The Guilty Generation Read online

He paused, then nodded before taking a deep breath. Right. He and Cheney had instilled godly principles in their four children, but as the only girl, Kami was special. He caught himself smiling. Ever since he and Cheney had adopted their only daughter when she was four, Parke had surrendered his heart to the little girl who shared so many of his features. Without DNA results no one would know better. Kami was truly a daughter after Parke’s own heart. It was love at first sight when he met Cheney’s foster child.

  Suddenly, the source of his stress appeared in the doorway, and he didn’t like what he saw. In his opinion, the dude by Kami’s side wasn’t close to being acceptable “boyfriend” material. The Instagram photo his daughter had shown him couldn’t be the same person.

  Left up to him, Parke would have handpicked someone from their church, but his daughter said they weren’t cute. Since beauty was in the eye of the beholder, what did she see in this guy? Pace had said Kami’s boyfriend didn’t pass. Parke brushed it off as his son taking his big brother role too seriously to irritate his sister. Clearly not. Now, Parke had to admit his son was a good judge of character.

  Taking long strides, he made his way to the doorway. “Kami,” he said frowning. Since when did she smear dark makeup around her eyes and wear black lipstick? Oh naw. “You’re late, and why is there a Band-Aid on your wrist?” He eyed the young man with a glare. “If you hurt my daughter in any way...”

  Immediately, Kami covered her bandage with her other hand, looked away sheepish, then met his eyes and stuttered, “Tango and I got matching tattoos. It’s small, Daddy,” she added quickly.

  What? The response was caught in Parke’s throat as he zeroed in on Tango, whose name last night was Terrence. Tattoos covered his arms. How was there space for another one? Facing his daughter again, Parke released his roar. “You what? Have you lost your mind...and dignity? You know the rules, no body piercing or body paint...”

  A personality surfaced Parke had never seen in his daughter. “You’re not my daddy,” she shouted at him, but was smart enough to step back after doing so.

  That one sentence brought the room to a standstill. A few uh-ohs mingled with gasps.

  Did someone discharge a weapon, because Parke felt the puncture wound to his chest? He staggered back. When he didn’t pass out, he stepped forward, inches from Kami’s face. Was that alcohol he smelled on her breath? Oh naw again. He shook his head.

  “Listen to me, little girl, I don’t know who you think I am, but if you ever say that to me again, you will need another place to stay. I will not tolerate your disrespect—ever.”

  He kept his voice steady as he issued his verbal assault. How could his loving little girl turn against him like that? Parke’s nostrils flared as he turned his attention to the culprit, then back at Kami.

  “Jamieson may not run through your veins, but it’s in your heart... Don’t make me regret giving you my name.” Parke was about to dig deeper into his arsenal of all the times he had given her his undivided attention, read her bedtime stories, kissed her tears away when her brothers teased her, showed up at every one of her cheerleading events, attended father-daughter banquets, purchased braces... The list was endless. “You must have forgotten who you’re talking to...”

  A touch on his arm gave him enough pause for Kami to run from the room in tears. Tango was about to retreat, but Parke stopped him. “You and I need to talk.”

  “Parke, babe—” his wife’s soft voice calmed him— “I’ll go see about her,” she said as the other Jamieson women stood and trailed the hysterical teenager out of the room.

  Terrence aka Tango straightened his shoulders. “Naw, I ain’t got nothin’ to say. You heard her yourself. You ain’t her daddy,” he smarted off, tempting Parke to step out of his safety of God’s salvation and commit bodily harm, but the thought of missing the rapture and not hearing Jesus say, “Well done” caused him to take a deep breath.

  But if he heard one more person say he wasn’t Kami’s daddy, Parke might snap. In his peripheral vision, he saw two of his three sons coming to his aid. He expected nothing less from his boys. His wife made him the proud papa, even if only two came from her womb.

  Tango grunted as he glanced at Parke’s backup. The young man would soon find out the joke would be on him. The Jamiesons were conditioned to diffuse volatile situations. They were too intelligent and god-fearing to engage in violence, but at the moment, Parke was praying hard not to make this an exception.

  “I ain’t scared of them,” Tango boasted, and that’s when Parke heard chairs shift. Without looking over his shoulder, he could sense his brothers and adult cousins approach. Kami had stolen everyone’s heart in the family. She only had to whisper for help, and they would respond faster than any of Marvel Comics’ superheroes.

  Although Tango seemed uneasy, he didn’t back down. “I’m strapped.”

  “Do I look afraid or even concerned? You put my daughter in harm’s way carrying a concealed weapon and providing alcohol to a minor.”

  Yeah, Tango needed to find another dance partner because Kami wasn’t the one.

  With loving kindness have I drawn thee. You can’t be a fisherman of souls for Me if you let the devil bait you instead of using My Word as bait, God chastened him.

  The thought of disappointing God sobered Parke again. “You are so over your head and you don’t know it. Our weapons aren’t carnal as your gun”—he doubted the boy had a license to carry the firearm—“but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds, casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ. If you have a Bible, Second Corinthians 10:4-5 are your references.”

  “But if you want to tango, I got this,” Kidd voiced behind Parke’s back. Three years younger, Kidd was rough around the edges before God saved him, and at times, he was still rough.

  “God’s got this. He doesn’t need our assistance.” Parke folded his arms and mumbled, “Yet,” then eyed the young man up and down as Mrs. Beatrice Tilly Beacon, known as Grandma BB, made her presence known. Two over buffed, warrior-looking bodyguards, Chip and Dale, formerly with the Chippendales out of Vegas, escorted her.

  They were for show only because the eighty-something-year-old woman was fit and still possessed the ability to instill fear in folks. Parke had seen firsthand the unofficial family matriarch cane-whip a would-be assailant and send him to the hospital. Security had to physically remove her from the ER to keep her from finishing the job.

  “At ease, men,” Grandma BB ordered her sidekicks.

  Tango backed up as uncertainty draped his face. Parke reluctantly stepped aside so Grandma BB could be eye-to-eye with the young man.

  “Kami’s father is being soft.” She twisted her lips as if she was rolling chewing tobacco in her mouth. She cracked her arthritic knuckles.

  Excuse me? Parke was ready to challenge her, but knew better than to ignite the old woman’s temper.

  “Grandma BB here, and I’m strapped. Show me your fire power—” she sweetly said—“and I’ll show you mine.”

  “No,” several Jamiesons shouted as Tango’s eyes widened.

  Hpmh. Grandma BB squinted at the young man. “Trust me, you don’t want to know my rap sheet. I’m a step ahead of you, Terrence Jackson Kelly aka Tango—this week.” She rolled her neck. “I know where you live, the name of your ma and pa, reviewed your juvy records, and have had you tailed for the past twenty-fours. I know your weaknesses and strengths.”

  Parke’s eyes bucked. She had withheld information? They definitely would talk later.

  “I have no qualms about decorating a jail cell. I’m daring you—no, begging you—to give me half of a reason to inscribe a permanent tattoo upside your head for...”

  “Y’all are crazy.” Tango pointed to Grandma BB’s feet. “She’s even wearing men’s shoes. You’re probably a man who had a sex change.

  “I can show my baby pictures, but you ta
lked about my shoes and for that...” Grandma BB stepped forward. “Those are fighting words. They are top-of-the-line Stacy Adams. You got a problem with that? Yeah, it’s a size thirteen. Don’t believe me?” She growled and chest bumped the young man.

  “Okay, enough,” Parke said, pulling her back when he wanted to witness a beat down.

  “Y’all trippin’. I’m out of here,” Tango said.

  “Need an escort?” Grandma BB didn’t wait for an answer as she shoved him toward the exit.

  Chapter Two

  Cheney had already lost one daughter through a botched abortion. She was not about to lose another one to a “boy” who was interested in stealing Kami’s heart and dumping her after the theft. Cheney had been in college when doctors told her she would never be able to have children. When she returned home from North Carolina, suffering from deep depression, Cheney had become a foster mother to right a wrong.

  Something within her told her she had terminated the life of a little girl. Her spirit seemed to taunt Cheney for years after the abortion in visions of a daughter in different stages of life. To say she was thrilled to have another chance to be a mother—a good one—was a major understatement.

  Lord, help me not to lose another. She swallowed. “You’re not my daddy!” was every adopted parents’ fear to be uttered from their children.

  If Kami didn’t consider Parke her father, then where did that leave Cheney? She would break down later. Now, she had to step into mommy mode and comfort Kami as long as she would claim them. Huddled in a nook outside the banquet room with the other Jamieson wives, the teenager bawled as if she was seven-years-old again, not seventeen, which she was quick to remind the household ever since her birthday last month.

  Kami’s frame shook in agony. “Mom, Daddy yelled at me.”

  Daddy? The endearment sounded so good to Cheney’s ears that she had to withhold her amusement as she exchanged eye contact with the other ladies. If her daughter wasn’t so heartbroken, Cheney would have reminded her of her own outburst.

  The last two years, she’d stopped calling Parke Daddy, preferring Dad instead. That’s what babies call their fathers, Kami had said. Hmmm. Now who was the baby?

  Hugging Kami, Cheney closed her eyes and prayed, Lord, help us all to survive these growing pains. Her daughter wailed as if a dentist was extracting a wisdom tooth—or maybe it was the sting from the tattoo. Her sisters-in-law gave Cheney sympathetic looks. Eva and Talise’s daughters were light-years away from being teenagers. The “terrible twos” were easy compared to the coming-of-age phase.

  Cheney continued praying until Kami’s sobs subsided to hiccups, then she said softly, “As the only girl in the family, Parke considers you his daddy’s girl.”

  “I am!” Kami sprang up and glanced around as if she was looking for a challenger to defend her title. Tears had ruined the heavy-handed makeup. Kami’s natural beauty was camouflaged instead of enhanced. Besides the application, the colors didn’t blend well.

  “That was cruel to say such a thing to your father,” Cheney continued. That truth triggered another crying binge. Despite the outer appearance hinting of a budding woman, Kami was all baby at heart.

  Kami grew up too fast. Initially, she was Cheney’s first foster child. She had been shy and scared, but once she saw Parke, it was love at first sight for both of them. Kami had been so possessive of him that she didn’t want anyone to have his attention, even Cheney.

  Once she’d married Parke and he’d legally adopted Kami, father and daughter were inseparable. At times, Cheney was jealous of the bond the two shared.

  The former Kami Fields was born to a young White teenage mother and Black father who sold drugs. Cheney wasn’t sure whose biological side she favored, but Kami and Parke had similar features; both were fair-skinned with intoxicating brown eyes and long lashes—too long, according to her husband. Jet-black silky hair capped their looks. Yeah, Kami was a female mini-Parke who could pass off her ethnicity as African American, Latina, Egyptian, Nigerian, or any other group of people of color from around the globe.

  Queen Jamieson, a name that befitted the dark beauty of the family, leaned forward and patted Kami’s hand. She was the half-sister of Parke’s cousins, Kidd and Ace. The youngest Jamieson woman was fierce like her name symbolized. No man could tame her tongue or capture her attention—even God seemed to take a backseat when it came to her heart and soul. Queen was in her late thirties, so she still had time to be swept off her feet.

  “Sweetie, what’s really going on?” Queen asked softly. “Your dad was worried about you, and his questioning didn’t seem out of line.” The concern on her face was unmasked.

  Hidden under Queen’s layers of strength and independence, she exposed her tender side only to family who meant everything to her, especially after her older sister, Suzette had succumbed to cancer. Locating her father’s “other” family had been a godsend. If there was any rumor of a special occasion for the Jamiesons to get together, Queen would hop on a plane from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and be there.

  “He treated me like a baby.” Kami faced the woman whom she adored as an aunt instead of an older cousin. That was of course, if Kami claimed the Jamieson name as if it was her birthright. “Mom and Dad said I couldn’t date until the end of my junior year,” Kami said as if Cheney weren’t there.

  Despite the accusatory tone, Cheney’s heart stirred every time one of her four children called her “Mommy” or “Mom.”

  “Other girls had boyfriends their freshman year. I don’t see why I had to wait,” Kami complained.

  “Boyfriend?” Cheney blinked. “No dating included ‘no boyfriends’ either, young lady.” Before she could continue with a life lesson for her daughter on semantics, her cousin took the floor.

  “How many of those girls were pregnant by their junior year?” Talise asked. Although she was twenty-nine when she became pregnant, the fact remained Talise was a single, unwed mother until she agreed to marry her child’s father, Aaron “Ace” Jamieson, Parke’s cousin. Now, they enjoyed a healthy godly marriage with two adorable children.

  Kami bowed her head and fumbled with her hands. “A few.” She paused. “Maybe five or six,” she mumbled.

  “That many? You never mentioned it. They had no idea what they were signing up for the rest of their lives. As a college freshman, I did know better and still made bad and ungodly choices.” Cheney sucked in her breath. She had hoped her confessions would serve as a detriment to Kami making bad choices. The consequences of sin had Cheney in a mental dark place until God sent Parke into her life to rescue her. Not long after they began dating, they both repented for the wrong they had done in their separate lives; then one Sunday morning, they surrendered to the Lord and were baptized in Jesus’ name.

  Cheney prayed daily her daughter would hold on to her desire to walk with God and resist temptations from a dying world. “Those girls have no idea how much a baby will affect future endeavors.”

  “My best friend, Annisa, said Tango told her that he liked me, but I acted like I was too good for him.”

  A few of the Jamieson wives murmured what Cheney wanted to say. You are.

  “He was so popular. I didn’t know he noticed me. Annisa said I should act and dress sexy to get his attention, but he acted as if he wasn’t interested. Then finally, one day, he came and sat at my table during lunch.” Cheney listened without interrupting, wondering why her daughter had never shared this story with her before.

  “Then some girls at school started teasing me that I wasn’t woman enough for Tango. Every day, they flirted with my boyfriend in front of my face!”

  “And what did this Tango boy do about it?” Queen asked.

  Boyfriend? Cheney flinched. She was still processing that her daughter considered Tango boyfriend material.

  “He told me to just ignore them, that he didn’t even like them that way.” Kami paused and her shoulders slumped. “One girl said she wanted to have his baby and that I’m ugly.” K
ami cringed. “But Tango said he wasn’t going to force me to have sex with him.”

  “Not yet,” Hallison added. Nicknamed Hali, she was married to Parke’s brother Malcolm. “He would seduce you with his smiles, false promises of love, and charm. I grew up in church all my life—like you.” Hali nodded. “Feeling deprived of what life had to offer, I was waiting for the right man to come along as a reason to rebel against God as a bad girl.” She paused. “Trust me, there is nothing fun about fornication. There are consequences for disobeying God.”

  All the ladies in the group raised their hands in the affirmative, except Queen. When it came to past relationships, she limited her comments to, “He wasn’t the one.”

  The last woman to join the ranks as a Jamieson wife was married to Parke’s youngest brother. Cameron didn’t stand a chance when he fell captive to Gabrielle’s grace and allure. He wasn’t counting on her extra endowment of godly wisdom. The woman could out preach some of the best-known televangelists.

  Cameron thought he was up for the chase. He wasn’t expecting God to be his competition for Gabrielle’s heart. Only after he repented to God of his faults—mainly pride, did Gabrielle consent to become his wife. Gabrielle leaned forward and spoke softly. “What you’re describing sounds like bullying.” She held up her hand when Kami seemed ready to deny it. “Bullying comes in other forms besides physical threats. It can be unmerciful teasing, daring you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, or coercion.”

  “If you were my daughter, I’d pull you out of that school without blinking an eye,” petite, but feisty Eva said. She wasn’t one to back down. Strong-willed, Parke’s cousin, Kidd, fell in love with the woman who challenged and bumped heads with him day one at the nursing facility where Grandma BB was convalescing, and Kidd was working undercover to keep an eye on the matriarch.

  “Mom!” Kami looked to Cheney in horror. “Not my senior year. My cheerleading squad, and I’m on the honor...”

  “Hey.” Cheney squeezed her hand. “We haven’t discussed anything yet,” she reassured her with no idea how to keep her daughter spiritually safe from peer pressure. “But I am concerned.”