by Zuri Day
“Stop.”
“I’m serious. And so was she, Nay. She explained how everything you are is everything she isn’t. She wanted to be like you, or the ‘you’ she saw. The strong, confident persona that most people see, the one I know.
“I asked if I could tell you and at first she said no because she was embarrassed. But I told her what she said was really nice, and I thought you’d like to hear it.”
“And now you know that I needed to hear it. Taking care of me before you even knew what was wrong.”
The waiter returned. They placed their orders. Naomi looked at Marvin with regret in her eyes. “I have to say something.”
“Okay, but why are you looking at me like somebody died?”
“Probably because when Rodney acted a fool and you left my house, a little of me did die. I know I apologized for his crazy behavior, but I still feel so bad. I want to—no, have to—apologize. I shouldn’t have gone out that night, shouldn’t have talked to Rodney, and shouldn’t have opened the door when he came by. I should have known he brought trouble just by the look in his eye. I’m sorry, Marvin. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course.”
And just like that, the Marvin and Naomi love train was back.
38
Labor Day weekend arrived and that Sunday, the day the Food Truck Bucks finale aired, Marvin was in his element. Word spreading about his appearance on the televised show had resulted in an impromptu block party. A one-hundred-inch projection screen had been mounted on the side of Liz and Willie’s home, ready to capture Marvin’s image in full HD. All of his brothers were on the scene, along with their wives or dates, except Jan, who’d been called away to do a private show. Nelson, who because of his work schedule missed many family-held evening events, had traded with another employee to be there. Everyone speculated about the Latina he had on his arm, the first of his women the family had met in a while. People had been encouraged to BYOB and bring their own lawn chairs, but Marvin felt it only right that he handle the food.
Two hours before the show was set to start, Marvin was in his element, basting ribs, steaks, chicken, burgers, and dogs across multiple grills. Old-school music blasted and he’d had a couple Coronas, but that wasn’t why he was in such a great mood. The smile that seemed glued to his face came courtesy of his sous chef, Naomi, the one who since she’d apologized and they’d rekindled their romance hadn’t missed a beat, who along with his mama and Janet had whipped up an array of complimentary sides including macaroni and potato salads, coleslaw, and baked beans. When Nana asked what she needed to bring, Marvin had assured her to just bring herself, but there were three large sheet cakes and two commercial-sized pots of greens swimming in fatback that had come courtesy of the women at Morningside Baptist Church. Their little group sat in comfy lounge chairs on the safety of the concrete patio, armed with throws against the slight evening chill that had been forecasted. Once the patio filled up, others took their chairs and their chances by placing them in the grass. An hour before the broadcast, Marvin took a bullhorn and made an announcement.
“Food’s ready!”
After that a steady stream passed from the food tent to the drinks table and back to their chairs. Five minutes before showtime, Liz took the horn.
“Excuse me, everybody.” The din quieted a little. “May I have your attention?” More people heard her and the noise decreased further, but not enough for Mama Liz, who cleared her throat and bellowed, “I’ma need all of y’all to shut the hell up!”
This brought on more whooping and laughter, and left only a couple minutes for her to say anything before the show began.
“I want to thank all of y’all for coming over and showing support for our son Marvin. Many of y’all helped raise him. He grew up on this block, learned to cook on this block, and when he went on this show, he represented Inglewood and let the world know that lots of good came from the hood!”
“Yes!” someone shouted.
“That’s right!” another agreed.
“Now, when there’s a commercial, everybody can talk and laugh, eat, drink, and be merry. But when my son is on that screen? I want to be able to hear a mosquito pee on grass.”
“It’s on, Mama, shut up!” one of her sons yelled.
This brought on a huge guffaw, which turned into cheers the moment Marvin’s face lit up the side of the house. When Naomi was introduced, Nana shouted, “That’s my baby!” which caused Liz to take to the horn again.
“I’m sorry, y’all, for breaking my own rule and yapping, but I’ve got to recognize Marvin’s girlfriend, who he met on the show. Y’all give it up for Naomi!”
Marvin squeezed Naomi’s hand. “It feels weird seeing us on there,” he whispered.
“I know, huh?” she answered. “Seems like that happened so long ago.”
They continued talking—heads together, voices low.
“Or not at all. That looks like somebody else’s life right there. I can’t believe I entered the contest, let alone made it to the televised finals.”
“We made it, baby,” she replied, and kissed his cheek, not talking about the contest at all.
When the show ended and Marvin was crowned the winner, the party went up another notch, poised to last well into the night. But just after midnight, Marvin and Naomi slipped away to give her grandmother and friends a ride home. Naomi drove Nana’s car. Marvin followed behind in his SUV. Once they’d bid all of the ladies good night, Naomi slid into Marvin’s front seat. He began to drive, but in the direction opposite his parents’ home.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
Marvin looked over and smiled. “I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“It’s a surprise.”
They drove down Crenshaw, less than two miles, before Marvin turned from the commercial boulevard onto a residential street, pulled into the driveway of a quaint stucco home, and shut off the engine. Naomi looked at the house in front of them, over at Marvin, and back at the house. At one time, it was probably lovely. Like the ones to either side of it, the home was a bungalow style with a Spanish tile roof. Its dull yellow paint was peeling, and the front window was cracked. Shoddy brick foundations supported four columns that framed a large porch. A set of steps led to the front door, another down to a dilapidated carport. The yard wasn’t maintained and the sidewalk was buckled. Every place her eye landed needed work. There were no lights and on top of that, security bars were everywhere.
“Who lives here?”
Marvin smiled. “I will, in a minute. Do me a favor and grab the flashlight out of the glove box.”
He hopped out of the car and came around to open her door. Naomi didn’t move. “Come on!”
Naomi shook her head. “This looks like the type of place a crazy ex would hide.” She looked at the house. “With an ax,” she added.
Marvin reached for her arm and the flashlight. “Come on, girl.”
He pulled out a set of keys and after searching through them found one to open the gate. A short sidewalk led to a narrow, heavily secured porch. Marvin unlocked the heavy steel door and then the front door. Before stepping inside, he turned on the flashlight.
“Watch your step. There’s debris and a couple of the boards are loose.”
Naomi’s steps were tentative as she stepped over the threshold. “Who would rent out a place that looked like this?”
“Nobody. I bought it.”
“You did not buy this house.”
“It doesn’t look like much now, but in a month or so . . . it’s going to be hooked up.”
“I’m not talking about the shape it’s in. I’m talking about the price. My grandmother’s home is worth over four hundred thousand. In this location, this has got to be around five.”
“Look at you! Knowing a little something about LA real estate. I see you, girl.”
Naomi now viewed the room through new eyes. The living room was larger than expected, with high ceilings, a firepla
ce, and large windows that in the daytime she imagined let in tons of light. The dining room flowed directly off from the living room with a galley kitchen beyond it and a brick back wall. Two bedrooms took up the left wall with a bathroom between them. A larger bedroom was on the right.
Marvin, who’d been quiet during the walk-through, pointed at the room across from the last bedroom. “This is going to be reconfigured to add another bathroom that will hold a stackable washer/dryer, and turn this bedroom into a master suite. There’s enough room in the back to add a small deck and possibly a storage shed.”
“This is nice, Marvin.”
“Ha! That’s not what you said when I drove up here. You were looking for my crazy ex or Freddy Krueger’s cousin.
“The place is in pretty bad shape. But it’s got potential. I don’t know if I would sink all of my winnings into it, but I think in the long run it will definitely pay off. Not that it’s my business.
“It isn’t just me. It’s all my brothers. We formed an S corporation to purchase investments. That’s what we were talking about the day that you called. Byron had done a lot of research and provided valuable information. Explaining it was complex and generated a ton of questions. The discussion on how to proceed was fairly intense. That’s why I turned off my phone, so that its ringing wouldn’t disturb the group.”
“You are so lucky to be in this family.”
Marvin eyed her with a look that was intense and unreadable.
“What’s that look for?”
“Nothing. Let’s go back to the party.”
As they headed back to Inglewood, the streets were quiet. Once on the Carters’ block though, it was still all the way live. They strolled back to the patio hand in hand.
“There you are,” Liz said to Naomi, coming to pull her away from Marvin. “I want you to tell my neighbor here what you put in those baked beans . . . besides your foot.”
“Ha!”
Marvin laughed as he watched Naomi walk away with his mom, their heads together as he imagined Naomi spilling culinary secrets.
Doug came up to him, handed him a beer. “Congratulations again, brother. Glad to see you got your smile back.”
“I’m just glad it isn’t a secret anymore. Not revealing I’d won the contest was the hardest thing in the world to keep from the whole family.”
“Everyone knows you won the contest. I wasn’t talking about that, though. I was talking about your girl.”
He nodded toward where Naomi held court, surrounded by a group of women. She was smiling, animated, and made a comment that sent the entire circle into laughter.
“She fits, doesn’t she,” Marvin observed.
“Just like family,” Doug agreed.
His older brother had given Marvin confirmation. Earlier, Naomi had mentioned how lucky he was to be a Carter. Soon, if Marvin had anything to do with it, she’d be lucky, too.
39
Marvin couldn’t believe it was almost Halloween. What the heck happened to the rest of October? Between keeping up with the Leimert property renovation and finalizing plans for Slice, he felt overwhelmed, almost to the breaking point. But the renovations were almost finished. The plans for his truck were coming together. Naomi had a lot to do with that. They talked every night, discussing details and exchanging ideas.
Yesterday, the show had called and scheduled an appointment when he’d meet with the designer who’d create the logo and wrap for his truck. The truck was getting ready to be hooked up from the outside. But it was what needed to happen on the inside that was currently on Marvin’s mind. He looked at the clock and reached for his phone. A groggy voice answered.
“You asleep?”
Marvin imagined Naomi either frowning or rolling her eyes. “Really?”
“I know it’s late, but I had to call you. It’s about the truck.”
“What about it?”
“I have an appointment to meet with the designer this week and wanted to bounce a couple of ideas off of you. I need to make a final decision on the name.”
“I thought you were going to call it The Perfect Slice,” Naomi said.
“I was leaning more toward The Savory Slice.”
“The name I came up with for what was supposed to be my truck? No, you can’t use that name.”
“Is it trademarked?”
“Yep.”
Marvin chuckled. “You’re lying. Besides, that’s a common phrase. There are probably pizza trucks already using it.”
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Naomi asked amid a yawn.
“That’s what I wanted to ask, if you’d meet me to talk about work on the truck.”
“The design, right?”
“Yes, and maybe more.”
“More like what?”
“Like being my sous chef, girl. Can’t nobody burn beside me the way you do.”
“Are you saying I can light a fire under that booty?”
“Baby, you can light a fire anywhere you want.”
“You’re silly,” she said with a flirty laugh. “Call me tomorrow.”
Naomi hung up. Marvin smiled.
* * *
The next day they sat at a Starbucks—heads together, conversation low and intense.
“I’m thinking stark white for a color, with different kinds of slices all over.”
Naomi shook her head. “People will take one look and think of pizza, without even seeing your menu. I think it needs to be a bright color. Like red.”
They looked at each other and said, “No.”
“No red, no blue,” Marvin repeated.
“I do think it should be a bright color, though. Something that stands out. Especially here, the food truck capital of the world.”
“What about orange?”
“It would depend on the shade. Maybe a turquoise, or lime green.”
“That will never happen.”
“Is this guy designing your logo, too? He must be, because you definitely need one.”
“Have to lock down the name first.” He looked over at her.
“No . . .”
“Slice has got to be in the title, but for some reason the word perfect doesn’t sound right with it. Imagine someone saying, Hey, where are you going, man? I’m going to the perfect slice.”
Naomi laughed at his humorous delivery. “Not when you say it like that.”
“You know what I mean though. It needs to be a name that just rolls off the tongue, something with a rhythm.”
Naomi placed her chin in her hand. “The tasty slice.”
Marvin shook his head. “That’s only one letter off from the nasty slice.”
Naomi cracked up. “Only you would think about that.”
“Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes a brother wants a nasty slice.”
“A good slice.”
“Boring. What about the spicy slice?”
“Ooh, that’s kind of cool.” Naomi repeated it a few times with different inflections. “Except what if a person doesn’t like spicy food? And what about the sweet slice dessert ideas you’ve created?”
Marvin sighed. “It’s going to be almost impossible to find a name that matches everything on the menu.”
“Maybe not,” Naomi replied. “But the name of your business can make it or break it.”
“I’ve got to get this right.” Marvin stopped. Snapped his finger. “That’s it.”
“What? Get it right?”
“No. The Right Slice.”
“I don’t love it.” Naomi thought for a second. “What about just Slice?”
“Just slice?”
“No, just one word—Slice.”
Marvin pondered the idea, slowly nodded his head and let the word roll off his tongue a couple times. “Slice. Girl, I think you just named my truck.”
They high-fived.
“Now, on to the menu.”
Over the course of several days they solidified a menu that they felt was varied enough to have wide appeal yet simple enough
to be rapidly executed. Because Naomi cooked almost exclusively on the savory side, she came up with most of those ideas. They decided to have ten choices of each—savory and sweet—at any given time, swapping out for seasonal and holiday flavors. A few slices would be permanent, including the pork slice Naomi used in the contest and a salad slice for vegans, on a crouton crust. The breakfast slice—a deconstructed omelet with choice of sausage or bacon on a biscuit dough would be served all day, and all of the sweet slices. Both Janet and Ricky wanted to work with him but needed full-time paychecks, so Marvin reached out to Tat and Zen, who both agreed to help out part-time. It took Marvin a week to construct the shopping list. On the evening before Thanksgiving, Marvin and Naomi spent four hours buying food, then returned to the home he’d just moved into last weekend. While organizing the groceries on the galley kitchen’s huge, granite-top island, they talked about operations.
“What time are Tat and Zen arriving?” she asked.
“Seven o’clock.”
“You think that’s enough time?”
Marvin nodded. “I’m going to start some of the meat tonight, let it go low and slow. The way we’ve compiled the menu items, everything else gets done on the spot. It’s a lot of work, but if we stay organized, we should be well able to handle the flow.”
“What about orders? I think Zen would work well at the window. He’s calm, just like the nickname you gave him. Even if it gets busy up there, no one will see him sweat.”
Marvin walked over, gave Naomi a kiss and began to rub her shoulders. “Zen would look okay there. But when people walk up to my window, I want the first thing they see to be the best my food truck has to offer. And that, Naomi, is your pretty face.”
“Ah. Even though I’m tired as hell, you’re getting some tonight!”
“Ha!”
“After this though, we should take a vacation. Maybe go to New York, as I’ve always dreamed.”
“You keep saying that. What’s so special about the East Coast?”
“Are you serious? It’s the foodie capital of the world!”