S&M III, Vol. II (12 page)

“No. Running away will just delay it, and I did enough running already since we’ve been here. But if I feel uncomfortable, I’m getting the hell out of there, no questions.”

“Understood.” Scott stood up and walked over to his girlfriend. He wrapped his arms around her and Mariana leaned back into his chest. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Hell, no,” Mariana blurted, “but I can’t have people who don’t know me not accept me because of something I didn’t even do.”

Scott turned Mariana around. He kissed her softly. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m amazing, all right.” She turned her focus to something that would possibly break the tension between them. “Master, I’ve decided what day I want to go commando this week.”

“Yes?” Scott smiled.

“Thursday.”

Scott looked up at the ceiling and thought about the day. It coincided with introducing Mariana to his father and his girlfriend. Scott smiled at the coincidence of it. “Perfect. I’ll go commando as well.”

****

“Remember, we’re going for dinner and we’re coming straight back home. I do not want to be there any longer than I have to,” Christine Reed Alhamadan instructed her husband, Hassan.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting to someone you never even met?” Hassan asked.

“Why? They’re all the same.” Christine pointed out. “They’re all baby mamas or ghetto mamas.”

“First Lady Michelle Obama and Oprah Winfrey aren’t ghetto,” Hassan reminded.

“They’re the exception and not the rule,” Christine stopped at a light. “How many real-life Oprahs and Michelles do you know?”

Christine was Scott’s older sister by two years. Growing up, the pair had been inseparable, with Christine being overprotective of her baby brother and Scott of her. If Christine’s heart was broken, it was a fact Scott and his friends went to torture the poor soul who dared to cross that line. Scott quickly earned a reputation for being a hell raiser.

But the closeness between them dissipated after The Great Disaster. Christine was so infuriated that she declared every Black woman was the devil. A life-long Democrat, Christine even went as far as voting for John McCain in the 2008 Presidential election because she couldn’t stomach having a Black woman as First Lady. She would have preferred the idiocy of Sarah Palin ruining the country if it had meant not seeing Michelle Obama in the Oval Office.

To Scott, Christine’s hatred for Black women was not only disturbing but just plain comical. Not long after his failed wedding, Christine had married her longtime Arab boyfriend and settled into life as a teacher. Occasionally, she would complain how people were racist and bigoted, never once thinking about the very role she played. Christine justified her behavior that she had no problem with Black men; just Black women.

“All right, we’re here.” Christine pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. “Remember, we’re just here to make nice and be done with it.”

“You know, Chris, you just might like her,” Hassan suggested.

Christine shot him a death look. “Doubtful.”

*****

Mariana had felt nauseated since she had left the hotel. She wasn’t sick to the point of vomiting, but she felt increasingly uneasy. It was guaranteed that Scott’s family was going to hate her. Nothing she could do would help or rectify the situation. Despite the multiple orgasms and the soreness between her thighs, Mariana was still royally pissed at Scott.

Scott focused on the drive before him. He occasionally glanced over to Mariana, who was staring outside the passenger window. He didn’t want to interrupt her thoughts. He already knew she was still pissed at him. He obviously hadn’t fucked the anger out of her.

The drive to his mother’s home was longer than he remembered. The city changed so much since he’d left. New businesses, homes, and apartment complexes had sprouted up. The roads to his mother’s home were surprisingly crowded, and Scott found himself getting a little impatient.  He silently smirked to himself the irony of it all. Was he really in a rush to get there? For all Scott knew, he was driving Mariana to a KKK meeting.

Scott turned a corner and pulled up in front of his mother’s home. He saw his sister and her husband had already arrived.
Lovely,
he thought,
David Duke is here.

****

He was just as she remembered. Well, not exactly. He was definitely a bit more muscular. He had been hitting the gym. His hair was too long for her liking; he needed a haircut. And he had grown a beard. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. But everything about her Scott was the same.

Deborah was glad her baby was home.

As usual, he brought her a gift. Another Tiffany piece. Deborah had a growing collection of those blue little boxes in her bedroom. She thought about throwing them away, but she wanted to keep them. Sentimental reasons.

“I see L.A. has treated you fairly,” Deborah admired her son, “you have a tan now.”

“Maybe.” Scott’s tone was different around his mother. He was warm and receptive. He smiled more and was definitely more polite. He was a true Southern boy. “I’ve been doing a lot of walking and hiking.”

Deborah felt Scott’s waist. He always kept himself in shape but she couldn’t feel an ounce of fat on him. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to have a cheeseburger now and then.”

“I’ll eat a lot here if it’ll make you feel better, Mother,” Scott grinned.

Deborah’s boyfriend, Tim, soon joined the group. “Glad to see you home, Scott,” he hugged him.

“Glad to be home, Tim,” he hugged back.

Deborah finally turned her attention to Mariana. She had an innocent quality about her, unlike the Great Disaster. The young woman was shy and kept looking around, not meeting eyes with anyone. “And you must be Mariana! It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman I’ve heard so much about!”

“Pleasure to meet you, Deborah,” Mariana smiled.

Deborah looked Mariana up and down. She was more beautiful in person. She could be a model. No, Deborah briefly closed her eyes, she couldn’t be a model. It would remind her too much of the Great Disaster. “Likewise. I hope you enjoy your stay in Decatur.”

“Is that my baby brother I hear?” Christine came running out of the kitchen and jumped on Scott, who twirled her around. “I missed you so much, baby bro!”

“I missed you too, sis,” Scott put Christine down, “Chrissy, this is Mariana.”

The shift in Christine’s personality was instant. The warm Southern hospitality was replaced with a cold front. Mariana could’ve sworn she felt a sudden chill in the room. “So you’re my brother’s new…” She hesitated. “…girlfriend. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

Mariana instantly picked up Christine’s tone and mannerisms. It was clear she was trying
extra
hard to be nice to her. “Pleasure is all mine.”

“Mm-hmm, I bet.” Christine forced a smile. “Dinner’s ready.” She walked into the dining room.

Scott pulled Mariana close to him. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Appetizers are never bad,” Mariana sighed, “it’s the dinner that can kill you.”

****

Dinner was uneventful. Everyone was surprisingly cordial and friendly. Tim and Scott talked business and politics with each other. Hassan shared Army stories while Deborah caught up everyone with the local Bingo gossip. After dessert was served, Mariana helped Deborah in the kitchen.

“So how long have you and my Scott been dating?” Deborah inquired as she rinsed off dishes.

“About seven months,” Mariana said proudly. It seemed like they’ve been dating longer.

“Very well,” Deborah nodded. It was the type of nod that didn’t let one know if she agreed with what was said or if she was just trying to be polite. “Are you two serious?”

“Yes, we are,” Mariana replied.

Deborah nodded again as she put the dishes in the dishwasher. “Do you plan on marrying my Scott?”

“Yes.” Mariana softly replied. She didn’t like where the conversation was heading.

Deborah loaded the dishwasher and turned it on. She rinsed off her hands and dried them. “Has Scott ever told you about his last wedding?”

Mariana surely misheard the Southern woman. “His last wedding?”

“Yes, Scott was planning to get married, a while back.” Deborah nodded. “The wedding never happened. She left him at the altar.”

Mariana was stunned beyond words. Scott never mentioned an engagement or any wedding before. He briefly talked about an ex that introduced him to
the
lifestyle
. It made her wonder what else he was keeping from her. “I…I…I didn’t know that.” She stammered.

“He was going to get married to a woman, a Black girl just like you,” Deborah had to calm her rising temper. Caprina still brought the worst out in her, years later. “I didn’t care she was Black. I didn’t care if she was purple, green or yellow. My Scott was happy and that was it. But when she left him and she was just so…so…so flippant about it…” Deborah grabbed the counter and held it steady. “I just don’t know. Bless her heart.”

Mariana felt she really didn’t know who her boyfriend was. She could’ve been knocked over with a feather.

“It’s not something we all talk about here. None of us want to talk about it, to be frank.” Deborah started a pot of coffee. “But it’s something I felt you should know.”

“Thank you?” Mariana wasn’t sure if that was the proper response.

“I’m telling you this because you should know,” Deborah turned around to face Mariana, “and to make you realize the challenges you have to face from other members of this family.”

Mariana knew Deborah was referring to Christine. “Okay.”

Deborah walked over to Mariana and gave her a warm embrace. “I know you’re good for my son. I haven’t seen him this happy in a very long time. But underneath Scott’s aggressive and detached demeanor, there is a human being there with emotions and feelings. I want you to think about that.”

Mariana smiled. “I will.”

“Good,” Deborah pulled away from Mariana, “now can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Deborah. What is it?”

“Can you please have another piece of cake? Girl, you need to gain some weight!”

Deborah and Mariana were in the middle of discussing new fashion crazes when Christine abruptly interrupted them. “I would like to have a word with Mariana alone,” she declared.

Deborah looked up at her daughter and let out a soft sigh. She already knew what was going to happen and Christine didn’t have to say one word. “Fine,” Deborah got up and grabbed her plate and coffee, “Mariana, see me when you two are done.”

“Okay,” she replied softly.

Christine waited for her mother to leave the room before she approached Mariana. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Okay, I understand why you don’t like Scott’s ex, but I don’t understand how her actions apply to all Black women?” Mariana stood up. “We’re not all like her.”

Christine sighed. The little girl wanted to know the truth; she was going to give it to her. “Sit,” Christine barked to her.

Mariana didn’t like Christine’s tone but wasn’t in the mood to argue. She sat down at the table and Christine sat across from her. It reminded Mariana of an interrogation. “Years ago, I was a social worker. Social workers don’t get paid much, hardly anything at all. People who go into social work do it for the love, not for the pay. I loved my job. I loved helping people. It was a win-win. But not everyone saw it that way.

“Day after day, week after week, month after month I would get these women…these Black women coming in applying for welfare. Did I care they were Black? No. If people are hard on their luck and need some government assistance, I’m not one to judge. But these women would come in with children by different fathers. They would come in with their hair done and their nails done. They would come in with a new car. They would come in with a new cell phone. They’re talking about how they went out to the club the other night. They’re talking about the new Louis Vuitton they just purchased.

“All the while, they’re sitting at home, collecting checks. Meanwhile, do you know who’s paying for that free ride? I am. You are. We all are. I’m busting my ass trying to make ends meet and some ghetto baby mama is sitting at home watching the umpteenth episode of Maury or appearing on it.

“So when Scott met Caprina, I thought, ‘Hey, this one is different. She has a career, she has her own money, she’s different from everyone.’ And you know what? She wasn’t. Not at all. She wasn’t different in the least bit. She is just like
you all
. She may have a bit more money and fame but she is as ghetto as they come. I was so disgusted with you all, I quit being a social worker and studied to become a teacher. If I can’t help the ghetto mamas, I will damn sure help their poor children.”

Christine’s words of
you all
weren’t loss on Mariana as she continued to listen. “So yes, Mariana, if I’m a little
harsh
, if I’m a little stuck-up…hell, you can call me racist if it makes you sleep at night, then so be it. Because after what I’ve seen
and
experienced, I don’t like your kind. Not now. Not ever.”

Mariana stared at Christine for a long while. She wasn’t sure if she should feel empathy or anger towards the woman who just might be her sister-in-law one day. She was careful with her next words. “Thank you for your explanation.”

“You wanted one, you got it.” Christine got up and began to leave.

“Oh, we’re not done,” Mariana folded her arms, “you sit.”

Christine spun on her heels. “Excuse me?”

“No, I won’t. You think because a small population of Black women is on welfare, you’re the judge of all of us? That we all have numerous baby daddies? Bitch, you’ve been watching too much damn Maury.

“You don’t like me because I’m Black? Fine. I don’t give a shit. I think it’s comical you feel that way taking the fact your husband probably gets pulled over more than I do on any given Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday for that matter! Here’s a newsflash, Christine: affirmative action was originally created for
White
women! So I want you to keep that in mind each time you go to work and each time you have to deal with ‘one of us.’”