Sweet Heat

by Zuri Day

  “Marvin.” Her voice was low yet forceful, with no trace of the playfulness that had filled it just seconds before. “Don’t look now, but you are not going to believe who I see talking across the street.”

  “Who?” When Naomi didn’t answer quickly, he turned to see for himself. “Who cares about that?” he asked, adding a hand gesture underscoring what he’d seen was no big deal. “It doesn’t surprise me that those two would get along.”

  The light changed and as they crossed the street, Marvin changed the subject.

  “Do you have plans for tonight?”

  “Maybe, why?”

  “Because I was going to invite you to the Soul Spot, reserve you a table and everything.”

  Naomi laughed. “You’re stupid.”

  She knew he was joking, but seeing Naomi laugh was what Marvin wanted. He also wanted to mask the concern he felt for what the two had seen on the other side of the street. The newly eliminated Jeremy Evans having an animated conversation with Abbey, a consultant for the show he wanted to win, whom he’d just pissed off. He’d made light of it, but seeing those two with their heads together had Marvin worried, especially for Naomi. He couldn’t imagine anything good coming from that conversation, and could think of plenty of scenarios that ended badly.

  They reached the parking lot’s roof. Naomi pulled out her keys and pointed her key fob toward her car. They heard the locks click open.

  “What are you getting ready to do, go to work?”

  “Yeah.” Marvin leaned against his car. “Ouch!”

  “It’s only eighty-five degrees today,” Naomi said, grinning. “You thought that metal wouldn’t be hot?”

  “You shouldn’t be over there laughing. You should be over here trying to make me feel better, licking my booboo or something.”

  Naomi laughed out loud. “I’ll kiss something alright. But not here, and not in the car. Squatting in that car the other day had my legs sore for two days!”

  “Now you know how I felt after my date beneath your bed.” Marvin looked at his watch. “Man, I really don’t feel like going to work. The closer I get to that truck the more I hate working there. What are you getting ready to do?”

  “Get in your car after you start it up and turn on the air conditioning. It’s hot out here.”

  “Your air doesn’t work?”

  “Yes, but that takes gas and I need this quarter of a tank to last me until Wednesday.”

  “You’re crazy, girl,” he griped, but opened the passenger door for Naomi and then walked around to his side of the car, fired it up, and blasted the fan. She got in, but kept the door open.

  “So what’s up for tonight?” he asked again.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a holiday weekend! You don’t have a party to attend? You’re not going to hit up the clubs?”

  “I know of a couple people doing something. I usually roll with my cousin Kristy. But she recently started dating and now she’s Casper.”

  “You don’t have plans for the Fourth?”

  “None that excite me.”

  “Your family isn’t doing anything?”

  “Yes, but eating bad barbecue and playing rummy with a group of sixty-, seventy-, and eighty-somethings doesn’t sound too exciting. Even though this year Nana sweetened the deal with a trip on the church bus to watch the fireworks.”

  “And bad barbecue? Why don’t you cook?”

  “Nobody is trying to fight Miss J for the grill tongs and basting brush!”

  Marvin leaned over the steering wheel, cracking up.

  “Whatever.”

  He lifted his head and cautiously peeked over at her.

  Soon, she giggled, too. “Why do you get on my nerves? You were probably so obnoxious as a little boy.” The car finally cooled, and Naomi closed the door. “What am I saying? You’re obnoxious now!”

  “You like it.”

  “Whatever. Are y’all having a barbecue?”

  Marvin nodded. “Yep. And guess what? You’re going to come and help me cook.”

  “Are you asking me or are you telling me?”

  “What if I told you that I’m going to keep some of that sauce, and after the party’s over I’m going to act like you’re my rib?”

  Naomi fixed him with a look. “Then I would tell you that I am so there.”

  24

  Naomi looked at the clock, and then in the mirror. It was seven thirty in the morning on an off day. Yet she was up, dressed, and getting ready to stand over a hot grill in hot weather . . . and she was smiling. Either she was falling in love with Marvin or it was the invasion of the body snatchers and someone had occupied her insides and had her acting bat-shit crazy.

  She’d forgotten earrings, and after retrieving a pair of thick red hoops from the jewelry tree, she took a final look in the full-length mirror. The off-the-shoulder red top was simple but sexy and, paired with red wedge sandals and black skinny jeans, looked effortless and stylish. Kristy had done her magic the day before, sweeping Naomi’s hair up into a high, long ponytail. Perfect for the eighty-degree weather that had been forecasted. And a great hold-up hairstyle if the heat continued with her and Marvin after the sun went down. There would be tons of people at the barbecue, and even though she’d be slaving behind a grill, she wanted to look good. Not because she’d be meeting Marvin’s family or anything, she told herself, but because she’d soon be on TV, a celebrity who’d gotten her start by winning a food truck. She wanted to leave everyone with a good first impression.

  After a spritz of cologne, Naomi unplugged her phone from the charger, placed it inside a fabric handbag that could be slung over her shoulder, and after one last look around her room turned out the light and headed into the kitchen, where she heard Nana cooking, or in her grandmother’s words, “rattling pans.”

  “Morning, Nana.” She gave her grandmother a hug. “You’re up early this morning.”

  “So are you.” Nana gave Naomi the once-over. “Wanted to get those cakes done before it got too hot outside.”

  “You say that like we don’t have air-conditioning.”

  “No need putting more stress on it by having on a four-hundred degree oven on top of eighty degrees outside.”

  “True.” Naomi walked over to where chocolate, coconut, and strawberry cakes were cooling on racks. “You’ve got it smelling good in here. I hope you hold a little back for us to have later.”

  “You smell good, too. And look real nice. You spending the day with that nice young man who came to dinner?”

  “His name is Marvin. His parents and some of their neighbors are holding a Fourth of July barbecue.”

  “Another block party?”

  “Not as large and involved as the annual one held on Memorial Day, but just as fun. You should come.”

  “And do what? Sit out in the sun and bake like those cakes in an oven? No, me and the ladies decided while sweating and fighting away bugs last year that this year we’d be inside.”

  “At the church?”

  “No.” Nana placed a bowl of boiled eggs she’d peeled in the refrigerator. She drained the water off a pot of potatoes, grabbed a peeler and sat down. “One of the ladies moved into a real nice retirement community that has a clubhouse. We’re going to meet there. Sue will drive us over to the church when it’s time to see the fireworks.”

  “That’s a long day, Nana. Are you up for that?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Take care of yourself and don’t party too hard. Stay out of the sun and drink plenty of water.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m bugging you because I care. You just started feeling better.” Naomi gave Nana a hug.

  On the way out the door she heard Nana say, “Take your own advice!”

  As she headed toward Inglewood, Naomi felt an unfamiliar feeling in her stomach. Giddiness. She couldn’t’ remember the last time she’d felt that way about a guy. Like being in love except she wasn’t ready to admit that yet.
She’d barely known Marvin a month. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d finally admitted she even liked him!

  There were no such feelings with her last boyfriend. She still wondered what she’d been smoking to ever think Victor was somebody she should date. Almost from the time they met he tried to change her. Lose weight. Wear her hair natural. Stop talking so loudly. Find another job. On top of that he had an average hammer that he didn’t know how to swing and wasn’t even all that good-looking. That a whole year had gone by before she ended the train wreck made Naomi want to kick her own behind.

  Naomi turned on her music app and accessed her favorite channel playing songs from the early- to mid-two-thousands. Hearing 50 Cent’s “In da Club” reminded her of Rodney, the boyfriend before Victor and first love of her life. She and Rodney had practically grown up together. Lived on the same block. Attended the same schools. They started dating as seniors in high school and would be off and on for the next several years. Rodney was funny and had rocked her world in the bedroom. But he didn’t do much for her outside of that. He was too comfortable being average and content to live his entire life without leaving the state. Naomi wasn’t vying for celebrity status or Oprah’s money, but she did have a few goals and wanted to expand her life experience beyond the West Coast.

  There were a couple other short-lived relationships here and a hook-up or two there, but when it came to love interests, Marvin was definitely the best guy she’d ever dated all the way around. Not only was he funny and kind, with a laid-back swagger, but he wanted to do something with his life. They were super compatible in the bedroom and he had celebrity in-laws. Who could top that? The thought that crossed her mind as she reached Inglewood and the blocks where tents had been erected was one she’d never asked herself with any previous boyfriend. Will I get along with his mother? Naomi was about to find out.

  Seconds after seeing Marvin’s SUV, she saw him coming out of a nearby tent. He waved her forward and directed her to park beside his car in what she now realized was a small parking lot. Like her, Marvin wore black jeans. He’d paired his with a white tee, white sneakers, and a Lakers cap. He wore shades even though it wasn’t that bright outside. Naomi’s heart skipped a little. Every day it was harder to deny it. She was in deep.

  Marvin opened her car door. “You’re late!”

  “Shut up.”

  For once, Naomi was thankful for his sarcasm as it took some of the sappy out of her happiness that his mere presence evoked. The strong feelings were almost scary. I must be about to start my period. Yes, that was it. Blaming hormones lessened the significance of what she experienced.

  Naomi stepped out of the car and into his hug. He smelled of coffee and hickory wood, indicating that he’d already been here awhile. “When’d you get here?”

  “A couple hours ago.” They began walking toward a side door in the sturdy tent. “You look nice.”

  “Thank you.” Naomi wanted to return the compliment but didn’t want to stir up what she’d just tamped down. She breathed in and immediately smelled the undeniable and tantalizing smell of barbecue. “Where are the grills?”

  “Everything’s inside.”

  He opened the door and stepped aside so that Naomi could enter.

  She did, stopping just inside and looking around. “Wow.”

  “Surprised?”

  “Totally. When you said we’d be cooking in a tent, this is not what came to mind.”

  “What did you imagine, a tepee?”

  “You’re so annoying.” She playfully slapped his shoulder, and fell in step with him as he walked toward the back of the tent. Walking through one of two entrances to the back room, Naomi was even more awed. An elaborate setup that some kitchens would envy was erected in an orderly fashion. The longest grill Naomi had ever seen took up the entire left wall. Parts of it could be covered with sturdy round lids. Above the grill were large vents, allowing smoke to rise up and out of the structure. In the middle of the room, a rectangular prep station gleamed brightly. A myriad of spices filled a wooden crate in the middle of the counter. Various utensils stuck out of large metal containers. Below the counter, Naomi noted baskets filled with onions, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and other vegetables. Beyond the prep counter was a row of three stainless ranges. The thick grates told Naomi they were top of the line. On the wall opposite the grill were a variety of shelves that held cans and bottles, and a taller one with loaves of bread and packages of buns that were stacked almost to the ceiling. It was a lot to take in, but Naomi did so in a matter of seconds. When she turned, she was surprised to see Marvin eying her intently, unabashed pride evident through the gleam in his eye.

  “It’s a pretty bad setup, huh?”

  “I can’t even lie, Marvin. This is incredible. I’ve never worked in a restaurant, but I’d venture to say this temporary outdoor kitchen probably looks better than some of them.”

  “Coming from the restaurant industry, I can confirm that that is true. Come on, let me introduce you to my father and a couple of my friends helping us to get the party started.”

  Taken aback by the sophisticated kitchen, Naomi hadn’t even noticed the table of people sitting in another room directly behind the room they occupied. A case of nerves assailed her as Marvin took her hand and led them back to the group, who looked up as they turned the corner.

  “This is Naomi, everybody. She’s also a contestant on Food Truck Bucks and will be helping us out today. Naomi, this is my dad, Willie Carter.”

  Naomi looked at the man who’d stood when she entered, and stepped forward to shake his hand.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  He looked like a cup of strong, black coffee with a touch of cream, a tall oak tree that could not be moved or broken. Kind eyes in a weathered face touched her like a kiss on the cheek. He felt like wisdom, stability, and unconditional love, the energy so intense Naomi almost teared up. He felt like the father she’d never had, the grandfather she’d never known. A flurry of thoughts that happened in seconds, before Marvin spoke again.

  “The person who wasn’t trained properly and didn’t stand when you entered as my father did, is one of my parents’ neighbors, Ivory.”

  An obviously confident man slowly uncurled over six feet of good looks to his feet, offered a lopsided smile that Naomi knew had changed a thousand no’s to yesses, and held out his hand. “Nice meeting you,” he drawled. And to Marvin, “Uncle Willie is old-school. I represent the modern man.”

  “Don’t matter what you represent,” Willie responded, his voice as slow and easy as the flow of the Mississippi. “Good manners never go out of style.”

  The woman getting coffee from a setup near the table whooped. “Tell him, Mr. Carter!”

  “That’s Janet,” Marvin continued. “She also works at the Soul Spot, and this is her best friend, Yvonne. She’s helped us out with these barbecues and the past two or three block parties, right?”

  Yvonne nodded, as she offered Naomi a smile. “At least. Hope you’re ready to work, Naomi. You’ll have a good time, but by the end of the night you’ll be tired as hell.” Her eyes swept Naomi’s body. “And I hope you brought another pair of shoes. Those are cute, but in a few hours your feet are going to be very unhappy.”

  While Naomi was being introduced to those around the table a few others arrived, neighbors and relatives of neighbors, all ready to help. Marvin gathered troops and channeled a general, laying out the menu and delegating jobs to bring it about. Somebody turned on a stereo and soon the kitchen was a whirl of activities. Vegetables chopped or grated. Potatoes and eggs boiled and peeled. Mounds of meat seasoned and marinated. All this to the sounds of 70s magic like Kool & the Gang, Earth, Wind & Fire, and a group Naomi later learned was called Parliament-Funkadelic, who encouraged everyone listening to turn the mother out.

  The rest of the neighborhood awakened. More and more people filed in and out of the tent. One of them, a large woman whose presence commanded attention, entered the kitchen. She wore
red, white, and blue striped stretch pants and an oversized navy tee-shirt sporting a patriotically dressed Black Betty Boop. Behind her, several young boys pulled wagons bearing foil-covered pans. She barked orders to the young boys. They immediately obeyed, emptying the wagons and placing the trays on rolling shelves that Naomi figured must have been brought in while she was knee-deep in potato salad. Speaking to some and hugging others as she walked through the kitchen, the woman stopped next to Naomi, who was now using what resembled a mini oar to stir a vat of beans. One look into bright brown, expressive eyes that looked just like Marvin’s, Naomi knew she was about to meet his mother.

  She spoke first. “Good morning.”

  Liz eyed her slowly, boldly. “Hi, Naomi.”

  “Oh, Marvin must have pointed me out to you.”

  “No, your Carter-catcher did. Girl, until I arrived, your ass was the biggest one in here. Wasn’t hard to figure out which one was you.”

  Naomi was taken aback, but the comment was said matter-of-factly, without judgment, and didn’t offend. She wiped her hand on a dish towel and held it out. “Miss Liz, right?”

  “Just Liz.” Liz moved Naomi’s hand so she could receive Liz’s embrace. “Carters hug.” She peeked into the vat. “For the baked beans?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Liz grunted, looked on the counters around her. “Darryl! Bring me a spoon.”

  Within seconds, one of the boys who’d pulled a wagon ran toward her with one. Liz dipped the spoon into the vat’s liquid, blew on it, and then placed it in her mouth. Liz’s eyes never left Naomi’s as she sampled her dish.

  She handed the spoon to Darryl, who ran it to the sink. “You seasoned those?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Who taught you how to cook?”

  “My grandmother, Nana.”

  “Your grandmother did a very good job.”