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“I’ve got a shitload of cousins, but there’s only six of them that I’m particularly close to now.

It’s a long story, but we’re all going through the same thing.

We’ve become more than cousins. We’ve become friends.

Now look, little lady, I’m sorry ’bout your friend’s bunnies.

I’m sorry about Huni’s failing health. I’m sorry about your boss bein’ a slavedriver, but I ain’t sorry about doing the job I promised to do.

What I did wrong was to not notify you. I should’ve called, yes.

But sometimes I get real fixated on my work, and I can’t turn it loose until I get it done, and achieve what I want.

I ain’t got what I wanted yet…” He boxed her in, placing his arm next to her head.

“What do you want?”

“A beautiful trespasser with soft jet black curls, stars in her eyes, a smile bright as the sun, and an ass like a full moon.”

Her cheeks plumped, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She shuddered when he ran his long, tattooed fingers along the side of her face. So slow… so gentle.

“Kage, I’d be a big liar if I said… if I said that I wasn’t attracted to you. Attraction isn’t enough though, honey. As you said, I’ve got a lot on my plate, and I can’t deal with—”

Heat flared within her when he crushed her lips with his.

The power yet gentleness of his touch sent her whirling.

That kiss tore her apart and stitched her back up again.

The rifle slipped from her hand, crashing to the wooden boards of the small back porch as he deepened the kiss.

Dense beard hair that smelled like him filled the air.

Long, lean muscles surrounded her waist and pulled her near. And then, just like that, it was over…

He walked into her galley, and she watched in shock and humor as he washed his hands in her kitchen sink, opened her refrigerator, and grabbed a bottle of water. He stood there until he’d chugged the entire thing down.

“Did you get enough?” She grimaced.

“Of water? Yup. Of you? No.”

He walked right back out of the house, slipped his hood back on, and started swinging the hammer. Whack! Whack! Whack!

“Just two more minutes… let me wrap this one post up.”

Her mouth was on fire with the taste of him, her body limp and in need. It was surreal—the way the stars sparkled above him, and the grunts and groans he made as he worked. Moments later, he packed up some tools, then pointed to the boards.

“Next week, all of the glass will be delivered. I got a couple of my crew members that’ll help me when it does.

In the meantime, it’ll be just me. I’ll be back in a day or two to finish this.

And work on you, too…” He began to walk away.

She quickly closed and locked the door, her nerves a wreck as she raced through the house, making a beeline towards the front door.

She flung it open, and was met with the horrid red gaze of the huge white skull on the front of his gleaming black truck.

He’d gotten into the vehicle and started the engine, then turned on his music. ‘Y’all Motherfuckers Need Jesus,’ by 7 Devils bellowed, slashing through the air. Blowing her a haunted kiss, he then drove away…

…The following day

Kage jingled the chain that hung from his jeans as he walked across the lot towards Mama’s estate.

Pebbles crunched and rolled beneath his brown work boots.

Ahead sat the home where he’d grown up. Mama’s music poured out of the open windows of the three story home: ‘One of these Nights,’ by the Eagles.

Several motorcycles were parked nearby, and the scent of marijuana and incense gathered around him and hugged his childhood memories tight.

Before he could even knock on the door, Mama appeared at the door wearing a long beaded vest, a maxi blood red dress, and sandals. Her salt and light wheat hair was pulled back in a braid, draped down to her backside.

“So good to see you, son,” came her raspy voice.

He wrapped her in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

Moments later, he was in her living room, slapping hands and hugging some of the folks he used to call his aunts and uncles.

Mama had a big, nice house, and so these folks used to always come by with their kids eons ago to drink, get high, dance and play cards.

He looked up at the gold framed photo of his parents sitting on his father’s infamous Harley.

It had hung there for as long as he could remember, with colorful feathers all around it and candles below it, like some shrine.

“Kage, man, just when I think your ass is done growin’, you pop over with another inch!

” Micah cackled, an old head with prison tattoos on the side of his face.

Kage enveloped the old man in a big bear hug.

Clad in a worn biker vest, Uncle Micah sat at a makeshift bar, downing a beer.

His thinning dark brown hair was pulled into a short ponytail, and his handlebar mustache was now mostly gray.

“It’s good to see ya, Micah.”

“Mmm hmm, ya mama still hosts the monthly meetings, and she was kind enough to let me crash here for a few weeks.” Micah was known to bounce around between his jail stints.

He and his ex-wife, Alley, used to babysit him every now and again.

Uncle Micah was always fun—the one that had taught him how to ride a bike and roller skate.

He was a great mechanic, but was known for having a violent streak, especially when it came to folks he considered his enemies.

Despite the man’s gruff and rugged appearance though, he’d always been kind to Kage, and good with children.

Kage sat down on the big violet couch as his mother flitted about, pouring drinks for her friends, a cigarette dangling between her jeweled fingers.

When she motioned for him to join her, he got up and followed her through the house.

Guests lay asleep in various rooms, and some looked high as a kite.

Others watched television. He recognized most of them.

Swirls of smoke drifted all around in a chill atmosphere.

Mama’s house was always unnaturally dark.

He attributed it to the dark wood she fancied, and the black and dark purple furniture she was attracted to. Even her curtains were heavy and dark.

He followed her up the stairs, into his old bedroom at the back.

It was bright and radiant, decorated in orange and lime green colors.

He hated it, but back then she’d thought it would cheer him up.

It never did. She sat at the desk he used to sit at when doing his homework.

The chair squeaked just as it used to. His bed was neatly made, his baseball mitt and bat still leaning against the wall.

All of his pennies were still in the jar.

Mama forbade anyone from coming into his room.

She had strange ideas and superstitions.

For some reason, she had trouble moving forward from the past, and he, on occasion, had trouble drowning it out.

Pulling open the top drawer of his desk, she pulled out a velvet satchel and then, a deck of tarot cards from inside. She then laid the cards on the desk, face down.

“I came here just to spend a little time with you. To see you. I don’t want no tarot reading, Mama.”

He didn’t believe in that stuff, and she knew it.

He’d tried to be respectful of her beliefs over the years, but he always refused when she offered him a reading, regardless of whether it was those silly cards, tea leaves, or crystals.

Mama even had a job reading people’s futures to earn some extra cash, but it was not something she told most people.

She kept it to herself. He figured she was rather good at it, since she cleared a decent annual income as one of those online folks, and she had a 1-800 number, too.

“I know you don’t want a reading.” She smiled at him sadly. “I respect your wishes, just like you respect my viewpoints. That’s one thing we ain’t never fought about. Boundaries.” She sighed. “But… I did a readin’ on you, and I’m concerned, baby.”

“Concerned about what, Mama?” He threw up his hands. “I’m fine.”

She huffed while glancing briefly at the cards. “No, you’re not. I keep getting the same thing. You bein’ hurt. Deep inside of here.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Kage, I know you don’t believe in—”

“Mama, stop. It ain’t about what I believe.

It’s about what I know. Can’t nobody tell my future ’cept me.

Since I was a kid, you said I was marked.

You said I’d end up like your father, the man I hate the most, if I wasn’t careful.

Well, guess what? I didn’t. I don’t live in fear.

We all have to die eventually, anyway. Ain’t nobody gettin’ outta here alive. ” He tossed up his hands.

“They tested your IQ in that hospital, when you was seventeen,” she went on, ignoring what he’d shared, switching gears. “Do you remember what it was?”

“148.”

“Yes. That’s off the charts. That’s why my daddy wants you, Kage.

When I told you that you were marked, that is what I meant.

Marked by him. Anyone my father goes after in this family has special gifts.

Stands out from the crowd. You’re brave.

Shrewd. Surreptitious. The Wilde name is both blessed and cursed. ”

“My father’s surname is Austin. I’m only a Wilde because you never gave me his last name.”

“Wrong. You’re a Wilde because of ME. My Daddy makes you a Wilde, and you’re a Wilde because me and your daddy wasn’t married.

Things were different back then. Once I heard about this foolishness with my father goin’ after Lennox, then Roman, and now you, I looked at all of y’all closely.

I read all six of my nephews involved in this mess, includin’ my own child, down to the bones.

” She tapped the cards. “I want to talk to you about a good thing, too. I want to talk to you about love.”

“What about love?”