Chapter Four - Jeremy

I hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. I hadn’t lost her. Marsha Lindo was my woman. The most beautiful girl was my girlfriend. I looked myself over in the full-length mirror next to my bedroom door. I couldn’t fumble Marsha. Apparently, at 6’4, 225 pounds, most women felt I defied the stereotypical “Haitian look.” Since moving to the States, I’d heard over and over, “Oh, you don’t look Haitian.”
When I finally asked one girl what she meant by that, she said, “Oh, you know, Haitians are all short. The tallest is like 5’6. You are dark like them, though, so it’s not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” I barked.
“Yeah, like being dark and short is too much,” the girl said.
I never spoke to her again, but what she said stuck with me. Now I knew what people envisioned when they said, “You don’t look Haitian.”
I knew about the other stereotypes, though. Like we were all impoverished, because all that was shown on television was ruins. The visuals were no different than the “feed the children” commercials depicting African children, so dehydrated and malnourished they could almost blend into the sand they sat on outside their huts. Though the first to have a successful slave rebellion, the country remained indebted to France, racism and colorism fed violence at the border between us and the neighboring Dominican Republic, a corrupt government made for disloyal citizens, and the land was prone to disastrous earthquakes and other natural disasters. Not to mention the deeply rooted connections to African religions, which, regardless of what they were called, and who practiced what and how, to Americans, it was all “witchcraft.” All of these things made Haitians the pariahs of the Caribbean. But the Anthony family didn’t fall into the stereotypes. We were tall. We were Christians. We were rich.
Being rich is what mattered the most. I was raised to believe that anything could be bought, and for a Haitian family like mine, it was important to maintain a high financial status by any means necessary. For lack of opportunities available to my grandparents and parents, legitimate ways to earn were not in our sights. We took advantage of every illegal opportunity that crossed our path, and because we happened to be a highly intellectual family, we managed to funnel our money through legal entities. We kept law enforcement under our thumb, and even certain elected officials in Florida. On the rare occasion someone got caught, the debt to society was light, and time served was short.
Nah, I could not fumble Marsha. I was determined to have what I was told could never be mine.
There was a light knock at my front door. I glanced at myself once more in the mirror, and then scanned my apartment. Everything looked fine. I opened the door. There stood Clara. She was a pretty young Caribbean girl. Not as pretty as Marsha, but she was worth a percentage of my time and attention—at least the time it took to fulfill my needs. Clara smiled, showing her perfect white teeth between her thick brown lips.
“Sorry, did I keep you waiting?” Jeremy asked.
“Not at all,” Clara said, stepping into the apartment without invitation. She was short and curvy. Her bust met with my rib cage, and I had to curve my back a little to hug her and grasp her voluptuous behind.
Immediately, I felt myself at attention. I pulled her in close and bit her neck.
“Okay, well hello to you too,” Clara greeted me.
I chuckled. “Did you eat?” I asked, hoping her answer was yes. Some of these girls came over with the expectation of an actual date.
“Yeah,” Clara replied.
I smiled inwardly. Perfect, I thought.
Clara was usually on point, though. She portrayed an innocence that would have folks in utter disbelief if they knew where she was at that moment. She was the total opposite of her façade. Ready to get what she came for, her hand grasped me through my pants. She didn’t waste time. I scooped her up, and her short, chubby legs wrapped around my waist.
Nah, I could not fumble Marsha. But Marsha would be none the wiser. Plus, I knew I would not be laying her any time soon. As bad as I wanted to, I was willing to wait. Where would I take her anyway? I couldn’t bring her home. She was a classy young woman who deserved elegant fixtures and plush furniture. I knew she was a virgin, and I couldn’t fathom taking her virginity in a place like a dark, damp basement.

*****


“Ki kote ou te ye?!” Madeline hollered, questioning her son’s whereabouts as he burst through the front door of their modest Miami home.
Jeremy locked all of the locks and peered through the curtained window framing the entrance. He didn’t see anyone.
Madeline stood in the middle of the living room with her hands on her hips. Her daughter Lovelie stood right behind her, positioned for her role as third in command. Jeremy eyed the two of them as he caught his breath.
“Running from somebody?” Lovelie asked.
Jeremy cleared his throat, prepared to lie.
“That girl’s family?” Lovelie pressed, with a swivel in her neck.
“Ki ti fi?” Madeline inquired what girl they were talking about as she stepped forward.
“That Spanish girl,” Lovelie offered.
Madeline folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes. “Jeremy, is this true?”
Jeremy stood up straight and resolved to be honest. “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “I was just walking her home.”
“I told you to stay away from her,” said Madeline. “What is it with you? You meet these girls, and it’s like sèvo w ap monte nan dèyè w.”
“My brain is not in my behind,” Jeremy snickered. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I was doing the right thing, being a gentleman. Her family is just crazy.”
“If they want you to leave their daughter alone, then why can’t you?” Madeline said, dropping her hands at her sides. “Your father was looking for you. He left already for the restaurant. He’s meeting with the Fuentes brothers.” Madeline turned toward the kitchen. Jeremy and Lovelie followed.
“You didn’t want to go with him?” Jeremy asked Lovelie.
“He wanted you to go,” Lovelie said as she sucked her teeth.
“Couldn’t be too serious if he chose me over you,” Jeremy noted.
“Doesn’t matter,” Lovelie said. “You don’t take anything seriously anyway. Everything is about these silly females with you. So they chased you home, huh?”
The siblings sat down at the kitchen table together while Madeline plated their dinner.
Jeremy nodded in response to his sister’s question. “Like I said, I was just walking her home from the park… then this black Mazda Miata pulls up, and like five Dominican dudes hop out with sticks. So mwen te kouri—” Jeremy demonstrated his speed by slapping his hands together.
“I bet you took off like a bat outta hell,” Lovelie said, giggling.
Madeline placed her children’s meals on the table.
Jeremy hunched forward, ready to dig into the white rice, bean sauce, and stewed chicken, but Madeline swatted his hand away. “Lave men w!”
“Yes, please wash your hands,” Lovelie added. “We don’t know where those dirty fingers been.”
Jeremy quickly flipped her the bird behind Madeline’s back.
“The middle finger?” Lovelie exclaimed. “Classy. Mature.”
“Kisa?” Madeline asked, spinning around on her heels.
“Nothing,” Jeremy said as he bopped out of the kitchen to wash his hands.
Augustine did not return home until after eleven that night. “Jeremy, antre isit la!” he shouted for Jeremy to meet him in the living room.
Madeline and Lovelie had already called it a night, but Augustine knew his son would be up. “Ki kote ou te ye pi bonè?” he now asked, wanting to know where Jeremy was earlier.
Jeremy sighed. “I was walking a friend home. I didn’t know you wanted me to roll out with you—”
Augustine shook his head. “The Spanish girl?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy said, lowering his eyes to the ground.
“And sa ki te pase?”
“Some guys pulled up on us in a black Mazda Miata and chased me away from her.”
Augustine shook his head again. “You don’t learn,” he grumbled, “especially with this one. Her father is an important man here in the States, and she is very young. You think I don’t know she’s still in high school? I don’t want to have to tell you again to leave her alone. Do you want me to send you back to Haiti?”
Jeremy shook his head.
“Leave that girl alone. You missed a really important meeting with the Fuentes brothers tonight—”
“I was surprised you didn’t take Lovelie with you,” Jeremy blurted out.
Augustine shot him a stern look. “Lovelie is the oldest, but you are my son. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be able to rely on you as much as her.”
“Maybe I’m not cut out for this. I told you, I want to go to law school.”
“You will,” said Augustine, “but you still have obligations to the family. I can’t send you off to law school without you knowing the inner workings of the businesses here. When you get your degree, you will be responsible for defending and protecting us when it comes to the law. Eske ou konprann mwen?”
“Yes, I understand,” Jeremy responded solemnly.
“Good,” said Augustine. “I made a deal with the Fuentes brothers. We have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning. Be in this living room dressed and ready to go by seven.”
Jeremy nodded and went back to his room.