with a speculative gleam in their collective eyes, though few were as direct as Eunice had been. After an hour of subtle interrogation, Sinclair had enough and escaped into the house for a drink.
At the bar in the sunroom, she ordered a Gilbey's and tonic and sat back to take in the view through the wide French doors. A familiar curve of ass caught her eye and Sinclair wolfwhistled in appreciation. Then she looked closer. No, that was not Hunter. Sinclair quickly turned around on the bar stool, hoping that the woman hadn't heard the high, piercing noise. She waited a few minutes before turning to look at the woman again.
The Hunter lookalike was very attractive. Tight brown leather pants hugged her slim hips and a white tank top showed off small, well-shaped breasts and a flat belly. She saw Sinclair looking at her and winked. Hunter suddenly appeared from somewhere in the house and sat next to her at the bar.
"That's my cousin, Ebony."
The woman looked exactly like Hunter only her hair was long and wavy, trailing down to her hips in a silky cloud.
"You see anything you like over there?"
"She is very attractive." Sinclair had a moment of deja vu. Would Hunter ask her cousin to join them tonight in her bed?
"Well, that's too bad because you're taken."
She hid her sigh of relief. "I am? By whom?"
"Well, if it's not obvious then I guess I'm going to have to show you."
Sinclair was suddenly afraid. She backed away as much as she could on the bar stool. "No, it's OK, I believe you."
Hunter laughed and brushed her lips against the vulnerable spot just beneath Sinclair's ear. She shivered.
"See, it wasn't that bad, was it?"
Yes, it was. Apparently Hunter had already discovered one of her more sensitive erogenous zones. Sinclair put the glass to her mouth.
"What is this that I'm getting into with you?" she asked.
The other woman shrugged. "This is us having fun for as long as you're here. Don't feel pressured because I brought you here and you've met my family. This doesn't quite mean the same thing here as it does in America."
"Fair enough." Sinclair leaned toward her dark lover and lightly nipped her ear. "Does this mean we can come here and use their hot tub whenever we want?"
"How did you find out about the tub?"
"Unlike some women, who shall go nameless"-She patted Hunter's thigh. -"the people around here are a mighty informative bunch. They already outlined all the perks of being your girlfriend. One of them being twenty-four-hour access to the hot tub to do whatever I want with or without said perceived girlfriend."
"Really? What are the other perks?"
"If I told you then I'd have to kill you," Sinclair deadpanned.
"Do little deaths count? If so, we can get started on that right now. My old room is free and it has a nice fat lock on it." Hunter wiggled her eyebrows.
"You are incorrigible."
"As my perceived girlfriend, it's a good thing for you to know. It'll make everything go that much smoother." She kissed Sinclair quickly on the mouth. "Now come on, let's go dance. They're finally starting to play some good music."
A long time later Sinclair pled exhaustion and left Hunter on the dance floor shaking her ass to the fast-paced calypso music. She asked the woman behind the bar for some fresh carrot juice, but she looked at Sinclair as if she didn't know what the Americanized woman was talking about. With a glass of water in hand, Sinclair left the bar in search of more intelligent life.
"Where are you going, Sinclair?" Eunice called out to her from her lawn chair. She sat ringside with some half-dozen other members of the family who'd gotten tuckered out by the heat, dancing, or the children. "Come sit. Have some rum punch with us."
"No thank you for the drink, but I will sit with you."
They made room for her on a padded lawn chair next to Eunice. Sinclair was beginning to sense some sort of conspiracy.
"Everybody here knows Sinclair, right?"
Several people nodded. Sinclair remembered meeting them but couldn't be sure of all their names, all except for Ebony. "For those who don't know, this is Hunter's new girl."
"I am not her new girl." Sinclair scowled at Eunice who gave her a look that was all innocence. "We're just keeping each other company while I'm on the island."
Ebony laughed. "You say that, but I bet if one of us tried to push up on you Hunter would take us out."
"Damn right." A thin man with pale gold eyes grinned. Sinclair remembered that his name was Cliff. He owned the restaurant on the beach.
"So you're Hunter's girl," Ebony stated, laying back in her chair. "Subject dismissed."
Eunice nodded. Sinclair was glad to fade into the background once again as they began talking about something else. She quietly sipped her water and watched Hunter's family.
"Conchita sent some money from America the other day," Eunice was saying, "not much money, just two hundred-dollar bills."
"Didn't she marry that American dentist last year?" Tima, an Indian-looking cousin with her hair c
ut stylishly short, asked. Her amber eyes glowed in the afternoon sun.
Eunice waved her hand for silence. "Yes, she can afford to send much more than that, but that's not why I'm telling the story."
People in the group laughed or sucked their teeth, whichever their inclination.
"She sent it to Bailey's house and you know Bailey sent little Michael to the bank with money to cash."
"No, don't tell me," Cliff groaned.
"Yes, man. The thieving woman at the bank told the boy that the American money was no good and sent the boy home without any money."
"What?!" Winsome gasped. She was the quiet one who looked like Billie Holliday at the peak of her career, complete with a white flower in her pressed hair.
"My God, this is worse than those crooks at the post office who open all the mail from foreigners, steal whatever money that happens to be in there, then toss the letters in the rubbish bin not expecting to get caught."
"Poor Michael," Tima said, shaking her head.
"Is he stupid or something?"
Ebony threw her head back and laughed. "Leave my cousin alone. He's still at the age when he thinks that all grown-ups tell the truth."
"Hopefully after this he realizes that is just not so."
"You talking about what happened to little Michael?" Hunter leaned over Sinclair, looking sweaty but still energetic in the tank top that clung to her torso. "Ease up, Sin. Let me sit behind you."
"You're all sweaty and wet."
Hunter abruptly drew off her tank top and used it to dry her neck, stomach and arms before tossing it behind the chair. "Better?"
"Much."
Wearing a black sports bra, Hunter slid into the lawn chair behind Sinclair. She leaned back into her lover with an inaudible sigh, ignoring the pairs of curious eyes on them.
"Yes, Bailey's boy," Eunice said, smiling at her niece. "Remember the fiasco with the bank?"
"Yes, man," Hunter replied. "I went down there to raise hell, but of course nobody knows who was on duty then or what happened to the two hundred dollars."
"Thieving crooks."
Cliff lifted his glass to Tima's comment. "Amen."
"The country is poor, man." Ebony said. "What else are poor people supposed to do?"
"Not steal from their countryman, for one thing," Winsome muttered.
"Don't be so damn idealistic. People just trying to put food on the table."
"If somebody works in a bank, chances are they don't have to worry about the children in the house dying of starvation." Tima raised a well-plucked eyebrow in Ebony's direction. "What that woman in the bank did was wrong. That wasn't any sort of Robin Hood gesture. Bailey and those kids need the money a hell of a lot more than they do."
"Why don't you go down there and give it to them then?"
"Uh-oh," Hunter whispered at her back. "This is about to get ugly."
Eunice finished her glass of rum punch and held it out for a refill. "Calm down, Ebony. Let's not make this personal."
The long-haired woman was about to say something else, but Hunter kicked her bare foot and slid her a warning glance.
"Well at least somebody didn't kill Michael for that little bit of money," Tima said with a delicate shudder.
"Not that they wouldn't have done it if they knew what he was carrying down the street."
"Well, the neighborhood kids know that he has people abroad, so that wouldn't have been such a big leap." Eunice sipped her rum punch. "A lot of folks around the island get killed every day over money or some other stupid thing. If it wasn't for security in all those big houses on the hill, a lot of those white people would be dead in their two-car driveways."
"What about Jamaicans who leave for years then come back to settle on the island? Is their situation the same as those so-called expatriates?" Cliff asked.
"You mean people like me?" Hunter asked with a sardonic twist to her mouth.
"Not exactly like," Felix shook his head. "I mean just the other day, a woman from Portmore, who was in England for some twenty years, came back to settle in the house she was born in. Some local boys broke into the house, broke her neck, and took all her money plus all the nice things she brought back from foreign lands for her family."
Hunter shifted against Sinclair's back. "I remember that story from The Gleaner. The two girls she had here said that she had a lot of ideas about turning the country around, that she wanted to give something back to the place where she was born."
Sinclair absently stroked the condensation on her glass. So even straight people had to worry about violence on the island. Like most visitors, Sinclair had initially imagined Jamaica as a place of gently swaying hammocks and turquoise seawater overflowing with fish. Peaceful. Even though they knew the realities of living on the island, Nikki and her father managed to be happy here. And she knew that Lydia wouldn't leave even if someone gave her approved immigration papers tonight.
"Does that make you worry about your safety?" Sinclair asked Hunter. "Your accent isn't strictly Jamaican anymore. Someone on the street might hear you talk and think that you have a lot of money."
"That's the chance I take. I'm not going to up and leave here for what some people think I have. Everybody around here knows that I don't have much."
"Still, it's a lot more than most Jamaicans have. A Jeep in the garage, a fancy computer, a nice house with a yard you don't have to farm to make your living." Ebony nodded. "That's a lot."
"I worked hard for what I have. I'm not going to let some irrational fear of my own people make me hide or even leave this island."
"I'm not saying be fearful. Just be cautious." Eunice forcefully tapped her glass.
"Living here, I haven't been any less cautious than when I was in the middle of London or even Miami. You know that, Ebony." Hunter reached down to lightly touch her cousin's hand. "Besides, unlike you, I work for money. I don't just stand around and wait for people to hand me their cash."
At Sinclair's questioning look, Hunter shook her head. "My cousin is a con woman. Runs a game like no other on the island."
"And that's bloody hard work, thank you very much."
"Here we go again," everyone within earshot chorused.
Hunter laughed as her cousin defended her own work ethic. Tima stood up saying something about looking for a toilet to vomit in. Cliff just rolled his eyes before taking his leave as well. He didn't give an excuse. Eunice lay back in her chair and pretended to dose under her sunglasses. After Ebony ran out of steam, Hunter nudged her cousin's foot.
"I don't know why you try the same shit whenever we get together. Nobody is going to approve of your lifestyle, you little criminal. Just be thankful that Tima or somebody else hasn't turned you in by now."
"That's because Tima is a good cop, not like a lot of these bastards running about in their fake British uniforms harassing and killing with impunity." Ebony shrugged. "But enough shop talk." She turned to Sinclair. "Where did my egghead cousin meet someone as gorgeous as you and do you have a sister?"
Chapter 18
'elcome home, stranger," Nikki glanced up from the television as Sinclair walked into the house. She made a show of looking at her watch then at the late afternoon sun burning outside the window.
Sinclair rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yes, I know that I said I'd be back in the morning." She dropped a quick kiss on her stepmother's forehead and kept walking. "I'll be right back." In the kitchen, she sat down at the table and dialed her work number.
"Volk Publishing. Bliss Sinclair's office."
"Good afternoon, Shelly."
"Hey, boss. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."
Sinclair smiled at the sound of Shelly's voice. "Surprise."
"So what's going on? Are you calling to make sure that I'm hard at work and not tippling your good whiskey in the executive washroom?"
"Not at all, my little underpaid poet. Tipple away if that's your fancy." Sinclair chuckled. "I want you to tell Jonas that I'm staying an extra two w
eeks and to take that time out of my vacation bank."
Shelly laughed. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. There shouldn't be a problem. Make up some dire reason for my extended stay if you have to, but let them know I'll be back in three weeks."
"You are not kidding. Wow. First we can't get you to take a vacation and now you don't want to come back." Shelly laughed again. "What's her name?"
Sinclair hung up on her, still smiling. The house was quiet except for the babble of the television. No Xavier. No Victor. She stuck her head in the living room. "Is Papa in?"
"No, he took Xavier down to see his auntie, then went to the bar with friends."
Sinclair sat next to her stepmother and dropped her bag beside the couch. "Good."
"You don't want him to know about you and Hunter?"
"I think he already knows. I just don't want to face him right now. I feel a little guilty for not telling him outright."
"If he's paying attention, he'll see that you're not trying to trick him. Then things should be fine."
"Is it that simple?"
"Of course." Nikki grinned. "So when is Hunter coming over for dinner?"
"Christ, I was hoping you'd forget about that."
"Are you joking? Especially after you extended your trip just to be near her?"
"How did you know about that?"
"I have ears, silly. So when is she coming?"
Sinclair rolled her eyes at Nikki's persistence. "This Friday."
"Great. I need to start planning now. Do you know what she absolutely doesn't eat?"
"As far as I can tell, she eats anything."
"Even better."
They shared a smile. Nikki was bubbling over with curiosity, but she kept her mouth shut, only glanced at Sinclair with her lower lip caught between her teeth, and her eyes wide with mute inquiry. Sinclair was under no obligation to acknowledge the unspoken question. But she did.
"Things went well."
"Good."
"She wasn't upset with me, she just needed a little time alone and with her friends."
"You mean Della."
Sinclair nodded and was surprised when Nikki rolled her eyes. "What?"
