by Riley Adams
Derrick dropped his backpack against the wall of the porch and sat down in one of the rockers with a handful of cookies. “Sure thing. I have a little while before I’ve got to go meet up with some people. What’s up?”
“Tee shirts! I need you to design the tee shirts for our team. Those get judged, too, you know, so I’ll make you an honorary member of the Graces. But I need you to somehow weave in Elvis and Serbia. Oh, and barbeque. The team name, Don’t Be Gruel, should be on it, and the team names—with mine as pit master, of course. And I need the design in”—Cherry glanced at her rhinestone-encrusted watch—“an hour.”
“Whaa?” Derrick had the startled expression of someone who’d had ice water thrown at him. Despite his tattoo-covered, pierced, tough exterior, he had a completely vulnerable and insecure interior.
“You can do it, can’t you, Derrick?” Cherry pleaded. “I’ll be in so much trouble if you can’t. I told Flo and Evelyn that I’d take care of the tee shirts and then I totally forgot. I thought we’d decided on just wearing our Elvis and Priscilla costumes, but the girls want tee shirts, too. If you can sketch something out this hour, then I can run over to the graphic print shop and get them to make tees out of it before they close for the day.”
Derrick blinked and a red flush crept up his neck, coloring in the tattoos that were climbing there. “Cherry, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s more like I don’t know if I can. I’m not used to making logo-type stuff or big sketches. I don’t even know anything about Serbia. Plus, there’s somewhere I’ve got to be soon.” He looked as if he didn’t want to talk much about where that somewhere was. Teenagers could be real vague about where they went and who they saw there.
“Derrick, I promise this won’t take too long. If it does, you can stop and I’ll try to finish up your sketch.”
Lulu said, “I thought you’d said it was Slovakia, Cherry.”
“Shoot! You’re right, Slovakia. Not Serbia,” corrected Cherry.
“I bet Cherry has learned a whole bunch about Slovakia lately,” said Lulu, giving Derrick a comforting pat. “Why don’t y’all go back into the Aunt Pat’s office and brainstorm? I’ll bring more goodies and milk for fuel. A project like this requires more than cookies—I’ll serve up pasta salad and corn muffins.”
Derrick reluctantly followed Cherry into the restaurant, casting worried eyes at Lulu. His self-confidence had gradually started increasing since he’d moved in with Lulu’s son and daughter-in-law, but it was taking time. He’d been failing in school and getting into scrapes with the law before moving to Memphis but had rapidly made a turnaround…in everything but self-esteem. Maybe having a series of little victories like having everyone excited over his art would help.
Lulu patted the Labs, who were falling back asleep, then walked through the restaurant to the Aunt Pat’s kitchen. Her son, Ben, was cooking up a storm at the stove, and brown sugar, bacon, and onion were sending out a heavenly aroma. “Were we getting low on sides?” she asked, spotting baked beans, corn on the cob, and corn muffins all being concocted at once.
“Lots of side orders to go,” said Ben, really hustling, but turning for a second to give his mother a grin. “Looks like it’s going to be another big month of Rock and Ribs sales for us.”
Lulu found the pasta salad in the fridge and put a generous amount in a serving bowl. “This festival puts everyone in the mood for eating barbeque.”
“Which makes it the best festival in the world, naturally,” said Ben. “It’s the perfect setup for us. Thousands of visitors can’t eat at the festival since the barbeque is there to be judged and the health codes prevent it from being sold. So they end up with a huge hankering for barbeque that’s not exactly satisfied by the fried foods and sweets that the vendors sell.”
“And we’re the ones to make sure they get some barbeque,” said Lulu with satisfaction as she poured a couple of glasses of milk. “Did you know that the Graces have their own booth this year?”
Ben was focused on mixing more corn muffin batter and grunted in response. But his wife, Sara, who helped wait tables, walked in and overheard Lulu. “I hope they take pictures because I have a feeling I’m going to be up to my eyeballs in customers at Aunt Pat’s and won’t be able to get over there. You’re going to take Ella Beth and Coco this year, won’t you, Lulu? They’re about to bug me to death to go and hear the bands and eat a bunch of fair food.”
Sara was a solid, large-boned woman with curly, strawberry-blond hair that swung below her shoulders. She appeared sturdy enough to withstand any amount of begging, but she was a softy at heart.
“As long as they wear play clothes,” said Lulu doubtfully. “You know how rainy and muddy it gets this time of year. Little Miss Coco is too fond of her fancy clothes.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Sara. “Maybe she can dress up her play clothes with costume jewelry or something. You know how Coco is about accessorizing.”
Sara picked up a tray and checked it against an order. “Did Derrick come in yet?”
“He sure did. He might be sorry he did come in. Derrick got waylaid by Cherry, who asked him to come up with a tee shirt design for the Graces right on the spot.” Lulu sighed and put corn muffins with the milk and the pasta salad on a big tray.
Sara’s brows drew together in concern. “Uh-oh. That could either turn out well or really bomb. I doubt he even has time to do something like that to begin with. Every time I see Derrick lately, he’s rushing out the door without really even telling me where he’s going.”
This was what Lulu had noticed, too, and it made a seed of worry sprout in Lulu’s mind. Surely he wasn’t getting involved with those bad friends of his again, was he? But she said confidently, “Derrick is a fine artist. I’m sure with the pressure that Cherry’s applying and a little brainstorming, he’ll come up with something great.”
And he did. After a panicky hour involving downing many glasses of milk and lots of snack food and fairly constant praise from Cherry and Lulu, Derrick’s tee shirt design was proclaimed a winner. Cherry researched the country on the office computer and found it was mountainous so Derrick deftly sketched out caricatures of several of the Graces, wearing hiking gear, heading up a mountain, and holding a Slovakian flag. As a sop to Cherry, her caricature was hand in hand with Elvis (the 1970s lounge-suit-wearing incarnation).
Derrick, by the end of the hour, was dotted with perspiration. He kept tweaking the sketch and the lettering until Cherry finally said, “That’s it! That’s perfect, Derrick. Stop fiddling with it. I’m taking it over to the graphic guy to get the shirts made.” She practically ripped the paper from him and took off, waving over her shoulder. “Bye. Bless you, Derrick! You’ll be richly rewarded for this…promise.”
Derrick’s reward was his utter relief that Cherry had gone. Lulu leaned over and gave him a hug. “Thanks for saving the day like that, sugar. I’m amazed at how well you performed under pressure. That design was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Bet you’ll win a prize for the tee shirt competition.”
Derrick stretched, joints popping as he did. “If I do win anything, it’ll be a miracle. Everybody else probably worked on their tee shirt designs for at least a couple of weeks.”
“Well, you know how sometimes judges like things that almost look hurried. I’ve seen modern art that I didn’t know if it was right-side-up or upside-down. And it was supposed to be worth millions.” Lulu shook her head at the mysteries of the art world. She paused and tried to delicately word her next sentence. She wanted to know why Derrick hadn’t been around as much as he usually was, but she didn’t want to sound nosy or suspicious, either. “You’ve been super busy lately, haven’t you, sweetie? Do you think you’ll have time to go to the festival? And if you go, who would you go with?”
Derrick grinned at her, which made her realize that she wasn’t as subtle as she wanted to think. “Peaches and I are still going out, Granny Lulu, so I’ll probably go to Rock and Ribs with her tomorrow. And I told
the twins I’d walk them around some, too. They said they were hoping you could walk around with them some, too. They’re dying to go.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to take off now or I’ll be late. See you soon, Granny Lulu.”
Lulu gave a relieved smile. If he was spending all his time with that cute Peaches and the twins, there was no way he could get into any trouble. Surely. After all, what could happen at the festival?
The yearly festival was smack dab in the middle of the rainy season in Memphis. It wasn’t just rain, either—it was more like flooding. This meant that there was a whole lot of mud on the festival grounds at Tom Lee Park. Despite the gray clouds and rain, Memphis was still beautiful with the springtime blooming of dogwoods, multicolored azaleas, and Bradford pear trees.
Lulu stood ankle deep in mud and wore a slicker covered with pigs as she surveyed the Graces’ booth later that evening. Fortunately for her, her ankles were inside a pair of checkered rubber rain boots. Even with the rain, there were thousands of people in the park.
“At least the mud made it super easy to put the tent poles in,” said Evelyn in a chipper voice, nodding to the booth’s structure.
“Not that you had anything to do with putting those poles in,” grumbled Cherry. Her red hair made a shocking contrast to the hot pink poncho she was wearing.
Evelyn raised her carefully plucked eyebrows. “My, but you’re the cranky one, Cherry. You’re right, though. I didn’t help much with the actual booth construction.”
Flo shrugged. “We didn’t ask you to, Evelyn. Giving us the financial backing was really enough.”
Cherry was repentant. “I know. Ugh. Maybe it’s the rain making me sour. Sorry I’m so grouchy. I’m shaking it off,” said Cherry, repeating the phrase like a mantra several times in a row while literally shaking her hands in unison. Then she took a deep, soothing breath and said pleasantly, “What do you think of our tent, Lulu? Think we have a shot at winning the booth decorating contest?”
She had no idea how their booth ranked with the ones around her, but she knew that the women had had a lot of fun when they came up with it. Elvis and Slovakia were everywhere. There was the Slovak coat of arms and flag and an artistic rendition of Elvis hamming up for a picture in front of a Slovakian castle. “It’s perfectly wonderful, y’all,” said Lulu, hugging Cherry. “I feel like I’m touring Eastern Europe. Now remind me again how the contest works. What are y’all cooking?”
“We’re not in the really big competition,” said Flo. “We’re one of the Patio Porkers teams. That means that we compete against the other Patio Porkers for the best ribs. If a team wins the smaller contest, then the next year the rules state that they have to be in the big competition. Then we’re also entering other small contests like best booth and best tee shirt.”
“And don’t the tee shirts look great, Lulu? You’d think we spent weeks on them,” said Cherry.
“They really do,” said Lulu. “I’m pleased as punch! Derrick did a wonderful job and I love that the color of the shirts is blue instead of plain white.”
“Blue was one of Elvis’s favorite colors,” said Cherry. “So of course we wanted to include it with our theme.”
“Too bad the shirts are bound to lose,” said a snarky deep voice behind them.
They turned around to see a short, balding man with dark eyes and a sneering smile.
“Like you have good enough taste to know what’s great and what isn’t,” drawled Cherry with a roll of her eyes.
“Lulu,” said Flo quickly, “this is Reuben Shaw, the pit master for the booth next to us.” She turned to the man. “This is Lulu Taylor, owner of Aunt Pat’s Barbeque.” Flo patted her big hair nervously, although it was so rigorously sprayed, that there was never a strand out of place. The mention of the restaurant made the man relax his stance. A respectful expression passed across his features. “Nice restaurant. I’ve enjoyed a few meals there. Haven’t eaten there for a while—I need to make another trip.”
“I hope you will and that you’ll enjoy it,” said Lulu, trying as hard as she could to be gracious, even if her friends were being treated poorly by this man. Usually you could draw more flies with honey. “I’m taking the week off so that I can enjoy the barbeque competition and take my granddaughters to the festival. Usually I never really get to come here since the restaurant is so busy.”
There looked to be the smallest crease of anxiety on Reuben’s face. “You’re not on this team, are you? Not on the Don’t Be Gruel team. Because you’re a pro and I’m sure that’s completely against the rules.”
“I’m certain it is,” said Lulu placidly. “No, I’m simply a spectator, here to enjoy the festival like anyone else.”
He seemed to relax again. “Let me show you our tee shirts,” he said in a peremptory tone, putting a hand on Lulu’s arm and pulling gently.
As he walked away from the Graces’ tent, Lulu heard Cherry grumbling, “Like she’d even care about his dumb shirts. Considering it was family who designed the Graces’ tee shirts. Stupid man.”
Reuben’s grip tightened on Lulu’s arm. Apparently he wasn’t wild about being called stupid.
Having seen the Graces’ tent, Lulu could tell that more thought and work had gone into Reuben’s. Reuben had used a pig theme and had really taken a serious approach to including Slovakia. Where the Graces had put sketches of castles, Reuben had an actual castle replica in his tent. Everything, in fact, looked very serious, including the cooking area. The Graces seemed to be preparing for a backyard cookout. Reuben had set up what resembled a miniature professional kitchen.
His team, though, didn’t seem to be having as much fun as Cherry’s team. While Reuben showed off their tee shirt to Lulu (which did seem to be something of a work of art), they looked sullenly on. There was a blond woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, who was wearing a good deal of eye makeup and who watched Reuben with complete disinterest, and a tall man leaning casually on the castle, appearing bored.
“This is Lulu Taylor,” he said to the two. “Owner of Aunt Pat’s restaurant.”
The blond woman nodded but didn’t respond, but the man seemed to summon up interest. “Great ribs! I went there for the first time last week because one of my coworkers said he’d grown up going to Aunt Pat’s.”
Lulu smiled at him. “Well, we’ve been around for a long time. It was my aunt’s restaurant before I ended up running it.”
He had a reminiscent expression on his face. “My friend says you’re got the best ribs in Memphis. He goes back every few weeks as a matter of fact. Says eveything is almost exactly the same as it was when he was a kid. Something very comforting in that,” he said thoughtfully. He leaned forward and stuck out a thin hand. “I’m Brody Jenson,” he added.
Lulu shook his head. “So nice to meet you.”
Reuben gestured to the blond woman with a sneer. “And that’s Brody’s wife, Sharon. The rude one in the corner.”
She shot him a glare that could have fried eggs, then stared determinedly down at the floor. Sharon’s blond hair was going dark at the roots, and she had tired eyes and deep grooves making unhappy parentheses at the corners of her mouth.
“Nice to meet you, Sharon,” said Lulu. The attitudes in this booth were confusing. It was easy to imagine why the Graces weren’t happy with Reuben, but it seemed like the members of his own team shouldn’t have the same issue. After all, they were the ones who chose him as the pit master.
He didn’t look to be any kinder to his crew than he was to the Graces, though. “See all this stuff around you—the decorations? I came up with everything. Everything. I designed it, I built it, I put it up. I’m a contractor, so that’s the kind of thing I really excel at. And the rest of my team is just around to enjoy the party.” He almost spat the words.
The tall man stood up straight and his eyes narrowed. “You’ve got selective memory loss, Reuben. I did all the research to come up with the design. And Sharon and I both helped move all the stuff into
this booth.”
Sharon gave a disdainful laugh. “Besides, if your stamp is on most of the stuff in the booth, Reuben, that’s because you’re so pigheaded that you won’t listen to anybody else’s ideas or accept that your idea might not be as good as someone else’s.” Her lip curled and made her pretty face momentarily unattractive.
“I’ve got a mind to walk right out on you,” said Brody, still fuming. “Then what would you do without your help? Good luck juggling the ribs and the seasoning while you’re cooking for the competition.” The idea seemed to please him and a faint smile pulled at his mouth.
Reuben’s face darkened. “You wouldn’t do that, Brody.” It sounded more like a threat than a promise.
“Wouldn’t he?” asked Sharon. “You should try him. And me—because this is really the limit of what I can put up with.”
Lulu murmured, “I should be getting back to my friends.” No one glanced her way or seemed to notice her or hear her, so she hurried off into the darkness outside the brightly lit tent—and ran smack into someone who was standing right outside the booth.
“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. But the person was already gone.
* * *
“Granny Lulu, is it time to go yet?”
She was ordinarily a morning person, but after staying up late on Family and Friends night at Rock and Ribs, she was dragging this morning. Her twin granddaughters, though, apparently had no such problems waking up. Coco was dressed to the nines and Ella Beth’s chin had a determined set to it that meant she was ready to take on and conquer her day.
“Sweetie, we’ll head over to Tom Lee Park soon. Just give me a little while to get all my engines revving. Coco, honey, you shouldn’t be wearing that outfit to the festival,” said Lulu.
Coco peered down at her linen dress with the satin sash. “It’s a nice dress, Granny Lulu.”
Sometimes she did wonder where that child came from. “The dress is as pretty as you are, Coco, but I’m worried about what might happen to it, not whether it’s in fashion. The festival is a huge mud pit, sweetie. And the rain is still coming down in buckets. You’d really please me if you’d put something else on. Your mama is coming by the restaurant to work in a few minutes—let me call her real quick and ask her to bring you play clothes.”