Prologue
Boston, Massachusetts
“He called again,” Sandra Nicholson told her son, Kidd Jamieson, as soon as his commanding figure cleared the doorway of their Hyde Parke condo.
Grunting, he shut the door. Kidd’s nostrils flared as he swaggered across the hardwood floor. The persistent caller claimed to be Cameron Jamieson, a distant cousin who had tracked down him and his younger brother, Aaron “Ace” Jamieson through some genealogy nonsense.
Cameron said he was completing his second engineering degree at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. At first, Kidd wondered if it was a prank. After all, in the black community, everybody claimed to be a cousin.
“I told the man we weren’t interested in whatever he was selling,” Kidd spat before brushing a tender kiss on his mother’s cheek as he headed to the kitchen.
“Kevin Jamieson,” she said, following him then planting her hands on her hips. “He isn’t pedaling goods. He represents your father’s side of the family—maybe the good part. At least feel him out.”
Family, huh? More like… Kidd didn’t finish the thought. “Okay, I’ll put an end to this for once and for all. You have his number?”
Kidd didn’t need this added frustration. He was the older of two sons to a never-been-married mother. Kidd found no fault with her, just his absentee father. His priority was no matter what, to take care of mother, which had become a little harder after he was laid off from the Gillette Corporation—a job he labored at for eleven years—and forced to give up his apartment.
His mother tore off a sheet of paper and handed it to Kidd. Studying the number, he punched in the digits and leaned against the granite counter top.
“Hello?” Music was blasting in the background.
Assuming it was Cameron who answered, Kidd didn’t waste his words on preliminaries. “Let’s meet.”
And Cameron didn’t play dumb. That earned him a point of respect. Kidd heard him muffle the phone. “Hey, it’s my cuz. Turn it down,” then he repeated his order, adding, “lower!”
Kidd grunted. Cuz? The man didn’t know him, yet claimed Kidd anyway, which was odd, considering his worthless father had turned his back on him and his younger brother.
“I’m ready whenever you are.”
“Now,” Kidd demanded. Let the man come to his turf.
Cameron didn’t stutter or skip a beat. “You name the place and I’m there.”
Kidd did and disconnected.
“You could have invited him here, honey. He’s very polite when he calls, not rude like you just treated him. Don’t make me ashamed Kidd.”
Shaking his head, Kidd washed his hands in the sink, then grabbed a plate out the cabinet. “He may have our number, but he doesn’t need to know where we live.” Without a care in the world, Kidd began lifting lids and peering into pots. “Mmm, sweet potatoes and collard greens. Thanks, Ma.”
Sandra sat at the table, folded her hands, then cleared her throat. “How long do you plan to make him wait, Kidd?” She didn’t mask her irritation with him.
“He’s interrupting my dinner plans and I’m hungry. Job hunting isn’t what it was when I finished junior college.” Kidd took a seat at the table after piling enough food on his plate to feed him and his mother. Kidd bit off a chunk of cornbread without saying grace then made the mistake of glancing at his mother who raised a censoring brow. Kidd bowed his head, then sanctified his food.
As he chewed, he reflected on the pending meeting. What was the purpose? It never was one of Kidd’s goals in life to build a relationship with any Jamieson. As a matter of fact, he had considered changing his last name a couple of times to his mother’s name to her displeasure. He viewed Samuel Jamieson as a reproductive donor bank to replenish the earth—nothing more.
It wasn’t until Kidd was a teenager when his family learned—thanks to debt collectors trying to track down Samuel—that he had already been married twice, neither time to Kidd’s mother, and spawned eleven children. Kidd’s memory of his hide-and-seek dad began to fade as he grew into manhood. Now at thirty-one, it had been about twenty-plus years since he had last seen Samuel.
When Kidd finished eating, he went upstairs to change clothes and pack his pistol. He wanted to be ready for whatever would go down. Kidd drove the short distance and parked. What did this man expect? For them to shake hands and then shoot some pool? Kidd got out of his car and nodded to a few men loitering near the parking lot, which might seem suspicious to some, but not him because he could easily blend in with them. Kidd knew two or three of the men from tinkering on their cars. If this Cameron was a true Jamieson then the surroundings like these wouldn’t intimidate him.
“Whatz up, dawg?” Black Eye, a convicted felon, greeted him at the door of the club and slapped his back. He looked around, then glanced over his shoulder. “Kidd, there’s some light-skin brotha that walked up in here a few minutes ago like he was a regular—and he wasn’t. The guy claimed he was your cousin and you’re expecting him—a big guy. Had two other fellows with him. One could fit in and the other guy…ain’t no way—a tie? Up in here?” Black Eye roared. “You know, I’ve got ya back if you need me.” Black Eye thumped his chest.
So Cameron had sense enough not to come alone. Kidd smirked. “Don’t know him. I came to check him out.”
Black Eye reached into the waist of his pants. “I got this.”
Kidd reached out and stopped him. “No, I got this.”
