Page 10 of Pride and Protest
“Liza, I know you are not trying to stir up any trouble here!” Beverly warned. “Look at your sister.”
Liza saw Janae tilt her head in that funny way that alwaysmade men stare. Liza had practiced that delicate tilt in the mirror for as long as she could remember, but she only ever looked like she had a crick in her neck. Her sister was enchanted by this boy. And after everything Janae had lost, she deserved an enchanting night. The guilt pricking her insides was warring with the embarrassment she would feel if she didn’t pull off her pop-up protest. Not only that, but Granny was the belle of the horticulture ball after everyone went gaga over the state of her roses, so she and some professional gardeners were deep in conversation.
“Momma, you see the type of people we’re dealing with? Janae could find a man ten times better than this guy.” Liza pulled away, but her mother grabbed her arm and intertwined it with hers. From an onlooker’s perspective, it didn’t look hostile or painful at all. “Ma! Let me go.”
“Don’t you get upset over that Dorsey boy.” Her mother’s mind was back on matchmaking. “Men like that marry top models and have them sign ironclad prenups and divorce them once thenewnesswears off.”
“Momma, please, I said I was fine. May I go now?”
When Bev released her daughter’s elbow, Liza shot out like a racer. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed about Dorsey’s discourtesy, but the way she ran out of the ballroom was probably giving everyone that impression.I don’t care.She had spent hours on this, and the signs were ready for prime time. Nearly every local and national news outlet was here today. It was now or never. Liza pushed open the double doors to see the charred remains of her signs.
IT’S ELECTRIC
Dorsey watched Liza make a beeline toward the back door. He had never anticipated a woman’s anger so excitedly in his life. He nearly followed her out the door. David had, of course, ditched him as soon as he saw a beautiful woman, so Dorsey was left making excruciating small talk with Jennifer Bradley, David’s older sister. When they spoke, it was like someone had put two live mics too close to each other. Shehadto feel it too, and yet she tried so hard to connect with him. Dorsey knew her type. He and his brother had called these women Paper Dolls. Everything had to look good “on paper” for a woman like that to even look at you: schools, GPAs, social circles, parents. They were fixated on the optics. And once a Paper Doll had decided on you, there was little you could do to put her off.
“I’m so glad you sprang for extra security. I did not know this place would be so rough.” Jennifer checked the time on her slim watch. Dorsey was staying longer than he said he would, but he just had to get another look at the woman’s crestfallen face.I want to stay—just to see the show.He swilled the last bit ofthe terrible champagne, then looked down the plastic flute to see if he had been drugged.
I want to stay.
Wow.
The security guards chatted at the front entrance and weren’t even checking invitations and IDs.
“Waste of money that security was. We would have done better putting David at the front.”
“Dorsey,weare the most important people here. You look like you’re waiting for the president to walk through that side door.”
“Not exactly.” Dorsey turned away from her.
“Oh, right. This thing could erupt in gang violence at any minute. Were we careful with gang affiliation and all of those things in the invites?”
“It’s not like people RSVP with their gang affiliation, Jennifer.” There was a long silence. Dorsey had nearly forgotten she was there until she spoke again.
“I know I didn’t come from adversity like you, but that hardly makes you an inner-city scholar,” Jennifer said. There was that phrase again:come from adversity. Code forYou are a stowaway on this luxury liner.
Dorsey easily spotted David’s blond hair in the crowd of elaborate braids, Afros, and church hats.
“David!” Dorsey greeted the young man with too much enthusiasm, eager to stop chatting with Jennifer.
At thirty, Dorsey was nearly three years David’s senior, and on nights like this, he felt it. David bounced around the room, emanating joy, making people trust him when they should roll their eyes.
Dorsey had struggled so much to find his place in hisparents’ world, and places like Merrytown threatened that. Merrytown, which everyone stubbornly pronouncedMerydon, was a laughable misnomer for the resentment, mistrust, and pride that haunted these few dark blocks of DC. It reminded him that this would be much closer to his actual life had he not gotten a golden ticket out of it. But his job tonight was to smile while he picked the pockets of the desperately poor. To make them at ease with their ultimate dislocation. The contrast with what his philanthropist mother would think of this and what his industrialist father would expect of him warred inside him. But in the end, his late father’s expectations and the Fitzgerald family legacy always won out. His eyes wandered around the room. Where had that woman gone?
He had burned them. That son of a bitch had burned them all.
There was too much on the line. Her community was here, and they were—mostly because of her mouth—expecting a show. There had to be some way to salvage this.
She weaved her way out of the kitchen only to be nearly mowed down by a small orchestra. Teens from the local high school rushed past her, fixing reeds and fingering keys. Across the line of bustling students, she saw Dorsey Fitzgerald speaking in an animated voice with the only blond man in the room.
Dorsey was seriously attractive. So what? The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. They were just facts, not proof of his goodness. Looks had never been the most interesting thing about a man to Liza. She could cop to his appeal without liking his demeanor. Shewasan art history minor and prided herself on seeing beauty while still maintaining a critical eye.
Why am I comparing Dorsey to art?
Liza flowed with the trail of band members—she was short enough to blend in—and moved with the students until she was directly behind the two men, partially obscured by a sturdy white column.
“...You havegotto be kidding me.Whyare you pretending with these people?” Dorsey asked.
“Oh, I’mnotpretending. We can’t justtakeand not give back, Fitzgerald, it’s not sporting. People are scared. They’ve lived here all of their lives, now everything is changing,” the man-boy said.
