White Meat: A BWWM Romance

by Tyla Walker

  “So, new guy.” he says, patting my back in a congenial way, as if we’ve known each other for years. “Nate likes you.”

  “He’s a good kid.” I respond, shrugging my shoulders. Juan dips his finger into my sauce, tries it, and then tosses a big pinch of salt into the pot.

  “His dad is un pendejo.” Juan grabs my tongs and begins to flip over the row of pork ribs I was tending to. “Big time. Messed her up real bad, never sees his son.” Juan shakes his head as he applies more sauce to the ribs. “The kid isn’t doing good, you know?”

  Juan is completely taking over my station. The worst part it, he is doing exactly what I was about to do, each step of the way. These cooks know their stuff. The kitchen door inches open and Nate peeks his head in. He has acquired a heaping plate of chocolate ice cream and has already managed to smear it all over his chin.

  “I’m just going to sit over here.” He announces, and plunks himself down on an overturned milk crate in the far corner of the kitchen. He puts the Batman comic on his knees and proceeds to stare at it with a serious expression on his face as he shovels down his ice cream.

  “Your fire should be hotter.” The older cook, Sarah, comes up on my other side, and begins poking at the embers in my grill with a thin piece of wood.

  “It’s his first day” Juan shrugs, tossing more hickory logs into the smoker. “Besides, there are a lot of distractions.” He grins at me, looking to see if I’ll take the bait. “You’re making a lot of new friends today. The scenery in Burnet isn’t bad, huh?”

  “It’s a pretty town.” I’m blushing again, my life would be so much simpler if I could just get my damn blood flow under control.

  “She’s single, you know.” Juan says, in an amused, slightly hushed voice. “Just saying.”

  “Hasn’t seen anyone since her ex.” Sarah chimes in, shaking her head. “That piece of shit.”

  “Four years.” Juan replies, shaking his head. “You know I don’t know what she saw in him to begin with. He was never gonna’ to be nothing but trouble.”

  “Some people like trouble.” Sarah shrugs and begins wiping down my knives. “Sometimes the nicest people in the world like a little trouble now and again.”

  Out of nowhere, there is a subtle shift in the mood of the kitchen. At first I can’t figure out what the hell is different, Juan and Sarah are still buzzing around my grill gossiping and Nate is off munching contentedly on his ice cream. Then I realize what has changed.

  It’s James.

  The entire afternoon, he’s been talking non-stop. Enthusiastically barking orders, laughing with Cindy, getting into spirited debates with the regulars who mosey up to the kitchen window. Moments before he was joking with the other line cook Ernesto in fluent Spanish, not missing a beat. Now, out of nowhere his voice has gone silent, and I look around to see what’s wrong.

  James is in the corner of the room, standing stock-still. He stares fixedly out of the pass, into the interior of the restaurant. His face has gone completely white, and he grips his tongs, frozen in space. Sarah picks up on my distraction and follows my gaze.

  “Hey. James.” She calls across the room. “You good?”

  Suddenly there is a large crash from out in the dining area, the sound of broken ceramic and silverware falling onto the ground. I turn to check on Nate, he is staring at me, his big brown eyes as round as saucers.

  “It’s alright, buddy.” I smile at him reassuringly. I close the lid to my smoker, take a deep breath, and push open the door to the main dining room.

  “Darlin’, darlin’ darlin’, why don’t you give me a smile?” There’s a tall man in the doorway of the restaurant. He’s got a massive heft to him but is a little soft around the edges. A cleft chin, puffy red cheeks. He slowly chews on a piece of tobacco and leans against the door.

  In the dining room there is a smattering of broken plates around Cindy, pieces of cornbread crumble into the floorboards. I can’t tell if she’s hurt or not, she’s staring at the man with her fists clenched.

  “Hey, Cindy. You alright?” She doesn’t respond to me, and I can’t quite see the look on her face from the angle I’m at.

  “Oh Cindy’s just fine. Aren’t you honey? You always did have them butterfingers.” The man with the puffy cheeks looks at me then spits his tobacco onto the floor “Thanks for your concern, pretty boy.” The man struts into the restaurant, kicks out a chair from one of the tables and sits down. He leans his head way back and hollers out the door.

  “Damn but I could use some meat. Darleen! Dwayne! Come on in. It’s lunch time.”

  A tiny slip of a thing bangs open one of the saloon doors. She has brassy blonde hair and is wearing cowboy boots two sizes too big. Behind her lumbers in another impossibly large cowboy. He’s got a patchy sort of beard and looks like he’s had a few too many everyday for the past 20 years.

  The gal clomps over the table and plops down on the first man’s lap. She plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek and kicks the edge of the table.

  “Shit this place looks even worse than I remember it. Drew-Drew I’m huuuuuungry.”

  “Don’t you worry baby, my girl Cindy here will fix us up something real nice. How ‘bout it Cin’? For old times sake?”

  “What the hell are you doin’ here?” Cindy’s voice is low, and razor sharp. The door behind me swings open, and Nathan pokes his head out of the kitchen.

  “Daddy?”

  Cindy spins around, shards of plates go skittering to the edge of the room.

  “Nate baby, stay in the kitchen.” The boy looks like he’s going to cry. The rest of the kitchen staff congregate behind Nathan, Juan puts his hands on the kid’s shoulders protectively. The other cook, Ernesto is clutching a metal meat mallet and Sarah holds a giant butchering knife, her eyes as cold as a Texas morning.

  It’s starting to feel like a standoff, Western style. I begin to slowly roll up the cuffs of my sleeves. The man stands up abruptly, which sends the blonde girl tumbling down to the floor. Cindy reacts instinctively and grabs one of the shards of ceramic plate from the floor.

  The man’s eyes flicker. He approaches Cindy slowly, as though encountering a wild horse. The man is probably a rodeo rider, he has the look. Fresh blue jeans and a belt buckle that somehow looks too big for his unwieldy body. The curve of his stomach sticks out from the waist of his pants, decades of beer and barbeque clinging to his bones with not much to show for it.

  “Now, now, now, now, baby,” his voice has gone soft suddenly, honey smooth and almost too quiet to hear. His cold, blue eyes glint as he inches closer and closer to Cindy. “Is this any way to treat your damn husband?”

  Six

  Cindy

  “Alright, now,” Uncle James says. “Let’s all stop acting like a buncha horses asses for a second, shall we?”

  I’m gripping onto the cracked piece of plate so hard I think it might draw blood. I look from Uncle James, to Nate, to my ex-husband. In the blink of an eye, all the fantasies I’ve ever had of kicking his ass, wringing his neck, or carving ‘deadbeat’ into his belly flash through my mind.

  ‘Well, I do have something sharp in my hand,’ I think. I’m halfway to using it when Uncle James starts to speak again, and all the heads in the room turn to him.

  “Everybody who’s got a weapon in their hand or an idea in their head just stand down. Let’s calm down and talk like normal folk,” Uncle James says.

  The tide turns, and everybody takes a breath. Ernesto and Sarah shyly let their weapons drift down to their sides. I look over to Uncle James, who gives me a look I haven’t seen since I was a teenager. It’s a ‘don’t try it, kid’ look. ‘Oh, fine,’ I think, and I toss my broken piece of plate back into the pile with its friends.

  “I’m gonna go talk to that table over there and make sure they don’t call the cops. You two gonna behave yourselves?” Uncle James whispers. I nod at him, and he walks over to a couple sitting at the table by the window who look shaken-up and confused.

&nbs
p; Andrew leans back like he just ate a piece of cherry pie. I want to reach back down and grab all the pieces of that plate and stick them in his self-satisfied belly, but I don’t. I take a breath, and I cross a river of troubles to try to talk to this idiot.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him.

  “We’re here for some food, what’chu think?” Andrew says.

  The blonde embarrassment hanging off his arm giggles like he just said the cleverest thing in the history of the English language. What was her name? Darlene? His mammoth buddy looks over my shoulder.

  “Hey man, y’all got ribs here? I could murder a plate of barbecue ribs right now,” Andrew’s buddy says.

  I turn to see who he’s talking to, and there’s Hank leaning on the wall near the kitchen, arms tense and eyes glued to these three like he’s sizing them up. About fifty different thoughts and feelings bounce around my head, but I can’t focus on that right now. Not with the captain of my life’s biggest RelationShipwreck standing in my restaurant.

  “Judging by the work your belt is doing, I think you’ve had enough ribs for now, friend,” Hank says.

  “The hell you say to me?” The buddy shoots back, angry.

  “Calm down, Dwane,” Andrew says to him. Waving his hand to get him to sit down. Dwane makes a sound with his mouth like the puttering of an ancient Ford truck, and heaves his massive body into a chair. Uncle James has just finished up talking down the only other guests in the restaurant, and he walks over to Hank, smiling. I look at Andrew.

  “You know what I mean. What are you doing in Burnet?”

  “I live here now,” he says.

  Without thinking, my eyes shoot over to Nate. His face twists up in stressful grief at the news that his daddy is back in town to stay. It hits me in the gut and all I can think about is how to protect him from whatever trouble this man is going to bring into his precious life.

  “That’s right!” Andrew hollers like a rodeo announcer. “The prodigal son has returned to the home of the Bulldogs! What’samatter baby, ain’t you excited to hear the news?”

  “What do you think?” I ask him. My hands sit on my hips.

  Andrew cricks his neck to the side and bites into his bottom lip. He looks over to Darlene the Bad Dream, and she raises her eyebrows and shrugs her shoulders. Darlene lets out a limp little sigh and walks in deliberate slow-motion over to the table where Dwane is sitting, slumped over.

  “Well, I’d like to think you’d be happy to see me. Like to think that you’d be excited that Nate’s gonna be able to have his daddy around more, so that he can have a positive male role model in his life,” Andrew says slowly, like he’s bargaining.

  “Nate’s got a male role model better than you could ever be,” I say firmly.

  “Who, him?” Andrew points behind me. I look over to the wall by the kitchen, and I see Hank. My heart sinks into my gut, and I feel an instant surge of something. But no, standing right next to Hank is the man I meant, and the man Andrew is pointing at.

  “Uncle James?” Andrew says like it’s a joke. “What, you want the boy to grow up to have a smoker’s cough and a limp? Or wanna make sure he learns how to run a mediocre barbecue joint?”

  “Easy, there,” Hank says from the wall.

  “Aw, let him,” Uncle James sighs.

  I just fume.

  “Yes, Uncle James! Because Uncle James is kind, and steady, and true. Three words that would run from you like passengers fleeing a sinking ship!” I just about scream at him.

  “Well I wanna see him!” Andrew says. “I’m back in town, and I’m wanna see my son. If that ain’t my right, then I don’t know what is. And it don’t matter what you think about it.”

  “Not that you asked me,” Uncle James says, walking up to where Andrew and I stand, “but I think that it does matter what Cindy thinks about you seeing the boy. And on that topic, I think it also matters what Nate thinks about it.”

  Andrew looks like Uncle James is talking crazy.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Andrew says.

  “Well,” Uncle James says, “I may not be a good judge of this. Because frankly, I can’t imagine anybody wanting to see your sorry ass. But maybe you should ask Nate whether or not he even wants to see you.”

  “Course he does!” Andrew says.

  Uncle James shrugs, and takes a step back.

  “Nate!” Andrew calls to him.

  “Don’t you dare!” I say. I can almost feel claws growing down at the ends of my fingers. That’s how much I want to dig into his eyes to protect my son.

  “Shuttup!” Andrew says to me. “Nate. Come here, son.”

  Nate steps forward and walks up to us. But it’s me he comes to. As I put my arm around him, he leans into me. I see that Andrew is disappointed and even a little hurt. ‘Good,’ I think.

  “Nate, buddy,” Andrew says. “Your daddy’s back in town. To stay!”

  “Okay,” Nate says.

  “Wouldja like it if you and me spent more time together?” Andrew says, leading the witness.

  “Andrew,” I say. But he puts up his hand, like I’m some kid who spoke out of turn. It makes me want to grab the nearest knife and cut his hand clean off.

  “That’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” Andrew says. He won’t take his eyes off Nate.

  “Maybe. But … You left, Daddy. Now you’re back, and it’s not fair that you just want it to be okay. I don’t feel good about it,” Nate says. As he leans into me, I can almost feel the bad feelings swarming around inside him.

  Andrew looks let-down, like he bet on the wrong horse. He looks up at me and lowers his voice, defeated.

  “I remember the kid being a bit more talkative than that,” he says.

  “He is,” I say. “With people he knows.”

  It’s hanging in the air again. That feeling like something bad is about to happen, and it could come from any direction. Dwane and Darlene, the idiot wonder twins, are staring up and Andrew, waiting for him to make a move.

  Hank’s arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s staring daggers at Andrew to see what he’ll do. Nate can’t look at either of us, so he just looks down. And Andrew stares stock still: staring at me and shaking his head.

  ‘What’s wrong,’ I think. ‘Did you forget who you were talking to?’

  Like a flash, Andrew’s fist goes down to the table by his side — BANG! He hits it hard, and everybody jumps at the sound of it.

  “Alright!” Uncle James says. “I think it’s time you three take your leave. Now.” Andrew throws up his hands in a shrug.

  “That’s fine. Place looks about ready to close anyway, right? Sure is empty enough.”

  “Get out of here, Andrew. And take your sidekicks with you.” I say, holding onto my boy.

  The three of them are at the door. Darlene and Dwayne have walked back out into the street, but Andrew wheels around and points a grubby finger right at our son.

  “I’m gonna see that boy. I’m not just gonna disappear like you want. I’ll be back. We’re gonna have our quality father-son time. So help me, we will, Cindy!” And he’s gone.

  The whole restaurant breathes a collective sigh.

  I bend down and kiss Nate on the top of his head. He walks over to Uncle James. As I turn to watch him go, my eyes rest on Hank. He looks at me with a knowing smile in his eyes.

  “Nice guy.”

  Seven

  Hank

  ‘Well, this has been a hell of a first day”, I think to myself. “I wonder if it’s always this exciting around here?” I figure it's time to start cleaning up for the day so I head back to the kitchen.

  “Hey Hank, what do you think of Cindy’s old man?” Ernesto asks me, trying to pull me into an awkward discussion in front of the rest of the staff. “Didn’t you want to just kick him in the cojones and watch him cry like a baby?”

  “That’s none of my business” I say, not wanting to get caught in the middle of some family drama. Back in Kansas, I was always g
ood at keeping my nose clean and avoiding trouble. But in a small town it’s almost impossible not to know everybody’s business. I need to get the lay of the land here before I put my foot in my mouth and then regret it later.

  “Alright, that’s enough chit chat, you old ladies,” Uncle James shouts. “Let’s get this place cleaned up and ready to close. Cindy, I’ll take Nate home while you make sure these rascals finish their work.” Cindy nods distractedly, and goes to find her son.

  I like cleaning up after a hard day at work. It’s a time to just take a breath and get your thoughts back together and kinda zone out for a spell. I start scrubbing down the grills with some soap and water, just humming a little Merle Haggard to myself.

  “Hey Hank, you play poker?” It’s Ernesto this time. Looks like a little quiet meditation is not something that happens in this room.

  “Yes Ernesto, I play a little poker once in a while,” I say, not wanting to tell him that I have won quite a few bucks in plenty of back rooms in Kansas.

  “That’s good,” he says. “Me and Juan and a couple of friends play every Friday night. The stakes are low but the beer is cold and the music is always pumping. You should join us.” I am about to answer when Juan joins in.

  “The stakes are low, Ernesto, because you set the rules and you are afraid of losing all of your money,” Juan yells over his shoulder as he continues to wash dishes.

  ‘It’s my house, so I set the rules,” Ernesto shouts back. “We can’t play in that matchbox you live in so shut up and stop complaining.

  “I would love to play with you two.” I say, jumping into the conversation. “In fact, how about I bring the beer the first time? We can keep the stakes low and just get to know each other.”

  “Hey, if you bring all the beer we will play whatever game you want,” Juan says, just as Cindy comes back into the kitchen.

  “Is this a party in here, or are you all gonna finish cleaning up so that I can get out of here and put my kid to bed?” She looks like she is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. I watch her as he starts putting pots and plates away.