Life of the Party
What would you do if a black stranger wanted to dance with your woman?
My fiancée was inappropriately dressed for the party, and she didn't care; her reason for accompanying me was so I don’t feel incongruous being alone. Daniella would have rather stayed in bed and painted her nails while listening to SZA on her phone. She reminded me that she was doing me the favour, and I should be glad she’s sticking by me, or else.
Plenty of eyes were on her when we arrived. Her outfit was tight and revealing. But Daniella didn’t care; she basked in flaunting herself whenever she could. I was her opposite, dressed in a conservative jacket and khaki pants, looking like a teen about to get adopted.
Halfway into the hour, a tall black man in a business suit approached our table. He had a shaved head and looked quite debonair, almost like he’d lost his way and arrived at the party by accident.
“Hi, I’m Ken,” he addressed me and shook my hand; his hand nearly swallowed mine. He was all confidence and no slouch. “I would love to ask if you wouldn’t mind me cutting a rug with your lady here,” he indicated at Daniella. “It would make my day if you will.”
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