Page 9 of Pride and Protest
Beverly pushed her way into the throng, grabbing her most beautiful daughter along the way, and then—hastily, as if it were a last-minute decision—grabbed the wrist of her uselessly clever child as well.
“Let’s see what we can fetch in the market,” Liza said.
Janae laughed, then stopped abruptly as she was nearly thrown upon a man whohadto be Dorsey Fitzgerald. Younger than she thought, though. Maybe sheshouldhave looked him up? Light eyes, light hair, and light smile. To Liza, this Dorsey looked like a boy in men’s clothing. He had the bland charm of a local news anchor. She could see him giving them their traffic on the 12s. His smile turned goofy when his eyes met Janae’s, and he stuttered and fumbled as he presented himself.
“I’m David. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Liza’s brow wrinkled.David? Not Dorsey?
Janae did what she did best, which was sit and look bemused like a cartoon doe while David composed himself enough to talk to her.
And just like that, her mother had done it. She’d completed, on some level, exactly what she had set out to do. Even Liza could see that this David boy was falling all over himself to speak to her sister. Biologywouldwin out when a pretty girl was put in the path of a rich young man.
“Excuse me, may we pass?” A woman failing miserably tosuppress her annoyance smiled tightly at Beverly. Same light hair. Same light eyes. While the features were warm on David, they looked glacial on her. At that moment, the DJ let out the first riff to “Electric Slide,” and Beverly pretended not to hear the woman.
“We live next door to Netherfield,” Bev said to David, cupping her hand over her mouth to amplify her voice. “You’ll be seeing a lot of us! Do y’all know how to do the Electric Slide?” When the blond man’s face turned up in a question, Beverly pounced. “Oh, you have got to let my Janae teach you. She can really cut it up!” Bev gently pushed them toward the dance floor.
“Will you teach me?” the man-boy asked. The color on his cheeks was high, and Janae bobbed her head in reply, hiding a giggle behind her hand.
Liza knewthatgiggle. That was the same nervous chortle Beverly had attempted to break Janae of before answering any serious pageant question.Yes, Janae, who do you most admire?Every time Janae would giggle and bring her hand to her face, Beverly would smack her knuckles with a ruler. As a result, Janae had the poise, composure, and delivery of a career politician. They all thought they would never see that hideous giggle again. Wonder of wonders,Janaewas nervous. But men didn’t make Janae nervous. It was always the other way around. Was it because he was so rich? In her pageant days, Janae would get inquiries from three to four such men a night, but none of them had made her giggle stupidly behind her hand. Liza’s own little cynical heart warmed a bit.My big sister is nervous.
“Excuse me, can we get by?” It was a man’s voice.
Liza whirled around. Smoky black eyes met hers.
Has it been an hour already?
“And you are?” Beverly was a little put out at the tone of the busboy.
“Dorsey. Dorsey Fitzgerald.”
Liza looked up and froze.
Shit.
Was that a half smile she saw flit across his face?
That tricky asshole.
Her mouth flew open, and a kind of croaking sound escaped her throat. His eyes kept hers as if he wanted to bore this memory into her brain, then finally, mercifully, his eyes bounced away.
“Close your mouth, child. Are you tryna catch flies?” Beverly mumbled out of the side of her mouth and then snapped back to the waiter turned chief gentrifier. “Well, Dorsey, it’s rude to sit out the Electric Slide.” Her mother gripped Liza’s shoulders, preparing to throw her toward the man, but Liza dug her heels into the deep pile of the carpet. “Let my Liza show you how we do it here inMerydon.”
“Ma, I’m fine.” Liza tried to squirm free. The entire neighborhood eyed them in expectation. The raucous room suddenly stilled.
“I’ll pass,” Dorsey yelled, just as the DJ scratched and transitioned into a new tune. The result was a hard refusal directed to Liza that everyone heard. She heard some low “Ohhhhs” in the background. Liza raised her chin and squared her shoulders, trying to awkwardly dance her way back into the crowd.
The DJ had the good sense to restart the music before Dorsey brushed past Liza’s openmouthed mother. The icy woman with Dorsey attempted to hold in a guffaw. And Liza and Beverly were left there looking mortified in front of the crowd. Liza saw thumbs texting furiously and rolled her eyes. She had unintentionally invited the entire neighborhood to view her utter humiliation.
Beverly huffed, and her chest expanded to let in more air.Uh-oh, she’s about to let it rip.Liza pulled her mother near the hors d’oeuvres table and stuffed her mouth with a crab-dip cracker.
“You see him trying to front on you? He looked at you like you was a dog. Now, I know you ain’t no Janae, but what he did was justout of line.” Bev patted her daughter’s back gently. “I saw you looking at him. He’s kinda handsome, Chinese or not. Don’t look nothing like the people he’s with.”
“Momma, there are so many things wrong with what you just said. But I appreciate what you meant. I’m fine.” And she was. It didn’t matter to her what men like that thought of her. She would always be a thorn in their side.
A short woman popped up behind Bev, and Liza brightened. Lucia Ochoa, or Chicho, was the most welcome face Liza had seen in days. Chicho was her neighbor, her best friend, and remarkably well-adjusted for someone who lived in her calamitous house. Chicho’s mother and father were not the most stable of role models. Her six brothers and sisters had the good sense to get out of the house as soon as they were able. Her youngest sister had left at the tender age of thirteen. But when Chicho’s mom had her youngest son, Fredo, Chicho had stayed for a little while to help with him “just until she got on her feet.” But a little while had turned into four years.
“L, what’s up on the plans?” Chicho raised her eyebrows at the last word. Liza realized she had stupidly left her picket signs with the last person she should have. “Do I have the wrong night?” Chicho’s lips pressed together in concern.
