“Don’t ever ask me if I’m afraid to do something, Felice. Because even if I am, I’m not going to tell you or anyone else.”
“Understood.”
Felice got the sense that she was hearing something of great import come out of Kevin’s mouth, something more than a self-description. It was a portend of—something, but of what?
It wouldn’t be long before she found out.
They arrived at the AACC at six-thirty PM sharp. Dinner was at seven and the ceremonies began at eight-fifteen. Felice had described the gathering as a “we love us because we’re doing such a good job” party. What that job— that objective—was, Felice still wasn’t sure. She knew no more about African heritage than when she first became aware of the AACC. But since she had been a part of its functioning in that oh-so-innocent first year, she would take her bow.
Stepping over the threshold of the dining room, Felice drew what she thought was a near-silent intake of breath. But as she did so, Kevin briefly smiled down at her and ran his hand over hers—which was tucked under his left arm. As they entered the almost-full room all, eyes turned to look at them.
“I didn’t think she would do it. I didn’t think that stupid broad had the nerve to bring him in here,” said Kim Adams scornfully. Vonetta glared at her.
“Why shouldn’t she? He’s her man.”
“Why don’t you hate...” Kim trailed off as she watched Vonetta’s back recede, then her eyes began to widen as it became obvious where Vonetta was heading.
Vonetta seemed to be propelled by an unseen force, a force that she wanted to resist, but couldn’t. Felice and Kevin had begun to make their way toward an open table when Vonetta rounded another table and stopped in front of her, which, in turn, stopped Felice immediately in her tracks. The two young women seemed to be transfixed by each other until Felice broke the spell.
“How have you been, Vonetta?”
“I’ve been great. What about you?”
“Great also.” They paused. Kevin, who didn’t know of the enmity between the two, sensed something important about to happen nevertheless, and watched in silence.
“Why don’t you and Kevin come and sit with us? Calvin and I, and two other couples are there, and we have great seats-right in the middle so we can see if someone starts acting crazy.”
Felice looked at Vonetta with a relieved and grateful smile. “Okay?” she checked with Kevin.
“Okay,” he agreed.
As they followed where Vonetta lead, a particular set of eyes would have burned holes in Kevin’s back if they could have. Instead, the mind behind those eyes had to be content with watching and waiting.
At the table, those who didn’t know each other introduced themselves. Calvin and Kevin gave each other the man handshake and Kim, who had been cutting Felice down before, was all smiles and graciousness--something about which Vonetta made a mental note.
Felice didn’t even feel uncomfortable at greeting Calvin. It was obvious that he and Vonetta had eyes only for each other. Reflecting on that, Felice felt the tiniest twinge of
regret about her behavior, but it dissipated. All had turned out well for all concerned.
What none of them seem to be cognizant of was that all the other dinner guests in the room could barely concentrate on any part of their meals. For good or ill, Kevin and Felice were the stars of the show.
How could they get him to go outside, mused Trevor as he watched all the ignorant Negroes in the room fawn over that abomination in the middle of it. However, his internal questioning was rhetorical. Of course it is. He turned to Andre Carter.
“We’ll wait until he goes to drain his lizard, small though it may be. Then we’ll give the signal.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“What you and I will do is crowd him out the back door. The other brothers will follow our lead.”
“Do we want to get him before he goes in to take a piss or afterward.”
“Before, of course. I’d like to see the devil piss his pants.” They laughed low.
“And when we get him out there?” asked Andre.
“We will discuss things with the man...let him know where his boundaries lie...what he can and cannot do. Oh I’m sure that that devil is used to doing what and who he wants, and Massa can visit the slave quarters all he likes.
“But, he cannot flaunt his racism by coming into a gathering like this one.”
Yes, thought Andre. Maybe when we take care of that Cracka I’ll have to have a piece of his pie.
“I can’t wait,” he said.
“Yes, you can. We all can. Patience is the strength of African peoples. One day we won’t have to teach these types of lessons because one of us will be high up enough to ensure that all the enemies of the black African man know their place—maybe that teacher will even be in the White House.”
“I can’t even imagine that.”
“Watch and see. It won’t be a very long time from now. But before the general arrives, we have to be the foot soldiers for the cause—for Black Liberation.”
The two were so distracted by this conversation that their quarry almost gave them the slip—but not quite. Kevin got into the men’s room too fast for them, however, and all dreams of making him urinate on himself were lost.
Nonetheless, Trevor gave the appropriate signal and all of the Tau fraternity brothers under his control swiftly made their move to the door. It was a move they had practiced.
Calvin was not among them, though he was a Tau; he was Trevor’s “big brother.” However, he knew a Tau action when he saw one, and for a few minutes--but only a few--wondered against whom the action could be.
“Felice LeCroix.” The announcer pronounced Felice’s last name correctly--something she was unused to. Kevin was out of his chair before her in order to pull back her chair. She smiled at him briefly and then walked to the stage to receive her plaque for her volunteer clerical work at the AACC.
After the shake-and-take, and as she made her way back to the table, someone began to clap and soon the whole room was clapping. Felice blushed furiously and sat as Kevin pulled out her chair.
It had been Trevor who had started the applause.
“Why in the heck were they applauding me? They didn’t do it for anyone else.”
“Some smart aleck started it to be funny, I bet,” said Vonetta.
“Well, babe,” said Kevin, “if it makes you feel any better, that was me whistling.”
“You’re so sweet. Thank you.” Felice gave him a peck on the lips, stirring up a wave of tittering in the vicinity of their side of the table.
“What the...” Kevin began and then cut himself off as he turned to look at the faces which had just observed the kiss. The verdict was a toss-up; one between loathing and longing. That’s what Kevin saw in those faces. He looked at Felice.
“Whoa! It’s getting weird in here. These folks are freaking out because you kissed me.”
“I’m beginning to wonder whether it was such a good idea to come to this dinner,” she said.
“Remember this, beautiful: don’t ever let anyone keep you out of any place that you want to go.”
“You’re right. Okay.”
“And speaking of going, I’ll be right back.” Kevin caused another wave of tittering by kissing her this time.
::::time to make that move::: said the signal. And they did.
Kevin stepped out of the men’s room into what seem to be an impromptu football game in the back of the AACC
ballroom. Four large men managed to get him out of the back door while holding him up in order to keep him from falling. It was clear that the men had practiced this move and were used to their prey reacting in a certain manner. But Kevin, being an All-American, a quarterback, and a very large one to boot, managed to whirl out of the enclosure they had been trying to form around him with their bodies. However, he didn’t make an attempt to get back in through the doorway—they were blocking it at any rate--or an escape by any other me
ans.
He looked at them. “Um, can I help you…gentlemen?”
One of them stepped forward and looked him in the eye. “Why yes, Kevin Hart, yes you can. My name is Trevor Mason and I just want to tell you that you have no right to be here—especially not with an African woman.”
“Kevin’s been gone a while,” Vonetta noticed.
“That’s strange, he has. I wonder if he got to talking to somebody,” said Felice.
All of a sudden Calvin stood up, excused himself and ran to the back of the ballroom. Vonetta and Felice looked at each other.
Calvin had disappeared. But minutes later he reappeared and his deep, booming baritone carried throughout the room.
“Everybody that can needs to come out here and see what’s going on. Come on!” he gestured. “Come on.”
And they did--dozens of them. The ones who were able to get outside through the doorway and who saw and heard the back and forth between Trevor and Kevin, began a chant: NO RACISTS, NO RACISTS, NO RACISTS—and the chant was joined by the rest, even those who could not see what was going on.
It was Calvin who had started the chant, and having accomplished his self-appointed task, he made his way back to his table where Felice and Vonetta still sat, in spite of his exhortation. He bent to whisper something in Vonetta’s ear and that got her moving.
“Come on, Felice! It’s Kevin and Trevor!”
Before she could react, the three were up and knifing their way through the crowd. Because they were being led by Calvin, members of the crowd made way for them until the three got through the doorway and outside the building.
When Felice saw Kevin, she ran to him to hug him. He lifted her easily off the ground and gave her a big kiss, to the cheering delight of the on-lookers. Afterward, they changed their chant to: GO TIGERS, GO TIGERS, GO TIGERS!!
Tale of the Tigers
Chapter Ten
“That was great, no?”
“Yes. I’ve had my Trek fix--for now,” she said.
“It’s pretty early,” Malik began shyly. “Even though I’m full of popcorn, I could use, maybe, some coffee and something sweet. What about you?”
She grinned at him. “You, being an expert on chicks and all, should know that whenever you offer one of us something sweet, we’re going to say ‘yes.’”
“Of course, he chuckled. That’s why I asked.”
They sat across from each other in the coffee shop, sipping their drinks.
“So what do you want to be when you grow up, Amanda?”
She thought for a second. “I want to be free, whole, healthy and at peace with what I’m doing and how I’m living. I want to communicate; I want to understand and be understood. In short, I want to be a writer.”
“Interesting. So understanding and being understood will give you peace? I think that’s true for everybody.”
“Malik, do you ever feel like there’s no one who understands who you really are? I feel that way almost all the time.”
“I do, too. Sometimes I feel that when I’m saying things, people aren’t listening to what I’m actually saying. It’s like they are hearing voices in their heads and those voices become my voice.”
“Like that girl in your class.”
“Exactly, right.”
Suddenly, she changed the topic. “How did you get the name ‘Malik?’”
“You know who Malcolm X was, right?”
“I don’t know that much about him, but I’ve heard of him, yes.”
“Well ‘Malik Shabazz’ was his Islamic name. He’s very much admired among black people, especially in my hometown. So my dad named me after him.”
“He was a Muslim, but I’m guessing you’re not.”
“No, I’m a Christian and so is the rest of my family.”
“Did you ever consider becoming a Muslim?”
“Yes, but I researched it and decided not to.”
“Why not?”
Malik was thrilled. He had thought about this ever since he had understood the significance of his name and had been waiting for someone to ask him.
“Because, in Islam, you’re expected to die for God to save you; in Christianity, God sent His son to die so that you can be saved.”
Amanda considered this silently.
“Plus, I like eating pork.”
She laughed. “Hey, me too! And I don’t think I’d like to be all covered up.”
He looked at her. She was wearing far less make-up than usual which made her look like a high-school girl. Her smile was white and even. He decided that she was beautiful and cute: a rare combination, he had found. It was something that co-existed only in pretty women whose smiles reached their eyes.
“That would be just wrong,” he said.
“So what does your name mean?”
“Well, ‘Malik’ is the Arabic version of ‘Michael,’ and you know who he is, right?”
“God’s general. He protects Israel.”
“Right. In Hebrew, it means ‘who is like God,’ a rhetorical question. ‘Shabazz’ is actually Persian and it means ‘royal falcon.’”
“I learned in my religion class that Michael warred against the angel of Assyria. The story is in a couple of books in the Bible.”
“Yes. The combination of the two names is crazy.”
“Not many people know the meaning of their names.”
“Well, I had been thinking of changing it because it makes people think I’m a Muslim. But I decided to keep it for my dad’s sake.” Malik paused. “I looked up the meaning of ‘Amanda’ recently.”
“Oh really? Do I want to know what it means?” she laughed.
“Yes you do. It’s Latin.” He looked in her eyes. “It means ‘worthy of love.’”
It was late afternoon and drizzling as they strolled along the main avenue, both hatless. Absently, Malik slipped his hand into hers.
“Your parents wouldn’t like it if I came to their door to see you, would they?”
Amanda turned toward him. “No, they wouldn’t.”
“As a matter of fact, if my dad lived here, I wouldn’t be able to bring you to the house either—not without a hell of a lot of anger and shouting.”
“That’s pretty much the way it would go in my house, too. But don’t feel like she singled out black guys.” Amanda changed her tone, obviously mimicking her mother.
“‘Don’t bring home any blacks, Jews, Hispanics, Italians, Arabs or Orientals. They are all too different from you and the world will not be kind to either of you or your children.’” She reverted to her own vocal cadence. “Oh, Mom would never use the bad words for anybody, but she believes that they have their place and we white Christians have ours.”
“Well, my dad is the inverse of your mom--except he says that it’s white people only who won’t be kind.”
“I look around and see that things are different that what our parents told us. People their age are living in the past. I’ve read about how it used to be in this country between black people and white people, but it’s not like that anymore.”
“In Detroit, it’s still like that.”
“But everyone doesn’t live there.”
“No they don’t. I admit that New Mexico is way different that Michigan and I had to adjust when I first got here.”
“Also, I think that people stay in other people’s business too much. If I like being around you and you like being around me, why should anyone else care?”
“So you like being around me now, huh?”
She smiled at him shyly. “Yes. I feel like I can be myself with you.”
“’Yourself’ is an interesting person to be around, Miss Bain. Funny how you can have a first impression of someone and it turns out to be totally wrong.”
“Yes,” she grinned. “Malik, you and I are friends, right?”
He tightened his grip on her hand. “Right.”
“So my mom is just going to have to deal with that. But let’s forget about our parents for right now
. Let’s just…be.”
“Be what, Miss Bain?”
“Be happy.”
They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the rain and the freshness of the air. Then, as Malik was saying something light and funny, Amanda let go of his hand and reached up to wipe the rainwater from his brow. That was when he knew.
He would have to tell his father about Amanda.
“A field trip for the entire weekend? I don’t know.”
“Come on, Dad. It’s for my elective; History of New Mexico. Here’s all the paper work. I pay for the trip to and back and I’ll drive. The school pays for the hotel. I’d like to see Santa Fe again.”
“You mean I pay for the trip to and back. And tell me again why I should trust you.”
“Because I’ve been trustworthy, lately. Are you going to make me pay for my past actions forever? Is this like having a felony on your record?”
“You’ve been hanging out with that Hart kid too much. What a son of a lawyer!”
Felice rolled her eyes. “So, Daddy, is it yes or no?”
“Don’t pressure me, girl. I could just say no.”
“Okay, Joe. Stop making her twist in the wind.” Vetra stepped out from the kitchen, where she had not so secretly been eavesdropping.
“But I was having so much fun.” Joseph signed the consent form.
Felice kissed her father on the cheek. “Thanks, Daddy. I won’t make you sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see.”
“So, you’re going to be gone for two days.”
“Yep. Long enough for Mandy to sink those blood-red talons of hers into you.” They sat on a bench near the Quad.
“Be serious. Besides, she’d leave makeup all over my shirt.” Felice playfully slapped him on the side of his head.
“Ouch! Could you let me go get my helmet the next time you do that? You’ve got hands like a boxer,” he teased.
“And your head’s going to feel like a punching bag if you keep messing with me about Miss Mandy.”
Tale of the Tigers: Love is Not a Game Page 14