Nodding, Black Eye stepped back and let Kidd enter. As he wound his way through the lounge, he fist-bumped some, winked at a few ladies, and nodded at the bartender. Then he paused and took a deep breath. Yeah, this was his turf. If the relative imposter tried to put anything over on him, Kidd would personally break all two hundred and six bones in his body.
With the back room in sight, Kidd observed the three occupants. The light-skinned guy was buffed, maybe six—one or –two. Kidd was a wrestler in high school and a boxer on the streets. Either way, he could take him.
As he edged closer, his heart suddenly slammed against his chest. What if…what if this man really was his relative and knows something about his father? Kidd had no idea how to process that information. He took a deep breath. The only Jamiesons he knew in the world was him and his brother. He had never met any at school, at work, anywhere else for that matter.
As if sensing Kidd’s presence, Cameron glanced over his shoulder. He stood. Standing face-to-face, they eyed each other. Kidd squinted, looking for any familiar features—nothing—until Cameron worked up a cocky smile.
The moment of recognition was swift. The cousins weren’t a mirror image, but enough similarities were noted. Some of the same expressions that flashed across Cameron’s face when he grinned matched Kidd’s brother, Ace. Where Cameron was fair-skinned, Kidd had the richest deep brown tan a person couldn’t buy in a bottle or get in tanning booth. Both had thick wavy hair.
“Thanks for coming.”
Shrugging off his jacket, Kidd grabbed a chair, whipped it around, and sat without taking his eyes off Cameron. “Show me what you got.”
No argument. Cameron retook his seat and opened a thick folder. His two friends sat back, looked as if they didn’t want to be there. Cameron appeared to be confident and not intimated in the least. He whipped out a long sheet of paper with a maze of lines and names. The document peaked Kidd’s interest for a minute when the name ‘Samuel’ stuck out amid the sea of Jamieson descendants. “I brought copies for you—”
“I didn’t come to read. You said we’re cousins. Break it down, beginning with Samuel Jamieson.”
Cameron grinned. It was smug like his, and Kidd didn’t like it. “I don’t have to read it because it’s all up here,” he announced, while pointing to his head.
“My tenth great-grandfather, Paki Kokumuo Jaja, was the firstborn son of King Seif and Adaeze, which means princess. A member of the Diomande tribe, he was born in December 1770 in Côte d’Ivoire, on the Gold Coast of Africa. His name means ‘a witness that this one will not die.’
“In the fall of 1790, he and his warriors were attacked and savagely beaten by slave traders, chained, and kidnapped. He was among hundreds of thousands who were hauled to the Gates of No Return castle. As they waited, many captives prayed they would die, including my tenth great-grandfather. They were unmercifully stacked together in the bowels of a ship—not the ironic Good Ship of Jesus under the command of Sir John Hawkins—but Snow Elijah. The biblical reference is uncanny, isn’t it?”
Kidd’s head was spinning with the information. “Listen, my black skin could rival a panther’s, so there’s no doubt I’m from Africa. Why don’t you cross the water and stick to relatives who lived in the twentieth century?”
Cameron lifted a brow. “It’s rude to interrupt. You didn’t want to read the notes, so I’m giving you information verbally. I’ll bring you up to speed in less than five minutes.”
Backbone. Kidd admired that, but that didn’t mean he had to accept him as a blood relative.
“Snow Elijah landed first in the Caribbeans and dropped a payload of human cargo. Then headed off to the coast of Maryland, a state known for harsh slave laws. Automatically, my tenth great-grandfather was separated from his bodyguards. Because of his statute and strength, Paki was sold at the highest bid of $275 to wealthy slave owner, Jethro Turner, in front of Sinner’s Hotel. That purchase gave Turner exactly one hundred and thirteen enslaved people.”
“I’m warning you, Cameron, get to the point, or do I need to draw blood to get a DNA sample?”
“And I told you I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m on a roll.” Cameron snarled. “Paki married Turner’s daughter, Elaine. Besides my great—you know—grandfather, they had four other sons: Aasim, Fabunni, Abelo, and Orma. Orma was your eleventh great-grandfather. His name means free. Although he was born free, he sold himself back into slavery for a woman, Sashe, who was a runaway, but recaptured.” Cameron concluded and leaned back.
Figures, a fool from the beginning. Kidd had had enough. “That tells me nothing about my old man and how you and I are related.”
“Sure it does. It tells you that my tenth great-grandfather and your eleventh great-grandfathers were brothers. Your father and his children are direct descendants of Orma. If you want to know more, I have stipulations.”
“You sought me out. Not the other way around.” Laughing, Kidd stood and grabbed his jacket. “Whatever you want to drink, it’s on the house.”
Cameron also stood. “I can buy my own drink. And for the record, I’d make a better bouncer than that gatekeeper at the door. The Jamieson men are a force to be reckoned with.”
“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 everybody, but he like Cameron, whether he was a Jamieson or not.
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