The Guilt Trip Final excerpt before June 2012 release

Chapter 2

           “I spooked him.” Talise swallowed as she hid herself from Ace’s view near her apartment window. His normal goodbye kiss lacked luster she had come to expect.

Her heart sank as Ace sped off from the curb without blowing her his customary kiss. His hasty exit scared her.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, Talise second guessed her timing. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned her suspicions. If only she had listened to her older sister. Sinclaire’s advice was to wait until she was one-hundred percent sure to say anything.   

A week earlier, she had experienced mild cramping and light spotting. Talise didn’t give it a second thought until the nausea hit. Then she endured bouts for the past few days. Finally, she took a home pregnancy test.

If Talise read it right, she wasn’t. But her suspicions lingered. The thought of becoming another statistic as an unwed mother made Talise bawl like a two-year-old in the middle of a tantrum.

During a Skype call less than twenty-four hours earlier, Sinclaire had tried to console her, “From everything you’ve raved about Aaron,” her sister refused to refer to Ace by his nickname.

Sinclaire once said it sounded too gangster. “I’m sure he’ll do the right thing. We can always repent, and God will forgive us as long as we don’t continue in our sins. If God spares you from this situation, then you’ve got to turn your life over to him.”

A tear slid down her cheek as Talise recalled their conversation. Stepping away from the window, she rubbed her arms and then massaged her flat tummy.

Turning around, she scanned the apartment she shared with Lois. Her roommate was one of a handful of people she could call friend since her move from Virginia to Boston.

After responding to a “roommate needed” ad, Talise met with Lois, studied the South End neighborhood and quizzed Lois about her lifestyle. Seemingly satisfied, Talise signed the lease. That had been six months ago. 

“A good friend of mine—and Cameron Jamieson is fine—has a cousin named Aaron or Ace who is equally as fine and unattached,” Lois had said when trying to set up Talise on a double date. “Tall, muscular and has a rugged pretty boy face and a good job.”

At first, Talise was reluctant. “What’s wrong with him? Is he a homosexual?”

Lois had laughed and snorted. “Far from it. He’s a good-looking brother who enjoys having a good time—nothing more.” She paused. “Just go out one time,” she had pleaded. “If he’s a jerk, then dump him.”

Talise wasn’t buying what sounded like “too good to be true” set up. “If both of these brothers are so fine, then why haven’t you dated either one of them?” She crossed her arms.

Lois could go toe-to-toe with any woman in the good looks department. She had a touch of Puerto Rican in her blood and a whole lot of African-American. The woman turned heads as a browner version of Keysha Cole.

“I learned not to date friends or friends’ relatives. My relationship with Cameron is for networking purposes only. I keep my friend pool separate from my potential boyfriend pool. Separate and not equal.” Lois’s voice had been serious.

April excerpt The Guilt Trip part 2 of Chapter 1

The best thing about it—it was all her hair. She was born with it. Ace had nothing against hair extensions except when they looked like hair extensions.
Her brown-sugar skin was always flawless, even without makeup, and her dark lashes, silky brows and big brown doe-shaped eyes were just some of her points of perfection and
his weakness. Yeah, he liked how her features accented her brown skin.
“Hey, baby,” Ace cooed as he stepped closer to her.
Talise’s response was leaping into his arms with the force of a hurricane. Her strength
would have rocked a man who was unsteady on his feet. Not Ace, who stood at six-three
and tipped the scales at 220 pounds.
His buffed body was able to absorb the impact as their embrace lingered, and then she weakened him with her kisses. Ace didn’t know who started the seduction, but he was not
pleased when she regained composure and left him begging for more. He stared at his woman through hooded lashes and watched the longing flash across her face. To his chagrin, a smile chased the passionate moment away.
“Keep that up, woman, and we may not hit the streets and go dancing or whatever you
have planned for tonight.”
“What I planned, or hoped, was we could relax here. Lois and some friends are heading
to New York for the weekend. I’ve prepared a candlelight dinner…”
“Then what are we waiting for.” With naughty scenarios running through his mind, Ace
scooped her up in his arms and climbed the stairs two at a time. When they made
it to the third floor landing, he slowly released her. Jokingly, Ace exaggerated his breathing as if he was gasping for air.
She laughed. “And what was your hurry, Mr. Jamieson?”
“Let’s just say I’m famished.” He patted his six-pack. Reaching for his hand, Talise led him
into the apartment she shared with his cousin’s friend Lois—the one who set them up on a blind date. The aromas wafting through the apartment teased Ace. Glancing around, he snickered at
the dimmed lighting and burning incense. His eyes then settled on the kitchenette
counter/table set.

It was set for two with crystal goblets and china place settings.
Absentmindedly, Ace kicked the door closed. As though in a trance, he followed Talise.
Grabbing a serving dish, she turned around and practically bumped into him. “Here, put that on the table, Ace.”
“I’d rather nibble on you.” He encircled his arms around her and began to make good
on his statement. Usually, Talise had a witty comeback, but she didn’t take his bait. Instead, she busied herself by placing more serving pans on the table. When she seemed pleased with
her handiwork, she lit the two candles between their plates. At the kitchen sink, they played in the water as they washed their hands together. Finished with the task, Ace escorted her around the other side of the open kitchen. He pulled out Talise’s stool, and then took the seat across from her.
Ace had a hard time taking his eyes off her until she insisted. Then they held hands. They
bowed their heads as Talise said grace.
“Jesus,” she said with a pause, as if she was gathering her thoughts.
Opening one eye, Ace squinted. This was not the time for a moment of reflection. Just say grace, so we could eat. “Baby?”
he said softly, studying Talise’s troubled face.
She cleared her throat, but never opened her eyes. “Jesus, please bless this meal.”
Pausing again before mumbling a few more words, Talise finished with “…in
Jesus’ Name. Amen.”
“I’m glad we got through that before our food turned cold,” he joked. Lifting his
glass, he sipped some water. When she didn’t laugh, he proceeded to devour his
steak and sautéed vegetables.
Ace shoved a mouthful of twice-baked potatoes, lathered with sour cream, in his mouth and
swallowed. “Baby, this is good.” He winked. “And just think, I’ll have you all to myself tonight to show you my appreciation.”
Talise mustered a faint smile as she picked with her food. Usually, they exchanged
seductive glances, naughty words and sassy flirts over a meal, but not tonight.
Maybe, Ace was reading too much into it because he was about to lay his heart on the table, or maybe she was going through her monthly hormonal thing. He hoped not.
After digesting a second helping of potatoes, he dabbed at his mouth with the napkin.
“Baby, I want to talk to you—”
“I have something to say to you also,” she interrupted.
Ace snickered and then folded his arms. “Go ahead. What’s in that beautiful head of
yours? ”
Resting her fork on her placemat, Talise pinched at the fabric a few times, but she wouldn’t
look at him. What’s going on? His lady was usually confident and talkative, not sober as her expression indicated. Once he professed his growing feeling, he knew that would put a smile on her face.
“Tay?”
She bowed her head as if she was ashamed of something. “I may be pregnant.”
His eyes bucked as her rushed words finally registered. “What?” he asked to test his hearing.
Lifting her head, she stared into his eyes. “Ace, I may be pregnant.”
Nooooooooo. Not his Tay. She wouldn’t do this to him, would she? Ace was a gambler.
He could count on one hand the number of times he lost. Ace would never have betted that Talise
would have set him up like this. She didn’t blink, while she waited for him to say something.
Act normal, be professional and tactful. You aren’t going down like this, man, he coaxed himself.

The Guilt Trip March Excerpt

Unedited:

Chapter 1

Twenty-eight-year-old Aaron “Ace” Jamieson wasn’t married and never had been married. In fact, he wasn’t planning to pick out a tuxedo and meet a woman at the altar any time soon. To maintain that resolve, Ace displayed the highest level of professionalism when it came to playing the dating game.

Early on, his buddies taught them that it’s around the three-month mark when women began fantasizing about permanent residency. Therefore, his benchmark was seventy-two days or less. Ace was upfront with the ladies that he wasn’t looking for anything serious.

As he shaved, he snickered, recalling some of the tactics women used to trap him into marriage: lavish gifts, on-demand intimacy, or claiming to carry his love child.

Shaking his head in disgust, Ace rinsed off his razor. He methodically massaged aftershave on his face and throat. Women’s bluffs didn’t make him blink. He would not be lured into any baby momma drama.

But something had happened to his determination three months ago when his cousin’s friend introduced him to Talise Rogers. She swept him off his feet on the first date. There was something alluring about her independence, confidence and her exotic dark features on brown sugar skin.

Humph! Their connection was more than the explosive physical attraction. If there was a soul mate, Talise was it.

To Ace, she was his Tay. He was convinced she had an invisible grip on him that was about to bring him down, and he wasn’t complaining. It took some back-and-forth battling between his mind and his heart, but Ace thought Talise just might be the one he couldn’t let get away.

Genuine, honest and gorgeous. When she surpassed the one-hundred-day mark, Ace had stopped counting. “I’m actually losing my mind over this woman,” he mumbled and continued dressing to take her for a Friday night out on the town.

Bobbing his head, Ace slipped his feet into his shoes. Yep. A man would be a fool to let her go. He grinned when he thought about their intimacy. Ace wouldn’t comment.

Before the night ended, he was going to have an out-of-body experience and do something he had never before contemplated: profess that his feelings for her were beyond a physical attraction. Whew.

Talise was the sole reason why Ace had repeatedly turned down his brother, Kevin “Kidd’s”, offer to relocate to St. Louis. Of course, he couldn’t tell his brother that his decision was based on a woman, despite his company having two openings in the area. If Kidd had seen Talise, he would have understood his reluctance to be uprooted.

He swiped his car keys off his nightstand and jogged down the steps to the first floor of the condo he shared with his mother in the Hyde Parke neighborhood of Boston.

Sandra Nicholson paused watching her favorite television show. She glanced over her shoulder and lifted a brow. His mother might as well been eighty years old because all she did was work, church, and home.

“Hmm. You look exceptionally handsome tonight. Are you still going out with that Tanya, Tia, Tor—young lady?”

“Tay, Momma.”

“I knew it began with a ‘T’.” Pointing the remote at the flat screen TV, Sandra muted the sound. She smiled, showing off the same left cheek dimple that Ace inherited.

“Five months with the same woman. When am I going to meet her?” His mother’s eyes danced with mischief. “All I can get out of you is her name.”

“Which you can’t remember. I guess that’s why they sent you an AARP card,” he teased. Her mischievous eyes squinted to instill fear. It didn’t work. “And it’s been four months.”

“I would like to meet Tay.”

That’s not happening any time soon. I need to figure how to define our relationship first. He chuckled. “Good night, Momma Nosy.”

Stepping to the sofa, he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her cheek, then sauntered out the door. That was another first with Ace; he never divulged the names of his conquests. It would mean there was some form of attachment.

Getting behind the wheel of his Dodge Charger, Ace grinned in anticipation of what Talise had up her sleeve for the evening. Each week, they took turns planning their Friday night activities. He was sure he would be pleasantly surprised.

A half hour later, he parked in front of her brownstone. Ace checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. His mustache was trimmed and his jaws were baby bottom soft after his shave. His skin would have been flawless if it wasn’t for the mark on his nose. It was a reminder of the first and last fight he lost. His brother made sure of that.

Next, he rubbed the tamed waves in his hair. Ace still missed his long thick ponytail he relinquished when he accepted the job at Healthcare Concepts two years earlier. He had no choice.

Sandra Nicholson told him and his brother, Kidd, when they were legally old enough to get a job, if a man didn’t work, then he wouldn’t eat at her house.

Getting out the car, he glanced up to the third-floor bay window. There she was, watching him. Talise waved then disappeared to come downstairs and let him inside the building. Ace swaggered from the sidewalk to the entrance.

In record time, Talise opened the massive tall wooden door. Ace’s heart crashed against his chest at her glamour. He had dated many women with model looks and figures, but Talise would reign the top model for years to come.

She had legs to stop traffic. A silver dress gracefully hugged her curves. Beaded straps started at her polished toes and continued to wrap upward, stopping at her ankles. Despite her five-eight height, she confidently commanded her stilettos.

Ace whistled. His nostrils flared as he gasped for more oxygen, but that didn’t stop his assessment. Talise’s hair was naturally long—inches passed her shoulders—and it was always glossy, whether hanging straight or in curls.

The best thing about it—it was all her hair. She was born with it. Ace had nothing against hair extensions except when they looked like hair extensions.

December 2011 excerpt (FINAL)

CHAPTER 4

A few days later, Kidd was about to stretch out in Parke’s favorite chair when Parke strolled in. Rubbing the back of his neck and then squeezing it, Kidd recognized the sign of frustration because he had the same habit. In fact, he’d done it minutes earlier.

It had been a grueling week. Kidd was exhausted after hours of morning group interviews, networking luncheons, and evening seminars. His job prospects didn’t seem any better than in Boston. One thing he had to admit, this family really did have connections. Too bad he had burned so many bridges.

“Hey, man. Whatz up?” Parke didn’t wait for his response as he took residence in another recliner. “I’ve come to collect on your offer.”

Kidd froze and frowned. “What did I offer?”

“About Grandma BB.”

His heart sank. Strokes weren’t anything to play with. “Look, man, I’m really sorry she passed away.” Kidd felt like a jerk for giving Parke a hard time on the same day his friend suffered a stroke. Now she was dead.

“Are you kiddin’ me? Grandma BB is very much alive. We made arrangements for her to stay temporarily at Garden Chateau. It’s a skilled nursing and assisted living facility. The director is a friend of mine, and I’m also her financial planner. Hopefully, Grandma BB will be out in no time.

“But the way that woman was swearing at Cheney and me when we had her transferred today, I would say God’s giving her an extended stay in order for her to repent. I was so close—” he used his finger and thumb to demonstrate—“to scooping her up and dumping her in the prayer room until praise and worship filled her mouth.” He exhaled. “She clowned so bad at the nursing facility, we literally had to leave the building before we got put out. Cheney and I were down the hall and we could still hear her carrying on. Slur speech and all. Needless to say, I don’t think our presence is going to aid in her recovery at the moment.

The director of nursing will give us a call when she feels Grandma BB has accepted her diagnosis. The sassy senior has to be willing to become an active participant in her recovery. The nurse cautioned me that could be weeks or a month, depending on Grandma BB’s frame of mind. At this point, she seems agitated at this point because she likes to be in control.”

“She sounds like a character.” Kidd wanted to laugh at his cousin’s embellished description of some old woman.

“To say the least, Mrs. Beatrice Tilley Beacon aka Grandma BB is a spirited personality. She needs almost twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

“I wish there was something I could do,” Kidd stated offhandedly as he stood and was about to step foot in the kitchen. Mrs. Beacon was feisty. Too bad he never met her.

“There is. I have a business proposition. You may not think you need us, but we desperately need you right now.”

He had a bad sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like it. Business propositions were usually meant to take advantage of something or somebody. And he was nobody’s fool.

Available on eBook December 2012. Available in stores January 2012. Thanks for reading.

November 2011 Guilty by Association excerpt

Chapter 2 (unedited)

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 an 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 him and Ace down, 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, 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 the factory position. He had been tirelessly pursuing it for you since the day you got off the plane. Although Papa P. held his tongue,” Cheney smarted off. “Parke will be steaming that you did it again—turn 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 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 snickered. “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. And they professed to be peaceful, loving Christians. Kidd sneered. He didn’t doubt many people tangled with these Jamiesons, and he was just as much a reckoning force single-handedly.

Acknowledging his month of their hospitality was 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 Kidd. “Please.” Then she shifted into a martial arts stance then 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 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 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 his younger brother came along five years later, Samuel tagged Aaron as “Ace.” That nicknamed claimed the younger Jamieson to be his father’s “Ace in the hole” when he gambled. What Kidd couldn’t understand was why his deadbeat dad was adamant about them having the Jamieson last name. What a joke.

Guilty by Association Chapter 1 part 2

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.

Guilty by Association

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.”