Sweet Heat

by Zuri Day

  “Nana, ladies, this is Marvin, one of the competitors in the contest I entered. Food Truck Bucks.”

  “Hello, everybody.”

  Naomi watched as Marvin worked the room like a politician up for reelection. He stepped first to her grandmother and held out his hand. “You must be Naomi’s grandmother Nana.”

  “Why, yes I am.”

  “Mrs. Carson, I know we’re not related, but do you mind if I call you Nana, too? My grandmother lives in Mississippi. We don’t see her much, and your warmth and ageless beauty remind me of her.”

  “Ooh, did you hear that?” one of the ladies asked no one in particular. “He said she is a beauty.”

  Miss Josephine’s focus had been different. “I just heard him mention age.”

  Meanwhile, a clearly impressed Nana nodded her head.

  “Nana, thanks for letting me come over.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Naomi could have sworn she saw a blush to Nana’s cheek. He offered a handshake and smile to the others as he crossed to his seat.

  “Something sure smells good,” he said, once he reached his seat and sat down. “Nana, when it comes to the kitchen, I’m sure you taught Naomi everything she knows.”

  “W-w-well . . .”

  Naomi remained standing, taking in the phenomena that a woman she’d known her entire life, and had seen talk a blue streak ten feet long, was stuttering her words.

  “Let me get your plate,” Naomi told Marvin, and broke the awkward silence. As she headed toward the kitchen and heard Miss Josephine’s question, she experienced a brief moment where she wished the quiet had remained.

  “Are you the young man I saw leaving here the other night? The one who had to push his car to get it started?”

  Naomi stopped, frozen. Had there been a sinkhole in the middle of Nana’s kitchen, she would have gladly disappeared through it. Then she heard Marvin’s answer, delivered on the waves of self-conscious yet endearing laughter, and fell just a little bit more in love.

  “You must be Miss Josephine.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Because Naomi told me that you’d observed me pushing my car to get it started and told Mrs. Carson, Nana. I told her that you reminded me of the lady who used to live next to my mother, the one who inspired my love for baking. She made it her business to know everybody else’s business, along with a few more single, retired ladies. They provided better security than the LAPD. Nothing got past them on our block. By the time I graduated, neighborhood crime was almost nonexistent. We need more women like you.”

  Naomi brought out his salad and finished her own, glad not to have to carry the conversation. Marvin handled those older women like rare art, admiring, complimenting, and giving them the respect due an elder. He regaled them with tales of growing up in Inglewood, of his father’s war stories and his mother left to raise five boys. He removed the salad plates while she brought out the entrée, which had been plated on a porcelain serving dish. Everyone oohed and aahed at the tender meat, the nicely seasoned potatoes and carrots, the crispy char on the garlic and onions, and how perfectly the accompanying Texas toast sopped up all that juice. Right after she’d delivered small bowls of vanilla ice cream topped with warm oatmeal cookies, Marvin surprised her again.

  “I’m sorry to bring this up in front of mixed company, but Nana, I owe you an apology. The other night I came over without asking your permission. I know that wasn’t right because it isn’t how I was raised. When you came home early, me and Naomi freaked out. I thought about what my mother would do and hid under the bed.”

  He nodded at Miss Josephine’s wide-eyed expression. “I know it’s hard to imagine getting this two-hundred-plus body between Naomi’s bed and the floor, but not as hard as actually doing it with only seconds to spare. My back is still recovering from trying to hide, and if I never again see a bedspring, it’ll be too soon.”

  Margaret whooped. “Lord! I’ve heard everything now.”

  “We didn’t get all the way into things, if you know what I mean, but I still felt guilty.”

  “Not many young men would do what you did just now,” Nana said. “Naomi knows I don’t like her having men in the house with the door closed. I know she’s grown, but as long as she is under my roof she has to go by my rules.”

  “You’re absolutely right, and I’m very sorry for seeming disrespectful, even though that wasn’t my intent. Can you forgive me for coming over without making sure it was alright with you?”

  Nana was so impressed that Naomi thought she’d not only forgive Marvin but invite him to spend the night. That didn’t happen, but as the women enjoyed coffee and Marvin helped her clean the kitchen, Naomi knew one thing for absolute sure. Marvin Carter was a keeper, almost worth as much as a first-place win in Food Truck Bucks. She knew it was a long shot for her to take home both prizes, but she also knew that nothing beat a failure but a try.

  18

  The next week passed without Marvin seeing Naomi. She was never far from his mind though, something that intrigued and irked him at the same time. The separation wasn’t his choice. It couldn’t be helped. Donald fired a new cook and then went on vacation. The girl hadn’t been qualified to begin with and should have lost her job. Being the boss, Donald should have postponed his vacation until a replacement was found. But that would have been too much like right. So for the past week Marvin had worked like a slave, but after taxes came out of his paycheck, had little to prove it. Phone calls revealed that Naomi had been busy, too, running between houses to care for her cousin and grandmother, who’d both been afflicted with the same stomach virus. He’d heard the worry and vulnerability in Naomi’s voice when they talked, and goaded her to try and boost her spirits and bring back the strong personality he’d met that first day. “Don’t let a virus be the excuse for why you drop out of the race, instead of the real reason—that you can’t beat me.” Whether it was those words or something else, when he arrived at the convention center the following Saturday, Naomi’s was one of the first faces he saw.

  “Hey, Juicy. You look good today.”

  “Hey, Magic Marvin.” They enjoyed a brief hug. “Flattery will get you everywhere, but it won’t distract me.”

  “Always accusing me of ulterior motives when I’m just speaking the truth and trying to be nice.”

  “In that case, thank you.”

  “That’s better. You’re welcome. How’s your cousin? And Nana?”

  “They’re both doing better, but I worry about Nana. She says she’s feeling better, but sometimes I think she tells me what she thinks I want to hear.”

  “Did you take her to the doctor and have her checked out?”

  “I wanted to, but she wouldn’t hear of it, said there wasn’t a cure for getting old.”

  Marvin instinctively wrapped his arms around her. “Hang in there, baby. Everything is going to be okay.”

  He felt her take a deep breath before she pushed him away. “It sure will,” Naomi said, bravado back in her voice. “As soon as I kick your butt and take this prize!”

  “We’ll see about that,” Marvin countered, while secretly wishing they could both win. If it weren’t for the fact that winning the contest would jumpstart his future, he’d win and then give her the prize.

  Before Marvin had time to wrestle with that unexpected emotion, round three of the preliminaries began. Instead of Ted, Da Chen was on stage surrounded by a group of people holding signs. The contestants took their seats, curiosity in their faces. Like them, Marvin wondered who the group was and what was on the signs each one of them held, until he recognized one of them as the owner of a food truck. Marvin smiled, hoping they’d get a chance to actually cook on one. Da Chen took the mike without having to ask for quiet. The participants held a collective breath as tension and expectation fairly crackled through the room.

  “Wow, it’s quiet in here. You guys look nervous. I know you’re feeling the pressure, but relax. You’re going to live, I promise. You
believe me?”

  A smattering of responses floated across the room.

  “Up until now, the focus has been on your cooking chops, but the name of this competition is what?” Da put a hand to his ear.

  “Food Truck Bucks!”

  “That’s right, so today we’re going to focus on the food truck. Onstage are fifteen owners of some of LA’s most successful and popular food trucks. The name of their food truck is written on the sign they’re holding. Stephanie, one of the show’s producers, is handing out envelopes to each of you. Don’t open them yet. Once everyone has an envelope, you’ll open them up and match your name with the food truck owner standing on stage. The two of you will cook on their truck today and will be required to add a dish of your choice that will complement their current menu. Then you’ll go out on the streets of LA where you’ll have three-and-a-half hours to shop, cook, and sell your dish. The ten teams that come back with the most money will move on to the fourth and final round. That means there are five teams here today that won’t be here next week.”

  Once everyone had an envelope, Da held up his hand. “Your time will begin as soon as the envelopes are opened and that time . . . starts . . . now!”

  He brought down his hand and a mini chaos ensued. Participants scrambled to find the other person holding the same food truck name, then hurried to that owner. Marvin was hoping to get Phil, the owner he knew had hamburgers on his menu. He was also hoping the gods would smile and he’d get paired with Naomi. Neither happened. He ended up with a truck that sold Mexican food, and when he looked Naomi was nowhere in sight. Still, four hours later when everyone returned to the center and the results came in, neither Marvin nor Naomi had sold the most of their dish, but both lived to cook another week.

  “I see you made it,” he said when they reconnected.

  “Barely,” Naomi responded. “When I got a truck that sold cupcakes, I almost died.”

  “Man, you got desserts?” Marvin asked. “I would have taken first prize with that one. Life isn’t fair.”

  “What did you get?” Naomi asked. Marvin told her. “So what did you make, a barbecued taco?”

  “Yep.”

  “Quit playing.”

  “I’m not. I used a barbecue base for the ground beef, added black-eyed peas, sautéed kale for my greens, and covered it with cheese.”

  “Dang, I was playing, but that actually sounds good.”

  “It was.” Marvin saw movement in his peripheral vision, took Naomi’s arm and guided them toward the exit. “Don’t look around, but trouble’s coming. Let’s go outside.”

  “Who was it?” Naomi whispered.

  “Take one guess.”

  “Abbey’s still chasing you? Why don’t you go ahead and give her some of that Marvin magic?”

  “Because I’d rather give it to you.”

  Once outside, Marvin donned his shades as he breathed in the warm June air. He and Naomi fell into a comfortable silence as they walked across the street to the parking structure. It was a beautiful day, he’d made it to the final preliminary round, he was off tonight and felt like celebrating.

  “What are you getting ready to do?”

  “I don’t know, why?”

  “I thought about doing something together to celebrate making it into the final round.”

  “You don’t have to work?”

  “I’ve been doing that for the past ten days straight.”

  “What do you feel like doing?”

  Marvin’s eyes took a slow journey from Naomi’s silky braids to her gladiator sandals. “Getting my groove on with you. But later though, after we find somewhere to kick it in the city, do something fun.”

  “Like a club or something?”

  “No, I never was much into that scene. Do you bowl?”

  “No, do you?”

  “Heck yeah. But you play pool, right?”

  “I do alright.”

  “Do you skate?”

  Naomi smiled. “Since I was eight or nine years old.”

  “Then let’s go skating!”

  “Are you sure you can keep up?”

  “Girl, I’ll skate rings around you.”

  “We’re going to see.”

  “We sure will.”

  “Where do you want to go?” Naomi rattled off a list of options.

  “See, I knew you weren’t a true rink rat. Because if you were, the first place you would have mentioned was BRS in Long Beach.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “When was the last time you went skating?”

  “About five years ago.”

  “No wonder. Bounce/Roll/Skate has only been open a couple years. I can follow you home if you’d like, and then you can ride with me.”

  “I need to spend a little time with Nana. Text me the address and I’ll meet you later, around nine o’clock. Is that cool?”

  “That’s cool.”

  They reached Naomi’s car. Marvin kept walking toward his. “I’ll see you in a few. Prepare to be amazed.”

  A couple hours later a freshly showered and shaved Marvin pulled into the crowded BRS parking lot just as a text came in from Naomi saying she’d be late. He texted back and asked her shoe size. After shooting off a couple more texts and hanging out on social media a bit, he went inside, played a couple video games and rented their skates. Naomi arrived a short time later. Marvin’s heart did a little flip-flop at the sight of her—stretch jeans, a Raiders tee covering her luscious melons, a sight so mouthwatering that Marvin, a Seahawks fan, forgave her lack of good sense when it came to choosing football apparel. Her braids were pulled back, revealing a fresh face, no makeup, which she didn’t need. Naomi’s butterscotch skin was blemish-free and soft as a baby’s bottom. Not that he’d felt many, but that’s what he’d heard. He found himself wishing that instead of going skating he’d suggested they spend the night doing horizontal aerobics.

  “About time you got here.”

  “At least I texted you, dude. You need to calm down.” They hugged. “Can’t believe you’re so anxious to get showed up on the floor anyway.”

  “That’s what’s going to happen?”

  “Watch and see.”

  “No, I’m going to skate and see.”

  They walked over to a bench, stored their shoes and put on their skates. Marvin finished first, stood and tried out a quick spin.

  Naomi noticed. “Quit showing out.” She finished tying her skate and stood, slower and more cautiously than her nimble partner. She took a tentative step and wobbled.

  Marvin was right there, placed a firm grip on her arm to keep her upright. “Okay, Miss Champion Skater. Don’t want to fall on your rump before you hit the actual rink.”

  “Don’t get your gloat on just yet. It’s been a minute; I have to get my skating legs back.”

  “Is that going to be your excuse after I skate circles around you? That it’s been a long time since you skated?”

  “No, it’s going to be the reason I knock you upside the head, because you have a big mouth.”

  Naomi used Marvin’s body to push off of, and headed toward the rink. His laugh followed and told her he wasn’t far behind. The music was loud and the floor was crowded. Kids, teens, and young adults created gusts of wind as they whizzed past them. It didn’t take long for Naomi to get her groove back, Marvin noted, and soon they were bobbing and dancing as freely as the others. When the DJ slowed down the beat with a Drake throwback, Marvin placed one hand around Naomi’s waist, grabbed her hand with his other and led the dance. Naomi proved to be light on her feet as he twirled her around, held her while skating backwards, and then settled them into a rhythm that matched the beat.

  After a few games of pool where Marvin won more but Naomi talked more smack, she followed him to the city’s Shoreline Village. Naomi had a couple drinks, Marvin tossed back a beer, and they split a couple appetizers. Then Marvin suggested something naughty. Naomi liked to be nasty. So she rode with him to a secluded spot a mile down f
rom the popular shoreline. They left his SUV and found a tree-covered cove. Both removed their bottoms and kept on their tops. Right there, beneath a starlit, inky sky, backlit by the moon, with the cool breeze of the Pacific cooling their gyrating bodies, Marvin stamped his love on Naomi’s heat, sending the message with his body better than he could with words—she was the best he ever had.

  19

  Rush-hour traffic was its usual LA crazy, so it took almost an hour for Naomi to drive from where she worked on the Wilshire Corridor to El Segundo, a beach community by the airport. Being at Byron and Cynthia’s luxury home recently had her expecting another residence well outside of her price range. But she pulled up to an old, modest building on a quiet street where parking was at a premium. It took ten minutes to find a space that didn’t require running a marathon to get back to Marvin’s building. The space she’d found was less than two blocks away. But with the unusually warm June sun beating down on her, Naomi felt she needed a shower by the time she reached the apartment and knocked on the door.

  Marvin answered it wearing a chef’s apron and looking almost as good as whatever he was cooking smelled. The sarcastic comment about having to park so far away died on her lips, replaced by the intense desire to kiss him. Which she did, and he did, pulling her inside the cozy abode and kicking the door closed without breaking contact. After a couple minutes, they came up for air.

  “Now that’s how I like to be greeted,” he murmured.

  “You told me to come ready,” Naomi answered.

  Reaching for her hand, Marvin walked them into the kitchen, where a drink that looked cool, frothy, and inviting sat on the counter. He picked it up and handed it to her. “Figured you’d be thirsty,” he said, and then turned back to the stove.

  Naomi moved the straw to her lips and sucked in a fruity taste of heaven. She moaned, took another sip, and pressed the cool glass against her forehead.

  “This is a pretty delicious greeting, too. What-all’s in it?”

  Marvin shook his head without turning from the stove. “Can’t reveal my secrets. Might have to use it as a weapon against you.”