Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 124836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
As Banks sauntered confidently towards the stage, DJ Hendrix cued up James Brown’s I Feel Good.
And I knew that the real craziness was about to begin.
Chapter thirty-five
Big Mama’s Kitchen
Lei
The staff cleared our plates and started bringing us new cloth napkins, forks, knives, spoons, and water as a palate cleanser.
Everyone began to settle back down in their seats.
Seconds later, Banks stepped up onto the stage with his signature swagger, flanked by his three assistants—Sweet, Savory, and Salty.
Moni crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh my God. What does my cousin have planned?”
Once on stage, Banks signaled to DJ Hendrix, who immediately dropped a jazzy, upbeat tune that made the whole crowd sit up a little straighter.
What is this?
Drums pounded. A saxophone wailed as a horn blared and then a man’s voice rang out, loud and powerful, “Hot Barbecue!”
The beat was infectious. The sound of saxophones, deep bass, and jazzy piano riffs filled the air as Banks and the women began to move in sync.
“O-kay.” Moni bounced in her chair to the beat. “He’s going to give us a show.”
The crowd clapped with them.
Banks and his assistants danced to the rhythm, hips swaying in unison as the man on the track kept shouting, “Hot Barbecue!” every few seconds.
When the saxophone took over the solo, Banks got in the middle and slowly twirled with the smoothness of someone who knew how to put on a show.
His white apron flared out like a cape.
And the women shook their hips next to him.
Jo yelled, “Boy, this isn’t a dance competition!”
Moni hit her arm. “Leave him alone.”
Jo took out a joint from her jacket and a lighter. “And you know Banks and the girls were practicing this shit all last night.”
Moni looked at her. “But Banks didn’t even know there was going to be a Grill Off—”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Jo snickered. “Dude was going to do this dance regardless.”
“Oh God!”
Jo lit her joint and when the man in the song yelled out, 'Hot Barbecue!' she yelled along too.
Banks’s assistants spun around making a full circle around him and he did this slick little side to side movement.
His mother, Aunt Betty, stood up, clapping her hands to the beat. “Go on, baby! Do your dance! That’s my oldest boy right there!”
Her friends started moving to the music as well.
At the Mahjong table Aunt Min looked fresh off a win and began dancing in her seat.
On my right, Aunt Suzi and Chloe cheersed their wine glasses and drank.
Oh no. I hope Aunt Suzi didn’t pour her wine.
When I was twelve, she’d given me my first class of wine, explaining that in China the drinking age was always ridiculously low. Mom was pissed.
Aunt Betty shouted, grabbing my attention. “Go on, Banks, show them how it's done!”
A ripple of laughter washed through the yard.
Those who weren’t clapping or dancing were hollering out in delight.
Sweat was glistening off Banks' forehead, but he didn't stop dancing with his assistants.
And once again, I noticed some of my Four Aces getting rather close to the stage to get a better look at Sweet, Savory, and Salty.
Yeah. I really need to let them all get a break. They need some sex.
Soon, the music died down to a simmering rhythm and Banks executed a final spin.
Jo blew out smoke. “Is he going to feed us or just perform?”
Moni grinned. “He’s almost done.”
“Still,” Jo shook her head. “I’m taking points off for the bad dancing.”
“You better not.”
DJ Hendrix put a slower song on and kept the volume down super low so that it remained just this chill background vibe.
Banks grabbed the microphone, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and smiled at the crowd. “That was Hot Barbecue by Jack McDuff.”
A few people clapped.
Banks gestured to the three women on stage. “And shout out to my lovely assistants, Sweet, Savory, and Salty.”
As the women strutted off the stage, many of the men in the audience hooted and whistled.
Banks watched them go. “Mmmhmm.”
A few guys whistled again.
“I don’t know about you, Chef,” Banks pointed to Chef Foo, “but I can’t cook one thing unless a pretty Black woman is around. You ever had a nice Black woman in your life?”
Chef Foo blushed and shook his head no.
Aunt Betty yelled, “I got two Black women for you, Cooking Daddy! Come on down to the South! You won’t leave!”
Moni cringed, “Oh God. Make it stop.”
“Mama’s always right.” Banks chuckled. “But if you got a really nice-looking Black woman in your kitchen. . .shit. . .something about those hips make a brother like me want to get a frying pan out and cook her up something just right.”
The crowd erupted in laughter and even Chef Foo cracked a smile, raising his beer in salute.
“Food, Banks!” Jo yelled. “This is a Grill Off. Not Dancing with the Stars or an Who’s the Best Comic contest. Food. Get back to it.”