Page 28 of Pretty

“If that woman is in the same space with you, there’s no way around meeting her.”

We stopped at my parents’ table, and I introduced her to my parents and aunts and uncles.

“She’s beautiful, and I get good vibes off her. I love your energy, baby,” Mama declared. “You live in that house over there?” Mama asked, pointing at Pretty’s house.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“See, baby, and she’s got her own,” she declared as she started singing Jamie Foxx’s song.

“Maaa.” I groaned.

“All right, Queenie. That’s enough, baby,” my dad warned as he kissed my mama’s cheek.

“What? I’m just trying to show him there is a certain group of women out here that have something to offer other than just what’s between their thighs,” Mama declared.

“You better say that again,” Aunt Clara stated.

“Listen, I just came to introduce you to my neighbor,” I stated, trying to stop them before they started.

“Well, I haven’t seen you introducing us to any other neighbors,” Mama quipped.

“I don’t know my other neighbors,” I replied.

“And that’s the point that I’m making,” Mama countered.

“Did you all enjoy your tickets to the throwback concert?” Pretty asked my parents.

“That was you who got us those tickets?” my dad asked.

“Yes, sir. He told me you all loved old-school R and B too.”

“See what I’m saying, Lan?” Mama asked my dad.

“Yeah. I see exactly what you’re saying,” Coach replied, smirking.

“A’ight. Y’all got it. I’m out.”

“What? We can’t be happy when our baby finally finds a good woman?” Mama asked.

“Whoop!” Aunt Clara declared.

“You better take good care of a woman like that. Someone might snatch her off your arm, and it might be an older, good-looking nigga with lots of money,” Uncle James declared, removing his wallet and flipping through some old twenties.

“Nigga, she don’t want yo’ old rotten smelling ass,” Uncle Richie argued.

“A’ight, y’all. We’re out,” I stated, grabbing Pretty’s hand and not waiting for anyone to respond. The moment we stepped away, I heard their asses snickering.

“I love your family,” Pretty declared.

“And that right there is why I don’t bring anyone home to meet them,” I explained, bobbing my head at them. She and I stood several feet away watching them get their kicks from embarrassing me.

“I think they’re adorable. They meant well.”

“Meant to embarrass me,” I countered.

“How about I give you that dance now?” she suggested with a sparkle in her eyes.

I took the empty wineglass from her hand and set it on a picnic table we were passing, and I tossed my empty beer bottle into a nearby trash can.