Kenneth eased himself into the comfortable leather chair, while his wife, Jenny, strategically placed some additional cushions around Kenneth to support his sore body.
‘You sure you up to this?’ John Jefferson Jr. asked. His friends called him Jay. He preferred that to Junior, mainly because it distinguished him from the other ‘Johns’ in his family, his father, grandfather and great-grandfather, which may seem ironic if you saw them all in the same room. They were all as dark as midnight, no more than five feet five in height, with the physique like the Hulk. ‘Man, you look like you just got whooped by George Forman.’
‘Nah man.’ The rough-neck Marshall chimed in before Kenneth could respond. ‘It look more like Muhammad Ali.’
‘What you talking about?’ Sean slowly strolled up to Kenneth. Everyone looked on with interest. Sean bent down and stared at Kenneth’s face, his brow knitted. He swivelled on bended knee to the small group of friends that were gathered on the grilled patio to welcome Kenneth home, a grave expression etched on his round Chinese face. ‘It was definitely Mike Tyson,’ Sean declared.
Laughter erupted. Kenneth looked on in despair. His closest friends, Jay, Sean, Lisa and Marshall were all crying from laughter! Kenneth’s gaze drifted over to Jenny.
‘Jenny! How can you be laughing also?’ he asked with a pained expression on his face.
‘I’m sorry darling, but it is funny,’ Jenny said, wiping her eyes with a napkin. Jenny had met Kenneth in university, when she had been a Carnival Queen, while he had been one of the float builders. Their relationship had a rocky start, because she was a red Jamaican, from one of Jamaica’s old money families of the colonial days, while Kenneth was a ‘brown man’, of mulatto descent. Her parents did not approve.
‘Alright, alright. The joke done now,’ Kenneth said forcefully, which made them laugh even more.
‘So let me get this straight,’ said Sean Lee. Sean was a maths professor at the University of the West Indies. Something of a child prodigy, Sean entered university at age fourteen. His mother was from Hong Kong, and when she recognised his talent she taught him at home in the evenings and weekends. By twenty, Sean had a doctorate in both pure and applied mathematics, and then spent the next decade travelling around the world working with the brightest minds on some of the most advanced technological challenges of our age, as well as a very financially rewarding spell on Wall Street as a Quant. As the ripe old age of thirty approached, he met his blonde-haired, blue-eyed love, Lisa, a paediatrician, got married, started a family, and the lure of travelling vanished. When the University of the West Indies offered a professorship, with a seven-figure salary, house and car, Sean jumped at the opportunity to settle down with his family. Sean held up his hand and gathered himself. The laughter subsided.
‘After they couldn’t make the terrorist charge stick, they decided to give you a cavity search, just for good measure?’
Kenneth frowned and shifted uncomfortably in the chair, ‘Yeah.’
Sean’s fat-cheeked face twitched, as he tried to maintain a serious expression. ‘That’s …’ he snorted, as he tried to hold back a giggle, ‘that’s just …’ he started chuckling, ‘that’s just not right.’ Sean was laughing now, along with everyone else on the patio.
Kenneth shook his head and sheepishly buried it in his hands. It was not long before he felt hot breaths and wet tongues on the back of his hands. He looked up to see Caesar and Sheeba. The two nine-month-old German Shepherds whimpered, their tails slowly and hesitantly wagged from side to side. Caesar bowed his head and whimpered again, slowly edging forward to Kenneth. Sheeba leaned forward, stretching her neck, and sniffed Kenneth suspiciously.
‘It’s OK guys. It is me.’ Both dogs wagged their tails enthusiastically when they heard their master’s voice. Kenneth hugged them. ‘At least someone still loves me.’
‘Aww …’ came the chorus from the group.
After another minute or so, Sean, ever the logician, asked, ‘So who called you?’ Running a hand through his short, spiky hair.
Kenneth looked up from the dogs at Sean, ‘You know, I don’t know.’ Kenneth turned to Jenny. ‘Can you get my phone? I think it is upstairs, probably still in my travel bag.’ When Jenny returned, Kenneth checked his phone. ‘I don’t recognize the number.’
‘Well since that call managed to earn you a cavity search, I would call and find out who the rhaatid caused all this grief,’ Jay offered, which started another bout of laughter.
Kenneth shook his head and tried to ignore them as he dialled the number, ‘Hello. This is …’
‘I know who it is Mr. Johnson. Thanks for calling back.’
‘Who is this?’ Kenneth asked, using his free hand to tell everyone to be quiet.
‘My name is Donald Martin. You don’t know me.’
‘OK.’ Kenneth hesitated for a moment, ‘So how can I help you Mr. Martin?’
‘ I need your help. My daughter Janet is missing.’