Weeks had passed, and Alexis Connelly was safely locked away in a hospital for the criminally insane. She could have gotten away clean if she hadn’t tried to save Geraldine Temperton. Fortunately for us, her loyalty was the one thing that brought her out of hiding and into our hands. If it weren’t for little idiosyncrasies like that, it would be very difficult to catch criminals who take the time to plan their crimes.
I was lying in our bed while my husband applied cocoa butter to the wounds I had sustained from the whipping I had taken. It was time to reopen my dojo. I told Luther Pleasant that he would be my first student. He was so happy. I’d already ordered his uniform. He was going to be a good student. I could tell about some people right off. He had the desire and there was no telling how far he would go, or how fast.
My husband was telling me about the reunion of Victoria Warren and Sean Bellamy. Apparently, they were going to marry, which I found ironic, considering what his mother had done to prevent it. Love is like that, I guess. No matter what you do, two people will love each other through the best and worst of times.
“I’m thinking of voting for Bellamy,” Keyth said and put the cap back on the cocoa butter.”
I turned over and faced him. “Really? And why is that?”
“For one reason, I’m sick of both the Democrats and the Republicans. The Democrats laud the Kennedy brothers and Dr. King as their icons; yet, you never hear them say what those men said. For example, John Kennedy said, ‘Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.’ And Dr. King said, ‘Judge by the content of their character.’ Do you ever hear democrats say that? No, you don’t. It’s a different party.
“I thought you liked the Republicans, Keyth. You still believe in self-reliance, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. My problem with the Republicans is the same problem I have with a number of white people.”
“And what’s that?”
“There aren’t enough whistleblowers in the party. One day, one of them is going to slip up and say something racist. Maybe let the word ‘nigga’ slip out in the heat of an argument and solidify the strangle hold Democrats have on the black vote. And when it happens, when one of them slips up, people are going to know that he’s said the word before or whatever. And that’s exactly what I mean. See, if the Republicans know about these kinds of people in their own party, and do absolutely nothing about it, it just makes things worse for blacks. We just cling even tighter to a group of people who don’t have our best interest at heart. We are still political footballs, being tossed to and fro, solidifying their power, and making us more dependent on them.
“So you think Sean Bellamy is going to do something different? He’s going to change things, huh?”
“Well, he’s planning to be a very radical president. One with ideas that would upset many political groups. Because of his revolutionary views on education, the military, the CIA, the 1RS, Israel and the Palestinian situation, foreign policy, multiculturalism, drugs, and a host of other political minefields, he’s hired a vast security force, which he plans to keep after he’s elected. It’s going to be interesting to watch.”
“Keyth,” I said in a relaxed tone.
“Yeah, baby.”
“I love you.”
“What would you say if I told you I’m late?”
“Late?”
“Late like I haven’t had my period. I think you got me pregnant in California.”
“So, you’re not sure?”
“No, I’m not.”
He smiled. “Well, let’s make sure then,” he said, and pulled my panties down.