Sweet Heat

by Zuri Day

  “Oh, yeah . . . that.” Marvin took a bite of his burger and hoped Abbey had forgotten the question by the time he chewed and swallowed.

  “This is really good,” Abbey said, after using a knife and fork to cut the burger into more manageable pieces and taking a small bite. “What is the different seasoning I’m tasting, it’s kind of sweet?”

  “You’re probably tasting the brown sugar, but it’s a blend I created a while back as a steak rub.”

  She took another bite. “The cheese is provolone?” Marvin nodded. “Is that what you used earlier?”

  “No,” Marvin said, glad to be having a more appropriate conversation with his former culinary instructor. “That was fontina, but we didn’t have that here.”

  After a little more food talk, Abbey set down her silverware and wiped her mouth. “There’s no way I could eat everything on this plate. The burger alone is huge! But it is all really delicious. Is this what you see as the ultimate goal, your own restaurant?”

  “I don’t know. While celebrity chefs make the life look glamorous, I’m under no illusion about how hard it is to run a restaurant.”

  “There’s a reason why more than half of them fail within the first year of opening for business.”

  “I’m not sure I want my life to be spent in the kitchen for the next ten, twenty years. Winning the food truck would be a way to do what I love while being able to control how much I work.”

  Abbey rested her chin in the palm of one hand and cupped Marvin’s cheek with the other. “I’m so proud of you, Marvin.”

  Marvin jerked his head away from her hand. “Stop!”

  “Wow, sorry.”

  Hands fell to her lap. Genuine hurt filled her eyes.

  Marvin let out a frustrated breath as he glanced around to see who may have seen what happened. His eyes immediately connected with Charlotte’s, whose mouth was set in a tattletale smirk.

  Great. That’s just great.

  “I didn’t mean to sound that harsh, but I’m at work. You’re my teacher, or used to be, and I still see you like that. You’re probably just playing around, or maybe this is a touchy-feely side of you that I didn’t see back in the day. But your actions are making me uncomfortable. And with you being a part of the contest I’m trying to win, that doesn’t feel cool at all.”

  “Again, I apologize. The last thing I’d want to do is make you feel uneasy around me. But the truth of the matter is . . . I was always attracted to you, Marvin. Being your instructor, I couldn’t show it, as the school’s rules about fraternization are very clear. I hated when you dropped out of school, and made several phone calls . . . remember?”

  “Not really, if I’m being honest.” Abbey’s shoulders drooped. “Or vaguely, maybe. My life was crazy back then. I like you, too, Abs, I mean Abbey—”

  “No, Abs, please! I love it when you call me that.”

  “See that right there is why I have to stop doing it. I make up nicknames all the time, but it sounds like you’ve taken that to mean more than it does. I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything—”

  “Then don’t. I can probably guess what that would be anyway. I’m probably not the type you’re used to dating. I don’t look like Naomi . . .”

  “Look—”

  “No.” Abbey put up her hand. “I know you like her. I saw the two of you together earlier today.”

  “You saw . . . what . . . when?”

  “I left not long after you did and saw you in her car, or so I thought. But then I entered the parking garage and what looked to be her car was parked with no one there.” She shrugged. “I don’t see what it is about her . . . I mean . . . did you know her from before?”

  Was Abbey really in the hood at two in the morning declaring her love and asking about Naomi? And did she really think he was going to discuss his private life? Marvin felt like he was in the twilight zone. He’d never seen Abbey as anything but a culinary instructor and had no idea she’d been digging on him since he was in her class.

  “Naomi and I know some of the same people, but no, I didn’t know her before. And while we laugh and flirt around, I’m not trying to get with anybody that has anything to do with the competition. You told me yourself that that’s not cool. All I want to do right now is focus on winning and get up out of this hole in the wall, as popular as it is. Speaking of . . .”

  He looked at his watch, grabbed his plate and stood. “I need to get back to the kitchen and start closing up.”

  “Yes, it is late. I need to head back to the Valley.” Abbey stood and pulled a wallet out of her purse, and continued to talk as she took out money to pay the bill. “Thanks for the burger and coming to sit with me. I’m glad you’re focused on winning the contest, not dating any of the girls there. But after you get the truck, you’re going to need investors, equipment, marketing and PR people, staff. Fifty thousand dollars sounds like a lot of money, but it isn’t, and you don’t want to plug all of your own money into the business anyway.

  “Marvin. I was an only child, had older parents. When they died, I received a sizeable inheritance. I’ve never been married and I don’t have kids. No, I haven’t dated much, am rather plain and not at all hip or cool. But I have real feelings for you, and want to see you succeed. I want to help you succeed. And I can. I can help you with everything.”

  Her look was intense and meaningful as she placed a gentle hand on Marvin’s arm before walking out the door. He heard Charlotte’s chuckle before turning around, but shut it up with a curt “Don’t start.”

  He finished his shift with Abbey’s parting declaration playing on a loop in his brain. He had to admit her boldness surprised him. She’d put it all out there, basically told him she’d bankroll his venture. It was a lot to think about. The generous offer she made occupied his mind all the way home. He remembered the various speakers who came to the culinary school. The upscale appliances provided by top-notch manufacturers along with stainless and copper cookware, the finest knives and every other modern utensil for a chef’s dream kitchen. Abbey knew a lot of people. With her money and contacts, Marvin might not have to put any of the fifty-thousand-dollar monetary prize into the business. He could use that as a down payment on a house, one that Abbey would no doubt want to visit, maybe even live in. No doubt, the offer was tempting. But the next morning when he rolled over to a rare Sunday off and an invitation from his brother, Abbey wasn’t the woman that came to mind when he thought about who he’d have join him. Naomi was the woman who warmed his heart and other places. Hers was the number he dialed. There were just certain things that no amount of money could buy. A Carter man was one of them.

  15

  The GPS’s automated voice spoke the directions clearly, as though absolutely sure that they were correct. Glad somebody was, because Naomi could swear she was in the wrong neighborhood. One of Marvin’s brothers lived in Venice Beach? The only time she’d come down was to bring friends from out of town to let them see the ocean and walk the boardwalk. And while she’d never checked the area’s real estate prices, she knew they were expensive. Heck, even urban areas were expensive in metro LA. Nana’s house, in the area labeled South Central during the Rodney King riots, was less than fifteen hundred square feet and built over fifty years ago. The last time Nana had it appraised for insurance purposes, the value was placed at $462,500. Not bad for the “hood.” Naomi couldn’t imagine what the houses cost down here, and one could double whatever that price was if it had an ocean view.

  When the GPS informed her that she had arrived, it was to a gated home across from the ocean. She texted Marvin to confirm where she was and to ask where to park. You’d think if a house cost a million dollars they’d have some designated parking for visitors in front of it. She read the text back from Marvin. Seconds later, the gate opened. So did Naomi’s mouth. The house looked straight out of a movie. A two-story modern design with stark white brick and siding and lots of glass. She looked up. Wait a minute. Are there people on the roof ? No t
ime to solve that mystery. Marvin was outside and waving her over to an empty parking space behind his car. Naomi stood corrected on visitors having to park on the street. Not necessary when one basically had a parking lot behind their gate! She counted at least seven other cars as she pulled her Hyundai behind his SUV.

  Marvin walked over and opened her door. “Hey, Juicy.”

  She got out. “Hey.” They hugged. “I thought you said we were going over to your brother’s house.”

  “This is my brother’s house.”

  “What is he, a celebrity or something?”

  “No. Byron works for the MTA. He’s a bus driver.”

  “A bus driver?!” Loudly exclaimed at the same time the door opened and a group spilled out. Everyone looked at her. Expressions were mixed. “Oops, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

  “I know you didn’t. Come on, let me introduce you.”

  Another woman stepped outside. Naomi caught her breath. She had to be the home owner, Naomi reasoned, since the tall, slender woman with long natural hair and flawless skin could also have graced the pages of a fashion magazine. Naomi became conscious of what she was wearing—white skinny jeans (though she knew nothing could really make those thighs look thin), a wraparound top meant to be forgiving in the middle while highlighting her best assets, and wedge-heel sandals. Never one for much makeup, she’d only brushed on a little mascara and applied ruby-colored lip gloss. The braids she’d gotten done two weeks ago had held up fairly well, though an up-close inspection would have been problematic. She’d piled most of the waist-length strands into a loose topknot, with a few curly ones framing her face and the rest draped over her shoulder and down her back. Back home she’d felt her look was fine, even sexy. Now, looking at chicks who could have competed on America’s Next Top Model, Naomi felt plain, and wished she’d actually gone into Night’s fitness centers instead of driving by, at least a time or two. Flustered and about to pass out from trying to hold in her stomach, she accepted Marvin’s hand and reached the landing at the same time as the group.

  “Hey, bro! About time you got here.”

  Naomi watched a man obviously related to Marvin grab his hand and pull him into a one-shoulder hug.

  “Babe, this is my brother Byron.”

  “The bus driver,” another woman said, a hand over her mouth as she snickered.

  “Yeah, I’m a bus driver.” He scowled at Naomi. “What of it?”

  “Nothing personal,” Naomi responded, his sharp comment cutting away a bit of her angst. “It’s just now I know why fares keep going up.”

  Some joined Marvin in laughter while Byron’s scowl deepened. “You think I’m taking the money?”

  “No, I mean . . . I’m sorry.”

  “He’s just teasing you,” Marvin assured her.

  Byron clapped Marvin on the shoulder. “I see you’ve got a live one.”

  “Just what he needs,” the model said, coming up next to Byron. “Don’t let my husband bully you. In this family, you’ve got to hold your own.” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Cynthia.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cynthia. I’m Naomi. Your home is beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This is my sister, Anita,” Marvin said of the woman who’d laughed when Byron acted angry. “And her boyfriend, Walter.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Anita said, her smile warm and genuine as she forwent a handshake and gave Naomi a hug. “We joke around a lot in this family. It’s never personal, okay?”

  Still unnerved by her unintended yet unceremonious introduction to the family, Naomi only managed a nervous chuckle in response. Her eyes followed Marvin’s and watched the group who’d come out of the house continue across the alley.

  “Where are y’all going?” Marvin asked.

  “Over to the beach,” Byron said over his shoulder. “Everybody else is in there. We’ll be back in a minute.”

  Naomi followed Marvin as he continued up the steps. “Who were those other people?”

  “Some of Cynthia’s friends from Chicago, her hometown. The guy over there is from New York.”

  “New York? Really? I’ve always wanted to go there!”

  Marvin stepped back to let Naomi enter the home. She almost gasped out loud. The home’s interior was even more stunning than the outside. Shades of blue, gray, tan, and white blended together to create rooms almost too beautiful to occupy. Lavish chandeliers hung in the entryway and dining room, where a generous spread covered the expansive table and nearby buffet. A marble fireplace anchored the far wall. Above it hung a large watercolor painting of Byron, Cynthia, and a smiling baby boy.

  A child lives here, birthed by the woman who wore a midriff shirt, showing off a flat stomach? The home was so perfectly pristine and Cynthia so toned that Naomi couldn’t imagine either being true.

  “They’ve got kids?” she asked Marvin.

  “Just one, but . . .”

  His answer was interrupted by a loud guffaw. Naomi turned to see a tall, fine brother coming from the kitchen, side-stepping the attempted swipes of . . .

  Jan Baker?

  Her nails dug into Marvin’s arm as she turned, eyes wide, and mouthed, “Is that really her?”

  Jan Baker was the world’s latest R & B sensation, someone who, like Adele, Meghan Trainor, and others, celebrated her uniqueness and embraced her womanly curves.

  “Yes, that’s really Jan Baker,” Marvin replied, as Jan caught up with Barry when he stopped in front of Marvin and popped him upside the head with a dish towel.

  “I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that. About to make me have a heart attack. And you’d better be glad I didn’t drop that whole platter of perfectly grilled salmon!” She turned friendly eyes to Naomi. “I’m sorry to have to show out in front of company, but this Negro . . .” She pulled back the towel. “Is going. To learn. Today!”

  She emphasized each part of the phrase with an attempted pop of the towel. Barry ran behind Marvin, who almost got popped, too.

  “So if you haven’t already guessed it, this is the family jokester and my baby brother Barry. You know who Jan is.”

  Jan’s down-to-earth antics, something similar to what Naomi herself would do, helped calm the frazzled fan down enough to find her voice. “It is so nice to meet you. Girl, I love your music.”

  Jan held out her hand. “Hi, what’s your name?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Naomi.”

  “Thank you, Naomi. Nice to meet you.”

  Barry hugged Jan’s neck, pulling tighter as she struggled to get away. “Uh, do you not see me standing here?” he asked Naomi. “I mean, I know she’s a star and all, but I don’t get a hello?”

  Naomi crossed her arms, putting her double Ds front and center. “Not until you stop bothering my favorite singer.”

  “Tell ’em, girl!” The women high-fived.

  Barry dropped his arm and mumbled to Marvin, “Just met and already they’re ganging up on me. Where’s my girl? Yolanda!”

  Marvin gave Naomi a tour of the home and explained how a bus driver could live like a rock star.

  “Cynthia’s family is wealthy,” Marvin said as they passed a window with an ocean view. “This house was their wedding gift to them.”

  “Wow,” Naomi mumbled. “That’s a whole other level. My last wedding gift was a set of monogrammed towels and that was a splurge.”

  “Who are you telling? I got them a George Foreman barbeque grill.”

  Naomi burst out laughing.

  “What’s funny? It came with dinner for two coupons prepared by yours truly. I even threw in candles.”

  “Ah, that’s very sweet.”

  “They loved it.”

  “Especially since dinner was served . . . here.”

  “I know. It’s a lot, especially for someone like my brother Byron. He’s a man’s man,” Marvin explained. “And a Carter. From the crib, we were taught to be the provider and take care of home. He wasn’t for the idea at first, but he fina
lly came around.”

  The tour continued. Along the way she met Marvin’s next older brother, Nelson, along with his date, and a few others. All of the men were fine and the women were gorgeous. They seemed warm and genuinely glad to meet her, but with each toned body, designer outfit, and slayed hairstyle, the normally confident Naomi grew shy and retreated into a quietness that was quite unlike her. Just as she gave herself a mental shakedown about how she was just as good as anybody here, they reached a rooftop fit for the stars who were casually hanging out in all of that luxury as if they were regular people. Naomi immediately recognized Night Simmons, the nationally known personal trainer as popular as Shaun T, whose arm muscles rippled as he held the rim and floated in a hot tub lined with shiny gold and rainbow-colored stones. Night had a slew of gyms around the city. His wife sat on the Jacuzzi’s edge, lazily running her feet through the water as she talked to another woman beside her. Naomi couldn’t remember her name but knew her face from the billboards that advertised Night’s gyms. A bartender in an open white shirt and black slacks stood behind the bar where a reality star and a ’90s boys-group member sipped beer and chatted. Several barely clad women tossed a beach ball in a nearby pool, while a few couples danced under a large umbrella to rap music coming through speakers Naomi couldn’t see. A guy with dreadlocks looked familiar. The rapper! What’s his name? Naomi’s grip on Marvin’s hold increased as she forced herself to stop shaking.

  Marvin looked at her, concerned. “You alright?”

  “Not really. Why didn’t you tell me that celebrities would be here? I could have got my hair and nails done, worn something different, been prepared!”

  “Because here we treat them like everybody else. Besides, you look amazing. And not all men want thin and crispy. Some of us prefer thick and juicy.” He squeezed her “juicy” to emphasize his point.

  Naomi appreciated Marvin trying to make her feel good, but after seeing the rappers and actors and models on the roof, she never quite recovered. After the bartender fixed Naomi a strawberry lemonade and gave Marvin a beer, the two went downstairs for something to eat. They fixed plates and got comfy in a glass-enclosed, second-floor sitting room facing the beach. Barry and his girlfriend joined them. Byron returned and chatted a bit before running off again to tend to hosting duties. Some sat, like Nelson and his date. Others just peeked their heads in, like Jan. The vodka-laced drink calmed Naomi’s nerves a bit, but she was never able to fully relax. The food was delicious, but she was too self-conscious to enjoy it. Everyone was friendly, but she felt that was because of Marvin. The atmosphere and the guests were all above her pay grade, and while Marvin was attentive and tried to make her comfortable, Naomi couldn’t help but feel out of place. When Marvin was pulled away by his brothers, Naomi told him she’d be fine. But she wasn’t. Less than thirty minutes into fake smiling and idle chit-chat, and in need of antacids, she found Marvin in a game room that could have been shipped from Las Vegas.