He nodded and let go. I had taken several steps, when I came back to stand before my father. He looked up, a little surprised I think.
"What do you know if anything about a man who goes by the name of Flint?"
His eyebrows rose dramatically and he stood up, "What has he to do in this?"
"I think he wants the treasure too. You know of him then?"
"He very nearly succeeded in killing me once!" He boomed out loudly.
I smiled feeling a little knot of tension unravel inside of me. He stared angrily at me not liking my smile. "What are you thinking?"
It was a little daring, but I couldn't hold myself back from saying, "Knowing that he wanted to kill you is something of a personal recommendation to me."
His face clouded up and I realized then that I had said too much, but then he further surprised me by bursting out laughing, "I have missed you and your sharp tongue! Will you not stay for dinner?"
I wouldn't even begin to dream of that. I stepped back quickly, "No, the ferry is waiting for me and I must go!" I said quickly.
"Very well then go; send Marshawn down to me on your way out."
I nodded and headed back to the car. Was I really going to get out of here? He had to have some plan in play, but what was it? I drew near a group of gathered men that had been standing and watching the entire interchange between me and father.
They were all my brothers and yet they looked at me with calculated dislike, which I let sheet off of me, as best as I could. It would not do to show that I was intimidated at this stage of the game.
Picking Marshawn out of the bunch I jerked my head back toward father and said, "He wants you."
And that was all. I got in my car and left, thanking God all the way for a miracle.
Marshawn drew near the table and stopped. A chess board was laid out on the table. He'd never cared for the game, but he'd found himself stuck playing it with his father on more than one occasion.
"Tell me Marshawn, do you hate your sister as the others do?" Iya asked without looking up.
Marshawn shrugged his shoulders, "She's threatened nothing of mine. I see no reason to hate her until she does."
Iya looked up at him, "Who was your mother?"
Not at all put out Marshawn responded, "The French whore from New Orleans."
Iya nodded. "I like you Marshawn; you have learned the value of being content with what you have, a virtue that I have never bothered to pursue." He pointed to the chess board. "Which one of these pieces are you?"