by Pat Simmons
At that moment, they approached her car. Talise deactivated the alarm and he opened her door. “Have a good day, Minister Thomas,” she said, tossing her purse in the back seat.
“And I wish you the same. By the way, how do you know Sister Nicholson?”
“As you can see, I’m pregnant—and it’s by her other son.” If she stunned him, he didn’t show it. She slid behind the wheel and turned the ignition. As soon as he closed the door, Talise drove off without a backward glance.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Are you ready for your court date tomorrow?” Kidd asked Ace over the phone.
Rubbing his head, Ace exhaled. “Yeah. I might as well get this over with, so I can move on.”
Sitting behind the desk in his downtown office, Ace welcomed the interruption. Before Kidd called, he had been staring at a client’s spreadsheet countless times without computing any summaries. At the same time, he wasn’t thrilled that Kidd’s purpose for calling was to remind him of a regrettable event. It wasn’t like he needed to recall the day he clowned before the world.
Too often his apartment left him alone with his thoughts. Quietness chased him away from its bare walls most days. Being in the thick of things was his preferred defense mechanism. Of course, his coworkers still enjoyed riling him about his three-minute debut on YouTube.
“I’ll meet you there,” Kidd said.
“There’s no need. I’ll probably be fined and ‘set free.’”
“Ace, you’re already free. Besides, I’m there for you in the good and bad times.”
“How did my life get this messed up?”
“You want the truth?” He didn’t wait for Ace’s yea or nay “Your ‘responsibility is optional’ attitude has backfired on you. We’re both about to become fathers. We can do this and Jesus will help us. If you don’t want to marry Talise, at least be man enough to be an active father in your child’s life—”
Ace cut him off. “If I wanted advice, I would pay for it.” That’s where Ace drew the line. He knew how to handle his business. Changing the subject, he asked, “So is that the only reason you called?”
“Nope, wanted to remind you about family game night tomorrow over at Parke and Cheney’s. You don’t have to be a stranger just because you moved out. It’s like a monthly party.” Kidd added, “The invitation also still stands for you to visit our church. Just because you don’t live with us doesn’t mean we’ll stop inviting you to church.”
“First of all, there’s a church on every corner. I’ll get to one, eventually. Second, your game night is not my idea of a party—”
There was a slight knock on Ace’s door and his administrative assistant peeked inside. “Don’t forget about your conference call in ten minutes with Money Express,” Nina said softly. With a cheerful smile, she backed out.
Any other man would be so lucky to garner this much attention from almost every woman on his job. Ace had flourished in his heyday with so much interest. But the hunt, the chase, and the capture game had played out in his life once he met Talise. Or rather, it had gotten him into emotional trouble.
Ace sighed, thinking about her smile, the perfect grin. Her seductive eyes sparkled and lit up when she saw him. Boy, he missed the Talise he thought she was. It was disgusting to even think about her.
“Look, man, I’ve got to go. I’ll probably stop by Parke’s tomorrow night, but I don’t want to hear Talise’s name mentioned—or I’m out of there.”
“Have you heard us say her name around you?”
“Don’t play games, Kidd, those Jamieson wives have been scheming behind my back all along. If Talise hadn’t been invited, or if she hadn’t invited herself to St. Louis, I never would have seen her at the airport and tried to talk to her. The rest is history.”
On Friday morning, Ace hadn’t expected the courthouse to be in such frenzy. The sight reminded him of a circus or a church convention. His only consolation was that he didn’t see the media anywhere in sight.
From a distance, Ace spotted Kidd standing in the lobby in a sea of red. Women of all ages decked out in red and purple hats were everywhere. Kidd had been chatting amicably with one of the ladies before Ace saw him step away. He squinted. It was the woman notoriously known as Grandma BB.
He tried to infiltrate the crowd to get to his brother. At least twice, a fierce-looking, petite woman blocked his path.
“Friend or foe, handsome?”
“Neither.” Evidently, Ace’s height and build wasn’t intimidating her. The woman matched his step to the side. “Sorry, this party is reserved for supporters of the YouTube sensation, Ace Jamieson.”
“I’m … Ace.”
Stretching her neck, the woman peered up through her thick glasses. “It is you! Sugar, you should have said somethin.”’ Putting two fingers between her lips, she forced air through her mouth and whistled. That action seemed to make her dizzy.
After leaning on Ace, she panted until Grandma BB came over. “Ethel, you know you have bronchitis,” Grandma BB fussed. Looping her arm through Ace’s, it was unclear who was escorting whom to Kidd.
Grandma BB mumbled, “I hope we won’t have to call the paramedics again. Humph! I told her to take her medicine this morning.” She shook her head.
“Grandma BB, why are you here? I thought only my brother was coming.”
“No, chile, being in the courtroom is second nature to me. For some reason, criminals are attracted to me, and it ain’t for my looks.” She winked. “But I don’t know if I can help you in this case. I don’t know the judge.”
They finally met up with Kidd near the doorway to the courtroom.
“Hey, man, what’s up with this red convention?” Ace asked.
“She insisted on coming. The funny thing about it is she wants the judge to give you the maximum sentence.”
“What!” He squinted at the woman.
“This is bigger than YouTube, Acey. Talise should have—”
“Preach to him later. We’ve got to get inside,” Kidd said, ushering him through the door where there were even more ladies in red.
“Seriously, who are these people?”
“The Red Hat Society, St. Louis chapter. They backed Grandma BB when she was on trial for shooting Cheney’s father,” Kidd said nonchalantly.
“What!” Maybe he was still asleep and this was a nightmare.
“Yeah, she got ninety days shock time.”
“Was it an accident?”
“Nope. When Grandma BB aims, she hits her target. I think Parke told me it was Dr. Reynolds’ shoulder, or some other extremity. Anyway, that’s a long story or maybe even a book. Come on. Let’s see if we can squeeze into some seats.”
First, Ace needed to locate his attorney. They shook hands and then took their seats. Judge Cahill went down the roster, calling those who had committed petty crimes, from peace disturbance, animal cruelty, to shoplifting less than a hundred dollars.
Finally, it was Ace’s turn. Standing with his attorney, Ace approached the bench. Judge Cahill recited the same spiel he used with the other defendants and then named Ace’s charge of resisting arrest.
“How do you plead?” the judge asked Ace’s attorney.
“Not guilty.”
A soft chant floated throughout the courtroom, “Guilty guilty guilty.”
In disbelief, Ace whirled around. The judge pounded his gavel. Were they serious? He glanced at Kidd for an explanation. His brother shrugged.
“Mr. Jamieson, since you did not actually enter the aircraft and no weapons were involved, I order you to one hundred hours of community service. You are also banned from the airport for the next ninety days.” Judge Cahill handed down the sentence and dismissed him. The clerk called the next case.
“What! All I was trying to do was get someone’s attention,” he said to his attorney, who quickly nudged Ace outside the courtroom. There were some important matters to resolve, such as details of court costs and the date his name would be removed from the “
no fly” list.
Dissatisfied with the outcome, Ace asked his lawyer, “Can’t I appeal this?”
The attorney responded, “Yes, you can. But you’ll be off the no fly’ list by the time that could take place.”
“Great.” Ace threw up his arms in disgust. When he didn’t want to go home, he had the privilege of flying. Now that he wanted to go back to Boston, he couldn’t. Fate was not on his side. He was doomed to St. Louis.
Fed up with the whole court fiasco, Ace went back to the office. Trying to take his mind off his troubles, he turned his attention to what he’d do with himself that evening. Somehow it was hard to believe it was a coincidence when a female coworker seductively strutted into his office. It seemed more like a setup, but still he had to contain his drool. Lana was wearing a black, form-fitting leather vest, skinny jeans, and stilettos.
“Want to hangout tonight?” she asked. “There’s an ethnic festival going on in Forest Park this weekend. It started today.”
Ace declined. The possibility was tempting, but since his last blowup with Talise, his family jewels were on lockdown with a padlock. The only other option was the family get-together at Parke’s.
Well, he thought. He might as well hang out with his folks in the Gateway City. Cameron had raved about family game night. Even Kidd mentioned it when he first moved to St. Louis. Personally, Ace didn’t see what the big deal was about sitting around a table for hours playing board games. But it beat spending the evening alone in his apartment.
After work, he showered, dressed, and then gladly left his lonely surroundings. Driving to Parke’s turn-of-the-century, massive house that was often the center of major family activity, he exited off of I-170. Ace weaved his way through the neighborhoods until he came to Darst Street in Old Ferguson.
The cars were lined up in front of the mouse-gray, three-level house. Lights were shining brightly in almost every window. Ace parked and got out. Strolling down the winding pathway to the front door, he could hear happy voices before he stepped foot on the porch.
Ace didn’t bother knocking or ringing the bell. He doubted they would hear him anyway. Turning the knob, he walked in unnoticed. As he paused by the door, he took in the cheerful scene in front of him. The younger children were squealing and running around and the adults were huddled in groups, laughing. Everyone was wearing bright T-shirts, as if they were at a sporting event. Each family had a different color shirt with the word “Team” on it, followed by their leader’s name. And Ace thought the Red Sox fans were fanatical.
“Hey, you made it!” Eva said, coming toward him with arms opened. She actually started a receiving line of greetings as others followed. Soon Cheney announced the food was ready and everybody made a beeline to her spacious kitchen. There they formed another line to serve themselves pasta, hot vegetables, meatballs, and pigs-in-a-blanket.
The toddlers ate in the kitchen under the supervision of Kami, who took her role as boss seriously. She even made Paden and M.J. stand as she clasped her hands for prayer, rather than blessing the food sitting down. Her older brother, Pace, ignored her.
In the other room, the adults gathered around the dining room table. They were coupled off: Parke and Cheney; his parents, Parke V and Charlotte; Malcolm and Hallison; Eva and Kidd.
Parke’s father, known as Papa P., offered the blessing over the food and everyone dug in. Everyone chatted as they enjoyed the fellowship. After the meal, the dining room table was cleared. As soon as Cheney cleaned the smudges from the glossy table, Hallison set out the game board and pieces. Pace shuffled a stack of cards like they were about to play blackjack.
“What are we playing here?” Ace asked Parke.
“The game is called ‘Fact or Fiction Black History.’ The object is simple. We go around the table and everyone pulls a card from the deck. One team asks another team a question. If they answer it correctly, they’ll win the number of points on the card.”
Malcolm took over, “The first team to score one hundred wins. But if you answer incorrectly, then your team’s score is deducted the number of points on your card.” He smirked. “Since this is your first time, we’ll loan you our children to be on Team Ace. Next time, wear your own T-shirt.”
“You may not want one after we whip you up. You might be too scared to come back next month,” Kidd taunted him.
“I see ya’ll talkin’ trash. Put children on my team. I can win, with or without them. Bring it on.” Ace had his game face. He told the older children, “Let’s do it.” The preschoolers, M. J. and Paden, he considered extra bodies.
Papa P. and Charlotte pulled the first card and glanced around the table, looking for which team to challenge. Kami waved her arms frantically by Ace’s side. Ace groaned. He was definitely going to lose if his little cousin volunteered before a question was asked.
“Pick me, Grandma. Pick me!” Kami begged.
Charlotte smiled at her granddaughter. “This might be a little rough for you, baby. But if Team Ace wants to start us off, I will.”
“Sure.” Ace huffed and eyed his little cousin. “I don’t play to lose, so you’d better bring your A game,” he told her.
“Okay.” Charlotte chuckled. “For ten points, what is a contraband camp?”
Already, Ace was stumped. What kind of question was that? They were going to be the first group in the negative. “You’d better make up something,” he mumbled.
Kami and Pace whispered in each other’s ear. Great, they’re stalling for time, he thought. If he could get away with it, he would use his phone.
Nodding, Kami cleared her throat and grinned. She had a pretty smile, but Ace doubted that it was bright enough to score any points.
“The Contraband Camps were formed by enslaved African Americans during the Civil War period. Thousands on thousands escaped when Union Army forces invaded … wherever they settled on the way …”
Impressed, Ace had to sit up. He had underestimated the child. When he had children, he wanted them to be just as smart. Whoa. Did I just say that? He mentally collapsed.
The last time he checked, he didn’t have any children. And, up until this point, from hearsay, no one could verify that Talise even looked pregnant. When the adults cheered, Ace snapped out of drifting off.
“That’s my grandbaby! When you come over this weekend, I’ll give you something extra.” Charlotte winked and the girl beamed.
Next, it was Team Malcolm/Hallison’s turn. Hallison pulled from the stack and scanned the card. “Okay, Papa P. and Momma C., for twenty points, name two states that held Negro State Fairs.”
Where were these questions coming from? Ace wondered.
“Texas and Oklahoma,” Papa P. answered without hesitation.
“You can’t let us hang like that. The question should have asked for a definition,” Hallison said.
“It’s like the name implies. Thanks to the Jim Crow laws, separate, but equal was a way of life in everything. The laws didn’t just apply to swimming pools, water fountains, transportation, and education. Think about the Negro League and Black beauty pageants,” Papa P. explained.
Charlotte picked up where her husband left off. “That’s right. Even back then, African Americans made lemonade out of sour lemons. They added some sugar to their own fairs. One was held at a man’s ranch. His name was Coody Johnson in Wewoka, Oklahoma. It was a yearly event that lasted four days with rodeos, parades, and festivals.”
Ace couldn’t believe he actually learned something. Team Parke/Cheney pulled next and directed the question at Kidd. Ace hid his smirk. The St. Louis Jamiesons might have the upper hand on these family nights, but his brother was no dummy either. Sic ’em, bro, Ace taunted under his breath.
“Eva and Kidd, for ten points, what were ‘resurrection men,’ also called ‘resurrectionists’?” Cheney asked.
Ace stroked the hairs on his chin. He was considering growing a beard. Was that a religious question? “I didn’t know we were playing Bible games,” he mumbled.
“We aren’t,” Kami whispered.
“They were also called ‘body snatchers’ because they dug up graves under the cover of night. The grave diggers stole bodies for medical experiments. Segregated gravesites were targeted, whether the deceased were freed Blacks or enslaved,” Kidd answered and met Eva’s waiting lips for his reward.
“Body snatchers also hit the White cemeteries too,” Papa P. added.
His son’s team, Team Parke, was the first group to lose twenty points when Parke stated that there were two periods of the Great Migration of Blacks from the South in 1910 and 1940.
“Big bro, did you forget about the exodus of Blacks at the end of the Reconstruction? Bam!” Malcolm argued.
Pace chimed in, “But Uncle Malcolm, what about the American Colonization Society that shipped freed Blacks back to Sierra Leone? That’s a migration, but to a different continent.”
Ace gave him a high-five. His team was on a winning streak. Then Eva yelled and jumped. All activity ceased. Kidd, who was sitting next to her, was poised to act.
“Baby? What’s wrong?”
Massaging her stomach, Eva smiled at her husband. “Your child kicked me.”
Laughter and chuckles filled the air, as the toddlers and Kami took turns rubbing her belly. Pace didn’t seem interested.
The conversation then shifted to how many weeks along she was and what the baby was doing. Ace racked his brain. When could Talise have gotten pregnant?
The evening was going well until Eva mentioned Talise’s name. Immediately, he eyed Kidd, who shrugged. A man of his word, Ace called it quits. Despite their pleas for him to stay, he declined and headed out to the casino. He would try his luck there.
An hour after he’d arrived, Ace stalked out. His winning streak was over. He had just lost five-hundred dollars. Strangely, he never lost—until now.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I’ve got great news!” Lois announced with a grin, as she drove Talise to her doctor’s appointment.