Jamie's Blues

RACE

1

At the JFK Airport

As the sun started to set behind the skyscrapers of Manhattan in New York City, a cab from one of the car and limousine services pulled to the side of the road outside the entrance of a condominium building on Washington Street. Using the door phone, the cabbie announced his arrival.

Mr. Jamie Smith, the taxi is here to take you to the airport.

The driver didn’t have to wait long. In less than a minute, a tall, lanky black man came striding down the condominium’s front stairs. He slid into the cab’s backseat. Their eyes met in the rear view mirror, and they both nodded and smiled.

The cabbie turned his attention to the road, and soon, they were racing toward John F. Kennedy International Airport. Jamie, the sole passenger, exuded a sense of excitement and a palpable sexual tension that made the black cabbie smile. Using the rear view mirror, he watched the young man crank up the volume on his iPod. Earphones hanging around his neck, he moved his six-foot-plus body sensually in tune with the music. The young man had average looks, a medium build, and looked about thirty years old. He had the outward appearance of most young men—chilled-out yet responsible, aware yet dreamy, tolerant yet nobody’s fool. He seemed exuberant, and he moved his athletic body to the steamy beat of a sultry song: I am waiting for you, my love, with my arms stretched out. Come soon to kiss me and kindle me, before I pass out. The cabbie smiled mischievously. The tantalizing words of the song reached him clearly. Watching his whimsical fare listen to the same track over and over, the cabbie couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

Brother has something exciting on his mind, the cabbie muttered under his breath. Then, with the airport in sight, curiosity got the better of him, and he raised his voice so his passenger could hear him over the music.

Excuse me, sir. I noticed you’ve been listening to the same song over and over again. I’m wondering why. You’re glowing brighter than a bride on her wedding day! You goin’ to see your, umm…wife after a long time?

The cabbie half expected a brusque response, maybe a harsh mind your own business, but his passenger responded enthusiastically.

Well, your guess is both right and wrong. I’m not married yet, but I’m totally jazzed. I’m going to see a girl I met on the internet just a few days back. The internet is great, man, especially for us single guys. Can you believe she’s invited me to spend the weekend with her in her London flat! Wow, man! I’m super thrilled. Imagine…just the two of us, alone for the whole weekend!

Lucky you, the cabbie said, pleasantly surprised by the man’s open, excited answer. He pulled up to the airport’s departure terminal. His passenger climbed out.

Enjoy your weekend, sir, the cabbie said, as he waited to collect the fare.

The young man handed him a crisp, fifty-dollar bill. The cabbie dug for change, but his passenger smiled and held up a hand.

Don’t bother; keep it, the young man said, And you enjoy your weekend too.

Thank you, sir. Have a great time. The cabbie nodded and sped off.

Jamie was about to hitch up his backpack when he noticed the people crowding outside the terminal were all looking at the sky, pointing to something. They were obviously awestruck. He looked up to see the mighty Air Force One flying over, headed in a southwest direction. Four U.S. Air Force jet fighters—two flying on each side—escorted the plane carrying the world’s most powerful person. Jamie stared dreamily at the sky long after the entourage had passed. The awe-inspiring sight of Air Force One had always inspired him, and he lingered, absorbing what he had just seen.

Clad casually in blue denim jeans and a white, round-neck t-shirt sporting a printed American flag, Jamie inserted the earphones into his ears and strolled into the terminal building, his spirits high. Carrying his overstuffed backpack, he not only bobbed his head but moved his entire body in perfect rhythm to the same track he’d played during the taxi ride. As he entered the terminal, he noticed the occasional strange glance in his direction. The curious looks made him self-conscious, and he stilled the swinging and removed the earphones. He looked around, located the check-in counter, and headed off to collect his boarding pass for the flight that would take him to Heathrow Airport in London. He smiled at the black girl standing behind the counter and handed over his e-ticket.

May I see your ID, sir? she asked in a consumer-friendly voice, measuring him up and down, no doubt profiling him while she chomped her chewing gum.

He nodded and dug into the side pocket of his backpack for his passport, then handed it to the girl, who was still narrowly observing him with some unknown intent.

Mr. Jamie Smith? She read aloud, flipping through the pages of his American passport.

Yes, miss.

That’s a short trip, sir. Do you want me to reconfirm your return reservation? she asked, referencing the date of his return flight, just two days later.

Not yet. It all depends on my date. If she gives me a whale of a time, then I may just extend my trip. Jamie smirked.

Great. Good for you, sir. Have a good weekend, and enjoy your trip, she replied and finally smiled as she returned his papers.

Collecting his boarding pass, the e-ticket, and the passport, Jamie thanked her with a wink meant to suggest that the next two days were going to be the greatest time of his life.

Terminal Four was a hive of activity with the weekend rush. A number of domestic and international flights were lined up to takeoff back to back, and even though flight operations were minimal at JFK during the overnight hours in order to cut down on noise pollution, the crowd was heavy. Most of the eastbound flights were taking off one after another, heading to various destinations in Europe and Asia. Jamie checked the board to see if his flight to London was on schedule and was glad to find that the plane would depart on time at 9:35 p.m. After flying over the Atlantic Ocean, the plane would land at London’s Heathrow Airport at 8:05 in the morning, the following day.

Just a few more hours and I will be with my date…perhaps in her arms, thought Jamie excitedly, taking into account the intimacy and the openness he had been sharing with her while chatting on internet.

Outside the terminal, he saw the airline’s bus pulling up. A moment later the crew disembarked, pulling their carry-on luggage, impeccably dressed and looking cheerful and fresh—necessary features of their job profile. Jamie, who had been passionate about flying since he was a child, had already completed his private pilot license training, but his present financial situation kept him from pursuing the commercial pilot license training. Still, his dreams of becoming a top-notch test pilot and an astronaut one day were still alive and well. His passion for being a flier sometimes spilled into bragging, and he would introduce himself as a full-fledged pilot to many.

Unlike the flight crew, Jamie still had plenty of time before he needed to board. He strolled over to a bar counter to buy himself a drink. Standing at the bar and sipping his drink, he glanced over, looked away, and then quickly looked back. Something caught his attention.

Damn, that guy looks familiar…Is that…? No! It can’t be. Yes, he is Paul, my friend from school, beamed Jamie while walking toward the gentleman.

Hey! Paul! What a surprise, man! Nice to see you, buddy. It’s been such a long time, he said, extending his hand.

Jamie! Hey, man, where’ve you been all these years? Did you finally become a pilot? Paul asked, as he shook Jamie’s hand.

Not yet, but pretty soon I will. I got a job as a junior mechanic at one of the flying schools in Long Island. As soon as I save up the cash, I’ll take the commercial pilot license training, Jamie said.

I remember how you would call yourself a pilot, even when we were still in school, and some of the girls actually believed you. Paul laughed. So, where are you off to?

London, to catch up with a girl I met over the internet. She invited me to spend the weekend with her, Jamie said. He grinned, still pleased with himself for making such a conquest, especially long distance.

Wow! They say that London babes are sexy, man! Lucky you! Tell me more about her. Paul gave Jamie a knowing smile.

Well, she is sexy. Her name’s Pamela Hayden, and she’s twenty-five… tall and blonde. In fact, she is a perfect mix of brains and beauty. I don’t think she realizes how gorgeous she is, and she seems more interested in her research work than glamour. She comes from a family of researchers and doctors, and she’s following in her parents’ footsteps. She told me she works as a lab specialist in one of the leading in-vitro-fertilization (IVF) clinics—you know, one of those test-tube baby clinics. She specializes in preserving the donor eggs and sperms that the infertile couples use.

Wow! She sounds super-smart. If she’s half as great as she sounds, you really hit the jackpot, Paul said with a wink.

Dude, you ever do anything like this? I mean, I’ve never even met the girl, and I’m flying halfway around the world to see her. I’m taking one helluva risk, but man, you should see the picture she sent me. It literally took my breath away, said Jamie. He still couldn’t believe his good luck.

Nope, I’ve never gone that far to meet a chick. But I’m not surprised to hear you agreed to fly all the way to London. You always were the adventurous sort. So, what does she think of you? asked Paul as he gulped down the remaining drink in the mug before putting it down on the counter.

I sent her one—a group photo—and she must have liked what she saw. Otherwise, why the hell would she invite me to come and spend the weekend? Jamie laughed.

Makes sense to me. I’ve had some good times hooking up with chicks on the internet; most of them have been real hot. Girls don’t seem to fudge how they look, like a lot of guys do…you know, posting pics from high school or something, and pretending that’s how they look now.

Ha! I hear that. Jamie eyed his friend’s still-buff physique. But I guess you don’t have to stoop to such underhanded tactics. You still look like you did thirteen years ago. I remember you were quite the stud back then…always a chick magnet. The rest of us guys couldn’t come close to you when it came to dating the babes.

Thanks, man. Speaking of old times, how are your parents and that cute little sister of yours? Paul asked.

They’re great. My dad’s retired, and now he oversees our ranch near Dallas. My mother is still active with her social work, and Venus just graduated and is looking for a job, Jamie said.

I’m in Dallas now and then for business. Next time, I’ll definitely stop by and say hello. By the way, tell me something…does the girl in London know you as a pilot or as a junior mechanic? Paul’s tone dripped with sarcastic humor, and he nudged Jamie in his ribs.

Before Jamie could react, a voice came over the public address system, asking for the passengers flying to Heathrow to proceed to the security check.

Ok, buddy, I got to go now. Keep my visiting card and let’s be in touch, said Jamie taking out a visiting card from his wallet for Paul and wrapping up his conversation with a parting handshake.

Jamie headed for the shortest line and went through the rigorous security procedures. Once through, he walked over to the boarding gate and stood in the long line of passengers waiting for the flight. After a few minutes, he realized the queue wasn’t moving, so he stepped out of line and took a vacant seat. He rested his head against the back of the chair, but kept one eye open just in case they started boarding. Night had fallen, and the runway lights were on. At the far end of the runway, several planes lined up, waiting for their turn to take off.

Soon, the line of passengers waiting to board began to move, and Jamie joined them. They made slow progress, inching along down the gangway, so he decided to call Pamela. He flipped open his phone and punched in the number.

Across the Atlantic, Pam stood under the hot spray of her before-bed shower when she heard her phone ring. Scrambling to answer, Pam grabbed a towel, wrapped herself up in its pink folds, and rushed into her bedroom. Clutching the towel to her breasts, she snatched up the phone from the nightstand.

Hello, she said.

Hi, babe, it’s Jamie this side. What’s happening?

Hi! I was just in the shower and had to dash out to take your call.

Mmm, now that’s an image I can wrap my mind around…you scrambling out of the shower, your hair wet, wrapping a towel around that gorgeous body. Damn, I can’t wait to see you! Only a few more hours and we’ll be together. Just wanted to tell you I’m at the airport, waiting to board. Jamie’s voice carried a note of excited anticipation.

She smiled. She, too, could hardly wait to meet her new internet friend. Phone in hand, she flopped down on her round bed and lay back on the pink satin sheets.

I’m looking forward to seeing you too. If you’re anywhere as hot as you looked in the group photo you emailed, I’m sure we’re going to have a wonderful time together, she said.

Thanks. Listen, dear, I’m boarding now. I’ll call you as soon as I land at Heathrow. You’re coming to pick me up, right?

Of course I’ll be there, but my car is in the garage for repairs, so I asked Kate, my friend, to drive me over. Don’t worry about anything, and enjoy your flight. I can’t wait to see you.

They both said good-bye, and Pamela hung up. A moment later, she returned to the bathroom.

Jamie boarded the flight and looked for the seat number printed on his boarding card. It was a window seat. The moment he settled in, his phone rang. Not wanting to disturb the guy sitting next to him, he got up and hurried to the rear of the aircraft to take the call. Positioning himself between the lavatories, he checked the caller ID. Jamie smiled and hit the answer button.

Hi, Brian, what’s up? Jamie kept his voice low.

I just called to check on your schedule. Tell me what time you’ll be landing, so I can come to pick you up, Brian said.

I’m sorry, brother. I won’t be staying with you this time. This trip, I’m just about completely hooked and booked, but I promise I’ll definitely come over to see you for lunch on Sunday, Jamie told him. Brian Smith, Jamie’s first cousin, normally gave Jamie a place to stay when he traveled to London. A bachelor, Brian lived all alone in a rented, one-bedroom apartment in a village across the Strait of Dover, a few hours from London.

If you aren’t staying with me, where the hell are you staying? Surprise and a hint of dejection sounded in Brian’s tone.

Well, I made a new friend in London, and this weekend is reserved for her. She invited me over to spend the weekend at her place, somewhere in central London. Jamie couldn’t help but grin each time he revealed this.

Okay, brother, as you wish. But do call me whenever you’re free. I’m off for the next two days, Brian said.

I will. Brian, I’ve to go. We’re getting ready to take off now.

As if he’d summoned her with his words, a stewardess approached Jamie and reminded him that it was time to switch off phones. She pointed to his seat and requested that he buckle up. Jamie switched off his phone, returned to his seat, and settled back. Soon, the flight took off, and within an hour, the flight attendants served dinner. After eating his fill, Jamie laid his head back, determined to get some sleep. He wanted to feel fresh the next day, not suffering from jet lag. He closed his eyes, and within moments, his body relaxed, and he fell into a deep slumber.

2

Uninvited Brawl

Early the next morning, the aircraft entered London’s air space. Black storm clouds filled the sky, blocking out the sun, even as Jamie peered through the oval-shaped window in search of it. The heavy clouds hung low, and for the people of London, it was a dull start to the weekend, though they were used to seeing such depressing weather. At this early hour of the weekend, there was hardly any traffic on the roads. Jamie checked his watch, noting that they touched ground at 8:05 a.m. The plane was still taxiing toward its assigned bay, and in spite of repeated safety instructions, people had already unbuckled themselves and were standing to retrieve their baggage from the overhead bins. Finally, the plane came to a halt, and the jet engines powered off. A stewardess opened the exit door to the aerobridge, and the passengers began to exit. Jamie chose to wait out the rush and kept his seat until the crowd thinned out. Once the line started moving fast, he got up and began moving toward the exit, carrying his backpack over his shoulder.

Jamie passed through a long, seemingly unending corridor to the immigration hall, where he found long lines at every counter. Finally, he completed the immigration formalities, and then he walked through the green channel of customs and entered the arrival hall. This area wasn’t as crowded, and he quickly made his way to the nearest washroom to freshen up. Keen to make a great first impression, he set about trying to look his best. He brushed his teeth and shaved, and then, quite hopefully, sprayed a strong musk perfume he had packed, lightly misting every inch of his body, including his sneakers, and even his backpack. He made a careful inspection in the mirror and smiled, satisfied with his appearance.

While Jamie felt on top of the world, the others in the washroom got a kick out of his careful primping. He was so engrossed in his grooming, he didn’t notice their amused glances at first, but even when he did, he simply grinned. The very thought of spending two days with Pam made him blissfully happy, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought. Elated, he went back to the hall, set his backpack against one of the pillars, and dialed Pamela’s number from his cell phone. She answered on the second ring.

Hey, babe, it’s me, Jamie. I’ve finally landed in London, he said, sniffing under his arm to make certain the perfume had done its job, and smiling at the effect of the fragrance.

That’s great! I’m waiting right outside, Pamela eagerly replied.

Okay, cool. Listen, can you tell me what you’re wearing, so I can spot you quickly? Jamie worried as he might not recognize her right away. After all, he’d only seen that one photo of her.

Sure. I’m in a short, white skirt and a knitted, pink top. Oh, and I’m wearing a very sassy white hat, she said cheerfully.

That sounds sexy! I’m wearing a blue—

Oh, you don’t have to describe yourself. I’m good with identifying people, and I know I’ll spot you in an instant. So quit wasting time and come out! Pamela giggled.

Okay. Jamie held back. I’ll be right there. But first I would like to buy a gift for you. What’s your favorite fragrance?

Jasmine, replied Pamela promptly.

What about the unisex fragrance musk? Do you like it? Jamie held his breath as he awaited her answer.

Yuck! I just hate it. That’s one fragrance I can’t stand even for a second, came her instant reply.

Alright then, jasmine, it is, he said, thinking fast, I won’t be long. Just give me a few minutes.

He hung up and dashed to the little boutique across the hall. He bought two bottles of jasmine perfume, got one gift-packed, dashed to the men’s room and took the quickest shower of his life, washing away the strong musk fragrance with a bar of ‘rain-fresh’ scented soap from his backpack. He washed and re-dressed in less than five minutes, and then, using the other perfume bottle, he sprayed half of it on himself despite knowing it to be a feminine perfume. With a quick glance over in the mirror, he headed toward the exit.

The area outside the arrival hall was swamped. The crowd was separated from the exit gate by a rail some fifty yards away. And behind the rail, uniformed chauffeurs holding placards with the names of their charges stood among those waiting for family, friends, and associates. All eyes scanned the arriving passengers expectantly, anxious to find the person or people they’d come to meet. Heads twisted and turned, bodies jostled, as they struggled to stay in one spot and resist the push and pull of the sea of people. In such a melee, Jamie came through the gate and searched the crowd for a sight of Pamela. He found her quickly and grinned, amazed to see how much more beautiful she was in person. Thanking his lucky stars, he made his way toward her. As he got closer, she lifted her hand to wave and then just as quickly dropped it, but as Jamie raised his arm to return her half-hearted greeting, he frowned and paused. Pamela wasn’t looking at him directly, nor did she appear to be waving his way. What the—? Maybe she hadn’t spotted him yet? The crowd thinned, and still she hadn’t acknowledged his presence. She searched the crowd, gaze darting back and forth, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Beside her stood another woman, probably Kate, the friend she had mentioned. In moments, the crowd had mostly dispersed, leaving only them and a few dozen other stragglers. Jamie approached Pamela until he stood right in front of her, and still she did not acknowledge his presence. Instead, she and Kate peered up and down, looking at the group photo he had emailed her, which she held in front of her and then back to the crowd, scanning the arrivals intently. Jamie finally spoke up.

Hi Pam, It’s me, Jamie. Jamie Smith from New York, he said, extending his hand.

What! What did you say? You’re Jamie Smith from New York? She blinked, utterly surprised.

Kate gazed wide eyed, mirroring the same startled expression.

Yep, you heard right. The same Jamie Smith you’ve been emailing and talking to on the phone, here in the flesh. Jamie spoke with conviction, dropping his unshaken hand.

But you’re different from what you made me believe. All this time, I thought you were ‘this’ man. She held out the group photo he’d emailed her, pointing at a tall, handsome white man standing on the extreme left side of the group. The photo, taken when Jamie and six of his colleagues had completed the private pilot license training, showed all the men wearing their flight school uniforms, their newly earned wings pinned above the right pocket of their crisp, white shirts.

But I told you which one was me. I said, all the way to the right. See? There I am, standing right there. Jamie pointed at himself in the image.

Pam shook her head. I’m positive you wrote in your email that you were standing on the extreme left.

I’m sorry if you misunderstood me. I’m standing right here, to the extreme right, and that is what I said in my email. Jamie pointed again at himself on the right, as one faces the photograph.

Pamela appeared shocked as she exchanged confused looks with Kate.

I think there has been some mix-up with left and right. Anyway, let me introduce myself again. I’m Jamie Smith, your internet-cum-phone friend from New York, and I’ve flown all the way from the United States at your bidding. Now, I know I’m not who you were expecting, but we got along smashingly long-distance, and I, for one, would like to see if things go as well in person. Besides, I’m here now…your guest for the weekend. Jamie extended his hand again for a handshake.

Pam hesitatingly lifted her hand, but before she could touch him, Kate spoke up.

All right, Mr. Smith, you wait here. We’ll go get the car from the parking lot. Just stay right here.

Kate tugged at Pamela’s sleeve, dragging her off in the opposite direction. Jamie was left standing alone, feeling slightly bewildered, but smiling nevertheless. Sure, Pamela had been expecting him to look completely different, but like he’d told her, they’d already developed a bit of a friendship. ‘Everything would work out fine,’ was all Jamie could think of at that point of time. As Kate pulled her along toward the parking lot, Pamela wondered exactly how to get out of this tricky situation she’d landed herself in. She didn’t want to hurt Jamie’s feelings; she had to deal with this tactfully.

Oh my God, your friend is a Black! How could you not have known? Kate asked as soon as they were out of earshot, her disapproval of their impending liaison quite clear.

All this time, I thought he was that white guy in the photograph, the tall, good-looking guy. I don’t know what to do now. I feel bad for him. He came all the way here with such high expectations. She glanced back at Jamie waiting behind them, her heart sinking at the expectant look on his face.

What now? What are you going to do now that he’s here?

"I really don’t