by Nick Cannon
“You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “Like I told you, you’re special to me. I want to take care of you.” She chuckled. “Even though you’re stubborn and won’t let me.”
I grinned. For a moment I felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of Maya. She would be devastated if she knew what happened between Kaydeen and me beneath that waterfall. Although she had lied to me, I still loved her. Maya was still the woman I had imagined spending the rest of my life with.
But, Kaydeen was putting in a hard bid for my affection. It was tough to ignore the fact that the woman beside me was a stunning beauty, built like a brickhouse, with a fortune in her bank account. I imagined myself as her man. It sounded good. But, we both knew there was more to the story than that.
“I think your brother is the one that won’t let that happen.” She didn’t argue. “I look at you sometimes and it bugs me out. You have an air about you that makes it hard to imagine that you and Dada are cut from the same cloth. You seem so different from him.” I couldn’t understand it. The more time I spent with her, the harder it was for me see the two of them in the same light. “You’re sweet. Sexy. Smart. Are you sure you two are related?”
Kaydeen laughed. “Different mothers. Same father. Who is an amazing man, I might add.” She lit up at the mention of her father.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve heard a lot about him.” I recalled the things that Toasta and Maya had told me about the ruthlessness of Pierce Davidson. I definitely understood how Dada could descend from such a sickening legacy.
She looked at me. “Not the folklore. Not the Big Babylon bakra they make him out to be. I’m talking about my sweet, loving father. You should meet him.”
I balked at that. “Nah. I’m good.” I shook my head. “I don’t do well with fathers. The tattoos, the Yankee attitude. I don’t think I’ll be the ideal choice for the type of guy his daughter brings home to meet him.”
She took my hands in hers, leaned in, and kissed me. With her hands in mine, our lips pressed together, and our tongues doing a slow, erotic dance, I felt hypnotized once more by Kaydeen’s allure. At that moment, she could have honestly asked me for anything and I would have given in.
She pulled away from our kiss, breaking her spell at last. Or so I thought.
“You’re meeting him. Now. Let’s go.”
Like a sheep, I followed her lead.
BLACK MAGIC
It was clear that the palace Kaydeen brought me to was far removed from the belly of the beast that was the Kingston dancehall scene. Not just far away in terms of geography. It was miles apart in terms of the quality of life. Even the air felt cleaner up here. We ventured up to a cliffside manor. It was the type of fancy home that my mama might have bragged about cleaning during the odd jobs she had taken as a domestic worker over the years. Now I understood why Kaydeen had brought me to Portland. Her father’s massive mansion was like stepping into another world.
We were way up in the hillside, the property miles away from their closest neighbors. Gates surrounded the perimeter of the massive plot of land. Once inside, we rode for several minutes before the road we were on led into a large circular drive in front of a towering house. As we pulled up on my motorcycle, I was awestruck. I had never been invited to a home this large on grounds this sprawling. The mansion itself was unbelievable. Large picture windows, impossibly high ceilings, marble everything. The place had an old English décor, and an unavoidable echo in each huge room.
As we entered, Kaydeen called out, “Father! Father!” Her voice reverberated throughout the mansion. I saw several staff members milling about. Some were cleaning, others rushing from one room to the next. Each of them avoided making eye contact with us as much as possible. I couldn’t stop staring. All of them were dark-skinned black people wearing old-fashioned maid’s uniforms, bonnets, and unhappy grimaces. I felt like I had stepped back in time in the worst way. I imagined this had once been an old slave master’s plantation, filled with black people hustling around to bend, serve, and cower. I locked eyes with one of them, an old woman whose smooth brown skin bore the tale of many losses. She wore a black maid’s uniform with a crisp white apron tied over the top of it. She stared at me, and seemed to be giving me some type of warning with her eyes. They were wide, as if she were trying to tell me something. A sense of complete dread flooded my body; the threat of imminent danger was present. For a moment, I was distracted by the woman, so much that I felt paralyzed by an irrational sense of fear. Suddenly, I felt like I never should have come here. I looked around, hoping to find an excuse to leave—until Kaydeen took me by the hand and led me into the great room. The moment her hand touched mine, a wave of reassuring calm washed over me.
Still, I was intimidated and a bit uncomfortable as we waited for her father to come. This was definitely an unfamiliar environment for me. The place felt cold, steely. I wondered what it was like for her to grow up in a home so formal and uptight.
Her father appeared at the top of the stairs. I looked up at him, imagining him as the subject of all the stories I’d been told. He wasn’t very tall. But, his demeanor was authoritative. Much like the bishop, he had an air of importance about him I could feel even from a distance. He was smiling down at us, his eyes focused on me. I stared back at him. Pierce Davidson, in the flesh. He had pale skin and dark hair, and wore a well-fitted suit. I had heard so much about him that seeing him now felt a little surreal. He greeted us, and began descending the large spiral staircase toward where we stood. He reached the bottom and hugged his daughter tightly.
I checked him out. Like his son, he looked to me like an average white guy who was too cocky for his own good. He smelled good, though. I pictured him flying to Dubai just to buy whatever expensive cologne he had on.
Kaydeen introduced us. I shook his hand, and he gave me a smile that made it clear where Kaydeen’s charm came from.
“Tarzan! Kaydeen has told me so much about you.”
My smile faded a little. I didn’t really like the sound of that. I wasn’t sure why she would be talking to her father about me. I glanced at Kaydeen. She avoided making eye contact with me, focusing instead on her father.
“Daddy, I spent the morning hanging out with Tarzan here. And, over the course of our conversation, I mentioned you. Of course, I found myself rambling about what a wonderful father you are, and all of that. So, instead of talking about you, I brought him to meet you in person.” She looked at me, beaming.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Davidson continued. “I’m happy I was here to meet you this afternoon. I’ve just returned late last evening from the cold and gray city of London.” He made a face as if he was nauseous. “Such a boring and unemotional city. Anyway, I’m happy to be home once again. I invite you to stay for dinner. My staff has just finished preparing it. Please. Join me. It will be an honor.”
He had an accent I couldn’t place. It was partly British, part Jamaican, and maybe a few others thrown in for good measure. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. He seemed odd and eccentric. Maybe a little crazy. He waved his hands and staff members rushed about, I assumed in order to prepare a place for me at the table. I opened my mouth to politely decline. But, already, Pierce was talking about his flight from London, and his plans to travel again at the end of the week.
Like his daughter, Pierce Davidson had a way of sweeping me up in a trance. At some point during the fast-moving conversation, I must have agreed to his invitation. Because before I knew it, he was ushering Kaydeen and me into a dining room unlike any one I’d ever been in before. It was huge in size and waitstaff dressed in crisp, starched uniforms lined the walls. It felt like a scene out of the antebellum South, and I tried hard not to stare at their faces. Surely, being lined up this way like slaves waiting to call on their master was demeaning enough. The long table in the center of the room was set for a full-course meal. I could see that Pierce Davidson lived a life fit for a king.
He took a seat at the head of the table. K
aydeen sat to his right, and motioned for me to sit down opposite her. Flanking her father now, we sat awkwardly while the staff tended to us, filling our glasses with water and a wine so red and thick that it looked like blood. Unfamiliar with such a formal environment, I waited, unsure. I watched Kaydeen, and followed her movements. Placing my napkin in my lap, choosing the correct fork for the first course, all of this was new to me. I did my best not to stick out like a sore thumb.
Pierce raised his glass in a toast. Kaydeen and I followed suit. The large glass was nearly full, and I reminded myself that I had better sip slowly. I didn’t want to get drunk.
“To my pulchritudinous daughter and her new friend, Mr. Brixton.”
I wondered what the hell that word meant. “Pulchritudinous.” I couldn’t even pronounce that shit. It sounded insulting, but I doubted he would disrespect his daughter. I made a mental note to Google it later.
Kaydeen was beaming. “Thank you, father.” They sipped their wine. I did, too. The wine hit my taste buds and I resisted the urge to gag. This one had a strong, bold flavor. Like it was more potent than a typical wine. I frowned at my glass as I set it down.
Pierce clapped his hands together, loudly, startling me. “Please, let’s eat!”
The staff rushed in with a flourish, serving the food and uncovering heaping dishes of foods I didn’t recognize. I prayed there would be some rice or provisions I could eat. But, there was no such luck. Instead, as the staff uncovered each dish my stomach sank. There was a thick cut of some mystery meat I had definitely never seen before. It looked like a lamb chop, but was far thicker, meatier, and slightly bloody. Nothing about it looked appetizing. The only thing accompanying it on my plate was a drizzle of some brownish orange glaze. Or maybe it was gravy. I wasn’t sure. I tried not to gag at the sight of it all.
“So, Mr. Brixton. My daughter tells me you are from Brooklyn.” Pierce was smiling at me as he spoke. He looked excited to talk to me.
“Yes, sir.” I cut into the meat on my plate and a long stream of blood trickled out. I groaned inside. Aware that Pierce was still watching me, I smiled and forced myself to take a bite. The meat was gummy, thick, and unseasoned. I wanted to throw up, but forced myself not to. I took a sip of wine to wash it down, and regretted that immediately. I wasn’t sure which tasted worse.
“I have some property in Brooklyn,” Pierce said. “It’s an interesting place now. All it needed was a little polish.” He smiled, seeming quite pleased with himself.
I hated the “new” Brooklyn. Full of yuppies, juice bars, and gentrified neighborhoods. I preferred the old-school Brooklyn. The one Biggie rose from to become the king of New York. I stared at my plate, not wanting to argue with Kaydeen’s father on the subject.
“I also hear that you are quite the attraction in Kingston.” He managed to still smile while he chewed.
I looked at him, unsure of what he was saying with his odd way of talking.
“At the dancehall,” he added, clarifying it for me.
I nodded. “Yes, sir.” I supposed I was. I wondered how much he had heard about me. And whether some of what he heard had come from his other child. Again, I felt the now familiar sense of danger lurking close by.
“Father, Tarzan is prepared to win the ten-million-dollar dance clash tomorrow night. He and his crew are the best. You really should see them for yourself. Some of their moves are more like acrobatics than dance. It’s amazing.” Kaydeen sounded like a completely different person in the presence of her father. I stared at her in awe.
Pierce chewed his food like it was the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten. I wondered why my taste buds were responding so differently. He smiled at me, a hint of mischief in his gaze.
“Ten million dollars is a nice little prize. Good pocket change.” He chugged his wine.
I tried to ignore his condescending tone and attempted to eat some more of the fancy food instead. But, Pierce pressed on.
“I was never one for the … shall we call it, the ‘allure’ of the Kingston club scene. Even in my youth, I found nothing about it appealing.”
I looked at him. Now, he was firing too many shots.
“You know, if I grew up in a lifestyle this lavish, I would probably feel the same way you do. But, I’m from the ’hood. I grew up in a place just like Kingston. So, to me, the dancehall scene feels right at home.”
Pierce didn’t answer me. Instead, he stared, contemplating me in stunned silence.
Kaydeen tried to fill the void. “Tarzan is being modest, father.” She chuckled, nervously. “His family is from Hellshire. You’ve probably heard of the place.”
My eyes shot in her direction. I wondered if that was a sly way of eluding to Maya’s past with Dada. She winked at me, still smiling. “Tarzan is from humble beginnings, but he has a regal comportment.”
Pierce nodded. “It is good to be humble.”
Kaydeen reached across the table and patted my hand sweetly.
Pierce watched, grinning at us. “You know,” he said. “You two remind me of an old Jamaican folktale. It was one that my nanny used to tell me. Have you ever heard of Anansi, Mr. Brixton?”
I shook my head. “No, sir.” I was grateful for the distraction from the interesting concoction on the plate in front of me.
He nodded. “Anansi is like the Jamaican Spider-Man. He is, literally, a super spider that symbolized hope to Jamaicans. Anansi was the oppressed people’s hero. Yet, he wasn’t perfect.”
Pierce noticed that I wasn’t eating, and he stopped talking and gestured at my plate. “Please, eat.”
I did, forcing the food down while I listened. My stomach churned again, and I prayed that no one heard it but me.
“Anansi was both the fool and the fooler.” He laughed at his own made-up word. “The high god’s accomplice and his rival. An irresistible and indestructible spider whose tales have been passed down for centuries.”
Kaydeen chewed her food, seeming thrilled by her father’s storytelling. She looked at me. “Father would tell me the tales of Anansi every night at bedtime when I was a little girl.”
I smiled, took another sip of wine, and vowed silently to myself that I wouldn’t eat another piece of that mystery meat, no matter what.
Pierce stood up from the table and began pacing the room while he continued to tell his story. It caught me off guard. We were in the middle of a meal and there he was walking around the room like a character in a Hitchcock movie. I glanced at Kaydeen, but she seemed unfazed. Like she was used to her father’s theatrics and didn’t find them strange at all.
“One of my favorite stories is about Anansi and the king’s daughter. It’s a fine tale.”
He lit a pipe filled with God knows what, and the scent of it mixed in with the smell of the food and the effects of the wine. The combination made my head spin.
“Long ago, Anansi heard that the king’s daughter was a riddle master.”
Kaydeen giggled at that. I smiled, hoping my face wasn’t betraying how tipsy I felt. The room felt like it was spinning around on its axis.
“She was gorgeous, intelligent, and in her leisure time she loved to solve riddles. The king’s daughter proclaimed that whoever should give her a riddle that she could not solve, that man would be her husband, and later king!”
Pierce took a puff on his pipe, and faced me. He began walking slowly in my direction as he continued telling the story.
“But, if she guessed the riddle, the man’s head must be cut off.”
He stared at me for so long that I thought he must expect me to respond. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I frowned, and tried to force some sound out. Still nothing. I looked at him. Pierce grinned and continued pacing, the smoke from his pipe drifting skyward.
“Anansi was up for the challenge. He told his mother that he would make up a riddle on his journey to meet the princess and he would deliver it to her and become the new king. Anansi’s mother was leery of this mission. She worried for
her son. But, being a spiritual woman, she allowed him to set out on his mission. For his journey, Anansi’s mother gave him some magic dumplings. Seven in total. She gave to him six healthy dumplings. But she poisoned one of them.”
The room had stopped swirling now. But, Pierce’s voice sounded like a record that had been slowed down so that the voice was distorted. I looked at Kaydeen, but she seemed out of focus. I blinked my eyes and tried to clear them. Pierce kept right on talking.
“On the journey, Anansi ate five dumplings and he gave two of the dumplings to the donkey he was riding. One of the two was the poisoned dumpling. The poor donkey died on the journey. A raven flying above ate the dead donkey’s carcass and was poisoned, too. The raven died, landing in a hog farm. The hogs ate the poisoned raven and two of the hogs were contaminated and died. The hogs were made into food that fed the entire town, except for the kingdom, of course. The whole town suffered a plague and was completely wiped out. The only people who survived were Anansi, still on his journey, and the men and women in the king’s court. The upper echelon, affluent folk. Somewhat like the uptowners in Kingston, I might say.”
He chuckled at his own joke. I did, too, although my laugh was slightly delayed and a little louder than I had meant for it to be. My voice was back now, and I was shocked to hear it again. I was really trying to pull myself together. But this food, the wine, or both had me feeling loopy.
“So, as the story goes, Anansi over time finally gets to the palace. He gives the king’s daughter the riddle of his journey. He says to her, ‘One poisoned none, yet poisoned all. For the mighty to partake amongst the meek, the kingdom shall fall.’”
Pierce took one long inhale of his pipe. He exhaled and laughed.
I was confused. I figured I must have missed something. I hadn’t been listening very closely. Not with everything I was feeling at the moment. It felt like I had just downed an entire bottle of Hennessy, smoked a blunt to the head, and took a snort of cocaine back to back. I forced myself to focus on Kaydeen’s father. But, on the inside I was yearning for my bed and my mama.