by Peyton Banks
“Hey, Phil, how are the meats?” my uncle, Rodney, asked as he stepped up into the smoke house.
“They’re having an orgy. The sausage made them do it.” I gave myself a bonus point because he wasn’t expecting that and stopped mid step into the smoke house.
“What?” I chuckled at the look of utter confusion on his face. My uncle, who stood a little over six feet tall, weighed in about two hundred and fifty pounds, and had salt and pepper hair was a man of few words—but expressions, oh he had them in spades. He was the kitchen man. He did all the cooking of the side fixin’s while my Aunt Caroline made the breads and flour tortillas. Homemade, buttery slices of bread made the best pulled pork sandwiches in the world. Fight me on it.
“It was a joke...if I have to explain it, it ruins it. What do you need?” I asked, noticing the big tray in his hands.
“Jokes are always over my head, kid, nobody got time for that mess. Stop the left and load me up. Ribs, sausage, and a brisket. They should be done now.”
“You’re gonna need a bigger pan.”
“Just pile in what you can, I’ll make a second trip.” He scowled at me. I chuckled again. I took the metal pan, set it on the brick ledge of the cooler, and started loading it up. The brisket and sausage filled the pan. “All right, here’s round one. Ribs will be perfect when you come back out.” He nodded and, with a grunt, lifted the tray up and hurried inside. Thankfully he remembered to wear the heat resistant gloves this time. I had the ribs pulled forward when someone came to the door. I assumed when the feet stopped that it was Rodney again. Not this time. My cousins Troy and Greg stood there watching me.
“What’s up, boys? Your dad took the first tray of meat inside already.”
“Can we see it?” I raised a brow and turned to face them.
“See what?” I asked, my face showing no emotion.
“Your scar. We heard Mama say it was from a fight in some foreign place.” They looked so curious. I sighed. I knew what scar they meant. It was one that almost ended my life, though I’d never tell any of them that. They’d worried for me the entire time I was in the service.
I pulled the apron off, pulled my shirt up, and let them get a good look at it. This scar, the jagged line of it, started at my left shoulder and went to my opposite hip. It was given to me by an utter asshole while my team was on a mission in Africa. This scar will forever remind me of the day I almost didn’t come back. My mind wanders back to that day and I’m helpless to stop it.
* * *
“Watch your—” The voice in my ear piece cut off. For a minute I froze, my eyes scanning the dusky area around us. A noise above me had my gaze going up. Somehow these bastards were able to get here first and ambush us. Three of them were shot out of the trees; two others were in hand to hand with my team and me; I was moving in slowly. Cautious as to what may happen next. I needed to protect my guys.
We’d been jostled awake by noise, that's why we were now out here engaged in the chaos. I turned, aiming my rifle at a group of men slipping closer, but I didn’t get the chance. A body jumped from the trees. I shot but what I didn’t see was there was another one coming my way. That was until he hit me. Pain rocketed through my body. My chest felt as if it were on fire. I had no idea what the person was doing.
I got free, my hand wrapping around the mask on the assailant’s face, and I tugged it off. It was a kid. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. His young face was a distraction which left me vulnerable. The knife in his hand, a hand that moved so fast, made purchase and as he struggled to rip me in two, I fought to get him off of me.
My effort was futile. Someone else came up behind me, yelling words I couldn’t understand as the kid once again lifted his arm and struck, the fire following along his knife took me under inch by inch. A grunt followed two shots and my body fell back onto the hard packed ground. My lungs were not getting air. My heart was racing and I was slipping away. I could feel it. The darkness consumed me. Pain was my best friend and now, I lay on the ground, my body wracked with the shakes as my team tried to hold me together.
* * *
“Phil, yo man, you all right?”
“Yo brah, he doesn’t look okay.”
I held up a hand and shook off that memory. I fixed my shirt, retied my apron, and went back to work. Why had I shown them that scar? I didn’t show it to anyone. Not on purpose at least. It was huge, and it always made people feel like they needed to ask me what happened. It was like wearing a kick me sign. No one missed those.
The shovel in my hand slid into the large pile of coals and I moved them from where they were to the floor under the smaller smoker. I’d toss the next pan of sausage on there and the tray of baking potatoes. They’d already be wrapped in tin foil with butter in there to soak onto the potatoes as they cooled. Gran always said if you didn’t have it where the butter was dripping from the layers of foil when it was done, then you didn’t do it right.
No one here wanted to disappoint Gran. This was her and grandpa’s legacy. The Pork Pit was the pride of this family and of this town. No matter what, it would be done right. I’d see to it.
2
Keisha
“Y’all come on, I’m hungry,” I grumbled as my nephews took their sweet ass time while they crossed the damn driveway to The Pork Pit. The door opened and I pulled my hand back. A white man, who stood a good two feet over me, stopped and dipped his head.
“Excuse me,” he held the door.
“Thank you.” I smiled. The boys stepped through the door before me. Their grins wide. They absolutely loved this place as much as the rest of us. Leon was four and Trey, who had just had a birthday, was seven. The two of them together were a handful on a good day. I’d give anything to have their amount of energy. If only I could bottle it. I’d sell it to the highest bidder and become a millionaire.
“Can I haves the big saussases?” Leon asked, excitement lighting up his big brown eyes. I scooped him up, laughing at his attempt to say sausages. I rested him on my hip. For four he was still so little and weighed nothing. Trey on the other hand was sprouting like a weed. Go figure.
“If that’s what you want. How about I get one big tray and we just split it?” They both nodded and we moved along as the line did.
“Welcome to the Pork Pit, what can I get ya today?” I licked my lips and smiled.
“We need a cowboy platter with potato salad, macaroni salad, pinto beans, and fried apples.”
“I news mass and cheeeeese.”
I snorted. This kid. “Oh, and we need a side of mac and cheese, please.”
“Sure thing.” I watched as she rang up the order, her grin wide. With these little monsters around, you couldn’t help but smile. The cowboy platter had a half a rack of ribs, a pound of brisket, a large link of kielbasa sausage, a half of a chicken, and a side of pulled pork. Artery clogging at its finest. We would be taking half of this, maybe more, home. We’d eat off of it again for dinner and then when Reggie got home he’d have enough to eat tonight. More than likely we’d have enough to snack on tomorrow too. Maybe. It depended on if my midnight snacking hit hard or not.
“Would you like sliced bread, tortillas, or both?”
“Both please, and I’ll need a large sweet tea and two kids’ sweet teas.”
“That’ll be $43.14.” I shifted Leon slightly and pulled some cash from my pocket. She took it, handed me my change, and fixed our drinks. I set Leon down so I could carry our drinks. I got them settled in at a table, Leon in a booster seat, by the time our ticket number was called. The food was on two trays. Two. Holy crap, it was so much. I moved through the crowd and back to the table.
“What do you want to start with, buddy, other than the chicken leg?” I asked Trey. I knew Leon wanted sausage; he always wanted sausage first. And mac and cheese. They’d both eat anything, but I wanted to get him what he wanted.
“Beans and taters.” I nodded and handed them both a quarter piece of bread. It would hold them for a few
minutes while I fixed plates. I got them both done, the meats cut up and a spoonful of their sides on the plates. Each thing separated. If food touched on their plate, either plate, they would freak. It would become meltdown central here. See, both of my nephews had quirks just like their dad had. My brother was always a weirdo about food touching too. At home they had divided plates, but I never remembered to grab them when I was taking them out.
“Cheeeeeese!” Leon giggle squealed when I set his plate in front of him. I chuckled as did a few of the others around us.
“Yes, cheese. Now eat up. If you both eat your food,” and don’t make me cry in public, “and be good, we can go to the park.” Leon was too busy trying to get his fork in his mouth to hear me. Trey grinned around a mouthful of food.
I picked up a rib and had to fight back a moan. A legit, pure moan. It was a flavor explosion in my mouth. Just enough sauce, the seasoning was spot on…man, I had missed this place. See, I’d only been back in town for a week. My brother needed help with his kids, my advertising job in Charlotte was a bit too much drama, and so it just seemed to be the right thing to do. I hated leaving my job. I’d been there for fifteen years after all. I worked myself up from the bottom. I had made a place for myself. But a buy-out and change in management had me and my co-workers walking on eggshells. We were unsure of how to react to situations that arose. I was miserable. Plain and simple. No job was worth that.
“I needs heps.” I wiped my hands and laughed softly as Leon tried to get the last piece of sausage on his fork. It kept sliding.
“Here, I got it, buddy.” When it was speared he hurried to eat it. I shook my head. I’d only given him four round disks that I’d cut into four pieces and a spoon of mac and cheese. Less is more at this age. You can always add more to the empty plate, which is what I did. The beans and a spoonful of tater salad joined two more cut up sausage rounds.
“I’m ready for mores, Auntie. Pleaaaase!” I glanced at Trey and smiled.
“Great job eating, buddy. That chicken leg is shining.” He looked at it and shook his head.
“It’s not. Chickens don’t not shines.” I snorted and corrected his speech. He took in what I said and repeated what he said. I nodded. I know kids mess up words, it’s adorable at times, but the words don’t and not do not belong together. Good lord. They’ve been stuck around their daddy too long.
“I finnnish!” Leon announced to us all.
“Good job, but please use your inside voice. Here, you try this,” I said adding the fried apples to his plate. “It’s yummy. Do you want—”
“Macawonies!” he said before I could finish my sentence. Trey decided he too needed macaroni. God, I loved these kids. Typical boys though. Food was all they thought about. They’d eat all day if you let them. Let’s be honest, if I had this to eat all day, I would. No doubt.
Once we were all eating again, I watched them. They were so much like my brother. They shared his mannerisms, attitude problems, and a love for being outside. It was endearing. One day I’d have what my big brother had. I just had to bide my time.
“I dones,” Leon announced to the entire place, again. I groaned.
“Inside voice, kid.” I squinted a look at him before I put the rib bone down and sighed. I’d need a to-go box for real. There was still so much left. “You two wait right here. I need to get a to-go box, okay?” They nodded and went back to drinking. I loved the kids’ cups here. They had a straw that had loops so they got to watch their drink coming up to their mouths. Hours of endless entertainment there.
“Everything all right with your food?” the lady at the register asked me before I could say anything.
“Oh yes, I just need a to-go box, please.”
“Absolutely.” She went to the back counter and grabbed two medium sized square boxes; they reminded me of the boxes you get in fancy cupcake shops. She also got a few sheets of wax paper from a box and handed them to me. “Here you go. I’m so glad you enjoyed your meal.”
“I always do here. I’ve been away, I just moved back. I’d forgotten how good it was.”
“Well, welcome home.”
“Thank you.” I left the counter and went back to the table. The boys were watching me as I came back. I smiled at them. “Let me box this all up and we can take it home for dinner tonight. I’m sure your dad will be hungry when he gets home. Then we can go to the park once our bellies are settled.”
Ten minutes later we were walking, well, more like trudging out to my car. I helped them into their car seats, strapped them in, and got in myself. The car started and I sat there for a minute. My belly was so full. A deep breath later I was reversing from the parking spot. I watched for traffic and when it was clear, we pulled out of the lot.
Maybe I could convince these little ones that a nap was needed before we went to the park. We only lived a few miles down the road, but by the time we got home both kids were sound asleep. I grimaced. I wasn’t sure I could get them out without waking them. Guess now was as good of a time as any to learn. Waking them would be the worst outcome. I’d seen them sleep-deprived. Yikes.
Three trips in and out of the house and I was done. I had the boys on their beds, the food in the fridge, and myself sprawled out across the guest bed. My eyes closed before I gave them permission to and I was out. Food coma engaged.
I’d woken up to the slamming of a car door. It sounded like it was right beside my head. It was soon followed by loud knocking on the door. I jumped up to make my way out of the room, heading for the front of the house. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep, but if they woke up the boys, I was going to hurt someone. I stopped at the bedroom door, however, seeing a handwritten note on it. My brother's chicken scratch was easy enough to read.
* * *
The boys woke up when I got home and wanted to go to the park. Didn’t want to wake you. Be back soon.
R
* * *
The boom of a fist against the door made me jerk. Shit. That’s what I’d gotten up for. I hurried to the door and looked through the peephole. I frowned seeing the two bit, stank ass whore, Monique, on the front stoop. She was technically the kids’ mother, even if she did nothing but abandon them after Leon was born. I chewed on my lip, trying to decide if I should answer or not. Her persistent banging had me gritting my teeth. Oh yeah, I was answering. I unlocked the door then flung it open.
“What in the hell do you want? If you’re not on fire, all that racket ain’t necessary!” My words were a snarl. It wasn’t like I needed another reason to hate the bitch. She must not have recognized me because she started.
“Who are— I want to see my kids—”
I watched her look at the house number then back to me, the confusion clear on her face. Maybe my presence had her thinking she had been beating on the wrong door? That confirmed it, she didn’t recognize me. Though, the last time she saw me was about five years ago. I was in braces, had on glasses, and was a little smaller around my waist and a foot shorter.
“There are no kids here,” I said, yawning for effect. Her hard gaze met mine. If she thought she would scare me, she had another thing coming. I hadn’t lied, though. They weren’t here. I slid my phone out of my pocket, thankful I always kept it there. While keeping it behind the door, I typed out a message one handed to Reggie.
* * *
Sis: Whore showed up here. Stay away!
* * *
I hit send and glared at her all while slipping my phone back into my pocket. Her body shoved at the door. If she thought for one second I was letting her in, she was mistaken. Hell would freeze over first. I never did like the whore as it was. My brother was an idiot for ever thinking he could change her into a decent human being. She was the trash you saw on the street that no one wanted to pick up.
“Get off of my porch before I remove you!”
“You will let me see my kids!” she screamed and shoved at the door again. She was really asking for me to knock her the hell out. I thought I’d giv
e her what she was asking for.
3
Phillip
I’d just gotten out of the shower when I heard loud voices coming from outside. It wasn’t usual, but then people around here usually kept their arguments inside their homes. Let’s face it, no one gets along with everyone all the time. I stretched out my back and was pulling on a pair of jeans when gunfire rang out. My feet were moving before my brain was. I pushed my way through the door and was running across the street. Three houses down two women were fighting in the front yard.
I leapt over the hedge, barreled into them, and pulled the gun from the hand of a woman I’d only seen a few times. Reggie’s ex, Monique. She was nothing but trouble according to the local gossip. Neighbors had come out onto their porches to see what was happening and Mr. Alberts, one of Reggie’s fence neighbors, came over.
“What in tarnation are you doing over here?” he asked, coming up short when Monique let out an animalistic shriek and jerked free of my hold. Fucking hell. She only made it a few steps before a fist met her jaw. She tumbled like a tree. I was caught by the short hairs when Key’s eyes met mine. My heart clenched and a whole new wave of anger, fear, and surprise washed through me. Her chest was heaving, her eyes were wide, and the way her nostrils flared told me all I needed to know. She was beyond pissed. I’d seen that look many times when we were younger.
I hadn’t known she was back in town. No one had breathed a word of it. Though, the only one that kept up with the gossip and told of it was Gran. She always knew everything about everyone and made no bones about sharing it. I just watched Key, her small frame tense, ready for a fight. I was struck stupid and speechless. I just stood there. That was until she started to tip forward.