Page 32 of Know Your Place

The woman looked flustered. “No?”

“You askin’ me a question now?” Beretta quizzed.

“I was just . . . I don’t . . .” The lady looked at me, and I shrugged.

“My man asked you a question. You gonna answer it, or do we need to talk to your manager for being rude?”

“N-no, that’s not necessary. No, I-I wasn’t asking a question. I s-see it’s just the two of you. I’ll get you a table for two.”

I smacked my glossed lips together. “So, now you’re assuming we don’t got friends? What, ’cause we Black we ain’t got no kinfolk?”

My brows pulled together at the nerve of this lady.

The hostess’s brows shot up. “What? No! I didn’t mean that at all.”

“Man, let me talk to your manager. This is outrageous.” Beretta snapped his fingers and shouted, “Manager! Manager!”

It didn’t take long for a short, stout woman with brown hair to appear. “Is there an issue?”

“Yes. The issue is this lady is racist,” Beretta claimed.

“That is not⁠—”

“She told us we ain’t have no kinfolk.” I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted.

The manager cleared her throat and glanced at the hostess, who was now a bright shade of red. Served her right.

“I’m so sorry about that. Please, let me seat you and get you set up with a bottle of wine of your choice, on the house.”

“A bottle of wine? That’s it? We came here to celebrate our engagement, and we get treated like shit, and you offer us a bottle of wine?” I asked. The nerve of these people.

“I’ma have to write a Yelp review,” Beretta commented.

The manager looked horrified. “How about your whole meal on the house? We appreciate you joining us to celebrate such a lovely occasion.”

Beretta looked down at me. “I don’t know. What you think, Juicy?”

I looked at the ceiling in contemplation. “I do love their lobster mac and cheese.”

Beretta leaned down and kissed my nose before he looked at the manager again. “A meal on the house sounds just fine.”

The manager quickly grabbed a couple of menus and led us through the dining room. When she tried to seat us near the restrooms, I halted my steps. Beretta immediately noticed why I stopped.

“These niggas is really on some bullshit,” Beretta mumbled.

“And is,” I agreed.

“Aye, we don’t wanna sit there. Put us right there.” Beretta pointed to a table near a large window. My baby had good taste. To me, it looked like the best table in the restaurant.

“Uhm . . . someone is already occupying that table. How about here?” the manager asked as she pointed out another table.

“You ain’t hear what my man just said? We want that table. Better move those people out our damn way if you don’t want a bad Yelp review. We each have half a million followers on our social media platforms. Do you want to see? Maybe that will help you put a little pep in ya damn step. The fuck?” I glared at her.

“That won’t be necessary! Please, just hold on a moment.” The manager rushed over to the table we wanted. I watched with a big smile on my face as she spoke with the white couple already sitting there. They looked furious, but they could fuck right off as far as I was concerned.

And guess what? That was exactly what the hell they did.

When we were finally seated, the manager scurried away. Beretta chuckled. “You hell, baby.”