jaylar
Kat had seen Jeremiah at the KFC during Christmas. She had heard him speak. Although he had a New York sound to his voice there were a few expressions she knew were Yard.
She had smiled, he gave her a predatory look. They spoke a few words about nothing, then she went her way. He was not the only one she had on her check list.
He was on her ‘list’ because she had realised that her ‘mark’ had to be of Jamaican extract.
Unlike Damian, who worked American women, she had been unsuccessful playing Yankee men.
They took her silence for distance, her refusal to argue for disinterest, and her lack of resistance as whoredom.
Her mother, who had trained her, made her know only a man like Jeremiah could be played.
Only a man with Jamaican values would take silence for submission. Only a Jamaican man would miss the signs and symbols and believe he ‘dominated’ his woman.
Only a Jamaican man could think his woman was faithful if she gave no obvious clues.
Only a Jamaican man would think he was so smart he could never be tricked.
Hence, Jeremiah, descended from Jamaicans, probably raised by his grandmother, would have been fed the basic Jamaican pattern.
All she had to do was be quiet, seem submissive, seem to be easily impressed, and look pretty, and she’d have him as her footstool.
