“Amen,” my parents said, and I threw out an amen as well. Like I’d been listening and following along.
Dante didn’t let go of my hand right away, and I let us stay like that, allowing that intoxicating feeling to linger, until my father handed me the brisket.
I made sure not to look at Dante just then because I had a good idea of what I would see in his eyes, and I did not want to be responsible for giving my father a heart attack because I had pounced on Dante at the dinner table.
I had more manners than that.
At least, I hoped.
Chapter 20
Do not read the next sentence.
Aha! A rebel! I’ve always liked that about you.
Things were going well, until I heard a crew member complaining in the background about my father. He was looking directly into the camera as he asked my mother if she wanted the corn.
“Daddy, you can’t look at the camera. It ruins the shot and we’ll have to do it over again. Just pretend like it isn’t there.”
“Oh, right,” he whispered. “Sue Ellen, darlin’, would you like the peas?” And then he promptly looked into the camera again.
“Sorry,” he said, and stared into the lens for a third time.
Then it was Dante to the rescue. “Mr. Beauchamp, I understand that you’re a University of Georgia fan.”
“Boy, I’ll tell you what.”
Dante looked confused. “What?”
“That’s the end of the sentence,” I whispered. “In this case it means he loves UGA.” I probably should have given him a Southern to English dictionary.
Then it occurred to me that I had absolutely no memory of ever telling him about my father and his football. How had he known?
“I watched the Belk Bowl from last year,” Dante said. “That was an exciting game.”
And that was all it took for my father to talk for the next thirty minutes about UGA’s win over Louisville, with all the necessary play-by-plays to make his points about what a superior team we had. Dante interjected with his own opinions and commentary, which let me know he had actually watched the game.
The game had happened not long after Dante and I had met. Had he watched it then? Or later? And why?
And when did he start liking football?
Then the discussion turned to rival schools Auburn and Georgia Tech. “We’re playing the Yellow Jackets at home late November. You should come and watch with me.”
“I would love that, sir.”
“Any Bulldogs fan has to call me Montgomery.”
And with that, he had successfully managed to get my daddy to stop staring down the camera. Then he turned his attention to my mother. “I heard that you are in charge of the Junior League’s carnival this year, Mrs. Beauchamp.”
“Sue Ellen, please. And I am.” My mother sat up just a little bit straighter in her chair. “I have some very exciting ideas to make it the most successful fundraiser ever.”
Now I knew for a fact I hadn’t told him anything about my momma and the Junior League carnival, because I hadn’t even known about it.
“I’m sure you’re going to do a wonderful job. I would like to make a contribution or donate a prize, if that would be all right with you.”
She literally batted her eyelashes at him. “That would be most appreciated. Thank you.”
My father wanted to talk to him some more about the Bulldogs, and when the men weren’t paying attention to us, my mother leaned in and whispered, “We should put him in the kissing booth. We’d make all the money we’d need for the budget for the next ten years.”
She had no idea how right she was.
Most of dinner passed that way, with Dante knowing things about my parents he couldn’t have known, and making them pleased as punch with compliments and flattery. They ate it up.
It worked so well, they didn’t have a chance to interrogate him. Since I had started dating, they insisted on grilling every boy I went out with. It was humiliating and terrifying for the boy in question, but now it was almost time for dessert.
We were safe.
Or we were, right up until we weren’t. “Tell me, Dante, what it is it you do for work? Will you able to provide for my Lemonade?”