Page 13 of Meant to Be

“She’s right,” my mother said. “Foolish behavior is more easily forgiven when you’re a boy. But now the stakes are raised. You’ll be under a microscope like never before. I won’t be able to protect you, and the press will no longer show you any grace.”

“Wait. Is that what they’ve been showing me to date?” I said, laughing. “Hot damn, I’m in trouble.”

Berry elbowed me and said, “Be serious, Joe.”

“Yes, Joseph. Please,” my mother said. “This is important. What you do from here on out could impact the rest of your life. Do you understand that?”

The statement seemed both melodramatic and obvious, but I played along, just wanting the conversation to be over. “Yes,” I said. “I understand.”

“Do you also understand that you’ll be found guilty by association if your friends—or your girlfriend—misbehave?” she asked, shooting Berry another fleeting, but unmistakably conspiratorial look.

I sighed so loudly that it sounded more like a groan. “Ohh. So this is about Nicole,” I said.

“It’s not about anyonefriend of yours,” my mother said. “Although now that you mention her, I do think it’s best if you have Nicole come to the party separately—”

“Why?” I said, having already planned to pick her up in a taxi. “That seems pretty rude. Haven’t you always taught me to be a gentleman?”

“Normally, yes. It would be rude. But if you arrive with her, the press will know you’re dating…and they’ll start digging into her past.”

“Her past, huh?” I said, folding my arms, then giving Berry an accusatory glance.

My mother pressed her lips together a beat, then said, “Did Nicoleshoplift,Joe?”

“Oh, for the love—” I said, throwing up my hands. “It was a stupid dare…years ago. She was only, like,twelve—”

“She was actually fourteen,” Berry said.

“Right,” I said. “A kid.”

“But that’s your mother’s point,” Berry said. “She was a kid—and peoplestillhold it against her. So now…imagine if she was eighteen? She’d be in jail.”

“For a two-dollar pair of earrings? I don’t think so.”

“You’re missing the point,” Berry said.

“Yes, Joseph,” my mother said. “You really are.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“The dress rehearsal is over now. The public eye will be on you as never before. You’re a man—”

“I know,” I said, cutting her off. “A Kingsley man.”

“Yes. A Kingsley man,” my mother said. “And you need to be very careful—and make good decisions. People expect a lot from you…. And remember, Joseph, to whom much is given—”

“Much is expected,” I finished for her. “I got it.”

—

That Saturday night,my mother, Berry, and I arrived at the club early, pulling up in a black limousine. Through the tinted windows, I could see that the press were already in place, waiting to get their shots of us. I scanned the sidewalk, recognizing some of the usual suspects, including Eduardo, the only one I knew by name. Eduardo invaded my privacy as much as the next guy, but he was so damn funny and friendly that I couldn’t help liking him.

As the driver helped my mother and Berry out of the car, then escorted them over to the entrance, I stepped onto the curb and grinned at Eduardo.

“Happy birthday, Joey boy!” he called out to me.

“It’s Joe!” I shouted back. “I’m amannow.”

The paparazzi chuckled as they snapped away, staying behind the velvet ropes that were being closely guarded by two thick-necked bouncers mumbling into walkie-talkies.

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