<It ain't about black or white, 'cos we're all human-Tupac Shakur>

|17|

KIAN WENT over to where his father sat, frame quivering violently with fury. I still stood, a nervous wreck and a thin film of sweat coating my clammy palms. Shaking slightly, I wiped them off on my nude gown. God help me but I need to get the frack outta here!

"Dad you're not thinking rationally, let's go into the next room and discuss this," Kian cajoled his father, speaking softly as if any wrong move could trigger an eruption.

Giving Kian a pointed look, Mr. Fields nodded and they left to enter a room I didn't know existed. It was positioned directly next to the dining table but since the door had been plastered with the same wallpaper on the wall, I hadn't taken notice of it until now.

I heard raised angry voices at first, then those enraged tones suddenly transmuted into chuckles and laughter. Odd. If Mr. Fields was laughing then he was either bipolar or Kian told him something funny. Or it wasn't either of those options.

My phone pinged. Grateful I had something else to occupy my thoughts I quickly took it out from my purse and glanced at the screen. A message from Jayden.

Jayden: You forgot your English textbook on my desk yesterday. Just saw it in my bag rn. Needed to tell u.

Jayden, ever the gentleman. I simpered, despite the queasy sensation coursing my skin.

Me: Thank u :-)) I'll take it on Monday.

Me: Den ;-)

On second thought, I had added 'Den'. He hated it, that's the nickname I dubbed him and I liked calling him Den. It was pretty lame but I'm lame so yeah.

Jayden: Ughh! Not again, Jamila. I might just start calling you Jam '<'. Let's see how u like it. And btw, u're wlc.

Me: Hahaha, imma see u try. *smirks

I stopped myself from cracking a full blown smile, instead I thumbed my phone waiting for his reply.

It didn't come anytime soon so I took a final glance at my phone, noting the time. 6:50 pm. Refusing to feel hurt that he hadn't replied yet, I kept the phone inside my purse and waited for Kian.

After what seemed like a thousand years, they came out together; the father's arm placed on the son's shoulder.

"You may sit girl," Mr. Fields gruffly said, sitting down on one of the dining chairs himself. Okay, I certainly hadn't seen that one coming. I thought he was mad earlier and didn't want black vermins like me around, right?

Kian came to where I stood and beamed---a fake one if I may add---at me. I returned it with a wan smile, my frontal muscles protesting the simple movement.

He gripped my wrist, hot minty breath washing over my cheek and whispered, "Come on, Jamila. I've talked to him so you can sit down now. He's just stressed out." Then calling out loudly he added, "Dad I'll be right back and Jamila go!" With that he gently pushed me forward and left. Oh Gawd!

I tentatively made my way to the dining table and was about to sit when I heard Mr. Field's voice. "Not here, on the sofa." Excuse me?

He continued, waving a healthy hand---for someone his age, he actually appeared fit---dismissively, "This table is for Kian's friends who aren't black like you." Oof, what the frack?!

There were four sofas in the lounge but the two adjacent to the dining table were of different colours, black and white. I clutched my purse tightly wishing that Kian would appear immediately.

"If you're having trouble deciding on which couch you want to sit on, then do so on the black one. You might leave a smear on the white." He cracked a sweet toothy smile and I knew that smile was meant to mock me.

Having no other fracking choice, I gingerly sat on the black leather sofa and willed myself not to eye the man who sat a little distance away from me.

"What's your name girl?" he barked. Like a dog. A very rabid one.

"Jamila Kincade sir." Why was he asking? I tapped my fingers lightly against my uncovered knee, tongues of nerves feverishly lashing my skin.

"I'm Richard Fields, a senator of the Republican party," he proudly announced, chest puffing up like a peacock.

No wonder he seemed familiar. I had seen his face in billboards across the state, during campaigns. One thing I can vividly recall was his statement about blacks and white coexisting together. Because of that he was voted in by many blacks. If only those people could see his actions now, they would be more than appalled. Hypocrite, I thought bitterly. And he should have joined the Democratic Party---back in the days, they had opposed abolition of slavery, if I can recall from history class---instead since he detested blacks.

"That's nice, Mr. Fields. I've heard a lot of things about you," I said, a tinge of bitterness glazing my tone.

He was drinking again, this time a red marzipan wine. "Many things you say? Tell me."

Kian where the frack are you?! "You're an honest and upright man who holds true to his words." Yeah, that's right. Keep on sucking up to him, Olay.

"Of course. Naturally they would say that because after all, I am all that they say." An unholy gleam shone in his blue eyes, which looked uncannily like that of his son's. Perhaps it was the light, I wasn't certain of that. I shivered a little, goose pimples surfacing on my exposed arms.

At last, Kian came in. He scowled, brows lifting up when he saw I sat on the sofa but didn't make any comment whatsoever. Typical. Like father like son.

"Kian, where are your white friends?" Mr. Fields asked, throwing me a withering glance. I looked away.

Boding further, he purported, "It's seven already and I thought they would be here by now. I really want to start celebrating. It's not everyday you clock 43."

Winking at his son, he signalled to the stoic waiter at his side with a nod of his head. The waiter made off to do whatever his master had ordered him to.

"They're not coming Dad," Kian deadpanned. Huh? I had been staring at my chipped fingernails---I really needed to stop biting them---but now I gaped at him. What did he just say?

Kian's father was surprised too. "What?! I told you to invite all your friends."

"She's here." Kian pointed his chin at me. Hmm. I've said it before and I will again, boys are hard to figure out. Really hard.

"All your friends, Kian." Mr. Fields face turned sour, like he'd just eaten a very bitter lemon. If only. I'd like to take a pic of him that way---face wrinkled, eyes squinted and lips pressed together---and if possible upload it on the Internet and wait for the public ridicule. Ha! It would be absolutely fun.

"She's all I need in a friend." Dun dun dun. I gawked at Kian, my mouth wide open. And again, what?!

Richard, all atoms of respect were lost now, glared at his son then at me. His face transformed into various shades of red and I was darn sure he was going to start shouting and raving.

He rather did the opposite; it was without doubt now that he's bipolar. Talking in a calm serene voice that belied the rage I knew surged in his frame, he declared, "Okay son. I guess it's just you, me and the black girl." Use my name Mr! I'm not just a black girl, I'm a black girl with an identity I'm extremely proud of.

He clapped twice and a woman---she was the maid from her attire---brought in a trolley of assorted food and drinks. Too bad, I wasn't hungry.

After laying each of them on the table, she retired quietly just as she had come but not before cleaning the mess Richard had made with the glass cup. Her departure left me with two questions. Where was the cake? And where was Mrs. Fields? Surely they wouldn't celebrate without her right?

"Let's start eating." These people were weird, they didn't pray or say the blessings before eating.

Serving himself, Richard placed a drumstick on the intricately designed ceramic plate.

"Jamila, what are you waiting for? Join us," Kian told me.

'No I can't because your racist dad hates me', almost slipped past my lips but I smoothly said instead, "Sure."

Richard interjected, cutting a piece of chicken, "No. She wasn't put in the budget so she'll have the second course." That roughly translated into 'she's black and it's only whites that can eat at this table.'

"Dad---" Kian tried to protest, running a hand through his blonde hair.

"No son. If you really insist, she can have a dish of cornmeal and lard." He shot Kian a stern gaze and Kian faced down, picking at his food, knuckles white.

Meanwhile, I sat quietly, thumbing my dress slowly and holding myself from screaming. Cornmeal and lards, food for black slaves. His next sentence confirmed my thoughts.

"Come and serve yourself Jamila if you're hungry. After all, your people were slaves and deserved to be enslaved."

"Dad! What the hell?!" Kian dropped down the cutlery he held and glared at his father.

That's it. I've heard enough. I had to escape, even if it was for a moment.

"Uh no thanks. I uh need to uhmm go to the bathroom," I stuttered. Yeah right, I didn't even know where the bathroom was located.

"Kian, you'd better escort her. She might nab something on her way." Did he just call me a thief? Wow, it kept on getting better and better. My stay here is definitely coming to an end.

"Dad this isn't nice of you. She's a human for fuck sake!" Kian shouted vehemently, thick cords of veins appearing on his neck.

His dad laughed loudly as a reply, the harsh hellish sound grating my ears.

"Jamila, wait please! I'm coming!" Kian yelled, the chair making a scrambling noise on the floor.

I didn't wait for Kian to lead the way or anything. I left downhearted, trembling with sadness. I could feel the tips of my fingers shaking in anger, anger which was directed at myself. Why hadn't I left in the first place?

His father's voice followed me on my way out. "Oh leave the black vermin alone, she's not needed here." His cutting remark echoed around the room.

That did it. I ran blindly, just like I had done at the party, not knowing where I was heading to. All I knew was that I had to get away from there. That scathing toxic atmosphere.

Inhaling deeply, I slid to the marble floor, uncaring of my gown. It could soil all it wanted, I was past caring. After all, my dress hadn't portrayed any significance whatsoever in the first place.

I placed my head on my knees and tried to curtail the tears, which swam in my eyes, from escaping my lids. No white person was worth my tears. No one. At all. In any way.

A voice startled me saying, "What's up? You look like you want to bawl your eyes out and yet, you're trying to prevent that from happening."

I faced up, fear and curiosity starkly drawn on my dull face. The last time I had ran away, I had met a creep, so it wasn't odd that I was afraid now.

The guy, with the cap on his hair---I couldn't see the colour or his front profile---chuckled, raising his hands in surrender, "Chill girl. I'm not gonna do you any harm."

I relaxed a bit, I didn't know how but I knew that he had good intentions. Straightening up--- better to be up than down---I smoothed my gown and asked, curiosity visibly heard in my tone, "Who are you?"

"Jared Fields at your service Ma'am." He touched the tip of his cap and made a bowing gesture just like the cowboys of the south. All the misery and depressing feelings fled away and in its wake came surprise and astonishment.

"I didn't know Kian had an elder brother," I said, trying to get a full scan of his looks.

"Yeah, I'm not that important here." I could sense a lonely tone there but he covered it up quickly. "You're his friend right? What's your name?" When he had said friend, I had a gut feeling that he didn't believe Kian could make friends with a black.

"Jamila Kincade. He invited me to your dad's party," I told him and settled my back against the wall.

"I'm pretty sure you weren't enjoying the party from your looks and all," he commented and finally came into view.

Broad shouldered and huge, he had that same striking facial features the Fields were gifted with, except that his blue eyes were very friendly and nice. I didn't think he was from the same breed as his father.

"Old man Richard be giving you a tough time huh?!" he questioned, tapping his shirt clad elbow against his rugged black jeans. His hair color was blonde like his relatives, no surprise there.

"Yeah. Guess he doesn't like blacks," I confided, shrugging my shoulders.

"My dad's pretty old fashioned in his beliefs, he thinks that blacks and white aren't meant to be together and that's total bullshit I say," Jared said in an incensed voice. It was almost like he was in a tiff with his father. There had to be bad blood between the two. And it also explained why he wasn't at the party. If that could be called a party.

"Hey, Jamila," Jared began. I turned my attention back to him.

"Whatever that old geezer told you, never take heed of it. You're human and have the right to live. He's just a sour old puss, dear." He grinned at me, teeth glinting in the bright light.

I gave him a shy smile. "Thank you, Jared. I needed that."

"You're welcome kiddo." Jared patted my hair as he would do to a small kid. Kiddo? He wasn't that old now, was he?

Soon enough, I threw away all inhibitions to the wind and began conversing with him. He was good company.

"So you've been here Jamila since and I've been searching all over for you," Kian announced on reaching us.

"Hey kid bro! I have to say this, you have one amazing hell of an ass girl friend," Jared smirked. I grinned instead of blushing as usual while Kian glowered at us.

Jared didn't wait for Kian to respond. "Bye guys, I need to be going now. Kian, greet pops for me. See you again, Jamila," he tipped his cap in the same cowboy fashion as before and left, boots clomping on the floor.

Kian was staring at me intently, like he wanted to know the inner workings of my head or something. I avoided his gaze and said in a quiet voice, "Can I go home now?"

"Yeah, let's go." He tugged me towards him and off we went.

"I'm so sorry Jamila. Hell, I don't know what came over him. He's usually not like that. . ." Kian rattled on.

But I wasn't listening. I knew why there was bad blood between Richard and Jared. That was because Jared had married a black against his father's wish. He'd told me that Richard had threatened hell on earth if he hadn't stopped his marriage to Zara, the black woman. Real sad for a father to do that to his son.

Still lost in thoughts centering on how blinded and sadist Richard was, I wasn't aware we'd entered the lobby. Heedless, I accidentally broke the vase kept beside the wall and it clattered to the ground, creating a thousand crude pictures on the floor. The noisy sound it made had me rudely awakened from my trance and seeing the huge mess. That vase had to be very expensive and I had just ruined it. I was in big big trouble now. God help me.

Kian gazed at me, a fiery emotion in his eyes. Uh uh.

And then he did something I never expected.

A/N: What dyu think Kian did lol? And Richard is a huge ass. Jared is pretty cool right? He's my fave Fields so far. Aside that, how's this chappie? And thanks guys for the 7000+ reads. I appreciate.

Nita.