by Zuri Day
“You can use whatever weapon you want to, including the one you handled so skillfully yesterday afternoon. But that food truck is mine.”
“Here she comes with the jokes.”
She sidled up beside him, pinched his butt, and then hugged him from behind. “What are you making?”
“I don’t know yet. But the ingredients floated around in my head all day. Figured I’d put them in a pot and see how it comes together.”
“So I’m your guinea pig?”
“Luckiest one in LA County! Cute, too.” He leaned back, swiped his tongue across her mouth. “And super juicy.”
“You’re stupid!”
“You like it.”
“Not going to lie, I sure do. Oh, and I forgot to say it when we were talking last night . . . but thank you.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “For what?”
“For how you treated my grandmother and her friends. Complimenting them and making them feel special, something that probably doesn’t happen too often. I can’t speak for all of them, but Miss Josephine and Nana lost their husbands a long time ago. If Nana has dated since, it was definitely on the down low, and I don’t think Miss Josephine has seen a penis since Jesse Jackson was at the Democratic convention trying to keep hope alive.”
“Ha! I must have missed that broadcast, but then again, I’m not much into politics.”
“Me neither, but my nana loves Jesse Jackson. She was barely interested in the internet until I introduced her to YouTube and the search box. That first night she held me captive for almost two hours, watching a bunch of stuff that happened before either you or I were born.”
They continued to chat. Marvin cooked. Naomi drank her smoothie. Two-thirds of the way into it, she stopped and cocked her head.
“Does this have alcohol in it? I feel a little tipsy.”
Marvin offered up a sly smile and a shrug. “Maybe.”
“Baby, you don’t need to use alcohol to help get me in the mood. I already want a little more of that Marvin magic.”
“Trust me, we’re going to get to all of that. But first things first. This is almost done. Do me a favor and grab plates from the cabinet behind you. Silverware is in one of those drawers just below.”
Naomi set down the fruity smoothie-like drink and walked over to the cabinets. “Whose place is this?”
“One of my brothers’.”
“It’s nice, but not what I expected for a place by the beach.”
“You thought it was going to be like Byron’s house in Venice Beach?”
“Maybe not that extravagant. That house was amazing.”
“Nelson doesn’t make that kind of money. He works at the airport.”
“Oh really? Doing what?”
“Baggage claim for US Airlines.”
“He’s one of the ones who jack up my luggage by tossing it around like those girls did the beach ball the other day?”
“Probably.”
“Dang, you should have at least tried to deny it on your brother’s behalf.”
“I’ve heard stories.”
“So . . . does he get those discount tickets?”
“Buddy passes?” Marvin nodded. “These days, with fewer airlines and less flights, they can be tricky to use. But depending on the time of year and where you’re going, they can work out.”
“Cool. So where are you taking me?”
“Nowhere until after we eat. And since this food is done and you still haven’t set the table . . .”
“I’m going! Dang.”
“Matter of fact, just set the silverware and drinks. I’ll plate it up in here.”
Naomi set the plates she held next to where Marvin was cooking and found the silverware, keeping up the conversation as she quickly set the table. “You know what? This place is small and simple, but it’s nice. I bet it still costs a lot since it’s at the beach.”
“Nelson’s half is over a thousand, close to thirteen hundred. Not counting utilities.”
“That’s crazy. You’d almost have to have a roommate to live down here.”
“It works for him. There’s soda in the fridge. I want ice in mine.”
Naomi found the glasses, pulled two from the cabinet, and fixed their drinks. Not seeing napkins, she pulled two paper towel sheets from the roll, folded them in half and put them and the drinks on the table.
“The roommate is a flight attendant who’s rarely home. So he lucked out.”
She leaned against the doorjamb of the kitchen entrance. “And how did we luck out where he isn’t home right now?”
“He’s at work. But he gets off at midnight, so time’s a ticking.” Marvin turned off the burner and placed the steaming pot on a trivet. “Now, go sit down so I can feed you.”
“Ooh, daddy, I like it when you talk all strong like that.”
Naomi sat at the dining table in the open-concept space. Marvin entered carrying two piping-hot plates. He placed one in front of Naomi, then sat next to her and set his own plate down.
Naomi leaned toward the spiraling heat and inhaled. “This smells so good! It reminds me of something . . .”
“Beef stroganoff.”
“Yes, the kind you can make with Hamburger Helper. Is that what you did?”
“Ha ha ha.”
Both picked up their forks and began to eat.
Naomi felt Marvin’s eyes on her but continued to eat with abandon.
“Go ahead. Say it.”
“Say what?”
“That’s the best piece of steak you’ve ever put in your mouth.”
“It’s alright.”
His laugh was hearty, head thrown back for emphasis. “Yes, you’re eating it like it’s just alright.”
She took a few more bites and set down her fork. “It’s so good. What did you do differently? Is it the sauce?”
“That and a few more things.”
“You deconstructed it, for one thing.”
“Deconstructed. Listen to you, trying to sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“You know I do.” She rolled her eyes. “The mushrooms and onions were sautéed by themselves instead of being added to the sauce. That upped their profile. And the bell peppers. Stroganoffs I’ve tasted didn’t have peppers.”
“What, no peppers in that Hamburger Helper box?”
“Whatever. Like you had a chef growing up.”
“We did.” He paused, laughed at her obvious disbelief. “Me. And you’re right. The most popular recipes don’t use them. I added the peppers for another layer of flavor.”
“But I see you roasted yours first.” Naomi briefly studied a strip of pepper before it disappeared into her mouth.
“Maybe.”
She punched his arm. “You get on my nerves! Nobody needs your secrets to try and beat you. You and everybody else in the contest lost your chance at first place the minute I stepped into the room!”
“Is that so?”
“Most certainly so.”
“We’ll see if you can back up all that jaw-jacking on Saturday. But hurry up and finish eating because I want you to back that thang up”—he motioned toward her ass, then cupped his crotch—“to something else.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Naomi licked gravy from her finger before putting it in her mouth. “What you’ve made is pretty tasty, but I have an even yummier dish.”
The two rambunctious lovers didn’t even take the time to clear the table. Or go to the bedroom. As soon as plates were clean and forks laid down, Marvin feasted on the dessert between her thighs that Naomi offered up right there on the dining room table. Once she regained strength in her legs, she slid from the table to the floor and returned the favor. They went from sixty-nine to seventy-seven and made up a couple numbers of their own. One thing was for sure. With Marvin, Naomi had met her sexual match. Later on, as she wearily crawled into bed back at home, all she could think about was how much she was going to miss him if their friendship ended once she won th
e food truck. But she’d give up a good fuck for a truck and some bucks. She had to keep her eye on the prize.
20
One of the cooks was out sick, so Marvin worked doubles for the next two days. On Thursday he didn’t have to be at work until three, so he was home watching television when Nelson stopped by.
Nelson walked over to where Marvin sat. “What’s up, man?”
“You got it.”
No matter how often the brothers saw each other, they always offered a fist bump, a one-shoulder hug, a handshake, or all three. With Marvin seated, Nelson capped him on the side of the head. Marvin punched his arm before they ended the greeting with a brothers’ handshake. Willie wasn’t one for showing a lot of affection, but Liz had enough touchy-feely for both of them and had passed that trait on to the boys.
Nelson joined Marvin on the couch. “The girl with you at Byron’s the other day . . . y’all dating?”
Marvin made a face, motioned toward the hallway. Nelson continued in the same tone, at the same volume. “Oh, Mama’s here? She don’t know about your girl?”
Before Marvin could form a comeback, Liz walked into the room. “No, I don’t know about his girl, but since he’s obviously touting her all over town, seems like I need to know about her.”
Liz plopped into the “her” of a his-and-her recliner set, and pushed the lever to raise up her legs.
“Well?”
“She’s not my girl,” Marvin began, giving Nelson the eye. “She’s someone I met at the convention center, another contestant. We’re just hanging out.”
“Is this a strategy or something? You hoping your peter in the bed will trump her pork in the pot?”
Nelson cracked up while Marvin looked properly mortified.
“Mama, if you’d seen the Carter-catcher Naomi is working with, you’d know she is more than a friend.”
That the Carters were butt men had been a long-standing fact. Marvin slowly shook his head. Some people just couldn’t keep their mouths shut. His brother fell into that group.
Liz looked at Marvin but talked to Nelson. “You said she’s in the contest?”
“That’s what Marvin told me. Right, Marvin?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“And she can cook?” Liz asked, this time talking to Marvin.
“She does alright.”
“She’s still in the contest,” Nelson added, continuing to share what Marvin had told him at Byron’s on Sunday. “The field was narrowed from thousands to less than a hundred. So she can’t be a slouch.”
“A big butt and can cook, too? Son, is your nose wide open? Come on, you can tell your mom.”
“Why don’t you ask Nelson? He’s the one talking my business like he knows it better than I do. He can keep on talking.”
Liz shifted in her chair, smiled for the first time since entering the room. “Uh-huh, he’s getting riled up. He likes this girl. What did you say her name was, Nelson?”
“Naomi.”
“Does she have a sister, Marvin? Because your brother could use some help in the love department. Nelson spends too much time working. He needs to find time to have fun.”
“Where’s Daddy, Mama?”
Marvin jumped on that segue like boom on a bomb. “Oh, now you want to change the subject since Mama’s tipping toward your bedroom. She doesn’t know about the date you brought to the party?”
Liz sat up. “Nelson had somebody over at Byron’s house?”
“He sure did.” Marvin looked at his watch and then at Nelson. “You might as well tell her everything, brother, because if not I’m going to spill it all as soon as I get home from work.”
An hour later, Marvin was in the Soul Spot kitchen, leisurely filling an order for a table of four. This time was always slow on weekdays, with the lunch crowd long gone and the dinner crowd not yet there. It allowed Marvin the luxury of paying extra attention to recipes, tweaking spices, and engaging the customers for valuable feedback. The table had ordered a mix of classic soul fare and contemporary cuisine. He moved seamlessly between crispy fried chicken wings and baked barbecued breasts. Cooked mustard and collard greens, and kale and edamame salad—something the owner’s son Donald had not been a fan of, but Marvin had pushed to add to the menu. It quickly became one of their best-selling dishes. Fried potatoes and a pecan and sweet potato soufflé. He finished the order, handled a few more, and then went out to see how the customers had enjoyed their food.
In the middle of receiving accolades, the restaurant doors opened and sunshine walked in. A thick chick wearing a loose black shawl over a fitted red jumpsuit. He immediately wondered whether or not he’d missed Naomi’s phone call, and quickly decided that it didn’t matter. He thanked the foursome at the table for their feedback and walked over to Charlotte’s station, where Naomi had been seated.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“This is a surprise.”
Naomi shrugged. “I was out. Got hungry. Drove by here.”
Marvin offered up a smile that suggested he didn’t totally buy her story but was glad she was there. “You’re not supposed to be at work?”
“I’m covering part of a coworker’s shift next Sunday afternoon. So she took half of mine today.”
“Cool. Check out the menu and let me know what you’d like.”
Naomi reached out and ran a finger down Marvin’s forearm. “Why don’t you let me know what I should like?”
“You already like that.” Naomi gave him a look, knowing that what he spoke of was not something on the menu. “Oh, you’re talking about food. Give me a minute to handle the table that came in before you and then I’ll hook you up.”
* * *
Naomi pulled out her cell phone, slowly bobbing her head to the old-school R & B that played through the Soul Spot speakers. She didn’t know the name of the group asking people to join hands and get on the love train. But she was down with the idea, and knew the perfect cook to handle meals while onboard. She sent a text to Kristy, responded to an email from her job, and then felt the presence of someone precariously close to her personal space.
“Are you ready to order?”
Naomi knew the voice. It was the same chick who’d disrespected her cousin. Charlotte. Naomi had remembered the name by thinking of spiders and webs. Why didn’t Marvin tell me I was sitting in enemy territory? She took a deep breath and looked up with as placid an expression as she could muster.
“Hi.”
“What can I get for you?”
“I’m good.”
“These tables are for customers only. You have to order something.”
Naomi chuckled and went back to scrolling her phone. “Girl, quit acting like you don’t remember me, and like you didn’t see Marvin over here talking a few minutes ago. He’s taking care of me.” Looking up at her, she added, “Okay, Charlotte?”
“Whatever.” Charlotte spun around and almost slapped Naomi with the ends of her long, curly weave. Any other time Naomi would not have let that go unchecked, but Marvin had her feeling more like a lover than a fighter. She glanced up and saw Charlotte talking to another waiter while giving Naomi the evil eye. Naomi tapped Marvin’s name on her phone and sent him a text.
Don’t let that witch Charlotte touch my food.
He responded a few minutes later. LOL.
Just as Naomi settled back to groove with another of Nana’s favorite men, Marvin Gaye, a boisterous group of teens and twenty-somethings entered the restaurant and took seats at a long rectangular table. She watched Charlotte smile at them, something Naomi thought impossible, before delivering the order to the table beside her. Naomi had to admit that everything looked delicious. Looking at the macaroni and cheese that someone had ordered made her mouth water. Just then Marvin came around the corner carrying a plate.
He set it down in front of her. “Dinner is served.”
“I was hoping you’d bring out that mac and cheese. It looks almost as good as mine.”
>
Marvin rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”
Naomi leaned into the steam rising from a serving of cabbage plated beside ribs that looked as though they could fall off the bone.
“Are these spicy?”
“A little bit. And those ribs are juicy, just like you.” Marvin looked toward the large group and noticed Charlotte walking an order up to the counter. “I’d better get back to work.”
Naomi snapped a picture of the plate and sent it to Kristy, along with the tagline, Wish you were here.
Kristy’s answer was instant and what Naomi expected. Heifah. Bring me a plate!
Naomi texted Marvin and asked if he would make a to-go order for her cousin, then eagerly picked up her fork. Later she would swear that the plate of food that Marvin served could have given her an orgasm. Everything was that good. The mac-’n’-cheese dish was not only a mound of gooey goodness, but the cracker crumble he’d topped it with added just the right texture and layer of flavor to take it over the top of the taste-bud charts. The cabbage was a little spicy, but she liked how he’d kept the dish simple enough to give the underrated vegetable, and one of her favorites, its due. She also liked that the leaves weren’t cooked to within an inch of their lives, as was the case in many Southern kitchens, but were left with enough firmness to hold their own with everything else served. The ribs? All Naomi knew was that she’d do whatever she could to try and make sure he did not cook them during the contest. Because if he did, Naomi was convinced that Marvin would drive away with her truck.
It didn’t take long for Naomi to devour the dinner. That she was raised by Nana and not by wolves was one of two reasons she didn’t lick the plate. The second reason strolled toward her with a face like she’d just chewed a lemon rind, and dropped the check on the table.
Naomi felt too good to let Charlotte steal her joy. “Thank you,” she said, with enough saccharin to cause cancer. “Everything was delicious.”
“Yeah, Marvin can cook. Guess that’s how he keeps so many girlfriends, a different one for every day of the week.”
That was a news flash, but Naomi tried to keep her face neutral. She was only partly successful.