Carlos found himself sprawled out on a beach. He jumped up before he even looked around. This wasnot what the old men had told him about. This place didn't lookanything like where he was supposed to be. He froze, and then glanced around slowly, trying not to panic as he recognized where he was.
L.A., Venice Beach. He almost wept from frustration.
"Aw, shit!" He snatched off his crocheted skullcap and threw in to the sand and then clutched his hair. How in the world was he gonna find Damali, the team, or ever sync up with her? His maiden flight in the Light, botched!
He willed himself to take deep breaths and focus. He blotted out the people that were out for a sunny afternoon stroll. Basketball-hoop games thudded in his ears. Laughter, waves, volleyball, all of it made him insane. Dogs ran with joggers; he could hear inline skaters up on the street level. Old men talking trash and playing chess. If the world would just stop spinning for a moment, he'd get off the crazy ride and get back to where he was supposed to be!
"Luck be a lady tonight!" an old man hollered, laughing and standing as he moved a chess piece.
Carlos sighed, picked up his skullcap from the sand, and hit it against his leg before shoving it in his pocket. Beaten, he trudged through the sand. Judging from the sun, it was late afternoon. Maybe his boy, Yonnie, would be around-or most likely they'd both get slaughtered.
"But my queen is going to kick your natural, black ass!" the other contender shouted as he laughed. "Take that, you old Mo Fo. How you like me now? Ain't she purty?"
Carlos had to laugh as he passed the game. It so reminded him of home. Reminded him of his dad and uncles playing cards, before things at home got bad. Maybe that's how he'd messed up and landed on the beach, being so homesick in his heart that no matter what the Neteru teachers had said, he'd ended up here.
Another sigh pushed past his lips as he stopped and watched the game. If he was gonna die, and there were no teachers around, what else was there to do without a cent in his pocket? He had a bank account and number, but no ID on him-so how was he gonna get cash? Right now, he couldn't even bury his mother or grandmother if he wanted to and wasn't sure if he could go to the morgue to even see what the chairman had done. Besides, in what was likely to be his final hours, just listening to these old codgers talk smack gave him some semblance that part of the world was still normal, even if his wasn't. He sure wasn't gonna test his wings again, and possibly end up in Siberia, or some shit.
"See, my brother," the first man teased as a small crowd formed. "You've gotta take risks, is what I'ma show you when I whup your ass."
"You ain't whupping my ass without a fight," the other said, moving a piece and squinting his eyes. "You know me, don't ya? I'm a cat and got nine lives. But like I tol' ya, I can smoke you in seven moves."
Carlos moved in closer to the board, listening harder.
"Aw, hell naw. You ain't gonna do me like that," the first player said. "I got something for ya that you ain't seen befo'. Trust me, gots aces up my sleeve I ain't even used."
Carlos remained very still as the first man picked up his queen and studied her with a smile.
"When I put her down, here, right next to your king, I believe they call it checkmate."
The crowd clapped and passed high-fives and exchanged fist pounds before it slowly disbanded.
"Rematch," the second player demanded. "That wasn't fair!"
"I didn't cheat, just used what I had. You the one with a blind spot that can't see opportunities right before your eyes-so don't be casting no aspersions on me, brother. Besides, what about life is fair any ole way?" The first player looked up at Carlos and winked. "My buddy is a sore loser. Can't stand it when he gets his ass kicked in public." He leaned back as the other player got up from the table and skulked away. "You look like a gamblin' man, young fella... or don't you have time for an old man to show you a trick or two? You play the boards?"
Carlos sat down slowly. "Been known to in the past."
The old man leaned forward. "We ain't talking 'bout the past. If you stay there, I'll kick your young ass for sure."
Carlos chuckled. "Set 'em up."
The old man gathered several pieces and held out his hands. "You better on black or white?"
Carlos's smile broadened. "I used to be better on black... but, I think I'll try white."
"Wise move," the player said, nodding and chuckling. "So, the young buck thinks he's got skills... hmmmm." He blew out his breath and rubbed his hands together.
"Got a few," Carlos said, pushing a pawn forward.
"No. A man needs many," the elderly player said, summarily taking Carlos's pawn.
"Aw'ight," Carlos said, studying the old man more than the chessboard. "Then stop talking yang and school me. Show me whatchu got."
The old man smiled and laughed, then pushed a pawn forward.
This time, Carlos didn't rush his move but sat back.
"You're running out of time," the player said, setting a tiny hourglass on the side of the board. "Any day now, works for me. Unless you're scared?"