Kammy and Marcus arrived at his parents' house, and Kammy was in awe immediately. She knew Marcus had money, but damn. No wonder all them chickenheads was throwing it at him all the time.
Mariana came to the door, smiling in greeting. "You must be Marcus. Your mother talks about you all the time. It's so nice to finally meet you. I'm Mariana. Just call if you need anything," she said politely.
Both Kammy and Marcus looked Mariana over. Kammy in disapproval, and Marcus in appreciation, Damn, she is banging. Wonder if she something Spanish, he thought. "Hi," he said instead. "This is my girl, Kammy."
"Nice to meet you," Mariana said, her smile not faltering. This bitch is a straight up hoodrat. I wonder what his mama and daddy will think of him bringing someone like her home. Look at her blouse!
"Mmhm," Kammy said rudely. "Here." She shoved her bag at Mariana, who strained to keep her smile.
"Kammy, that's rude," Marcus scolded. She rolled her eyes.
"She work here. Why should I carry my own shit if it's someone bein' paid to do it? Damn, Marcus, chill out. Damn."
Mariana said nothing. Marcus told Kammy to sit in the living room until he came back, and he and Mariana headed up the stairs. "You Spanish?" he asked. She glanced at him and said nothing immediately. But she did answer.
"No. I am Hispanic. Dominican."
"What's the difference."
This, she didn't answer. There was no point. Marcus didn't like her little attitude. He had done nothing to her. She could answer the question. He was just being conversational.
He watched her frame as she walked down the hall, her hips' natural sway. He knew her long hair belonged to her. Kammy yelled at him everytime he touched her weave. Even when he offered to pay for it. She was always with the "I don't need your money, nigga." Sometimes, he really couldn't stand her ass. Yet, he felt more than the easy sex made him stay. Let's be honest, damn near every straight, or bi, female on campus wanted to give it to him. Why was he with that damn Kammy, anyway? He knew he shouldn't have even brought her ass here.
Mariana set Kammy's bag on the closet floor. "Do you need anything?" she asked Marcus, and he waved her off as if she was annoying him by doing her job. She rolled her eyes when he couldn't see and made his exit. Marcus took his and Kammy's things out of the bags, putting them in the appropriate places. Then he went to find his girlfriend sitting on the couch with a bottled water. "I don't like her," Kammy told him.
"Her who?"
"That Maryanne chick."
"Mariana," he corrected.
Kammy rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Whatever nigga. I don't like her."
"What she do to you, Kammy?"
Kammy rolled her eyes again, but she didn't answer. Marcus knew why she didn't like her. But that was her own problem. He didn't care.
"Look, my mom and dad ain't here. And when you meet them, you need to watch your mouth and your attitude."
"I know how to act infront of someone mom and dad, nigga, damn. Stop treatin' me like a child. I am a grown ass woman."
Marcus flexed his fingers in annoyance. Sometimes, Kammy pushed buttons, but he didn't want her to leave.
He took her hand and yanked her off the couch and out the door. She was bothered by his roughness, but she didn't say anything. He opened her car door and she got in, putting her seatbelt on and folding her arms across her chest.
He took her to a country club to meet his parents. The first thing his father noticed was that curvacious body. The first thing his mother noticed was that outlandish weave in her head. She looked like a rainbow! Please tell me my baby didn't bring this to me. Please Lord, she thought. She didn't even hide her disapproval. "Are you Kammy?" she asked.
"Yes. Nice to meet you, Mrs.Robinson," she said, smiling and extending her hand.
"Well, the pleasure is all yours, honey."
Kammy stopped smiling and awkwardly pulled her hand back. Marcus did say that his parents wouldn't like her. But she was trying.
They sat, and Kammy tried hard to do what Marcus had told her. It didn't seem to be working. Mrs.Robinson pulled Marcus to the side. "Is that really something you thought was acceptable to bring to me?"
"She was just bugging me, Ma. She ain't nothing to worry about. I ain't serious 'bout her."
"But you brought her to me, correct?"
"Okay, Mama. I'm sorry. I know better than that."
Mrs.Robinson shook her head and went back to the table, trying to find just one thing to like about this girl. Her bag was nice, so she complimented it. But that was it.
