“Close your mouth, child. Are you tryna catch flies?” Beverly mumbled out of the side of her mouth and then snapped back to the waiter turned chief gentrifier. “Well, Dorsey, it’s rude to sit out the Electric Slide.” Her mother gripped Liza’s shoulders, preparing to throw her toward the man, but Liza dug her heels into the deep pile of the carpet. “Let my Liza show you how we do it here in Merydon.”

“Ma, I’m fine.” Liza tried to squirm free. The entire neighborhood eyed them in expectation. The raucous room suddenly stilled.

“I’ll pass,” Dorsey yelled, just as the DJ scratched and transitioned into a new tune. The result was a hard refusal directed to Liza that everyone heard. She heard some low “Ohhhhs” in the background. Liza raised her chin and squared her shoulders, trying to awkwardly dance her way back into the crowd.

The DJ had the good sense to restart the music before Dorsey brushed past Liza’s openmouthed mother. The icy woman with Dorsey attempted to hold in a guffaw. And Liza and Beverly were left there looking mortified in front of the crowd. Liza saw thumbs texting furiously and rolled her eyes. She had unintentionally invited the entire neighborhood to view her utter humiliation.

Beverly huffed, and her chest expanded to let in more air. Uh-oh, she’s about to let it rip. Liza pulled her mother near the hors d’oeuvres table and stuffed her mouth with a crab-dip cracker.

“You see him trying to front on you? He looked at you like you was a dog. Now, I know you ain’t no Janae, but what he did was just out of line.” Bev patted her daughter’s back gently. “I saw you looking at him. He’s kinda handsome, Chinese or not. Don’t look nothing like the people he’s with.”

“Momma, there are so many things wrong with what you just said. But I appreciate what you meant. I’m fine.” And she was. It didn’t matter to her what men like that thought of her. She would always be a thorn in their side.

A short woman popped up behind Bev, and Liza brightened. Lucia Ochoa, or Chicho, was the most welcome face Liza had seen in days. Chicho was her neighbor, her best friend, and remarkably well-adjusted for someone who lived in her calamitous house. Chicho’s mother and father were not the most stable of role models. Her six brothers and sisters had the good sense to get out of the house as soon as they were able. Her youngest sister had left at the tender age of thirteen. But when Chicho’s mom had her youngest son, Fredo, Chicho had stayed for a little while to help with him “just until she got on her feet.” But a little while had turned into four years.