"This is so good, Mrs. Johnson," Violet exclaimed.

"I'm pretty sure you get better food than this at home."

"We order out, when my mom doesn't cook… or because she cooks."

"So yall don't have a chef or something," Franklin wondered.

"No bae. They don't spend money everywhere. That's why we have that cheap house, and I'm in public school… well the house is cheap compared to what they could afford. We only do that chef thing for special occasions."

"Well I'm glad you like my cooking, Franklin takes it for granted."

"Only when dad doesn't cook."

"Boy, there's nothing wrong with my cooking."

"You could have a restaurant."

"I kinda do; I'm head chef at a five star hotel."

"Wow, could you teach me to cook?"

"Sure, honey," Nichelle smiled.

"I'm surprised your mom hasn't called you, Violet"

"She probably was too busy trying to get my dad out of jail, and then get some wine out of our liquor cabinet, or whiskey, and forgot. Hopefully she'll be passed out, when I get home."

"She one of those housewives, huh, " Darryl asked.

"No, she runs some stuff in our business."

Just then, as if on cue, her mother called.

"Speak of the devil," she answered on speaker.

"Where the hell are you at, Violet," blasted through the phone.

"I'm out and about, mother."

"You'd better not be over at that coons house with your dads car! They'll steal it and it'll be full of weed smoke, and They'll be freaking blacks in it, whatever that is."

"She doesn't even know what freaking blacks is," Darryl chuckled.

"Please tell me you're not at that boys house with your fathers Masaratti!"

"Mom…. I'm at my boyfriends house having dinner."

"What?! Your stomach can't handle the food they eat, saturated with hot sauce and colored greeans!"

"Are you drunk?"

"I just had a glass of wine, now come to your senses and come home. We need to prepare you a retraction statement for this mess you put us in."

"I didn't do anything wrong…"

"Get your nigger loving ass back home and fix this shit! Now! And tell that boy we're… we'll… pay him to drop the charges," she spat out the words. "Hopefully he doesn't blow money on Jordans and gold chains."

"What the hell is wrong with your mother," Nichelle whispered.

"Sorry mom, I can't leave just yet."

"And why the fuck not?!"

"Franklins cousins dropped buy about forty-five minutes ago and they're in the middle of putting twenty-six inch rims and some fifteen inch sub-woofers in the trunk."

She screamed on the phone, "That car had better look like it came off the show room floor when you get home. You shouldn't even be driving it!"

"What's that, Pookie? Yeah some tiger skin shag carpet would be cool."

She screamed again and Violet hung up. They had a laugh at her teasing her mom.

"I'm sorry if that was offensive, I just wanted mess with her and make her mad, I don't want make a bad impression."

"You're good, that was funny, the way she screamed," Darryl mocked her scream, laughing.

"Shame somebody like her is so ignorant… talking about freaking blacks in your car," Nichelle shook her head.

"I know. I'm really ashamed of them."

"Personally; I think you're doing a good thing, bringing your parents to light, and you're prepared to lose it all. I'm not sure if this will reform their ways of thinking, it could make them regress more- if that's possible. The people who agree with them, will support them, who knows how many numbers that is," Darryl explained.

"I had family online wanting me to sweep it under the rug."

"Toxic… just toxic. Violet, that's not your family, real family doesn't encourage such vapid behavior," Nichelle added.

"I decided to cut ties with them. I blocked them from my social media."

"I don't blame you, Vee," Franklin held her hand, "you got a whole crew behind you."

"How are you feeling after my dad tried to beat you up?"

"I'm fine. I wish I coulda fought back… shoulda fought back."

"Son, I'm sure some people will judge you for not fighting back, but it showed the monster he really was. Shit; I'm ready to throw hands, I know Quinton wanted to crack his skull after what he said about his daughter."

"We got your back, we know Franklin has good friends, and you're welcome back, if you need to get away from your home."

"Before ten o'clock. Don't be trying to sneak in here and get some Franklin."

"Darryl," she shook her head.

"I won't sir, I promise," she giggled. "I'm dreading going home, but I got homework to do."

"Keep me updated, I'll see you out."

"It was nice meeting yall, I hate to eat and run."

"Gotta go home at some point, can't run forever, be strong Violet," Nichelle said.

Franklin walked her to the door.

"I really am scared," Violet said

"Gotta be brave. Stand your ground. A scared Violet don't make sense."

"Bae," she kissed him, "see you in the morning."


Violet pulled in to the driveway, looking at the house, not seeing any movement, few lights on. With a deep breath, walks inside determined to make it to her room, briskly walking past the foyer, through the dining room, to take the back steps in the kitchen before she spotted something shiny; ducking as a wine bottle soared through the air. Her mother shambled up to her quickly.

"You stupid little bitch, do you know what I've been doing all day?! We've lost several partners and shit today, because of you and that little picaninny! Why? Why? Why would you think it was okay to do ruin our lives and date that degenerate," she yelled, swinging the wine bottle.

Violet held up her backpack as a shield, "why do think it's okay to hate an entire race of people?! How can you not see a problem with that? How do you prefer a boy who's nothing but shady over a boy who's a model citizen, based off skin color, and think it's perfectly fine?! Franklin is every thing you think Shermy was!"

Heather screamed, telegraphing her swing, Violet growled, rearing back, swinging her backpack in to the swung bottle, knocking it out of her hand, with a follow through to Heathers face, sending her stumbling back in to the dining room table.

"And that trash, he's making you wear," she huffed, "what is that?!"

"He doesn't make me do anything! I like this stuff! I hate dressing like yall want me to!"

"Lies!"

"Both of you are horrible! Repugnant! Hateful! Controlling! Let it all burn… I just wanted a boyfriend that would treat me nice and be respectful. Who gives a flying fuck what race he is?!"

"You put us through all of this over one nigger boy!"

"You put us through all this over your fucking stupid racism! All you had to do is not hate people who don't fit in your white-washed vapid little box."

"Shut up!"

"What do black people do, that white people don't?!"

"Just get out of my face and give me the damn keys!"

"No."

"No? It's not your car! Give. Me. The Keys."

"It's not your car either," she turned away.

"Don't you walk away from me," she growled.

"I'm not. You're pushing me away. I'm a fucking person with my own life. You should be happy I'm happy."

Violet went up to her room, locking the door, pulling out her homework, setting her ICP playlist, taking a moment to calm down. Her mom starts beating on the door, she turns up the music to drown her out. An hour and a half rolls by, she checks online, national headlines has picked everything up, what was simply locally viral, has went full scandal. Her mom was right; various companies are cutting ties, shares of the company are dropping. She found some post on various social media sites, trying to refrain from commenting, but she has various alerts of being tagged in post, deciding to chime in on a few before she went to bed.