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Talk about hitting the nail straight on my own fuckin’ head.
"No, Mama. No date. I just got an invite to this fancy dinner."
"Where?"
I hesitated for a second. My mama, like all the old-timers in this city, did not trust men with a tarnished reputation—even if this reputation had nothing to do with them, per se.
They could be golden, but if there was one black sheep in the family, it meant they had a little devil in them.
Plus, my mama hated Harold Montgomery.
I honestly had no idea why. It began the day he met me in the library and insisted on dropping me home. In his Aston Martin DB11.
At the time, I was still living with Mama. I'd only moved to this place about twenty days ago, mostly because I wanted to be able to walk to work. And I felt like I was getting too old to share space with someone I loved but who also drove me nuts.
Mama took one look at him and told me never to see him again.
I didn't push it then, and I didn't want to push it now. But I was never good at one thing when it came to her. I didn't lie to her. I couldn't.
Not when that's what she'd known the entirety of her life before I came along. That's all she had from the one other person she loved—the one who got away.
"Harold Montgomery's party, Mama."
She sounded like she'd choked on a peach.
"Hell no, Junie! You're not going to that man's house! You know what they say about that place and the secrets? You know his ancestors used to torture others to get money and loot their jewels, right? Why do you want to associate yourself with that?"
Why did I, actually? Apart from the obvious curiosity I had about the house, there was just something so affable about Harold.
He was old and weathered and sweet. He talked to me like he really cared and wanted to be part of my life, even if it was just a sliver.
That meant something.
"Mama." I spoke sotto voce. "Harold's tried to undo all that his entire life. Maybe we could just give him a chance."
"Child, I ain't givin' no man like that the time of day, and neither should you. Don't you remember what I done told you about your daddy? You gotta be strong, just like your Mama. You hear me?"
Okay. Not the way I'd hoped this would go. Against my better judgment, a swell of bitterness rose inside me.
"Mama, I don't want to have this conversation. Not when I've asked you about Dad so many times and got nothing back."
"Honey, you know good and well he was nothin' but pure evil. The second he found out I was carryin' you, he up and left without a second thought."
And you've never let me forget it.
"I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience." I spoke sharply. "But I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I understand you may not agree with them, but I hope you'll care enough to respect them, anyway."
"Junie, now you listen to me—"
I hung up.
Oh, I’d never hear the end of this. But I’d deal with her temper and tears tomorrow. I knew she meant well.
But even I got tired of being made to feel like I was responsible for her never getting married.
All I ever knew about my dad was that he was super rich, and his folks told him he could either be livin' in the boonies with my mom or he'd have to leave her and return to his roots.
No points for guessing what he chose.
