by Zuri Day
Nana sat in her favorite seat, a cushiony upholstered rocker that had seen better years. Two steps in and Naomi stopped abruptly. “You didn’t.”
Nana’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, I did, too.”
“Chicken and dumplings?” Nana nodded. “And banana pudding?”
“Good nose, girl.”
“Nana!” Alcoholic beverages forgotten, Naomi rushed over and gave her grandmother a hearty hug and kiss. “What got into you to do all that cooking?”
“Most of it is for church tomorrow. There’s always a fellowship after first Sunday’s service. You should go with me. A little of the Lord will do you good. What do you have in that bag?”
“What I thought would be dinner.” Naomi backed rapidly away. “But this junk food is no competition for your food from scratch. And speaking of, I bought you some scratchers. Be right back!”
Surprisingly, Nana ended up being Naomi’s date for the evening. Usually in bed by nine o’clock on a Saturday night, her grandmother spied an old Sidney Poitier movie coming on television and stayed up to watch it. Complete with delightful sidebars during commercials on how her young Claude resembled the young Sidney, only much handsomer, and how some of the scenes in the classic that also starred Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy reminded her of the first visit home when her “cup of strong black coffee” met her somewhat uppity, slightly color-struck Creole clan. Naomi pigged out on Nana’s good cooking while drinking her contraband liquor from an innocent-looking, daisy-covered Dollar Tree glass. By the time the movie ended and Naomi went to her room, she’d almost forgotten about that guy named Marvin who’d earlier gotten on her nerves. But when she got into bed and slipped between the covers, memories of that meddlesome man and the scrumptious-smelling cake he’d baked reentered her mind. If he was half as good in the bedroom as he appeared to be in the kitchen . . . Naomi flipped over, punched her pillow and chased the thoughts away. She was trying to win fifty thousand dollars and change her and Nana’s life. What a competitor could or couldn’t do in the bedroom was none of her business.
Ain’t nobody got time for that!
5
Marvin swatted the alarm clock buzzer, second-guessing the decision he’d made at one in the morning to cover the head cook’s six a.m. shift on Sunday, the restaurant’s busiest day of the week. Seemed like a good idea at the time, maybe because he was still stoked at having made it through yesterday’s Food Truck Bucks general call. Plus, Marvin knew the more money he made the faster he could move out of his parents’ home and get his own place again. Not that they minded having him there. With their baby boy, Barry, practically living at his girlfriend’s house, they’d encouraged Marvin to move back home. He hadn’t had much of a choice at the time. When his roommates bailed from the pricey Culver City condo they shared, he’d tried for a couple months to swing the rent on his own. But he couldn’t handle two thousand a month on what he was making. Cooking shows made the occupation seem glamorous, but the average cook didn’t make Bobby Flay money. They made paycheck-to-paycheck money. To get anything extra, he had to work extra shifts.
Thirty-two minutes later, he pulled into the Soul Spot restaurant’s parking lot and drove to the far corner where employees parked. Not having checked the weather, he wasn’t prepared for the slight drizzle that began halfway there. He exited the car and dashed toward the back entrance. Within minutes he’d donned a white apron and cap, and had large pots of water boiling for oatmeal, grits, and rice, ready to feed the large, nonstop Sunday crowd, easily the restaurant’s most profitable day.
Ten minutes later, the back doorbell rang. Marvin looked at the camera and hit the buzzer. His line cook slogged through the door, head hanging.
“Hey, Ricky.” Marvin did a double take. “Look what the cat drug in.”
“Glad the cat helped me, brother, because I probably wouldn’t have made it on my own.”
“Too much partying last night?”
“Too much brandy.” Ricky rubbed his stomach and made a face. “Man! I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hang for the whole shift.”
“Oh, no. Don’t go trying to make a case for leaving early again, Ricky. You know how badly we get slammed on Sundays.”
“Why do you think I’m here? I knew Donald had called in sick, like he does every other week. Anybody else and their ass would have been fired. But not the owner’s son.”
A nod of the head was Marvin’s only response. Sometimes walls had ears.
“Everybody knows you should be the head cook in this joint.”
“Head chef.”
Ricky fixed bloodshot eyes on Marvin’s back. Watched him pull a tub of meat from an industrial-sized refrigerator. “What does your check say you are, a chef or a cook?”
“Check says I’m damn near unemployed.”
Ricky’s boisterous laughter turned into a coughing fit. “Oh, man, I think I’m going to be sick.” He dashed out of the kitchen.
“Just what I need,” Marvin mumbled. “A drunk sideman.”
He pulled on a vinyl glove, dug into the tub of sausage and pulled out a large chunk of meat. He added pepper flakes to the already spicy mix, formed a patty, and slapped it on the grill. The doorbell rang again. He checked the camera and pushed the buzzer, then cracked a couple eggs onto the sizzling iron. Janet entered the kitchen. Ricky returned a short time later.
Marvin set a plated sandwich on the counter. “Eat that.”
“What is it?” Ricky asked.
“Where’s mine?” was Janet’s question.
“It’ll help your hangover,” Marvin said. He looked at Janet. “Morning, Miss Bossy.”
“Morning, moody. Where’s my breakfast?”
“In the refrigerator. Bread’s over there.”
She looked at Ricky. “See how he does me? Biting the hand that fed him.”
“You didn’t feed me, woman. Told me about the job, though.”
“I tried to feed you. But you’re scared to come over to my house.”
“He needs to be,” Ricky said around a mouthful of sausage, egg, and cheese. “You’re a man-eater!” He started singing the popular 90s tune. They all burst out laughing.
Marvin alternately teased and tortured Ricky and Janet, but they were his favorite coworkers. Ricky had worked at the restaurant for years, and aside from his penchant for booze, weed, and scandalous women, he was a decent cook. Janet was like a big sister, giving him a hard time every chance she got, but would give him her last dollar if he needed it.
He glanced at the clock. “All right, family. Playtime’s over. We open in ten.”
Marvin was right. From the moment Janet turned on the OPEN sign and unlocked the front door, a steady stream of customers poured into the dining room. As restaurants went, it was on the small side, seating just sixty-two diners. An hour into being open, every table was full, with a line going outside. Marvin and Ricky knocked out orders in record time, thanks to Marvin’s prep work and cooking skills. A limited menu also helped, but the orders kept on coming. Two hours in and Marvin hadn’t even glanced out the kitchen to gauge the crowd, much less go out as he often did to chat with family and friends who came by, or to get a stranger’s opinion on his food. The dining room was loud, but at just past noon, a melodic burst of laughter floated over the din of other voices. Not just any laugh. One that caused Marvin to pause and look in the direction of the sound. Was it her? He flipped the egg ordered over-easy, gently slipped it onto a spatula, and placed it on top of a plated pile of ground beef, potatoes, and onions all cooked together and simply called smash. He reached a hand into the warmer, tossed on a couple biscuits, and set the plate in the window. “Order up!”
Taking the tip of a towel slung across his shoulder, he wiped his brow while crossing the kitchen and stepped just beyond the door, enough to see but not be seen. Two seconds was all it took and . . . there she was. Gold hoops, yellow maxi, hair pulled up and away from her round, pretty face. Standing and yapping nonstop with a woman beside h
er. Another big pretty, though not as captivating as Naomi. There was a light about the girl he’d met yesterday that shined through the attitude and hard veneer. She laughed. He smiled. Sunshine. That’s what she reminded him of—the sun, round, bright, and hot. Juicy too, though, like a plump, ripe melon.
Janet bumped him on her way to pick up the order. “Back to work! You don’t have time to be shopping right now.”
Marvin smiled, working the toothpick in his mouth as he returned to the kitchen. I knew she was feeling me. At least he hoped so, because while he might deny it if asked outright, he was feeling her.
Janet returned to the kitchen.
“Hey, Janet. Do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Go pull that girl in the yellow dress out of the line and get her a table.”
“And have twenty hungry Negroes mad at me? Messing with my tip money? I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Janet. Just stroll down nice and official-like and tell her their table is ready. Anybody asks, say they came in earlier and then came back.”
Janet scowled. “You want me to pull her out of line and lie on a Sunday?”
“Won’t be your first time. Come on, now. I’ll owe you one.”
“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.” She turned and sashayed out of the kitchen. “And you don’t owe me one, you owe me several.”
* * *
A cool Naomi and confused Kristy followed Janet to a table in the corner. Janet placed down their menus and offered a tight smile. “Your server will be here shortly to take your order.”
Kristy watched as Janet walked away. “What just happened?”
“What do you mean?” Naomi asked as she scanned the menu.
“Why’d we get pulled out of line like that?”
“Because we’re special, that’s why.”
“I’m serious.”
“I am, too.” Hearing the concern in her cousin’s voice, Naomi looked up. “Marvin probably did it.”
“Who’s Marvin?”
“A guy I met downtown yesterday.”
“At the contest?” Naomi nodded. “So you did meet somebody.”
“I met several somebodies. It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big enough deal for you to drag me out of the house and pay for my meal. A big enough deal for him to spot you and pull you out of line.” Naomi shrugged. “Did you give him some?”
“Girl, please.”
“Don’t please me. Stop acting coy and tell me what happened.”
“Nothing happened! We were next to each other in line, that’s all, because of our last names. His Carter to my Carson.”
“Soon to be Carter?”
“You’re the one trying to marry every man you meet, not me.”
Kristy clucked her tongue. “The way you begged me to come here and eat, I can’t tell. Which one is he?”
Naomi looked toward the front. “He’s back in the kitchen most likely.”
Kristy eyed her cousin with suspicion. “No wonder you were so quick to call this your treat. You probably won’t even have to pay for the meal.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Uh-huh. I know you gave him some, now.”
Naomi laughed. “No, I didn’t!”
“Take your order.”
The stranger’s matter-of-fact voice startled them both. Wrapped up in their conversation, neither woman had heard the server approach. Naomi sensed anger in the woman’s tone, but dismissed it as an employee having a bad day. She’d had plenty of those herself.
Naomi looked at Kristy. “Do you know what you want?”
“I usually get the number three. Maybe I should try something different.” She looked at the server, smiled, and asked politely, “Which one would you suggest?”
“Whichever one you want to eat.” No smile. Not polite.
“They all look good,” Kristy said, shrinking a little into herself. “I just wanted a suggestion.”
“I just gave you one.”
There was no mistaking the funk this time. Or her cousin’s feelings of intimidation. “Aren’t you being a bit rude?” Naomi asked.
“She asked a question. I answered it. Now are you ready to order or not?”
Naomi bristled. “No, but I’m ready to add some kick-ass to that attitude you’re serving up.”
The petite server dished up a second helping. “Trust me, you don’t want none of this.”
“Oh, yeah? I don’t think you want none of this either.” Naomi pushed back and rose to her full five feet seven inches, towering over the worker who’d riled her nerves. A hundred and seventy-five pounds of I’m-not-the-one added volume that increased with every word. “In fact, I don’t think you want to wait on this table. Where is the manager?”
“You’d better get out of my face.”
“I said get the manager now!”
Marvin rushed into the dining room. “Ladies, ladies!” He stepped in between Naomi and the worker. “Charlotte, I’ve got this one.”
She looked at him like there was poo on his face. “Oh, so this is another one of your tricks? Should have known.” She looked back at Naomi. “No home training.”
“I’ve got your home training. Matter of fact, let me give it to you right—” Naomi reached for Charlotte, but Marvin blocked the blow with a firm grip on her arms. “Ignore her, Naomi. Please. Let’s not make more of a scene than has already happened.”
Naomi plopped down in her seat, staring in the direction the server had walked.
“Why are you trying to start a brawl in here?”
“I didn’t start it. She’s the one who brought attitude to the table. Don’t nobody talk to my family like that.”
Marvin took in Naomi’s thundercloud expression with a slight smile. “Family first, huh?”
“Damn right! Family is everything.” She looked up. “What’s that goofy grin for?”
“Nothing. I apologize for our server’s behavior.”
Naomi mocked Charlotte. “One of your tricks? I should have known.”
“Don’t take it personally. She was born unhappy.”
“Come at me again like that and she’s going to die that way.”
“You ain’t killing nobody, cousin. Calm your ass down.”
“Have you placed your order?” Marvin asked.
“No,” Kristy answered. “And if we do, I don’t want her anywhere near our food.”
“I’ll handle it personally. Matter of fact, if you don’t mind, let me whip up something just for the two of you. Chef’s special. Fair enough?”
“I guess.” Naomi sat but was clearly still in a huff.
“There are several orders ahead of you two, so it will be about fifteen, twenty minutes, but I am working on it. Something to drink in the meantime?”
“Yes, preferably something with alcohol,” Kristy replied. “So Naomi can go ahead and chill the bump out.”
“Sorry, but we don’t serve alcohol.”
“I know,” Kristy replied.
Marvin winked at Kristy and squeezed Naomi’s shoulder. “Calm down, Mayweather, so I can stop refereeing and cook you something nice. Deal?”
Mayweather was still too steamed to speak.
“What’s your name?” Kristy asked.
“Marvin.”
“Thank you, Marvin. Naomi and I appreciate you coming out of the kitchen to help.”
“My pleasure.” With a short bow, he turned and left.
Kristy tore into Naomi, her voice low and fierce. “Girl, what is the matter with you?”
“Don’t start in on me. If you’d taken up for yourself, I wouldn’t have had to.”
“This isn’t grade school, Nay, and we’re not on the block. I don’t need you to take up for me.” She reached over, gave Naomi’s arm a squeeze. “I appreciate it, though.”
“Whatever.”
“I understand your frustration. He’s cute.”
“You under . . . he’s . . . you think this
is about Marvin?”
“I know it is. And you need to get with that brother as soon as possible.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s got what you need to relieve all that tension you’re holding. Something that doesn’t require batteries. You feel me?”
Thirty minutes and two fresh-squeezed orange juice drinks later, Marvin approached their table with a loaded tray. French toast, eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and a bowl of freshly sliced fruit. Naomi had calmed down by the time the food arrived. She dug in with relish and heartily ate. It was some of the best food she’d ever tasted.
As they finished up, Marvin came out of the kitchen again. “How was everything?”
“You cooked all of that?” Kristy asked.
“Every bit of it.”
“This your restaurant?”
“No.” Marvin laughed.
“Well, it should be, because when it comes to cooking, you’re the straight-up boss.”
“Thank you. Naomi?”
She ran a finger through a small bit of syrup on her plate, licked it and said casually, “It was alright.”
Marvin looked pointedly at a plate so clean it almost looked washed, picked it up, and caught Naomi’s eye. “I see.”
Everyone laughed at that, even a few from surrounding tables.
“It was good, Marvin,” she admitted. “Not enough to beat me in the contest, but enough to where I see that you know how to do your job.”
“You are something else.”
“Thank you.”
Kristy looked disgusted. “She’s something else alright.”
“Whatever.” Naomi looked at Marvin. “Can we get the check, please?”
“I’ll take care of that. But only if I can get something from you.”
“What?”
He smiled. “Your number.”
Naomi sat back as if to ponder the request.
Kristy sat up. “If she won’t give you hers, you can have mine.”
“Back off, chick,” Naomi warned.
“Ha! I thought so. You may act crazy, but you haven’t totally lost your mind.”
They left the restaurant, thoughts of the incident and Marvin temporarily forgotten after Kristy complained of feeling sick and Naomi played nursemaid. But later that night, Naomi replayed the day’s events in her head. She didn’t regret defending her cousin, but admitted to herself that she could have used a calmer approach. She admitted something else, too. Something she’d downplayed when Kristy said it. She thought Marvin was cute, and sexy, too. And if he played his cards right, she’d offer him a tasty treat that wasn’t on anybody’s menu. But only after she’d won the truck and the money. She’d keep her guard up until then.