Sweet Heat

by Zuri Day

  13

  When taping wrapped, Marvin found himself surrounded by press. Many of the reporters were locals with blogger websites and internet shows, but someone from one of the major food channels gave him a card. He basked in the spotlight, patiently answered all questions asked. While expertly handling the crowd around him he kept an eye out for Naomi, who’d sent a text asking if he wanted to grab a quick bite before he headed to work. He did, and headed toward the exit as soon as those around him dispersed. The room where the contestants had cooked was still a bustle of activity. Marvin noted Da Chen talking to another guy, someone Marvin had seen on one of the cooking channels. Had they seen the contest? Marvin hoped that Da witnessed the Marvin magic. Marvin was in a hurry to see Naomi, but knowing that the industry was all about networking and connections, he headed over to speak to Da and meet the other guy. Halfway there, he was intercepted.

  “Marvin!”

  “Oh, hey, Abs.” She stood directly in his path wearing an expression directly opposite of the one she’d worn earlier when he was with Naomi. “What’s up?”

  “You, that’s what. Getting the star treatment as you absolutely should. Congratulations!”

  “Thanks.”

  “I tasted a piece of your burger. Even lukewarm, it was really very good. I am so proud of you and totally not surprised.”

  “Thanks, Abs. As one of my former instructors, the compliment from you means a lot.”

  “Hopefully not just an instructor, but a good friend, too.”

  Marvin had no idea how she figured they were friends. They’d never talked outside of the classroom and until this contest he hadn’t seen her in years.

  “I appreciate that, Abbey, but . . .”

  “Oh, no, call me Abs!” She leaned closer, her green eyes twinkling. “You’re the only person who’s ever given me a nickname. My staunchly conservative mom would never have allowed it. But I really like it.”

  He stepped back, unable to hide his look of surprise. “Whoa, what are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Getting rather close, don’t you think?”

  “Would you stop being paranoid? I simply stated that you are the only person who’s ever given me a nickname. I like it. Makes me feel sexy, and I rarely feel that way.”

  I’ll be sure as hell not do it again. “I give everybody nicknames, Abbey,” he said pointedly. “I’ve done that since hanging with a bunch of kids on my block growing up.”

  She leaned into him. “I really like it.”

  “There you go again, invading my personal space.”

  “What’s the matter, Marvin? I don’t remember you being so uptight.”

  “I don’t remember you acting like this, all touchy-feely and everything. Sorry if you think I’m overreacting, but I remember you saying how my actions are perceived by others could jeopardize my chances to win. I don’t want to do that.”

  “Glad to hear you remember that, Marvin. Because when I saw you with Naomi earlier today, I thought you’d forgotten.”

  The very last thing Marvin wanted to do was talk with Abbey about Naomi. He looked up and Da Chen was heading toward the exit. He planned to do the same. “Excuse me. I need to holler at the chef real quick before he gets away.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, couldn’t get away soon enough. The way Abbey looked at him, giggling like a schoolgirl and acting all . . . weird. He hadn’t wanted to believe Naomi about Abbey having a thing for him, even after she flirted the other day. But he could no longer deny what Naomi suspected. For Marvin, that revelation was wrong on every level.

  Da Chen was talking with a couple reporters but waved Marvin over when he saw him waiting on the sidelines.

  “Magic Marvin!” The two men clasped hands and did the shoulder bump hug. “Is that what you’re going to call your truck if you win?”

  “I’ve got to win first, Da, but no, I don’t think so, dude. Sounds too much like Magic Mike.”

  “Even better, set yourself apart by wearing a G-string while you cook!”

  “Interesting idea, but I think I’ll pass. I want to become a respectable player in the industry, like you.”

  “Respectable is overrated.” Da signed a couple autographs, waved at a group passing by. “If you can have the fame and keep the work to anything less than eighty to a hundred and twenty hours a week? Take it.”

  “A hundred and twenty hours? Is that even possible?” Marvin’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and tapped the face.

  “Eighteen-hour days, bro.”

  Marvin nodded, responding to the text. “Maybe I’ll rethink that G-string idea.”

  Da Chen clapped his back and headed out of the room and down the hall. Marvin was right behind him. He sent another text and then put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Nay, are you in the parking lot?”

  Checking his phone for a reply, he continued down the convention center’s long corridor to the set of double doors that led outside. It was just after five, and even though he was scheduled to report to work as soon as the contest taping was over, he was glad he’d accepted Naomi’s invitation to grab a bite first. Employees could eat free at work, but after working there for so many years he’d burned himself out on everything they cooked. He pulled on a pair of sunglasses and headed toward the street where Naomi said she was parked. He turned the corner, walked almost a block, and finally saw the car he looked for, idling at the curb. He opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

  “Dang, woman. You trying to make me exercise or what?”

  “Just getting away from prying eyes.”

  “Why are you tripping on Abbey?”

  “Shoot, she’s only one of several women checking you out. Especially after our win. They were on you like white on rice.”

  “People were looking for you, too.”

  “I talked to a few folk. But I had other things on my mind.” She eyed him pointedly.

  “A lot of people are probably hooking up in here. Did you check out Mr. Zen and the Asian sister on the blue team?”

  Naomi shook her head. “From the time the buzzer sounded, if it wasn’t a potato or a waffle iron, I wasn’t looking at it.”

  She looked Marvin up and down. Glanced into the backseat. Eyed him again.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” She pulled away from the curb.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a place I heard has delicious hot dogs.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I know you don’t eat that unidentifiable meat.”

  “It’s not unidentified. The ingredients are listed right on the package. Usually pork, beef, or turkey. But we need a little more room. Let’s take your SUV.”

  Marvin furrowed his brow. “Why, are we going to eat the dogs or stuff the casings and cook them, too?”

  “You ask too many questions. Where’s your car?”

  Marvin directed her to the second floor of the parking garage. As luck would have it, there was an empty space next to his car.

  She pulled in, turned off the engine and fixed him with a sweet smile. “Shall we?” He put his hand on the handle but didn’t open the door. “What?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Feels like you’re up to something.”

  Naomi laughed. “Stop being paranoid.”

  She got out of the car first and crossed to Marvin’s SUV. He tapped his key fob to unlock her door. She opened it and slipped inside.

  Marvin slid into the driver’s seat. “You really must be hungry. I was going to get the door for you, but . . .”

  He turned the car to the auxiliary position to pair his phone’s Bluetooth but instead of turning over the engine he watched, confused, as Naomi slid to her knees and tried to turn around.

  “Dang, I thought this SUV would be bigger, but . . .” She looked around. “Push your seat back.”

  “Why? What are you doing?”

  She found the manual handle that controlled her seat
and pushed it back. “Looking for something, okay?”

  “What, an earring?”

  Naomi huffed.

  “Okay, dang.” He reached for the lever and eased his seat back, too, turned up the sound of his wannabe rapper friend’s mixed tape. It had a driving bass beat against a syncopated yell and clap sampled from a 70s R & B band.

  Naomi reached for his belt.

  Marvin stayed her hand. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like? I changed my mind about a hot dog and want this sausage instead. Now lean the seat back and try not to look like someone’s giving you head.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this here?” Marvin looked one direction and then the other, imagining stalker Abbey or someone else who shouldn’t see them lurking between cars.

  Naomi had unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zipper. She slipped her hand inside his boxers and began to massage his appendage. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do it?”

  Naomi smiled as instead of responding Marvin shifted his leg so she could get better positioned. That’s what I thought. She pulled the tip of his limp member into her mouth, relishing the power that came from giving oral. Kristy wasn’t that into it and would only do it on a reciprocal basis. But truth be told, this was the only hot dog Naomi ate, and her absolute favorite. That it was happening in a public place and in the daytime made it even better. The risk and naughtiness of public sex turned her on. That she was going to take what she wanted right here, right now, caused her nipples to harden as sparks shot through her heat. Moisture lined the lips pressed against her cotton thong. Her muscles clutched, as if remembering the tongue that had pressed up against them. Would giving Marvin pleasure be enough to calm the raging desire she felt for this man? If they had time, if she could find a way to ride him in the front seat, who knew what might happen later.

  It wasn’t long before Marvin’s soldier began to stir, responding to her gentle sucking motion by rising up and getting hard. She steadied him with her hand and continued to lick and suck, enjoying the sounds that confirmed the excellent job she did. Hisses. Groans. Then a hand to the back of her head as she began a rhythmic up-and-down slide, her head moving to the beat of the song playing, one she hadn’t heard before but one that couldn’t have had a better or more appropriate hook for the moment.

  Slip. And Slide. Slip, slip and slide, slide. Dip. And glide. Dip, dip and glide.

  She followed instructions very well. Marvin added a layer of creative sound. His moans and whispered instructions delivered on the upbeat.

  Yeah. Um. Just like that. Shit.

  Naomi knew he was ready to blow when he placed a hand on the back of her head and began pumping with purpose. She welcomed the finale, continued absorbing Marvin’s ecstasy until with a last whimper and a final shiver, he exhaled and became still.

  Slip. And Slide. Slip, slip and slide . . .

  Naomi cursed as legs that had been bent too long in a position that wasn’t comfortable in the first place protested that she was trying to move them.

  “Help me up!”

  Marvin looked down, his expression genuinely perplexed. “Help you up to where?”

  Naomi took in his wide-eyed puppy face and limp dick, and her predicament, and laughed at the question she’d asked. “Okay, I know I drained the pump and zapped your energy. I’ll give you a minute.”

  “I don’t believe this.”

  “What? You know it’s true. Besides, you try and get all this I’m packing up and moving in one direction while trapped in a space smaller than a carryon bag.”

  “No, not you. Damn, move. Quick! No, not up! Stay down.”

  She heard the car start, felt it back up as she made it over the hump in the floor and could stretch out her legs.

  “What in the hell, Marvin! Who did you see?”

  “You don’t even want to know.”

  “Abbey.”

  “Yep.”

  “Did she see you?”

  “I don’t think so. If she had, she would have walked over and that would have been a jacked-up situation. Hold on.”

  “Where are you going? My foot is tingling, it’s just about dead!”

  “Up to the roof. There’s hardly any cars up there.”

  Naomi, now on the passenger side, got to her knees.

  “You can get up now.”

  “You should have stayed parked.” Naomi pushed against the seat and was finally able to plop down in it. “I would have waited until she spoke, then lifted my head and said boo!”

  They both cracked up at that.

  “Girl, you are something else.”

  “Just wanted you to know that I’m not running away from nothing.”

  “Man, if I didn’t have to go to work I’d take you to a hotel and get all up in all of that!”

  “Promises, promises.”

  “I’m serious, juicy girl. But for now . . .” Naomi watched him check the time and turn the car toward the exit ramp. “I’ve got to go.”

  It wasn’t long before they were idling next to Naomi’s car.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” Marvin asked.

  “You, I hope.”

  Naomi grabbed her purse and got out of the car without waiting for an answer. She crossed over to her car, started it up and headed out of the parking lot before Marvin had put his car in reverse. On the way out of the structure, she secretly hoped to run into Abbey, while the taste of Marvin’s happiness was still on her tongue. She didn’t see her or anyone else from the contest. Naomi was a little let down by that. Now that she’d won next best dish of the day, everyone knew what she’d tried to tell them. Naomi Carson was a force to be reckoned with! She’d especially tried to get Marvin to listen, but showing him instead was much more fun. She laughed, thinking about the look on his face when she reached inside his boxers and realization dawned as to the type of hot dog she wanted. He may have thought the move she made today was super hot, but Naomi knew their pot of passion had just begun to boil.

  14

  One a.m. on a Saturday night, technically Sunday morning, and the Soul Spot was packed. Economically, the decision to extend the café’s weekend hours had been a good one. Usually though, around this time, Marvin would begin to feel the fatigue of what could easily be a twelve-to-fourteen-hour day. Not tonight though. For one he hadn’t clocked in until after the contest’s second-round taping and Naomi’s pick-me-up, hitting the kitchen around seven o’clock. For another he’d cooked practically all night by rote, his mind consumed with Naomi. He had to admit that what she did today he never saw coming. The unexpected move was as decadent as it was dangerous, and showed Marvin that Naomi’s skills weren’t limited to the kitchen. Baby girl could no doubt serve it up in the bedroom, too. With the stolen moments they’d shared being so explosive, he could hardly imagine how a full, uninterrupted night of loving would be. If he had anything to say about the matter, he wouldn’t have to imagine for long. Any thought of waiting until the contest was over to start anything was out the window. “Anything” had already begun. He planned to book a room next week and invite Naomi over for a night of loving. Then he planned to win the contest, get the food truck and get his own place.

  “Marvin, one of your hoes is here for you.”

  He whipped around, but Charlotte had delivered that jab and darted out of the kitchen. Good move since he had a mind to remove the towel from around his neck and pop her with it. Of course, none of Willie Carter’s boys would actually hurt a woman. But, for a nanosecond, the thought might cross their minds. As it was, Marvin simply turned off the burner, reached for a towel, and wiped his forehead as he headed into the dining room with a big smile on his face.

  Big turned small quickly as he approached the last person he expected to see tonight, standing midway in a line that went out the door. “Abbey?”

  From her expression he knew she’d seen his demeanor change.

  “Who were you expecting, Naomi?”

  “Wasn’t expecti
ng anybody, least of all you. What are you doing here?”

  “What everyone else here came to do—eat.”

  “Long way to drive for a late-night bite.”

  “Not when you know a chef who can make one that is super delicious. I kept thinking about that burger you made today. Decided to drive over and take the chance that you could whip up one for me.”

  Marvin quelled the urge to sigh. Instead he nodded at the long line of other people waiting. “I can, but it’ll take a minute.”

  “I’ve got time.”

  “Up to an hour, maybe?” Marvin knew the line might move faster, but he really wanted Abbey to go back home.

  “Marvin!”

  He could have kissed the assistant cook’s ugly mug, but instead barked a rushed “I’ll be back” to Abbey and headed back to the kitchen. For the next thirty minutes his cooking looked choreographed—flipping, turning, stirring, burning. He almost forgot Abbey was out there, but when he passed the hall on the way to the bathroom he saw that she’d been seated. On his way back to the kitchen he stopped at her table.

  “I see you made it to a table.”

  “Yes, and I’ve been looking at the plates coming out, and the people eating. Everybody seems to really love your food.”

  “Drunk folk like anything,” Marvin said humbly. But he appreciated the compliment. “So do this, order the deluxe patty plate with toppings on the side. That way I’ll know it’s yours and try and re-create what I did earlier.”

  Back in the kitchen, Marvin came as close as he could. The barbecue sauce came out of a bottle, bottled jalapenos replaced scorched poblanos, and a very respectable fried potato replaced Naomi’s hash browns, but Marvin felt he’d done justice to the memory of the day’s Triple-B. Having only snacked his way through service himself, he’d plated one for him too, and walked them out himself.

  “Here you go, um, Abbey.” He set the plate in front of Abbey, then sat down on the other side.

  “The burger and your company? I feel special. But what happened to Abs?”